“Look Londi, we need to talk,” Busani said, drawing her away from the others when they were at SoniQ and had their drinks.

“What about?”

Londi looked around. All black and glittery grey, SoniQ was buzzing. They hadn’t found anywhere to sit, but they’d still been able to order. It was a cappuccino in Londi’s case because the few soft drinks available turned out to be nearly as pricey as the alcoholic ones.

“I feel bad,” Busani admitted, surprising her. “We started all wrong, and I’ve made you dislike me.”

“No, you dislike me,” Londi corrected him.

“Are we going to argue about that now?” Amusement was like a golden thread woven into the rich darkness of his deep voice.

“From the moment I arrived at Soun–” Londi began.

“When I thought you were the most amazingly alive girl I’d met, with a killer smile that floored me.”

“But … but…” Londi was shocked, struggling to find words.

“But then you started putting yourself down, saying you had the perfect face for radio … And doing it again later that same day, telling that photographer you’d spoil his shots. That was him calling you earlier, wasn’t it? Esaia. What did he want with you? I thought he was seriously slimy.”

The way he said that that would normally have made Londi laugh, but she was still in a state of bewildered disbelief.

“Nothing to do with my ‘killer smile’ anyway,” she said, in a hurry to get back to the subject of Busani’s feelings. “More like my hands and feet or my figure. Or maybe my ‘freshness’ – whatever he meant by that. It’s not important. Hayi Busani, it’s like you have a problem with me being honest about myself. Let’s not pretend here. I don’t know about a killer smile, but we both know I’m nothing special–”

“You’re doing it again. Putting yourself down.” Busani’s eyes blazed with angry passion, and he moved closer to her, so that she could feel his body heat. “How do I get through to you, girl? The truth is, I’m attracted to you. You must know how hot you are.”

“Right.” She was sarcastic. “You know what, Busani? I’m having a hard time believing any of this. Like all this week, you’ve hardly cracked a smile, and now – this!”

“I know!” His face was so expressive now, so different from the way it had mostly been. “The thing is, when you walked into that office on Monday, it was like … a knock-out punch. Like I was concussed or something. I didn’t know how to act.”

“Are you into boxing by any chance?” She didn’t want to be enjoying this, didn’t want to feel her mouth stretching into a wide smile, but she couldn’t help it. “The other day you asked if I always come out fighting, then you were floored, and now we get a knock-out punch.”

“Yebo, boxing was a big thing in my life for a while when I was a kid. This old dude used to come to … to this place where I was living, and give us free boxing lessons.”

Londi looked at him. “You must have been very good or very careful, not to get any squashed or scarred bits around your face and head,” she said, wondering why he had hesitated and then been so vague about where he’d grown up.

“I didn’t keep it up for long,” Busani said. “I needed to get on with my life. Make my way,” he said, and then paused briefly. “Londi …?”

“Busani?”

He took her cup away from her and put it on the nearest horizontal surface, together with his glass.

It was like a movie moment. The two of them, suddenly with nothing to say, just standing there staring into each other’s eyes – standing as close as they could be without actually touching. If either one of them moved a centimetre…

Londi was breathing unevenly, inhaling shallow, fluttery little scoops of air.

And there she’d always thought this sort of thing was about heavy breathing.

“Bad Busani! Why aren’t you answering your phone?” It was YoYo, laying one little hand on Busani’s arm, her diamanté nail art glittering, and gazing up at him from beneath beautifully arched eyebrows. “I wanted you to come meet me at the entrance. I’ve had to fight my way through the crowd looking for you all by my little self. You know you have to look after me. You promised Papa.”

Londi drew away from Busani.

“With the noise in here, how would I hear my phone?” Busani said, giving Londi a smile that was either regretful or apologetic, she wasn’t sure which, but quickly returning his attention to YoYo.

YoYo pouted, completely ignoring Londi, as Busani drew his phone out of his pocket.

“But didn’t it vibrate? Is it even on? Let me see.” YoYo snatched the phone from him. “Oh! It’s still warm from your body.”

Busani laughed, but Londi was shocked by how angry she felt, just for a moment. Stupid! As if she had a right to be possessive, just because Busani claimed he was attracted to her.

She wasn’t even sure if she could trust him about that anyway. Look how instantly YoYo had grabbed his attention.

Londi moved away from the two of them, wondering if Busani would even notice.

“I see the princess has pitched,” Hetty said as Londi joined her and the others. “I thought she would. SoniQ is s’posed to be a certain TV producer’s favourite chill zone. YoYo may be a rich man’s daughter, but Daddy is refusing to buy her way in anywhere, so she has to hustle the hard way.”

“What other places do you go to?” Londi asked.

“All over.” Hetty gestured expressively. “Newtown of course. Then places in Yeoville, Berea … another out past Clarendon Circle.”

Londi made a tragic face. “I’m mostly going miss out. No money for transport, see?”

“You accept your poverty too easily.” Busani had come over in time to hear. “Make a plan, work two jobs or three, whatever. Just don’t let it stop you living a full life. Anyone ready for a refill while I’m getting Yoliswa a drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” Okuhle offered, taking the cash Jabu and Hetty held out while Londi shook her head for no.

“Busani seems, I don’t know, a bit funny about money,” Londi said to Hetty and Jabu.

“Just his way,” Jabu said.

“Like he thinks everyone should get out there and knock on doors and promote themselves, same as he did,” Hetty added. “I don’t know the whole story. He doesn’t talk about his past, but YoYo has let something slip more than once. Some story about how he approached her old man and demanded he sponsor his Communications course so he could get into the media, and when her father said why should he, Busani said because you’re old and rich, and I’m young and talented – and her father loved that so much, he agreed.”

“So he owes YoYo’s father.” Londi was thoughtful. “Even if he’s paid him back by now, he still owes him, because you always owe anyone who gives you a chance, like gives you your start in life.”

She lifted her hands helplessly and let them fall, realising the hopelessness of everything she’d been feeling when Busani was near.

***

Tell us what you think: Will Busani always owe YoYo’s father? If so, how much of a problem will this be?