She Took A Risk That Changed Her Life Forever

Chapter 2

Another day, same old, same old, but it’s my weekend off. So after work, I’m going home to the Vaal to see Mom; how I missed them! I only see them on the first weekend of every month because I work on Saturdays during the month.

I'm at work already, checking emails, doing a follow up on the parts I ordered, preparing the invoices for completed cars, then I start reading the book. Oh yes, I’m a reader shem!

It's lunch time; let me go warm up my lunch box.

Here comes this guy, fair complexion. I can see that he is very calm. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but he has a very calm aura, I don’t know if I’m making sense. Not slim, not chubby, but average weight and tall; sexy eyes. He has this nice clean haircut for a real gentleman. He smells nice; his cologne is all over the office. He is wearing jeans with a white Lacoste golf shirt, a wristwatch, and black Converse. He’s so neat, mm, turn on, I’m telling you. But anyways, I’m certain he has a wife or girlfriend; age wise, about early 30's so.

“Hie sis,” he greets. Okay, he is Zulu and has a firm voice.

“Heyy,” I say with a big smile. That’s how I welcome customers. I mean, that’s what I’m getting paid for, so I don’t have a choice.

“Uhm, I came to replace the brake pads. Is it possible if they can replace them as in like now? Eish, I have a meeting in an hour,” he says. He’s standing across from me, looking straight into my eyes.

“Okay, let me call my boss. Please have a seat,” I say, as I’m directing him to the couch.

I called my boss, and he’s explaining to him what’s wrong with his car and that he’s rushing to a meeting in about an hour or so. He couldn’t go to his dealership for that; it’s a bit far at Sandton. So, my boss said he’ll replace them.

Now he is sitting there staring at me while I’m busy typing the quotation for a Correctional Services vehicle. I’m a bit uncomfortable, hey.

“It seems like this workshop is busy, right?” he asks, speaking in deep Zulu. He must have seen the ambulances that are parked outside the workshop.

I stopped typing, removed my eyes from the laptop, and started looking at him.

“Ya, sometimes you know,” I say, speaking in Sesotho. I won’t compromise my language, never. Then I continued typing.

“I see. So how long have you worked here?” he asks.

I didn’t hear that part. I don’t know Zulu well. I do know a few words, but not that deep Zulu from KZN.

“Pardon?” I say.

Then he repeated that.

“Oh, it’s been a year now. I started working here last year in January.”

He nods.

That was short, but I understand. I don’t really have long conversations with male customers, especially those reserved ones like this one in my office.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” he asks. He seems anxious.

“It’s just the brake pads, so I think about 45 minutes,” I say while I’m busy calculating the prices. Maths is showing flames, LOL!

“Okay, that’s better, because I have a meeting here in Cham. After that, I have to drive back home, and I hate driving in the dark,” he says. I nod.

“Does your speed point machine work?” he asks as he takes out the wallet in his back jean pocket.

“Yes,” I say, while I'm still busy typing. Honestly, I'm very busy today to chat; I can't afford to make mistakes.

“Lerato, please make an invoice, R400 for replacing front brake pads for the Porsche Cayenne,” my boss says.

Wow! He must be monied. He takes out a black card, private wealth, yay guys! But I reacted in my heart; I don’t want to look like I’m some gold digger receptionist. Okay, he has money, why didn’t he go to replace the brake pads at the Porsche Centre in Sandton? Maybe he's rushing to a meeting this side, next to my workplace, and besides, he brought the brake pads. I’m sure he bought them at the dealership.

“Can I have your registration number?” I say as I’m writing an invoice.

“Uhm, it is Sean D ZN. Oh, I have cash,” he says as he takes out R400.

Then I gave him the invoice receipt.

“Thank you sis,” he says, and he walks out.

Okay, he’s gone now and it is 14:30 PM. I’m hungry now; let me go warm up my lunch box. I couldn’t eat while he was sitting there; I think it’s rude, hey! In Sesotho they say, " You're greedy

As I’m having lunch on my desk, he comes back rushing. What now? Did he forget something?

“Lerato, can I please have your numbers?” he says. Yah nor shem!

I frown, then I laugh.

“No, sorry,” I say.

”Please I'm begging you,” he says, him trying to beg me in Sesotho, LOL!

“No, bro, I don’t give away my numbers to customers. If there’s anything that you need from the workshop, there are telephone numbers there and an email address,” I say, pointing to his invoice receipt.

“Okay,” he says, with that disappointed face.

He’s a good looking guy, I must admit, but I can’t give away my numbers to every customer who asks for them. I’ve learned my lesson, hey; I have to be professional. And besides, he has a girlfriend, I’m sure of that. Who would say no to a guy who’s handsome like him and well off, driving a Porsche? I don't want another heartbreak.

17:00 PM, waiting for my boss to lock up. He'll give me a lift to where I'll catch Joburg taxis. Here comes the Porsche; I wonder what he wants because we're closed. I’m already standing outside with my handbag.

“Trish,” he says.

Oh, I’m Trish now. Wow, mmm.

“I came back since you refused to give me your number. Can I take you out for dinner please?” he says. Now he’s begging.

I'm really shocked. I don’t know how to feel right now, honestly. This guy, I’m not even his type . Guys like him like glamorous girls, slay queens, not me. Yes, I’m beautiful, dark in complexion, I have a gap smile, beautiful eyes. I don’t wear makeup everyday, it depends on my moods. I only wear weaves on bad hair days; I like braid hairstyles because every morning I just brush the hairline then off to work. I’m a simple size 44 chubby girl, who even wears clothes from those Somalian shops from Small Street Joburg, PEP, Mr Price, and Rage. I buy at any clothing shop if I see something I like, and mostly I love dresses, I’m actually obsessed. Oh honey, I do have a choice shem!

“But I think I made it clear that I don’t give away my numbers to customers” I say, my hand on my waist.

“I know that, Trish. Okay, here is my business card. On the back I wrote my personal numbers; please do text me,” he says as he hands me the business card.

”It’s Lisa, not Trish,” I snap. He widens his eyes like he’s shocked, then he smiles. He has a beautiful smile, by the way.

“I hope to hear from you soon Tr, Lisa,” he says as he goes back to his car. At least he can pronounce my name correctly; his R is clear, unlike other Zulus abusing my name calling me Lisa, .

“And then, is that the guy who came earlier to replace brake pads?” my boss asks.

“Ya, it is him. He asked for my numbers, I refused, now he came back and asked to take me out for dinner,” I say with dismissal.

My boss just laughed and continued driving. He dropped me off where I’m going to catch a taxi to Joburg, then from there I caught a taxi to the Vaal at Westgate.

Home is a place of peace. It is Saturday, going to see my friends Natasha and Kim; I call them my high school sweethearts. How I missed them! I only see them when I'm on this side, so we have a lot to catch up, hey.

“Mei skat,” I say.

“Hi mei skat,” Natasha says. That’s how we call each other. Well, my ex used to call me that, but because my friend is stupid, she started calling me that too, so I'm embracing that, LOL.

“Kim asked us to come to her place to chill there and catch up and drink,” I say.

“Okay, I'll see you there then,” Natasha says.

We got to Kim’s place. We are now chilling; she cooked already and bought me a 6 pack of Savanna, my favourite, and Natasha likes Flying Fish. It is always nice being around these two. We will laugh, gossip, updating me with some latest news of people here in Suburb and about their dating , the dating updates. Unfortunately, I have nothing to share on that.

Sunday, my favourite day of the week. Moms is preparing Sunday lunch as always, plus I missed her cooking. My aunt is doing my hair as always; she’s like our hair stylist in the family. I’m doing straight up, tired of the weaves, plus it is hot. We are catching up before I go back to Keith later. I’m taking the same Joburg route; it’s easier and faster. They are also updating me about the latest for this street.

LOL, I’m glad I don’t stay here anymore. The drama in this street is too much, but even when I was still this side, I was always indoors or would go to my friends on the other section, so I’m not really used to our neighbours and they think I don't like people. Well!