Amahle's Diary 2

Part 2

SANDISO

In the heart of Sandton, my grandparents hooked me up with this wicked 2-bedroom pad. It was like a VIP pass to life, and I was about to share the space with my main man, Sbu. We had our eyes set on Wits, ready to ride the university wave together. Now, I'm not one to play it safe, so I decided to dive into Sound Engineering, a symphony of my love for music. Graphic design? Well, that was my side hustle, my after-school jam. Sbu, on the other hand, was gearing up for electrical engineering.

You're probably wondering why I didn't stick to KZN, where my girl's at. Easy – opportunities were popping off here like nowhere else. The flat? Already decked out with all the bells and whistles, a king's lair. Unpacking was a breeze, so I strolled over to Sbu's spot, ready to kick it.

"Don't we knock anymore?" Sbu asked

I shot him a look. "Hay, fxck you, man. Let's go get something to eat."

"In a minute," he said, finishing up shoving his clothes into the wardrobe. "Done. Now we can go."

Meanwhile, I was deep into a chat with Muhle on WhatsApp when Sbu decided to play percussion on my knee.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed.

"Let's go already and stop blushing non-stop," he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "You need to get yourself a girlfriend already."

He scoffed. "So that I can be like you? No ways, dude."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sex with one person only sucks!"

I smirked. "At least I'm safe from all these infections."

"That's why a dude uses rubber, duh," he quipped.

I chuckled. "Let's just go. You're driving."

It was a lively Friday night, the clock striking 10 pm as we strolled into the club. Sbu took charge, splurging on the first round of drinks. My mate and I indulged in the finer things, sipping on the likes of Cîroc, Hennessy, Belvedere, Jameson, and a mix of other top-shelf spirits. I wasn't up for getting super hammered, so I settled on the smooth vibes of Cîroc.

Sbu was in his element, hitting the dance floor with some girl, leaving me to contemplate my life choices in this vibrant chaos. The beat throbbed through the air, the bass resonating in my chest. I wondered if I should've stayed home.

Out of the blue, this chick sauntered over, a vision of beauty that could rival Ashley. Her dark allure was accentuated by an expensive weave, black leather shorts, and a grey tank top vest. Silver heels added a touch of glamour as she approached. The club's neon lights played on her features, casting a sultry glow.

I couldn't help but appreciate the unexpected company, a distraction from the regret simmering within.

The thumping bass of the club enveloped us as Mbalentle Khumalo, a skilled performer, drew me into conversation.

"You're not from around here?" she inquired.

"Is that obvious?" I responded.

"I perform here every Thursday to Sunday," she shared.

"Don't you lose your voice?" I asked.

"If I drink water with honey and lemon, I survive," she explained.

"Where are my manners? I'm Sandiso Langa," I introduced myself.

"I'm Mbalentle Khumalo. So why are you here alone? Where's your girlfriend?" she questioned.