To comb Sandton for designer wears in preparation for the upcoming birthday bash, Bandele leaves the castle with his aides – Molefi and Akida. If not that Molefi suggested suits, he would have settled for his favourite golden Italian t-shirts and jeans trousers on his birthday.
Flanking him at the back of his BMW X6 are two ladies, Dineo and Surya – one black, one Indian.
"Will you stay with us till will return or you're going to school?" Bandele asks Dineo.
"I'm not going for lectures today. There's not much happening."
Bandele laughs, eyeing the girl whose company he enjoys.
Surya stretches her neck forward, just in case Bandele has forgotten she's here too. Even if her relationship with the big man is hard to define, the ex-model left Fordsburg 5 am to join this train. Her good taste for fashion is the reason she's here, a fact Bandele scooped when they met at a Centurion party two years back.
Upon arrival at the Nelson Mandela Square, Bandele walks leisurely ahead, looking around to see who's giving him attention in the precinct of Africa's richest square mile. His glittering white shirt and black shoes stand him out amid the sea of heads. And his entourage passing for conquered tribes makes him noticeable.
But in a neighbourhood where international businessmen hold meetings, moguls and head of conglomerates, the Soweto Lion doesn't pass for more than an interesting clannish leader, making him wish he were taller than his 5'8'' self. No one in the crowd rushes forth to kiss his hand. That might have made his day.
Once inside the mall, Surya leads the group to the Louis Vuitton Stores where a slim, light-skinned attendant hurries towards them. "Welcome, sir."
"Do you have suits of different colours?" Bandele won't let Surya do the talking.
"We have all kinds of suits that meet your needs." The attendant flails hands, making faces, taking Bandele for one of the wealthy Africans who don't transact quietly. "Single and double-breasted ornamented suites, tuxedoes and Mandarin. Our collections are made from the finest materials, and we customise them just the way you want."
The dramatic displays from the smooth-talking, curly-haired attendant get Bandele smiling. He suddenly remembers Surya: "He's talking to you. Which one of these things will fit me very well?"
Surya steps forward to ask: "Can we see your entire range?"
"Sure."
Bandele walks towards a section, grabbing the sleeve of a pink tuxedo. "Give me eight of this stuff in different colours."
The attendant makes a note, raising brows at the twenty-five thousand rands price tag.
"Wear one of them first, before asking for many," Surya suggests to her principal who does as advised. And on seeing how nice it looks on Bandele, she says "Lekker."
For thirty minutes, she leads the group to select different items: suits, shoes, belts, boxers and face caps.
"Pick for yourselves too," Bandele asks of each person. "And remember Pono," he tells Molefi, who's been quiet the entire time.
While Surya picks a handbag and earrings, Dineo, visiting Vuitton for the first time, goes for an ornamented white dress with a red rose on the left shoulder. Shoes aren't a problem – she recently picked five pairs. It crosses her mind to ask if she'll be by Bandele's side on his birthday but seeing his aloofness since arriving at the mall, and Surya's overzealousness, courage fails her.
The group returns to the Polemann, cruising into the castle at dusk.
Surya hangs around, believing her job isn't done. And, although the mansion looks different from when she last visited, it won't hurt to spend the night here again. Her last sleepover fetched twenty-thousand rands transport fare – two-month salary at the time. With a Vuitton handbag and earrings already in the kitty, Christmas is coming early.
Pacing around the sitting-room, Molefi observes Dineo's dour moods, attributing it to the boss's fixedness on the Indian lady. The university fresher looks ready to vituperate at the slightest provocation. Obviously, she also wants to spend the night here, even if its not a Wednesday – her heavenly-ordained visitation day. He won't get involved in ladies' spat. The big man should handle such issues himself.
"What a long day we had." Molefi teases Dineo who only hums, retaining her crankiness. "Hmm."
To leave the castle now will be a slap on the face. After all, she also has a role to play on or before the birthday. Seven of her friends have marked their calendar. Bandele's bash is one they can't miss. Several bouts of severe Malaria won't deter them.
While Pono organises the wardrobe upstairs, Bandele climbs down the stairs to assess his castle's suitability as the party venue. Along with Surya, he inspects the furniture, interior décor, artwork, curtains, halls, flowers and what have you.
"We can change this tomorrow if you say so." His fingers rub through the sofa fabric, upon which the lady approves of it. Next, they leave for the backyard to make sure that area of the castle is put in order.
"We're ready to receive guest here, right?" Bandele asks as they step back into the building.
"Yes, please. The mansion looks nice and okay." Surya flashes a smug smile.
Now seated opposite each other at the sitting-room, seemingly unconcerned about the gathering clouds outside, Dineo and Surya await Bandele's verdict on who stays. Dineo's widening nostrils challenges Surya's flapping eyes, but none utters a word in the long run.
Dineo recalls playing second fiddle to Surya in Sandton, the reason she should be the one to spend the night here. The Indian lady's advisory job is done. She must, therefore, leave the castle. How can she ditch lectures only to be sidelined by some obscure long-legged chiaroscuro? She, Dineo, is younger, bustier and flashier than the bony lass, never mind her fair-complexion and long hair.
Walking into the sitting-room with a remote control in his hand, Bandele adjusts the air-conditioner, at which time Dineo sends a missile to her counterpart. "We're no longer at the stores. Your services are no longer needed!"
Surya ignores the childish rant.
Lowering her voice, Dineo continues: "I live on this street. Won't it be dark before you get home?" Though uttered mildly, the venom lacing those words demonstrated by twitchy eyes isn't lost on the Indian model.
Surya won't give in to undertones, malignant or otherwise. Arguing with the young girl will be of no use. A working-class lady doesn't exchange heated arguments with a student struggling to pay her school fees. One who isn't sure whether or not she'll graduate.
She turns to Bandele: "I think your new loafers will match all the suits. You only tested a few at the stores." Her rancour-free demeanour sends a chill down her peer's spine.
Bandele, enjoying the rivalry, issues a cheeky grin which does nothing to douse the brewing tension. He moves around, seeing no reason to interfere.
While Surya fiddles with her ponytail, Dineo strokes her Brazilian-hair.
Surya can no longer keep to herself. "Fake hair." Her lips purse.
"It's mine, dummy. I have the receipt."
"Oh, really?" Surya burst out laughing.
Not sure how to respond to the derisive laughter, Dineo does same.
Bandele chuckles at the exchange of words, wondering why they won't stop when he has yet to complain of over-patronage. He has since learnt not to show preference to any of his ladies. It worsens their distaste for each other. "Girls, no noise here. Let's go upstairs." Bandele climbs up the stairs without looking back.
Surya jumps to her feet first, eyes flickering at Dineo who trails with a yard gap.
"Elephant." Surya hisses, bending her torso on the stairs.
"Impala."
Bandele looks back. "I don't expect you to fight each other here. You're both my guests."
The tantrums exchange seizes as each lady minds her business. None looks into the other's face till daybreak. After all, they're here for the mullah.
Morning time, Surya departs before Dineo but each leaves with a handbag brimming with thousands of rands. Their rivalry raises the issue of the right lady that'll flank the celebrant on his birthday.
Molefi shows up in the lobbyroom to address the matter. "Boss, why are the girls fighting?"
"All the girls want me," Bandele declares puckishly.
"Everyone wants to be the queen of the castle."
"Yes, but none of these two will be by my side. If I have a wife, I'll..."
The mention of wife pricks Bandele's mind. Can he settle down with only one lady? A wealthy African man hardly lives that way. Many of his married friends would be at the party with their families and would expect to see a lady beside him. A wife.
"My married friends will come with their wives." He confides in Molefi. "They'll want to see mine too."
Instead of making suggestions, Molefi shivers at the raised topic. His job will be on the line the day Bandele marries. What would he be doing around?
Molefi pinches himself back to the present. "You may give some of the ladies different roles. Introducing any as your girlfriend will lead to quarrels."
Bandele nods.
Molefi hits on an idea. "What if I announce to the guest that the celebrant is a bachelor."
"A bachelor?"
"Yes, boss. If they all know you're not attached, they'll behave well. Each of them will want to be the castle's first lady. They'll even wait behind after the party in case you'll select them."
Bandele nods at what sounds like a good idea. "Oh, Molefi! Your head works like a clock."