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"I need some help... If I could get some... cash or even just some water," I babbled, embarrassed. Desperate.
The man just let out a deep breath and shook his head. “Yup. You and half of the other whores and junkies who come in here. Nope. Can’t help you,” he muttered, then he started arranging the sweets again. “Now get out.” He pulled a baseball bat out from under the counter. This was South Africa. I was certain he had a shotgun under there as well.
Another dead end.
“Asshole,” I mumbled and walked back to the door, when a voice behind me interrupted my train of thought.
“Where are you heading to?”
I turned around to find a woman and her little girl staring at me like I was some charity case. But she looked kind and just like a regular mom trying to get by herself.
“D-durban,” I replied, not looking at her girl. I still had the gun I on me.
The woman nodded, then put her hand inside her purse and fished out four rand notes. “Take these. You can get a cab back to Durban or go to the nearest police station. I... was in your shoes once. Life gets better if you keep fighting, I promise.”
I was shocked. Utterly stunned. Just when I thought the world was nothing but the nastiest shithole in the universe, someone appeared out of nowhere and showed some kindness.
“Thank you,” I breathed. I could feel my heart thudding with happiness at this small gift of hope.
The man behind the counter looked at me and shook his head. "Now get the fuck out.”
I flipped him off in a way the girl couldn’t see and left.
My legs were aching and sore and I was starving, but the money was enough for a cab and maybe a snack and water.
As I waved down a cab a few blocks from the highway, one thought kept repeating itself over and over again like I was summoning the devil himself.
Please, Andrei... please be there. Please please please... be there!
When the cab finally turned onto the street not far from my hotel in Durban, it was dark. I bought some water and a hotdog and ate and drank like an animal, water running down the corner of my mouth. I almost laughed at the thought that last year around this very same time, I was living in a twenty-million-dollar mansion and was instructing our personal chef to use white truffles over black truffles, as Marcello only ate the best of the best. And yet, I would choose this life a thousand times over letting his nasty hand slap me even one more time.
Back on the streets of the city, I started to walk again, keeping my head down and trying to look like I knew where I was going. In a small alley, I found a man’s jacket drying on a clothesline. I grabbed it and ran. It was stealing, even if I didn't want to admit it. But it was getting late, and I needed to spend the night somewhere outside where I had a clear view of my hotel’s parking lot. I figured, if I needed to sleep on the street or on some stairwell somewhere, any extra clothing would help against the chill of the night.
After a few minutes of exploring the neighborhood, I found a bench hidden behind some bushes. It had a clear view onto the parking lot of the Cheap Inn, the hotel I was staying at before Loronzo had found me.
Technically, some of my things were still in my room, including some cash. If Andrei didn’t show tonight, I could try to sneak in and take the cash to buy a phone. That’s all I needed to download my bank’s banking app to access my money. I had stolen from Marcello when I’d left in the middle of the night, and in moments like these, it felt really good.
I sat down on the bench. It was a busy enough road that I felt somewhat safe. Plus, I had the gun. I could spend the night here, waiting.
I leaned back on the bench and used the jacket I’d stolen to cover myself.
About an hour or two must have passed, and no sign of Andrei. It was getting colder than I expected, so I sat up and started rubbing my arms, trying to get the blood flowing into them. Just then the sound of a siren began to blast, and I looked up. There was a police vehicle parked a few meters away, and two uniformed officers were walking across the street toward me.
“Can I help you?” I asked, trying lamely to adjust the jacket so it wouldn’t look like I was planning to sleep there.
“Good evening, madam,” one of the officers returned in a stern voice. “My name is Officer Nkosi. We received a call about a white woman hanging around here and we wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just waiting for my boyfriend. We are American tourists, as you can hear.” I smiled innocently. “He should be here any moment...” I let my voice trail off, hoping they’d let it go and move on. But the officers exchanged quick glances.
“You see, ma’am,” Officer Nkosi continued, “thisisa dangerous place. This is Durban, South Africa, not the United States, after all. You aren’t safe here.”
I nodded and hoped they thought I was just some fool who had wandered out of a club and took the wrong turn.
“Right. I should get going, then. Thank you,” I said, standing up and brushing myself off.
“All right, ma’am. If you need us to take you somewhere safe, we can. This is no place for a woman at night, but there is a hotel not that far from here that usually has a room available. If you need a place for the night, I’m sure the city can find a few bucks to spare,” Officer Nkosi added, his voice turning suddenly soft.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Briefly. South Africa wasn’t a place where cops would drive around and offer cash for hotels. Then there was the problem withwhyhe offered. I had just told him I was waiting for my boyfriend, and even though I looked like shit, there was no indication whatsoever that I had no place to stay. Unless this person knew who I was...
