Obsessed with Me - When she rejected him, he set out to destroy her - book 1 (2 page)

Chapter Two

“What …what do you mean, Eric? What does ‘letting you go’ mean?”

“I’m sorry,” Eric says, not making eye-contact with me. “We have to, Tanin. I’m sorry.”

“Eric, we are so busy all the time – why would you possibly let me go? I’m a good worker. One of your best. You tell me that time and time again.”

Eric looks pained and shifts about in his shoes. “I’m sorry, Tanin. I’m …I just …” he lets out a long breath, “just following orders, okay? I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

Desperation claws at me. “But Eric, I need this job. You know I have university fees to pay, my mom’s treatment …my brothers’ university fees, my sisters’ schooling – you know everything about me – why are you doing this to me? How could you?”

“I know, I know, I know and I’m sorry, Tanin. You
are
a very good worker and …”

My breathing become erratic and my hands start to shake. “Has this something to do with me turning down Tarago Jakobus three nights ago?”

“What? No! No! No! No! Absolutely not!” His protest is a little too fast and too furious.

“Cos he seemed okay with it. I mean, he said it wasn’t a problem.” I search my brain for signs that he may have
not
been happy with it. I find nothing.

Eric eyes the door, no doubt wanting to run away from me. He’s a kind, decent, father-figure who likes me, and I’m aware that he’s obviously under pressure to do something he’s not comfortable doing.

“Fine,” I finally say in a weary voice, then turn and walk away.

“Good luck, Tanin.”

With a bubble in my throat, I give him a
whatever
wave, then fight to prevent my tears from falling.

As I walk out of the restaurant, I see Tarago Jakobus seated at his usual table. We lock eyes for a moment. Something about the way he looks at me, tells me that he is behind my getting fired. My gut adds that it may be because I had the audacity to turn him down.

Son-of-a-bitch!

I’d like to wave goodbye to him using my middle finger, but I still have to collect my pay and I’m going to need a reference, so no waving just yet. There will come a day.

In the parking lot, I turn around one last time and look at Tarago – he’s still looking at me.

If he did what I think he did, then it’s sexual harassment, a case for the Industrial court. I’m smart enough to know that.

****

“I can’t understand it,” I whine to Rheema who sits by my bedroom window smoking a cigarette, “just about all the interviews go really well and as I walk away, I’m convinced that I have the job. But for some reason, I just haven’t been able to secure
any
of the positions I interviewed for. It’s such a mystery to me. I mean like what the hell…?”

“Well,” Rheema, my best friend and second-cousin says, after taking a long drag on her cigarette, “it’s only been a week …”

“Yes, but Rheema, I’m articulate, I’m presentable, a fast learner, and most of all, I’m a
hard
worker. I mean, ask Eric – I was one of his best, most reliable workers. I stood in for him so many times. If anything they should promote me.”

She shrugs, then throws her cigarette butt out of my window.

“Hey, don’t!” I cry. “My ma is going to get really mad when she sees those butts.”

My words just roll over her.

“Just keep at it,” she says as she opens my room window really wide to get rid of the smell of her cigarette. “Stop lying around watching soaps. Go get drunk, smoke a joint … all the things unemployed people do – anything.”

“Mff.” I flop back onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. That’s Rheema, all right. Full of bad advice and never takes anything seriously. Known to elicit a smile from you in the most serious of circumstances. She’s twenty-one and also at university, so we have a lot in common.

My mother, Uma, knocks and enters, carrying mail and with the deepest frown I’ve have ever seen.

“What’s wrong, ma?” I jump out of bed.

Without a word, she thrusts a letter at me.

I scan the letter, then gasp.

“What?” Rheema asks. “What’s wrong?”

“They’ve sold our house!” I whisper.

“What? Who?”

“And …and they’re giving us
two
months to vacate this place!”

“You serious?” Rheema eyes flit between my mother and me

I nod. “I didn’t even know this house was for sale.” I slap my forehead with my palm.

“Ma, don’t worry,” I say in a voice unconvincing even to me. “It’ll be okay. We have two months. We’ll find something.”

She nods and leaves the room, her shoulders drooping.

Rheema and I exchange worried looks.

Slowly, I sit on my bed and bite my nails.

“How’s her treatment going?”

I shrug. “Dialysis is costly. Our bills are …” I sigh and shake my head.

“You shoulder so much, Tanin,” she says in an unusually serious voice.

“Tarago Jakobus, the bastard, he’s behind this,” I mutter, ignoring her pity.

“C’mon, Tanin. You can’t possibly blame him for
this
. I mean, the firing, maybe – but this?”

I shake my head and say nothing, but my gut feeling – Tarago Jakobus is behind this. Ever since I turned him down, things haven’t gone right with me.

“I’m calling the agent,” I say and pick up the phone.

The real estate agent, Gloria Vorster is a snappy, rude bitch.

“Who are the new owners?” I ask.

She rattles some papers, and in an irritable voice says, “It’s a trust – Jakobus…”

“Jakobus?!” I look at Rheema with huge eyes and point to the phone. “Jakobus,” I mouth.

Her jaw drops.

I thank the snappy bitch at the other end of the line and hang up.

“I knew it! I knew it! Rheema, I told you – that man is after me!”

“Tanin that must be a sheer coincidence. He’s one of the richest men around, why would he target someone like
you
? No offense.”

“I don’t know, but my gut tells me that somehow, he is involved, Rheema. None taken.”

“That’s quite an ego you have there,” she says with a smile.

“Noooo, Rheema, I don’t have an inflated ego – I know that that arsehole’s behind it.”

“Well, why don’t we call for a reference on you and check it out – hear what they say about you?”

I snap my fingers and point at her. “Brilliant idea. I wanna listen in.”

We huddle around the phone. Putting on her manager’s voice, she dials
De Groot
, identifies herself as a manager from another restaurant and requests a reference on me.

Eric answers. As we listen, our jaws drop. “Miss Tanin Gordhan was fired. We found money missing and all evidence pointed at her, but since we couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure, we chose not to pursue the matter and we simply let her go. She is not a bad worker; however, we couldn’t possibly have her working around our tills.”

I have to sit – my knees have turned to jelly. How could he possibly say something like that?

Rheema hangs up and looks at me, her face ashen. “Fuck, Tanin, what are they talking about? Did you take …?

“Rheema, I have absolutely no idea. I cannot …oh my God, how could they tell such lies? I never stole any money.”

She looks at me and shakes her head. “No wonder you didn’t get any of the jobs you expected to get. Who’d employed you with a reference like that? Fuuuuuck!” She rifles through her purse. “I need a cigarette after that.”

“Rheema, it’s Tarago Jakobus…” I tell her about the bet and how I turned him down.

This time she doesn’t fight what I’m saying.

“I’m going to confront him.”

“No! You can’t do that, Tanin. You’re sounding crazy. He’s gonna laugh at you.”

“I don’t care, Rheema, I’m going to. I have no choice. With my mom’s illness, I can’t afford to move house now. I can’t afford to be without a job. I have to go to him, talk to him, put an end to all this shit, Rheema.”

****

I sneak into the restaurant through the service entrance. Eric’s face turns the colour of the roses on the table when he sees me.

“I heard your reference,” I say. “I know that you value your job and that you’re only following orders, Eric, so you don’t have to answer my questions. However, if I’m wrong, just say ‘you’re wrong.’ That will suffice.”

With a low groan, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge off his nose.

“Tarago Jakobus is targeting me?”

He doesn’t answer and keeps his eyes averted.

I nod. “He’s after me cos I rejected his advances and he wants to win the stupid bet, right?”

No answer.

Tarago Jakobus paid you a grand to do destroy me.

“What?! You’re wrong!” 

Nuff said. I’m flabbergasted by the truth. My suspicions were not unfounded – he really is after me. Why would he be that mad at me when he said that it was no problem?

I decide that enough is enough, I am going to confront Tarago right now.

Feeling like David approaching Goliath, I walk into the restaurant and up to the hostess who is not a familiar face to me. Her name tag says Sarah.

“I would like to see Mr Jakobus please.”

“
Meneer
Jakobus?” She glances at the far end of the restaurant where Tarago dines with two men and three women.

“This is not Mr Jakobus’s office,” she says in an abrupt voice. “He does not see people here.”

“I think he may just see me. Can you please ask him?”

I think curiosity gets the better of her, because she hesitates, then looks at Tarago Jakobus.

At that moment, Tarago looks up and sees me. I watch him dab his mouth with his napkin and put it down, his eyes all the time on me.

“I think you’d better go or I will have to call sec…”

Mr Jakobus flicks two fingers at her. She hurries over to him. Their heads meet for a few moments before Sarah hurries back to me. “Mr Jakobus, he regrets he’s unable to eh, see you.”

I look at him. “He said that, did he?”

I’m losing my house, I’ve lost my job, I cannot get another job because of his lies and he is too busy dining on his surf and turf to talk to me? I don’t think so. Fury takes over. I stride over to Mr Jakobus.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” Sarah yells.

I ignore her and continue walking.

Tarago sits back and watches me, an amused look on his face.

Deep breath. “Mr Jakobus, I’m sorry to bother your dinner, but there seems to be a problem. I seem to be the target of a …vendetta. Yours. And I would like to know why?”

Surprise registers on everyone’s face.

He gets up, excuses himself and walks over to the computer room. I follow him.

He leans against the desk, arms folded across his chest and eyes me.

Am I intimidated by his 6’4 frame, his piercing blue eyes, his Rolex and his thick gold chain? For sure. But that doesn’t stop me from doing what I have to do.

“
Kan jou Afrikaans praat
?” (Can you speak Afrikaans?)

“I think you understand what I am saying, Mr Jakobus. I have conversed with you several times in the past in English, sir. So, please, could you tell me what is it that you want from me?”

There is a short silence before his eyes turn to slits. “
Jou
.”

His voice is so low, I’m not sure I heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“I want you,” he says in Afrikaans. His candidness floors me.

I touch my chest. “I…I …whyyyy? You don’t even
know
me.”

He shrugs. The flicker of amusement in his eyes confuses me. Is my life simply a game to him? Am I a monkey here to entertain this motherfucker?

“Is this why you had me fired? Is this why you’ve bought up the property we live in? Lied about me stealing …?”

He nods. I can’t believe his audacity. He’s not even hiding it.

I press my fingers to my temples as I try to make sense of the situation.

“Sir, I am twenty-one years old and I am
nothing
like any of the women you date. So …why…?”

“I like variety,” he says after a shrug.

Anger takes over. “What if
variety
doesn’t like you,
sir
?”

“Variety will, when her arse is on fire.”

“Whaaaat?!”

“Do
you
need a translator?”

“No, I don’t need a translator,” I say in an indignant voice. “All this because I rejected your advances?”

“I do not remember making
advances
. I remember asking you to join me for a
drink
.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “So this orchestrated attempt …?”

“
Kan jy Afrikaans praat
?”

“No!” I fold my arms across my chest. “I prefer English.”

“
Hoekom
(Why)?”

“Because, sir, Afrikaans is the language of the oppressor.”

“It is also my language. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue my surf and turf. Have a good evening.”

As he tries to walk away, I step in front of him and block his path. Opening my purse, I take out two one rand coins and slap them on the table.

He looks at the coins, at my face and his eyes twinkle.

Furious at his inability to take me seriously, I take out more coins from my purse and slap them in front of him. “Or do you need a note instead of coins? Huh?”

Again, he looks at the coins and smiles.

I open my purse and empty the contents on the table. “Why stop at coins, huh? Take my lipstick, my pens, my keys, my wallet – take everything! Just leave me the f…just leave me alone.”

With a smile, he brushes past me and walks away, leaving me staring after him.

Sarah appears and jerks her thumb towards the door. “Or do you want me to get security?”

Feeling like I’m in a really bad dream, I collect the contents of my bag and make my way out through the back door of the restaurant.

As I leave, I spot Tarago Merc parked in a special parking bay. A shiny, silver SLK. Ashwin always admired this car. Said it costs as much as a house. Mm.

I walk over to the stack of liquor bottles waiting to be collected, grab a Johnny Walker blue label and smile to myself. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to his car and slam the empty bottle on the windscreen. Bam! It shatters.