CHAPTER12
Leon
It hurts like a plaster that’s been ripped off, bothering me with a lingering burn.
Violet has neatly catalogued her feelings for me in a picture book of stunningly expressive images. Just like the heart she carries on her sleeve.
I’m the monster in those pictures, the alien who imprisons the female time after time in various scenarios of humiliation and downright torture. And I don’t like the picture she painted of me. The sensual Violet with her violent sexual tastes is a part of every image. Those pictures must’ve sold for quite a few bucks, because they’re raw and honest and fucking potent. Her mind is amazing.
Yet, as my mother used to say, the truth hurts.
Out of options and tired of facing a dead-end street wherever I turn, I call Ashley. She’s one of the sex workers I visited a few times. We met in Zambia. The last time I saw her, she told me she was moving back to Johannesburg. She sent me a text message with her new number shortly after. That was two years ago. There’s a good chance she changed jobs or her number. She may not answer unlisted numbers.
I must still have some luck left, because just when I think the call will go onto voicemail, she picks up with, “Ashley, here.”
“Ash? It’s Leon.”
“Well, well,” she drawls. “Leon Hart. Hold on. I’m checking through the window. It must be snowing.”
“Yeah. It’s been a while.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Are you busy tonight?”
“I have a client at nine, but for you I’ll move him to next week,” she says in a sultry tone.
“I’m not calling for business. I just need to talk.”
“Shocker. How disappointing. I was already looking forward to your legendary skills.”
“I’m married now.” I switch on the indicator to take the highway, but I have no idea where I’m going.
“Holy shit.” She’s quiet for a couple of beats. “Give me a moment. I’m battling to wrap my head around what you just said.”
“Can you meet me? I’ll double the money you would’ve earned.”
“Sure. Why not? What do you have in mind?”
“I booked a restaurant for eight. Oscars. Do you know it?”
She whistles. “You don’t fool around. Your treat, and I can have anything on the menu.”
“As always. Do you need a ride?”
“I prefer to make my own way there, if you don’t mind. I like to keep my escape options open. You know, in case the conversation gets boring. Besides, I have a nice new Porsche and I still need to run in the engine.”
I chuckle. “The dress code is formal.”
“I know what the dress code is.” She blows a kiss into the phone and hangs up.
I drive around aimlessly for a while, not able to return home because I’m a mess. Seeing that I have two hours to kill, I make a quick decision and head toward the gym in Randburg. My membership is current even though I’ve been working out at home since I bought the house.
Not having brought exercise gear, I stop at the sports boutique on the ground floor and purchase a T-shirt, a pair of shorts, socks, sneakers, and a towel. After changing in the locker room, I pump iron until my muscles shake and my body is drenched with sweat. Then I have a shower, change into my clothes, and order a protein shake at the health bar before hitting the road.
On the way to Oscars, I stop at a high-end men’s clothing store that stays open until eight. The manager knows me well. He selects a few items in my size for me to try on. Ten minutes later, I swipe my card and leave in a pinstriped suit, a white shirt, and dress shoes.
I arrive at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, but Ash is already waiting at the table with the window view, sitting in the chair where I pictured Violet tonight. A candle throws soft light over the table, creating a romantic ambiance. A pang of regret tightens my chest. The scenario is off. How much it bothers me catches me by surprise, but it’s too late to change my mind because the hostess is already taking my jacket.
Ash looks up from her phone when I make my way over. Her blond hair hangs in a straight curtain around her shoulders. Her face is as youthful and wrinkle-free as I remember, her make-up natural and light. She pulls her glossy lips into a smile and gets up to hug me.
“Leon,” she says, kissing my cheek. “You look better than ever. Working out?”
“I can say the same about you.” I pull away. “Time has been good to you.”