Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

Pete said nothing. He felt no sympathy towards his dad and it was obvious to him John wanted to play the victim. Pete would not allow himself to be manipulated by his two-timing father. John loved to show his son who was in power and it didn’t stop him now.

“Don’t forget who pays your salary and who puts a roof over your head. Go and do what you should be doing. Go sell wine,” he ordered.

Pete had had enough of being spoken down to. His life on the farm had been pretty stress free. It was his mom who had always envisioned him working alongside his dad and eventually taking over the day-to-day running of La Vigne Sacrée, a name he found completely pretentious, particularly since they had not one drop of French blood pumping even vaguely through their veins. He didn’t want to disappoint Jen or add to her worries, but he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m leaving. You won’t find me here tomorrow morning. You can tell Ma we had a fight and I’ve gone. I can’t work with you, especially after what you called me.”

“Come on Pete, stop being such a girl.”

“You doing it again; you called me a cunt, remember? In front of Patty. In front of everyone. As if that’s not bad enough you cheat on Ma. I can’t keep hiding the truth about you from Ma.”

“Mom knows about Patty.” John’s eyes were brimming with tears, but his son remained unmoved.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’m not only talking about Patty, Dad!” He shoved his father’s phone into John’s hand and waited for him to read the message. While he read the text from Frankie, Pete spoke, disappointment oozing from his voice. “Of all the women, you had to screw your best business investment and your best mate’s wife. Now look who’s the cunt?”

Pete watched his father attempt to rise off the couch, maybe to punch me , he thought. His father fell back and he watched, unmoved as the tears rolled from his dad’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” John said. “I’m sorry I broke your bowl. I’m sorry I disappointed you and hurt your mom. I just don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. Please, Pete. I need you. Mom will fall apart if she hears you’ve gone. I’ll make this right, I promise.”

Too late, you old fuck, Pete thought and turned to leave the room.

Pete heard John’s phone beep. He would never know, nor did he care who it was from◦– not anymore. The message happened to be from Frans and it read that the money from the ceded policy would be in John’s personal account by Thursday. If Pete had been privy to this bit of information, he would certainly have been tempted to transgress all boundaries and punch him. That money belonged to the family and John had thrown it away because of a paltry blowjob. Pete had seen his father’s credit card statements, which were off the charts, and he had known the expenses were accrued because he could not keep his dick in his pants. He had studied finance at university. He had wanted to show his father that this is where he belonged in the company and not in wine sales. In so doing he had stumbled across all sorts of transactions that hadn’t added up and that had ultimately pointed to his father’s debauchery.

Frankie had tried several times throughout the day to reach John, but he had not returned any of her calls or her messages. Nor had Lee for that matter. After deleting very personal and lewd pictures, texts and emails from her phone and her computer, she had little else to do. She recalled having read in some magazine, years ago, about a woman who had caught her husband cheating. He had been caught out because he was obsessed with keeping mementos: restaurant bills and pictures of his lover◦– even her underwear. The suspicious wife had also found a drawer full of love letters. Frankie had laughed at the man’s stupidity. But after going through her own little ‘collection’, she had to admit that she was just as foolish and reckless. She had made it very easy for Lee to find damning evidence if he wanted to.

Frankie’s phone vibrated, and, thinking it was John, she answered immediately. It was Shelley.

“Why weren’t you at Zumba today? And where was Jen? Is something going on?” Shelley asked.

“Why should anything be going on, Shelley? I’ve been busy and Jen’s at Delaire,” Frankie said without hesitation.

“Oh, that’s very nice! While poor John is asking Frans to cede one of his policies because of financial problems, Jen is languishing at the spa. No wonder the poor guy was so belligerent on the phone to Frans the other night. I read a text John sent Frans. He’s even pulled out of poker nights!”

Frankie, despite being Jen’s biggest traitor, was her biggest ally too. “Shelley, you should be very careful what you say about people. Firstly, I’m sure John’s financial worries are confidential, so I don’t know how happy your husband would be about you disclosing classified information to everyone.”

“Not everyone. You,” Shelley interrupted.

Faith had come into the lounge with mid-morning tea and some fruit for Frankie. She set it down on the coffee table. Frankie mouthed a “thank you”, and indicated to her to open the patio doors. February in Stellenbosch could be stiflingly hot. She continued with her conversation. “You know what I’m trying to say. It makes me wonder whether Lee can trust Frans with his business.” Frankie was earnest. She really wondered at Frans’s professionalism. Why would he be so open about business matters?

She heard Shelley scoff . “Frans didn’t tell me. Are you daft? The two of us hardly greet each other let alone speak to one another. I was eavesdropping, and I sometimes read his messages.”

Frankie poured herself some rooibos as she spoke, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder. “Even more reason to shut your mouth. You’ll lose business for him, so be careful. That business keeps you in the lifestyle to which you’re accustomed.”

Shelley conceded that Frankie was right. But being an incorrigible snoop, she wanted to know why Jen had not told the group she was going to the spa.

“It has something to do with that embarrassing speech she made at the party, doesn’t it? Poor John, he felt like such a tool! And I know Anne’s husband is fuming too.” Frankie sipped her tea listening to Shelley go on about her friend without any encouragement. “Jen needs to thank God for John every single day, I tell you. He’s a great-looking man, he’s a good husband and provider. She doesn’t know what a gem she has.”

Frankie knew that, given half a chance, Shelley would be in John’s bed. Shelley still believed Jen was the reason John hadn’t married her and not the other way around.

Frankie sighed. “You’re still sore that John dumped you for her,” she joked.

“I am not,” Shelley protested. “Although I wouldn’t mind waking up next to him rather than next to Frans, I must confess.”

“Shelley!” Frankie shrieked. “You’re incorrigible. And, you’re such a bitch, too.” She wondered at the same time how Shelley would react if she ever found out about her affair with John.

“I know. I know. We all missed you today, Frankie, but we’ll see you on Friday at book club. Don’t forget, we have to make up for the one we cancelled ’cause of the party of the year. Don’t forget to remind Jen, please, if she’s not still being rubbed and scrubbed while poor John is pressing grapes with his bare feet to pay for it.”

They both cackled like witches. “Sometimes I love you. Only sometimes,” Frankie said.

“Bullshit. You love me always, because I shoot from the hip.”

Frankie hung up. Can you imagine the scandal if my friends found out about John and me? It wasn’t a pleasant thought. But she knew Lee; he would go to great pains to avoid a scandal, even if it meant staying in an unhappy marriage to an adulterous wife.