Mzamo had an apron over his work attire, black slacks and a white shirt. He looked relieved to see August for the first time since they had met.
“What…?” August was out of words.
“Thanks for coming,” Mzamo awkwardly smiled. “Come in.” August was reluctant. “Please.”
August walked in, closing the door behind him.
“If you try anything sketchy…” He warned, not liking how Mzamo was being nice all of a sudden.
Mzamo chuckled, but it was strained. They got out of the small entry-way and entered a cosy living area. He could see both the kitchen and lounge from there. Everything looked clean, with minimal decorations. His eyes glazed over the place, stopping on a coffee table with three picture frames. He focused on one with Kholwa on it. She was smiling, as she always did. She looked like she was at a park.
“Where’s Kholwa?” August questioned, not liking the awkwardness between them. “She’s the one who sent me the address, right?”
Mzamo walked to the kitchenette, August following. He was doing the dishes.
“What do you mean?” Was that why she hadn’t been answering his calls? “Since when?”
“Since Monday,” the day he met her at the coffee shop, “it just got worse yesterday.” He stopped doing the dishes and turned to August. “I know I told you to stay away from her, but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. I’m sorry.”
“Is it bad?”
Mzamo’s eyes trembled, but he hid his emotions well. “No. It’s just a bug she caught. You’re not too busy right? If you are, I’ll understand.”
Mzamo looked fragile. August never thought he had such a side to him. She must have really been sick if mighty Mzamo was even begging him to stay with her.
“No, I’m free.” He wasn’t. “I can stay for the rest of the day if I need to.” His agent was going to kill him.
Mzamo smiled, thanking him multiple times. He told him that he would remember what he had done for him before he finished the dishes and rushed off to work.
He finally knew why he couldn’t reach her for two days. She had been so sick that Mzamo had to take the previous day off. He couldn’t take another day off without his manager giving him a warning.
He was left with instructions for in case she needed something, Mzamo reassured him that it would be seldom. He was also told to help himself to any of the food in the house.
August, not sure what to do exactly, sat down on the only sofa in the living room. It was a two-sitter that faced the TV. He turned it on, panicking when the volume was too loud. He pressed the volume button until the TV was completely silent. He looked towards the bedrooms. The door was still closed. After a while, he released a relieved sigh.
His phone was next to break the silence. He jumped. He calmed down when he realised it was just his phone, but his panic resurfaced when he saw his agent’s number on the screen. He shut his eyes. He forgot all about his meeting regarding a show appearance. Veronica was going to murder him.
He answered, trying to hide his nervousness through laughter, “Veronica...”