The clock struck five. The countdown has just begun. Belgie stared at it. Guess he noticed that I have been taking note of each passing tick. He shifted his gaze at me. I bent down and touched his whiskers. Sixty minutes from now, I will face a dreadful moment of my life.
I quickly got myself into my black skirt with a casual top, the colour of the sky. I set the waves of my thick brown hair in place, applied a little powder and enhanced my full red lips with my strawberry lip balm. As I grabbed purse, my eyes locked with Belgie’s and I whispered, ‘I have to do this. Now or never.’ Then I left allowing the door of my room to bang at my back as I hurried down the steps.
Forty-five minutes left. I felt the cool breeze caressing my face and I recalled how my day turned around. The phone call. It disrupted my day. It was from him. Prada. He was bent at his quest again. He torments me so and I have grown thinner than expected of a bride–to-be.
“Be there. Penmark Hotel. A dark skinned man with a distinguished moustache awaits you. He will show you the video. 6.00pm. Go alone,” Prada sounded with a scary voice.
“How do I see him?” I asked.
“He has your picture. Be at the bar. He will come to you,” and the line went dead.
As I bent towards the road leading to Penmark I wondered once again. Why wouldn’t he just let go. By now he should have known that it’s over and what we had in the past should be kept there. No doubt, we shared blissful romantic moments but it’s gone. A bird chirped sharply up the tree and I jerked back to reality.
It’s 5.50pm and I found myself at the gate of the Hotel. With shoulders high and face ever straight forward, I braced myself as I walked to the bar. Still like a statue, I sat and waited. Posing for those snap shots and the fun – video that looked more like a pornography we made together is surely telling on me now. I tensed up. But he deleted it from his camcorder or am I wrong? With the recent advent of new technology, one can never tell it might be retrievable.
Six has struck and gone. I bite my lips hard. The thought of this video going public horrified me. Never before now have I actually thought of my social life. How will my family and my circle of friends view me if this video goes public? What will his price be? I waited and waited but no one showed up. I tapped my hands on the table and my legs shake but I saw no one. Suddenly, I can feel the heat of my palms. The sound of my phone sent cold shivers down my spine. With shaky hands I picked it. It was him again.
“Look around,” came the deep sounding chill of his voice. And I did. There was no stranger but him. Him alone. He placed his hands casually on my shoulder as if it belonged there. I gazed at him motionless and speechless and the words came from him, “I have no video. It’s being long deleted. It is gone like the flames of a candle light. I just wanted you to have a feel of it. Anxiety and fear. Yes, that is what I felt when Horace took you away from me.”