Obsessed with Me - When she rejected him, he set out to destroy her - book 1
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Authors: Eve Rabi
OBSESSED WITH ME
When She Rejected Him, He Set Out To Destroy Her
Book One
By Eve Rabi
~~~
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2013 Eve Rabi. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media used in this book are fictitious and are the product of the author's imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication use of this trademark is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
APRIL 1993,
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA
One year before apartheid officially ended and
Nelson Mandela became president.
“Wait, wait! I have one – what’s the difference between a bitch and a slut?”
Some people at the table of ten mutter inaudibly, while others look expectantly at the teller of the inappropriate joke.
“A slut will fuck ……anyone,” Tarago Jakobus says in Afrikaans, “while a bitch will fuck anyone …
but
you.”
That joke-telling jerk Tarago is the owner of
Die Groot
located in Camps Bay, the restaurant I’m working in, which means that the arsehole is my boss.
Never heard him tell jokes in English, always Afrikaans. Never heard him speak English at all.
From the tray I’m balancing, I place tequila shots in front of my table of racist, sexist, politically-incorrect drunks.
Six beefy, slurring men, three striking, but slurring blondes, one long-haired, but you guessed it – slurring brunette – been hitting the drinks hard for the last two hours. Mainly shots.
A roar of laughter at the table as they pick slices of lemon off the plate.
“Which one are you,
meisie
(girl), a man with green eyes, a crew-cut and a drooping moustache asks.
Even though I find their comments and jokes offensive, I smile it off. “Is there anything else I can get anyone?” I ask, using an I’m-nursing-my-tips voice.
“Which one are you?” crew-cut repeats and extends a heavily tattooed arm, trapping and preventing me from leaving them. “Slut or bitch?”
“Eh, sir, I am none of them.”
“
Kom meisie, kom
(come girl, come), you have to choose one if you want me to let you go.”
Okay, he asked for it. “The eh, latter, sir.”
He blinks rapidly as his inebriated brain tries to figure it out.
“
Fok
, Jooste, she got you there, man!” Tarago Jakobus says.
With a confused look on his face, Jooste drops his arm.
With the sound of raucous laughter ringing in my ears, I dart away, flustered and red-faced.
When we serve their food more than thirty minutes later, they’re still at it.
“Wait, I got ’nother one,” Tarago Jakobus says, holding his index finger up, “A
bruino
(light skin, coloured man), a
charro
(Indian man) and a
peckio
(black man) are in a car – whose driving?”
All eyes are fixed on him. “The cops!”
I gasp. How could this man be so blatantly racist? In public too?
More laughter and table slapping.
“Your surf-and-turf, sir,” I say, trying to maintain a poker-face as I place the plate of food in front of Tarago.
Sexist, politically incorrect, arrogant, male chauvinistic pig – some of the adjectives that come to mind when describing Tarago Jakobus.
Oh, and also, loud, obnoxious and a moron with a penchant for women and whisky.
But he’s my boss, so tolerate him, as I do want to keep my job.
An hour later, Eric, the manager walks up to me. “Tanin,
Meneer
(mister) Jakobus would like you to join him for drinks,” he says. “Hand that tray over to Sonja and go.”
“What?” I cock my head and look at him. “Me?”
“Ohmigod!”
Sonja
says in a voice filled with envy, as she takes the tray off me. “How lucky are you?” She leans in and drops her voice, “Actually, the guy with the tattoo, he said, ‘Bet you a rand you can’t get this one, Tarago.’ Then Tarago said, ‘Bet you a rand I can. Thirty days.’ So if you say yes, Tarago wins the bet.”
“A whole rand?” I hang onto the tray. “I’ll give him
two
rand if he leaves me alone.”
“Tanin!” Eric hisses. “What’s your problem? Go! Go! Go!”
“Eric,” I whisper, “I have a boyfriend and … and …Eric, I don’t wanna have drinks with him. I don’t even drink.”
“What? You
don’t
drink? Anyway, that doesn’t matter, Tanin, just go!”
“But he’s so …so obnoxious. I loathe the man.”
Eric cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “Tanin, this is
Meneer
(mister) Jakobus – you don’t say no to him. If you wanna keep your job, that is. And I know you do, right? So, I suggest you put down that tray, take a moment to freshen up, put on a smile on your dial and go drink with your boss.”
This is a common occurrence. Most nights, Tarago Jakobus chooses a girl from the staff for drinks, and she usually spends the night or nights with him. Since he’s the owner of a string of upmarket restaurants and is known to be stinkin’ rich, most girls thrill at the prospect of being chosen by him, and are sour-faced when they aren’t.
I shake my head slowly. “Please, Eric, don’t make me do this.”
“I’ll go, I’ll go!” Sonja says, raising her forefinger. “I’ll just tell him …just tell him you got your period, that’s all.” Sonja’s really pretty – blonde hair that cascades down her tanned shoulders, bright blue eyes and willowy.
She’s recently got into ramp and photographic modeling and works part-time as a waitress until her modeling jobs increase.
She’s fun, flirty, street-smart and always ready to party. Not the sharpest chick around, but she’s sweet.
Eric doesn’t even look at her. “You
have
to go, Tanin,” he says in a no-nonsense voice. “Consider having drinks with him as part of your job as you are getting paid for it.” He gestures towards the door. “Now!”
I remain where I am and put a palm to my forehead. Disgusting and repulsive – how do I handle him?
“Tanin!” he hisses. “What …is …your …problem?”
Eric’s coloured, in his late fifties and has seventeen grandchildren. He’s been with Tarago Jakobus for almost ten years. He’s loved by customers, employers and staff. Right now, I see his anguish.
“
Probleem
?”
We three spin around and look into Tarago’s face, then exchange nervous glances. Just how much of the exchange did he hear?
Tarago is an imposing figure – around six-foot-four, dark blonde beard, blonde unruly hair that falls on broad shoulders which blocks the entrance to our work station. That leather jacket he’s wearing makes him look like a wrestler or rugby player – so not my type. (My type is more Tom Cruise and definitely no beard.)
Word has it that he has German and Irish ancestry, hence the cobalt eyes, blonde hair and the penchant for booze and partying. He’s supposed to be single but he’s always surrounded by bimbos.
Eric turns red in the face. “
Eh, nee, Meneer
Jakobus. No problem at all,
Meneer
.”
Tarago narrows his blue eyes at me. I look at the ground, intimidated by him.
Eric is so flustered and nervous, that, in spite of my nervousness, I decide to help him out.
“Mr Jakobus, Sir,” I say in a voice a therapist would use on a nut job, “I am rather honored by your invitation, but I have a boyfriend, so I have to decline.”
Something like confusion flits in his eyes. “No problem!” he says in Afrikaans.
I exhale, while shoulders around me relax.
He turns to Sonja, his eyebrows raised.
Sonja thrusts out a bony hip, places an equally bony hand on it, cocks her head and drops her voice. “I’m one hundred percent single and ready to mingle,
Meneer
Jakobus.”
With a smile, he sticks out his arm. She takes it.
“What’s your favorite drink?” he asks in Afrikaans.
“Dirty Cosmo.”
“How dirty?”
“Veeeery.”
He lets out a low chuckle.
Eric and I look at each other.
“See? No problem at all,” I say.
He doesn’t answer.
“Eric?”
“Shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters as he walks away.
Compared to Sonja, I’m just your average South African Indian girl – medium height, long dark hair (in a ponytail while I work), slim, brown eyes, full lips, generous bust – nothing out of the ordinary. So I’m baffled – why would Tarago Jakobus choose me when he has a smorgasbord of women to choose from?
Ashwin, my boyfriend of two years, is standing next to his car in the parking lot, waiting for me to finish my shift. At 11 PM, I grab my bag, rush out of
De Groot
and throw my arms around him. We kiss and cuddle for a few moments.
“Thank you for waiting, sweetie.”
“Anything for you, baby,” the love of my life says and plants another bunch of light kisses all over my face. “Anything for my love.”
Aglow in his endearing words and warm hugs, I lean right back and give him total access to my neck. He kisses then nuzzles it, making me giggle.
After some serious canoodling, we get into his car. As I do, I glance up at the restaurant. Through the glass window of the building, I see Tarago the jerk, sitting in his favorite chair which overlooks the parking lot, smoking a cigarette and eyeing us. Something about the way he looks at me makes me feel a little uncomfortable.
“How was work?”
I tear my eyes away from my boss. “Huh? Same ol’, same ol’. No need to mention my brush Tarago Jakobus – Ashwin’s a bit of an alpha male and can get pretty territorial.
“How’s the job offers going?” I ask as I kick off my shoes.
“Good. Narrowed it down to three.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep, any day now, I will be gainfully employed, then maybe you can stop working and just focus on your studies,” he says as he drives off.
“Mm.” It would be nice if I could do that. But I really need the money.
“You tired?” he asks as he slides a hand slowly down my thigh.
“Bushed.”
With a devilish smile, he pulls into a make-out point and kills the engine.
“I know a way to energize you,” he whispers as he reaches for me.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says as he unbuttons my blouse and slips his hand into my bra.
Ashwin has recently qualified as an engineer and is being a bit picky with the jobs coming his way. He doesn’t need the money like I do, as his parents are well off and very supportive of him.
Since I’m a full-time university student, I work part-time as a waitress, but it’s just so exhausting.
Recently I’ve taken double shifts to get more money because of my family commitments. But Tarago Jakobus pays well, arsehole or no arsehole, I tell you that much. Better than most of the restaurants around and people clamor to work in his chain of restaurants.