Page 5 of The Rival in South Africa
On top of that, Alex inherited a lot from his mum: he had his mother’s looks, dark hair, deep brown eyes, and her drive and work ethic. As a teenager, I’d seen them bond together over Alex’s early programming successes. Someday, no doubt, he’d be running the business she’d started when she was scraping together funding and trying to immigrate from Malaysia to England.
My parents had never shown much interest in anything I’d done, and my inheritance was in a trust fund.
“There’s no Wi-Fi on the safari,” I told Mum. “He won’t be able to work at all.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what he needs, a break from work,” Mum said. “Can you believe he hasn’t used any leave this year?”
I tried a different tactic. “Natasha would really give him that time off? He’s so integral to her company.” Natasha loved having her son work in the business with her.
“She’s the one that suggested it.”
“I don’t think he’ll be able to get a tent this late, Mum,” I said. “I leave in two days, and I’m pretty sure they’re only operating at a soft opening right now. Not all of the accommodations are ready yet.”
“Oh, he’ll just stay with you.”
That actually caused me to sputter. “Mum! This is a safari. Yes, it’s a high-end one, but there’s only one bed!”
“Well, then, I guess you’ll have to share. You are both grownups. This isn’t a teenaged sleepover.”
I rolled my eyes at that. I don’t think I had a sleepover once as a teenager. Mum was watching too many American movies.
I tried to argue more, but Mum cut me off. “?????,” she said, and then I knew I was sunk. She only called me her little fish when she was serious and concerned. And also, she switched to Russian. It was a double whammy. “It would really make me feel better about you going on this trip.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. What was that expression? How do you eat a cow? One bite at a time. The first bite was appeasing my mother. I would figure out the rest of the details later.
“Okay, fine, Mum, Alex can come. I’ll ask him.” Maybe I could just conveniently forget to talk to Alex, or we could both agree that it would be better to worm our way out of this than to actually go on a trip together. I couldn’t imagine that Alex was too keen on taking a trip with me.
“Oh, dear, there’s no need to ask. Natasha’s already booked his flight for him, and she’s talking to him right now. Just imagine how that conversation is going.” She gave a tinkling laugh into my stunned silence. “Kisses, p????, I love you.”
And she was gone.
* * *
While packing,I mulled my problem over.
Fact: Alex was coming with me on this trip.
Also, fact: Alex could not know the real reason I was there.
Final nail-in-the-coffin fact: It would be next to impossible to hide.
I looked at the camera backpack, and the features and accessories that had once made me so happy now seemed to scream,You’re trying too hard!
The last thing I wanted was Alex critiquing my every shot. He was always all too willing to offer “helpful” feedback, which would just drive me bonkers.
I could picture him leaning over my shoulder.What if you tried a different aperture? Why didn’t you pack a bigger lens, Nikki?
I thought about switching the medium zoom lens out. I could go smaller—try to attract less attention—or I could go bigger.
Male inadequacy issues?Compare yourself to my giant lens and feel lesser.
I shook my head. I wouldnotlet Alex ruin this for me before it even got started. He probably didn’t know much about photography, anyway. As smart as he was, his focus was narrow; I doubted aperture was even in his vocabulary.
Besides, it’s not the size; it’s how you use it.
As I rolled and packed my things—the hiking gear I bought before my Chichén Itzá trip and then used a dozen times over, the layers I was going to need on the cold nights, my travel-sized toiletries—I tried to work out a solution. The other option, one that changed little, was to be furious at my mother.
But eventually, my clothes were packed, and I still hadn’t come up with a good idea. I moved over to the bathroom and pulled out some supplies for the evening’s activities. There was no way I was going to bother packing a slew of things I didn’t truly need, so I performed my pre-trip ritual. I washed my face, cleansed it, and applied a mask. Later, in the shower, I’d shave my legs and pits and bush so I didn’t have to pack a razor or shaving cream.
