Read Online Mr Not Quite Good Enough by Lauri Kubuitsile - Free Book Online

out,” she said, taking a side road around to the petrol station on the other side of the block. “So what do you think that whole traditional doctor thing was about?”
    â€œWell, the first part was obvious – you made the right decision concerning Showa,” Kelebogile said.
    â€œBut how did the old man know all that?” Gorata still wasn’t sure Mmandu didn’t tell him something, even though she swore she hadn’t.
    â€œWho knows? Some of these things are beyond us. Anyway, I wonder who that shell is.”
    Gorata laughed. “Yeah – the shell of my dreams!”
    She pulled up at a petrol pump and an attendant came to the window. “Good morning, how can I help you?”
    Gorata’s heart sank. “Where’s Ozee?”
    â€œHe had to go. A problem. How can I help you this morning?”
    â€œA problem? Like what?” Gorata asked.
    â€œLike his brother was shot or something. I don’t know really, that’s just what I heard. So how can I help you this morning?” he asked again like a broken record.
    â€œShot?” Gorata wondered what could have happened. “Do you have Ozee’s phone number?”
    â€œYeah, but . . . I don’t know, like I’m not supposed to be just giving it out to people.”
    Kelebogile leaned over Gorata and said to the man, “She’s his girlfriend.”
    The petrol attendant smiled and started getting his phone out of his pocket, but then hesitated. “But if you’re his girlfriend, how come you don’t know his number?”
    Gorata didn’t know how to answer, but Kelebogile leaned across her lap again and said, “Her phone was stolen last night. She’s just bought a new one.”
    The petrol attendant nodded his head and then scrolled through his numbers. Gorata got her battered Nokia from her handbag and waited. The man recited the digits and Gorata entered them in her phone. He looked up, saw Gorata’s old phone and scowled.
    Before he could say anything, Gorata said, “Full tank, please.”
    She dialled the number. “Hi . . . Ozee, it’s me, Gorata – I mean Lady Gorata.” She realised once she’d dialled the number that she’d never told him her surname, and Gorata was a pretty common first name. She felt silly calling herself Lady Gorata, but didn’t know what else to say.
    â€œGorata, yeah, whassup?” Ozee said.
    â€œI’m at the petrol station and they said your brother was shot. I just wanted to find out how you’re doing, you and your brother.”
    â€œHe’s in hospital but he’s fine, he was lucky.” Ozee sounded distant and Gorata wondered if this was just how he spoke on the phone.
    â€œWhich hospital? Maybe I could pass by?” she said.
    â€œNo, it’s fine. I’ll see you around, huh?” He hung up and it felt distinctly like a brush-off.
    Anyway, Gorata thought, she was no one to him, just some customer at his job. Why would he want her at the hospital during a family crisis? What had she been thinking? Why had she even offered that?
    â€œSo what does he say?” Kelebogile asked.
    â€œHis brother’s fine, apparently.”
    â€œSo are you going to go and see them?”
    â€œNo, not now, we need to get to work,” Gorata said.
    * * *
    Mr Pilane came out of his office and slammed a cup on his personal assistant’s desk. “I need coffee!” he said and went back inside.
    Gorata assumed Amita had already had her little meeting with their boss and he was less than pleased about her leaving. She struggled to open her office door since she was carrying her laptop, her handbag, a takeaway coffee and a yogurt. When she finally got it open, she was surprised to find Amita there, sitting on the sofa, dipping half a doughnut in her coffee. “I hope you don’t mind. I needed a place to hide until Hurricane Pilane exhausted