Lars started the car, threw a glance in the rearview mirror, and remembered the shabby aspect of his attire.

Not only did the man regret not taking a shower, but he wondered why he picked a sweater that held a slight humidity smell of badly dried clothes.

Unlike his brother, Jonas, Lars didn't have the cleaner's touch regarding his laundry and other chores. The youngest of the Pottsmann siblings lived with his parents the longest. Even when he had his place, it wasn't rare to find him squatting his parent's couch.

No, Lars wasn't the perfect independent man and protective umbrella women sought. Thus despite his looks and apparent wealth, he remained what many women considered a loser who didn't even know how to assume himself. One would not place him with the high-value elite or on the same pedestal as his brothers.

He turned on the air-con, hoping it would ventilate the smell.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Lars thought of what conversation he could spark. Thulile didn't seem like the talkative type.

"You can put on the radio. I don't know the station's here."

Thulile knew where to press; Elije had a similar car. To Lars' surprise, Thulile didn't stop on a station radio playing Amapiano.

The music filled the silence while Lars thought of things to say.

"How long have you been making coffee?"

"Since I was a child," Thulile answered without looking at him.

"And how far back was that?"

The woman glared in a glance; this time, he caught her attention, "it was long enough ago."

Lars nodded and tried another method, "wow, I couldn't do anything as a kid. My brothers all have some talent. They're either natural-born leaders or creatives, I mean, my brother Joㅡ."

The man stopped as he realized how much he admired his siblings. The feeling stirred self-pity but also resilience.

Anger made him say a bunch of things he didn't mean, at least not the way he expressed it in Moder Yord's meeting room. The only true thing was his wish to prove he had a talent and could make it independently.

Lars promised himself next time he met a family member; he would hold money produced by his efforts with no piggyback from anyone.

"You were saying."

"Never mind."

"In two meters, turn left."

Thulile didn't push the conversation further. She didn't care much about interacting with him.

They had nothing to discuss.

The woman didn't think Lars was serious when he said he wished to start a business. It was probably his pick-up line.

Many girls fell into the trap of guys who told them they looked like models and would find them an agent. Man, who said they could make them an actress or any other glamourous being.

The fatality was sex, nothing more, nothing less.

Thulile wondered where and when Lars would drop such a condition.

Unlike Palesa, she didn't believe he could offer her a remedy to her troubles.

"You know I'm so excited about this idea. I've worked on projects like this before; I mean a start-up. The hardest part will probably be creating the blends. The rest will be a piece of cake; the sooner we get started, the better."

"I didn't say yes."

The man held to his idea, how look would he keep up the front?

A man like him could change your life.

Thulile didn't know how to play such games also she had a man. She knew these types of situations were about give-and-take, and she had no intention of giving any piece of herself.

What was she thinking?

Perhaps the man was sincere, and he genuinely wished to collaborate with her. It was pretentious to believe Lars had another intent concerning her.

Foreigners came to South Africa on vacation or to make money, and Lars looked like someone present for the second option.

They arrived at the market, people, notably tourists, slalomed from a stand to another. The market famous for its spices and refined goods also had stores where one could shop coffee beans produced in specific regions of the world.

Lars found a place to park, and they got out. Thulile didn't wait; she began to walk fast. Lars barely had the time to shut the car doors.

"Hey, wait up, why are you in such a hurry?"

"I'm not on a break. I need to get back fast, so step up."

"Okay, mam."

Thulile entered a shop. The smell of coffee slapped Lars' nostrils as he followed.

Huge opened bags of coffee beans paved the way to the counter. A man wearing a turban and traditional Indian clothes welcomed them.

"Thulile."

"Hi Ali"

"What brings you?"

Thuile suddenly began to speak in Swahili, "tafadhali nisaidie , Ali [ please help me, Ali]. I know ninadaiwa pesa zako [I know I owe your money].

Lars observed the man named Ali shook his head and crossed his arms, "Thulile, I know you are honest and hard-working, but I can't keep on loaning. I'm not helping you. I told you to change your prices. The beans you want are expensive; the prices you practice are too low for your business to survive."

All of Thulile's attempts to make the man whisper failed; Lars heard all of his responses in English.

Thulile closed her eyes and sighed; there was no use.

"Now tell me, when will you pay me what you owe?"

"Ali, I need more time."

"See what I mean, Thulile, imagine I give you something today. When will you pay, huh?"

Lars could tell the older man was only trying to prevent her from sinking more. Thulile was already indebted and heading to no-way-out vile.

Thulile stormed out of the store, but Lars remained.

"Eh, excuse me."

"Yes, sir, how may I help you?"

"I'm the woman who just left business partner. Do you mind telling me how much she owes you? I'm sure we can find a little arrangement."

In the meantime, Thulile tried the other addresses she knew. All refused; she bought what she could and returned to stand next to Lars' car. The man came along a few minutes later. Two men carrying large bags of beans followed him.

"What's this?"

"You said you needed beans. It would be a shame to leave without them. You can thank me later."

Thulile shook her head, "bring them back. I don't want anything from you."

Lars opened his trunk and let the men lay the bags.

"Why? We're creating a brand together."

"No, we're not."

"Yes, we are. We're partners."

Partners.

The third word finally found its way out via another medium. What scared Thulile was the multiple interpretations of the word, but also, for the first time, her prediction involved her.

Who was this man?

What did he want from her?

Perhaps she was reading too far into it.

Before Thulile could add a word, Ali came running up, "Mr. Pottsmann, here's my business card. Don't bother coming all the way here next time. We can deliver if you want. Oh, and, Vikash."

The man called Vikash came with a box.

"This is the best coffee maker with a grinder one can have at home. It's effortless to use Thulile will show you."

Thulile's gaze went from Ali to Lars, who smiled and gave her a wink.

Ali came to shake her hand, "Thulile, you should have told me you had an investor. I knew you would go far."

Thulile remained stunned while Ali took leave with his men.

They both got in the car and shut the door.

"Go on; you can thank me now."

"I won't have sex with you."

The man's mouth dropped open, "excuse me."

"I don't know why you paid all these things, but I won' sleep with you. I have a boyfriend, and I will pay you back for everything."

Lars gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Who did she take him for?

The man didn't get angry quickly, but Thulile's words triggered him, and he tried to find the resources to answer something relevant.

"Listen, Thulile, I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression, but I won't sleep with you, and I won't ask you to do such a thing ever. I don't mix business with pleasure. Been there, done that, and won't do it again. You see, when a pair of trunks mingles with panties and business, I swear that smoothie will give you the runs. So trust me, nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever happen between us. I hope this reassures you, and no offense, but I'm only here to make money."

The message couldn't be more straightforward.