Crimson Muse

By Jan Art

Aya
If the blood running through our veins was anything but red, mine would be green, in all its shades.
Green - I'm drawn to it. Green – my, safe place.
My life was safe, calm and controlled like nature. My life was safe...until it wasn't.
Because, even I know nature has a wild side, a jungle waiting to be explored. I guess I'm only human and the loneliness is real.
So now, when I'm not a starving artist, a drop out - fresh out of varsity, seeing the world in many shades of colour, I’m being Lithium to my best friend, helping him out of the darkness when the insanity strikes - I'm also being a muse to a ghost from the past - A forbidden muse to my best friend's brother - Zak Nkosi.

Zak
I needed to run.
I needed to disappear - Anything to stop the madness. I watched dad's brains explode when I was a kid and then I ran and never looked back.
I needed to run. I needed to get away and make something of myself. I needed to run but now I'm back. It took me ten years to infiltrate the upper city of Johannesburg with a franchise of Clubs called King. It took me ten years of hustling and mixing up with gangs to run an empire.
So now - When I'm not being the King of the universe, or trying by all means to win back my family - I'm trying to find a Drug Lord from my past life in order to keep my family safe. I'm also gravitating towards a forbidden muse - Ayanda Miya.

I needed to disappear for their sake and mine. But now I'm back and never has, vengeance and redemption been this vital.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jan Art
• Release date: Jan 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311247032

Jan Art

Janneth Mazibuko is a word addict, song chaser, art seeker and part-time poetess hailing from the South of Johannesburg South Africa. She is also a girl-geek, lover of knowledge, guitar owner who wishes she could play her own damn guitar, singer-songwriter, love giver, free thinker, cheese lover and hopeless romantic. Sometimes she‟s a visitor of Jupiter by night, her ideal time to create love and all things artistic. P.S she actually goes by Jan Art on most occasions, so halla at her. Find her on Twitter: @Jan_Art_

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CRIMSON MUSE

(The Crimson Series #1)

By Jan Art

Copyright © Janneth Mazibuko 2015 All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without the consent of the author. This is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are all a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life situations is entirely coincidental.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. Jack Canfield

Chapter 1

Aya

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t do a damn thing with my life that involved not painting. But no – it’s not up to me because unlike trust fund babies, I actually have to do something with my life. I have to find a way to make ends meet even if it means getting through this stupid exam. Two hours in and I’m still daydreaming. Seriously! I’m one of those strange eclectic girls that love to wear baggy clothes inspired by the year 1995, that’s how chilled I am about life but today is different. Gone is my usual strange wardrobe, I’m all glammed up. Today, I’m not that natural haired afro girl, bohemian vibes and minimal make-up. Today - I’m far from myself. Not only am I wearing a girly laced up dress and have a long silky weave on, I’m also stuck in an exam room, two hours in and I still haven’t got a clue what the bloody correct answers are.

At what point in the human visual system are neurons or axons that code for the same visual field from two different eyes first brought together anatomically?

I stare at the question on my final psychology exam paper, trying my hardest to decipher it. I remember seeing this question on my practice paper but I just can’t seem to figure out if the answer on it read something like - nods and cones, the retina, optic chiasm or primary visual cortex. Fuck it. Everything is so mixed up in my brain at this point. I think I’m having one of those final exam freak out moments. I haven’t slept in days studying for this paper and here I am about to flunk it. Way to go Ayanda. My brain is screaming at me. I should’ve just quit when I wanted to. I should’ve just dropped out like I’ve been contemplating to do this whole freaken year. Hall 29 - Wits University will be the death of me. I haven’t even been attending classes anymore. I just came to write because Khaya convinced me to. Damn you Khaya.

One hour left, the invigilator announces and now my brain really goes on a quest of its own. It’s a burst of colour in my head. In my head I see sunset oranges, pale yellows, deep forest greens and sky blue shades. I’ve been in this place more times than I can even dare to count and I still can’t get over the dull colours of this exam hall. The brown on the walls looks like some smudged pottery shade mixed with nasty vomit. I need the sunlight or maybe an emerald glow, anything to take my mind off writing this damn stupid paper. It would be more interesting if they could paint some cool, fire breathing dragons onto the walls to help people like me focus during exams.

Sinking down on my seat and knotting my fingers, I blink back the tears already burning my eyes. I fix my gaze on a different question but still, my mind feels blocked.

Which of these aspects of face perception is not true for infants? It’s a simple multiple choice question and I have no idea what the answer is. I have no idea what anything is anymore. To be quite frank - I’m a failure and my life speaks for itself. I have nothing but a paintbrush set to my name. I’ve had no idea what’s happening in my life for years now, all I know is that I’m a mess and I definitely do not want to be a fucken psychologist, fixing people when I can’t even fix myself. I can’t believe it took me five years of text books, half focused lectures and barely there results to figure this out.

Feeling defeated, I crawl my way out of the hall and as soon as I reach the passage outside, Ashley chases me down before I can avoid her. I don’t need her around me right now. I don’t need anybody around. All I need is some alone time and a good fucken cry but I guess that’s too big a request for the universe to deem me. Approaching me, Ashley’s all dressed up in a luminous blue jumpsuit that compliments her eyes. The girl is gorgeous, a walking ray of sunshine with her bouncy golden locks and pale skin. She’s beautiful, so much that, sometimes I envy her light. I believe that everybody has a light about them floating like a halo. Like - we are all angels somehow, born to illuminate the Earth. That’s just how I see the world, in deep colours of light. I have a rainbow aura for everyone I meet. Ashley is a rainbow spectrum of sunset oranges, star dust and sweet yellows. Like I said, the girl is gorgeous and guys flock to her like bees would to honey.

Hey, how did your exam go? she asks me and all I can do is scowl at her.

It’s ok Aya, at least you came to write, she adds, patting my arm. At her words, the tears I’ve been holding back find a way to burn down my cheeks.

Hey, don’t cry babe, you’ll ruin your make-up. She starts, wiping my cheeks with the back of her hand, fixing my dress and even powdering my nose. Shit, the girl is forever prepared with a beauty 101 kit in her hand bag for every kind of cry.

Why did I do this again? I ask her, not hiding the fact that I totally hate my new look. I. Hate. Weaves. I just don’t get it. The whole process of putting on another person’s hair has always freaked me out a little and besides, I love my afro and I miss it. I feel like an alien in my own body today. I tug at a strand of my new fake hair and glance at my best friend. She’s admiring me with a smirk on her face.

Say something Ash, I murmur, trying to appreciate my temporary new self.

I’m hoping you’ll attract a corporate guy today, or maybe one of those nerd hot doctors that are graduating with your brother today, Ashley squeals, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

Feeling irritated, I change the subject. Where’s Khaya? I ask her and she points towards the reception desk, where Khaya is huddled on a chair with his game boy, immersed in the small screen. I mean who does that right? Who still plays games on an ancient, out of fashion portable gaming console?

Where do you even buy those nowadays? I tease him as I cross to him. He purposely ignores me, making it pretty clear that his game is way more important than my stupid teasing. I laugh as he finally looks up at me, my breath coming up short when his eyes lock with mine. My heart is hammering in my chest like a wild drum to some unknown beat of nerves now.

Ayanda, uhm wow, you look wow. Choking on his words, Khaya looks me up and down in approval. I'm nervous suddenly, which is weird - I never get nervous around Khaya.

He's Khaya Nkosi for crying out loud. He’s my white light, that familiar place of calm that I’ve known since I was twelve – I shouldn’t get nervous around him.

Thanks, so you like the new look? I’ve never been one to be concerned about beauty and making an impression but deep down inside, I really need to hear him say he likes my new look.

I like everything about you Aya, just the way you are, even when you want to go hug a tree. I thought you knew that already. Getting up, he makes a proper observation of me. I take him in too. He looks dapper in his dark grey suit, a formal look that he doesn’t really rock much because he’s such a geek - a handsome one though. Khaya is one of those pretty boys, a splitting male version of his mother. We stare at each other intently for about a minute until Ashley's squeaky voice breaks the awkward silence looming in the air.

Ok love birds, we really should get going, she says and both Khaya and I turn to her in bewilderment.

Love birds? Khaya says as if testing the word for the first time. He smiles and shakes his head in awe. Seriously Ash, he murmurs and I give her a stern look of my own but she ignores us and disappears into the graduation hall. I meet Khaya's deep brown gaze and sigh. He steps closer to me and touches a strand of my side pony, running his fingers through the fake hair as if feeling its softness.

It’s organic Indian hair, I explain, trying to fill the gap of our silence. Khaya raises a brow at me but I see the humour in his eyes. I like, I will always like everything about you, he whispers into my ear. I bury myself in his arms and revel in the warmth of his embrace. We’re around the same height me and him. I stand at five four and he stands at around five six. Releasing me, he sighs and looks down at me. I can already sense something is wrong by the intensity in his eyes. It’s all over him, smothering tension, dark like burnt scribbled crayons.

Everything… ok? I stutter. Khaya nods but it's not very convincing. I scowl at him because I know him so well. With his condition, he can’t hide his emotions very well – It’s either, high, really really high or low, really really low. We get each other like that. When shit gets rough, I’m his person and his mine. I’m his Lithium when he doesn’t have any and he’s my paintbrush when I need it. There are some things that Ashley, as close as we are to her will never understand, simply because she's always had a white picket fence kind of life. Wealthy white collar parents, a good commerce degree and a steady job at a major accounting firm, all at her disposal now. Khaya and I on the other hand haven’t been so fortunate. We know life, real life that involves black tax, emotional stress, depression – which apparently black families either feel like they can pray it off of you or that it just doesn’t exist.

I’m fortunate enough though to still have both my parents around and an amazing older brother who’s now officially a doctor. We don’t have much at home but we get by. Baba works as a history teacher in a secondary high school in Soweto and mama works as a cashier at a retail outlet.

As much as I'm happy for my big brother, I just can't help feeling like a failure especially today. No graduation for me. The realization hits me with the burning force of a bullet into flesh but I blink back the tears. This is Khaya and Jabu’s day, I will not ruin it for them with my childish emotions.

Zakhele is coming home, Khaya says quietly, interrupting the pity party going on in my head. Oh? I murmur.

Yeah, he called me today. Can you believe it? After all these years Ayanda, he has the nerve to show up like we need him.

I hardly know what to say so I keep my mouth shut and rest my head against his chest assuring him that, I’m here for him, even though I can’t imagine what he must be going through. Khaya and his brother Zakhele have never really gotten along. They’re like oil and water or a contrast of black and white, there’s just no chill between them. I'm not exactly thrilled at the thought of seeing Zakhele myself. It's been what? Ten years since we’ve seen him, heck I haven't seen him since eighth grade, after he dropped out of high school and basically went on the run.

Zak though, as he is now goes by was a bit of a loner in High School. Nobody really gave a damn about him. There was always something looming and sad about Khaya’s brother that left me wondering what his deal really was.

Are you going to see him? I ask stupidily. He nods uncertainly and then shrinks himself away from me, his way of dropping the subject.

We should get going or else Ashley will have our heads and I'll be late for my own graduation, he says quietly and I'm relieved by the humour I hear in his voice.

Chapter 2

Zak

We're driving through Atlas road right after OR Tambo international airport and I just have to comment on this girls outrageous driving. I thought New York City was crazy with traffic and the many fucken yellow cabs but damn I'd forgotten how crazy it gets down here in Johannesburg, the city of gold. My God Clems, you're going to kill us both if you don't bloody slow down.

I'm rewarded with a fuck you look from Clementine. I laugh because I know what she's thinking. You drive just as crazy as I do, she yells as I mimic her.

I'm the only one who's allowed to drive myself at this speed. Female’s shouldn't be driving fast at all, I tease her and she laughs despite herself.

I'm not that kind of girl and you know it. I’ll kick your ass Zee. Damn. The girl is loud. I've missed her though, even with her annoying crazy coloured girl from the Cape Flats accent. I love this girl, she’s the only one who’s allowed to call me Zee, she's loyal to me and she's a damn good friend too. I'm talking ride or die kind of girl. If she was straight, maybe we would've hit it off by now. She's definitely my type of girl in the looks department. Light-skinned girl, thick and with curves in all the right places to please a man like me but - unfortunately for me, she's lesbian. We dated in high-school for about a month and I guess I put her off men for good. She's also too good of a friend now for it to ever go down the drain between us for a stupid roll in the sack.

She slows down when we reach a red robot just after the highway. A homeless kid who looks round about in his early 20’s approaches our car on my side of the window and gestures for money. He looks like a druggie who will go get his fix as soon as I give him any cash. I scowl at the kid and he veers away to the next car. This is just what I need to remind me that I’m back in South Africa, the land of entitlement.

So typical how the average black South African under the age of 35 is either unemployed, uneducated or H.I.V positive and with the recent xenophobic attacks, hatred should be on that list too. There’s just no other explanation for it. Our economy is in shambles and that’s one of the main reasons I came back home too, to make sure that my businesses are well taken care of and of course to check on the family and make sure Chad gets what’s coming to him.

The rest of the drive back to my complex in Rosebank is quiet between me and Clementine. We let the radio break the silence as we drive. I like this about our friendship, we don't have to try and fill in the blanks when all has been said for the moment. She lets me lose myself in my thoughts and all I do is think of home - not home as in my empty complex in Rosebank but home as in – Soweto. I miss that place and I sure as hell miss my family, so much that a part of me wishes the feeling was reciprocated by them. I pull out my phone and text Khaya for the third time today. We talk once in a while me and him but it's always really weird.

Hey lil bro how’s the day? He replies almost immediately.

Fine.

Frustrated, I throw my iPhone at the back seat and like a fool I sulk. Can you believe it, a grown twenty-eight year old man, sulking? Disgusting I know but yes, I actually fucken sulk. That's an iPhone you just tossed across the back like trash you know, in case you didn't notice, Clementine says and smiles at me. He gave me a one worded text Clems, I yell. Clementine steals a look my way from the corner of her eye and I literally grab the steering wheel from her to stop us from swerving into the pavement.

Damn and I thought women could multitask. Eyes on the road, I yell playfully. Sorry, she murmurs. He gave me a one word answer dammit.

Khaya? she asks and I nod, still in bewilderment at my little brother’s audacity.

Oh...sorry, Clementine adds quietly. She knows the deal between my brother and me and is smart enough not to push the matter. We pull up in front of my Oak lakes complex and greet the security guy who opens the boom gate for us. Long time, no see boss, the guy says as Clementine parks her Jeep and I climb out. Grabbing my luggage from the back I head up the stairs to the second floor of my fortress with Clementine following in slow lazy steps behind me. Nice whip, I say to her, stealing a look at her as I climb the stairs two at a time. It's nothing compared to your Range sport, she says.

Inside, I drop my luggage and slump myself on the long sofa. Clementine slips herself down on my lap and hugs me.

I've missed you, she says and my heart melts, if that’s even possible for a man like me. I don't say it back but I know she knows that I've missed her too. I'm just not the kind of guy who says such things and she knows that about me. She's literally the only person in the world who genuinely gives a damn about me and for that I will always have her back. She takes care of shit when I'm away on business trips and gigs and all that sort of stuff that I do.

I'm a photographer at heart but that’s not how I make my living. I own a franchise of clubs called King. The name is inspired by my surname Nkosi of course which means King in Zulu and it also has a bit to do with my ego. I think I’m the fucken king of the universe sometimes, that's right, because at twenty eight years old, I'm now officially one of the youngest millionaires in South Africa. I'm working on a new pet project called The Muse and if shit goes down properly, I'll be well set on becoming the youngest and most innovative millionaire paying it back in Africa.

Clementine has been with me from the start when I had nothing but a vision. She holds things down at the clubs. It's a handful but she handles it well. She's hard core like that this one. She grew up in Eldorado Park, by the rough side of the township there so I know she can hold her own. She had no one when we met, her parents disowned her when they found out she’s lesbian and to top it off, the poor girl’s older brother Chad was on drugs at the time. Now that Chad’s been released from Prison, no one knows where he is, so I'm all that Clementine’s got and she's all I've got. I made a promise to Chad that I would always take care of his sister and I’m a man of my word, so go figure. Chad was my friend but he was also a useless piece of shit, so a part of me always knew he’d disappear on us eventually. Not that I’m complaining, I just need to know where he is, so I can keep him at bay. The guy is fucken crazy.

Apart from my growing list of business associates, Clementine is my wing woman, the only person that I can truly trust besides my boy Liam.

How are things? I ask her. Manageable, we're just short on staff at the moment for The Muse since everything is so new. I’ve already casted some girls for the campaign, I just need you to make the final choice, she explains.

Thanks for taking care of things while I was away.

Sure, no problem, you know I love what I do and I love you Zee. Where else would I be without you. Feeling assured by her words, I nod and take her hands in mine. I need to head out for a while ok.

Khaya? she questions with understanding. I nod and release her, getting up in the process. He's doing well Zak, don't worry about it. He's graduating soon, today I think. My brows furrow at her words.

Khaya is graduating today and he didn't even bother to tell me. I feel a surge of anger, or is it guilt, wow I'm not even sure what I'm feeling right now but it’s not good. I know Clementine and the rest of my guys have been keeping an eye on Khaya and the family for me from a distance of course but still, I worry about them every damn day, especially because I have no idea where Chad is. All I know is that he’s finally been released from prison and he’ll probably come looking for me. Despite all the bullshit that's going on with my family, I love them and it would've been nice to be informed about something like this. Last I checked graduating from Wits University, the best university in South Africa is a fucken big deal.

They act like I deserted them - did I? I ask, needing Clementine to reassure me that I did the right thing by leaving them. You didn't desert them Zak, not in that way.

I know what she means by that. I've been sending money home every month since I left. Lots of money to boot and I've been paying for Khaya's varsity bills and Thembi's school fees. I even bought mama a mansion in Bedfordview but she refuses to move there. She still prefers to stay in Soweto, in that damn small house as if Nelson Mandela didn’t pay for our freedom.

I need to see them, even if they don't want to see me. I need to see them, even if it’s from afar.

Hungry? Clementine asks. I shake my head even though my stomach is growling like I could eat a lion. I'm just too anxious to even think about food. I grab my jacket and plant a kiss on Clementine’s cheek. Then I head out, feeling like the prodigal son.

Chapter 3

Aya

After the graduation, we all head back to Soweto to celebrate. You’d swear we’ve just come from a funeral though instead of something beautiful and ceremonious, that’s the energy in the car – It’s all dull like misty fog and frustrated clouds holding rain during a drought.

What are we doing to celebrate? I ask, trying to spark up a conversation because I can see how down Khaya looks despite having just received his degree. My spirit is low and so is his I’m not sure why though because the day is legendary. Khaya is now a qualified Pharamacist – the day should be legendary but it doesn’t feel like it.

We don't have to do anything Ayanda, Khaya says, crushing my spirit even more. Yes. He is low today, really really low.

You did well Khaya, you graduated with a distinction. It’s a freaken big deal, we should celebrate, I breathe. I still have to do my honours if I want to get a decent job Ayanda. Khaya snaps, rolling his eyes at me like it’s really no big deal. Before I can bite at him for being so damn pessimistic, his mother's old raspy voice jerks us from the back seat of the old Toyota we’re in, where she is seated with her daughter Thembi.

Honours, what is that? the old woman asks. Thembi and I exchange looks before Khaya responds. I have to study for one more year to make sure I'm the best in my field mama.

Oh ok, the old woman says, completely uninterested. I don’t think she realizes what an achievement this day is for her son and for a black family in general. Khaya keeps his eyes on the road the whole time as he drives, his shoulders are tense and brows are furrowed. I put my hand on his lap and gently give him a squeeze, willing him to steal a glance my way. When he does, I mouth to him. Tell her about Zak, he shrugs and looks away again. Defeated, I stare out the window for the rest of the drive – knowing my role right now is to shut the hell up. I haven't been to Soweto in months since I moved to Parktown with Ashley, so I take it all in. The ever improving surroundings of black people’s hustles, the small houses built from the ground up, the sandy golden streets, slowly getting paved and the quantum taxi’s queuing up for passangers. This is home to me and will forver be home for the typical black kid, no matter how bad it may seem when you’ve been exposed to the suburbs.

With so much time on my hands living in Ashley’s fancy apartment for the past months, I've gunned down my demons and started painting again. Seeing my parents at the graduation today and how proud they were of their son who is now officially a doctor, made me feel a lot whole