The Brand (4 page)

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and
Heavens be with Hudson Vermuelen. He was just about to find out the
cruelest way that Joelyn was intending to empty his pockets in a
most unforgiving way.

You never truly realize how much you love
someone until it’s too late to do anything about it.

Hudson Vermuelen was a self-confessed Audi
man, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in a BMW or Mercedes Benz, even
though the CLS had changed his mind. He drove himself around town
in a 2010 Audi R8. He also had a Porsche Cayenne SUV for trips to
Hartbeesport Dam, where he had a luxury mansion with breathtaking
views of the scenic dam. Presently, he was sitting inside the Audi
R8, driving to work, completely unaware that at that precise moment
Joelyn was debating whether to call him or not.

For the past few days, she had been afflicted
by a gradually intensifying longing for human intimacy, until it
reached uncontrollable levels. Last night she had lain awake in
bed, unable to sleep, thinking of nothing but Hudson’s body.
Lately, she had been thinking a lot about him and what he meant to
her life. It was during these moments of lucid cogitation that she
realized that she and Hudson were meant for each other, regardless
of their views on the ways of the world. She was at these moments
of her mammoth anguish convinced that she would never love another
human being like she loved Hudson.

A million times she had been tempted to call
him, to tell him how much she missed him, and that they should stop
this divorce nonsense…but each time pride triumphed over reason.
Last night she had sat up in bed, switching TV channels endlessly
and feeding her body with copious amounts of Swiss chocolate, which
only helped to make her more miserable. This morning, tired from
lack of sleep and incapable of coherent thought due to heartache,
she called her producer and informed him that she had come down
with the flu. It was the first time Joelyn would be absent from
work for any reason at all.

While Joelyn languished in the misery of
helplessness, Hudson found it hard to concentrate at work. He was
filled with evil thoughts, and was only stopped by his intelligent
mind from resorting to schemes common with uneducated fools. Ever
since the discussions his team of lawyers had held with Joelyn’s
team concerning the divorce, Hudson had flirted with the idea of
plotting Joelyn’s death. The bitch wanted half his assets.
Incredible! Again he cursed her.

The curse might have been heard by the Devil
himself, because in the following moments Joelyn came within
touching distance of death. Having inexplicably fallen into a
high-fever as the day wore on, after 3PM she phoned her friend,
Samantha, who said she was at home. Joelyn, looking distraught and
more like a destitute than a hot-shot young TV presenter, dragged
herself into her car and left the apartment on Helen Road. She
drove to Sam’s place, and on arriving there requested her friend to
make her a cup of coffee with a drop of brandy. She collapsed into
chair and became hysterical, prompting Sam to comfort her.

‘I can’t stand it,’ she managed to say
between sobs. ‘The apartment reminds me too much of him. Everywhere
I go there’s memories…It’s too much…I had to get out of that
place…’

Sam held her friend and did the best thing
she could do for her under the circumstances: she offered a
listening ear.

Later, as nightfall came, Joelyn expressed
her desire to leave her friend’s townhouse, claiming that she was
filling better.

‘Out of the question,’ protested Sam in an
uncompromising tone. ‘I have more than adequate space for you to
spend the night. You cannot be driving around this late in your
condition.’

‘I’m fine, really, Sam,’ Joelyn tried.
‘Besides, I have to get up early for work.’

‘Fuck that. That job won’t do you any good if
you’re dead. You’ve got your health to worry about.’

End of discussion. Joelyn spent the night at
her friend’s place. Being in the company of one so close to her
improved her spirits. For a while she forgot her worries, and she
slept soundly that night. In the morning, looking and feeling a lot
better, she kissed her friend goodbye, got into her car and left
for her apartment. As it was still early in the morning, the
neighborhood was still quiet, except for a jogger here and there
and the odd car. Joelyn brought the Z4 to a stop at a T-junction,
checking first to the right and then to the left of her car.
Suddenly, a white Nissan sedan sped past her and blocked her way at
the front of her car.

Joelyn panicked. A Black man jumped out of
the Nissan’s passenger side and pointed a gun at her windscreen. He
yelled something at her but she couldn’t hear him. Then he shot at
her. Her mind didn’t register the gunshot until she saw the
shattered glass in front of her. And then slowly the realization
came to her that she was still alive. A self-preservation instinct
made her fall from view and lie across the seats of the small BMW.
The driver’s door was pulled open by an impatient strong hand. The
hand groped at her and pulled her out of the car. She raised her
hands in surrender and pleaded with her assailant not to shoot her.
He hit her with a fist in the head and she collapsed onto the
tarmac. In a cloud of pain, she saw the Nissan speed off, followed
in hot pursuit by her BMW, driven by her assailant. Joelyn tried to
get up but slumped back down onto the tarmac, her body trembling
all over with shock. She was picked a short while later by a good
Samaritan, who rushed her to the nearby Morningside Medi-Clinic, a
private medical facility.

After she was treated for shock, Joelyn was
picked up by her best friend, Samantha, who then drove to Sandton
Police Station. When the police had taken her report of her violent
carjacking, Samantha took Joelyn to the townhouse in
Morningside.

Two days later, Joelyn set a meeting
appointment with her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Hudson Vermuelen, at
his office on Fredman Drive in Sandton.

‘Look, Hudson,’ she started without
exchanging any pleasantries with the man with whom she had shared a
bed for two years. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard the reports from
the media, but I was hi-jacked two days ago and shot at;
miraculously the bullet missed me. Maybe it was naïve of me to
expect a call from you, but I thought it would be the decent thing
to do after someone you once cared for survived a fatal
attack.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Hudson offered politely.

She ignored him. ‘Anyway, I haven’t come
here to fight you. I’ve come to offer you a peaceful solution to
our dilemma. There is no need to go through the trouble of court
battles. I don’t need shares in your wines, grocery store, mines,
etcetera…I have asked my lawyer to discuss with your lawyers about
a
workable
,’ she
put a strong emphasis on the word, and it wasn’t missed by Hudson,
‘…financial settlement for me. You give me the money and I walk out
of this marriage without a fight. And I’d appreciate it if you
don’t take long. I would like to get out of this country as soon as
possible, before I become yet another crime statistic. I’m scared
of driving on the streets anymore. I need to go elsewhere and cool
off.’

‘Where do you plan to go?’ Hudson asked, his
eyes narrowed in genuine interest.

She got up. ‘It’s none of your concern. Just
give me what I deserve and we dissolve this marriage.’

Eventually, she would get $109 million in a
divorce settlement agreed upon by her lawyers and Hudson’s. The
media and social networking sites went overboard with the story.
Although the public used words such as “incredulous victory” and
“outrageous wealth” to describe the $109 million she had got from
Hudson, it was truly just a portion of his stupendous wealth. For
Joelyn, it would suffice. As she remarked to her friend, ‘How many
people do you know who make one hundred and nine million American
dollars in two years? Not even the best cocksuckers in the business
can dream of money this big. And I didn’t even had to suck no
dick.’

When she first arrived in Los Angles,
California, in February of 2011, Joelyn Smit discovered that the
definition of ordinary generally accepted elsewhere in the world
did not apply in Los Angeles. It was a city where she found proof
that Americans liked their things big; from their burgers to their
cars to their homes. Los Angeles was a town to which young men and
women flocked in droves each year in search of fame and fortune.
Some found it and most did not. Those who didn’t held on to other
jobs while their agents tried to find them an acting job.

As soon as Joelyn arrived in Los Angeles, she
made her intentions known by finding herself an agent, who found
her a speech coach to help her convert her English to American.
Next the agent, a forty-something-year-old woman who had in her
portfolio some of the current stars on TV and film, advised Joelyn
to find a suitable address. The agent was particularly kind to
Joelyn because the young South African had divulged that although
she had no acting experience, she was a natural in front of the
camera, and that she had vast financial reserves to persuade anyone
who thought otherwise. As money makes the world go round, Joelyn
found herself surrounded by people who wanted to help her become
the next big thing in Hollywood since Angelina Jolie.

With the help of an estate agent, Joelyn
bought herself a beautiful beachfront house in Malibu for $10
million. It was a big, modern place, with vast areas of space and
various amenities to suit the lifestyle of a young millionairess.
Then she bought a Porsche Carrera 4S to get herself around town,
and enlisted the services of a dedicated limousine rental company,
because her agent had informed her that the social norms in this
town required that she arrive at important functions in a
chauffeur-driven limo.

Most people who come to Hollywood seeking
recognition already know that they are beautiful or at the very
least attractive, but some lack the character and imagination to
make it in this town of big dreams. Joelyn had the three vital
ingredients to make this city work for her; she was extremely
beautiful, she was intelligent, and she had loads of money. Most
people who had known Joelyn during her youth wouldn’t have guessed
that she was overly ambitious, but it was a trait that had always
lurked beneath her exterior surface, buoyed by the embarrassment of
growing up in a poor home. There are people who accept the
conditions life has set in place for them, and then there are those
who defy the odds and make it big in life. Joelyn belonged to the
later. She arrived in Los Angeles going by the name of Smit, but
her agent added an “H” at the end of her surname and from then on
she was known as Joelyn Smith, by all intents and purposes soon to
become the talk of America.

When all her best plans were laid in place,
three weeks after arriving in America Joelyn discovered that she
had a fierce longing for sexual gratification. It was a long time
since she had last had sex with anyone – her ex-husband. She
decided now that she would die if her sexual tension was not given
an outlet for eruption. She resolved that the quickest way to
remedy that problem would be to go to a nightclub to find a
suitable bed partner; all other options would take too long for her
mission to be accomplished. So she went to a popular nightclub that
night, met a big number of suitable bed partners, and after
reaching a critical stage of inebriation she was eventually driven
home by one of those admirers.

In the morning, she woke up in her bedroom at
the Malibu mansion to find herself on the bed, with no recollection
whatsoever of the previous night, but used condoms on the
floor-tiles told her the full story, and the smell of good cooking
confirmed that whoever she had slept with was still in the house.
She wrapped a silk morning gown around her naked body and went
downstairs. She found a tall young man with short black hair
preparing breakfast. He was wearing only his pants, and his chest
and stomach muscles stood taut, inviting her to eat him…He was such
a handsome sight to see in the morning, making breakfast for
her…

‘Good morning,’ he said, jarring her from her
private thoughts. He smiled, exhibiting a perfect set of white
teeth. She decided then and there that this was one of the most
gorgeously, handsomely, cutest man she had ever met. ‘You slept
like a baby. I’ve made breakfast. Hope you enjoy it…My mom says I
should be a chef,’ he added with a sly expression.

Joelyn smiled back. ‘I didn’t get your
name.’

‘You’re Joe. I’m Andy. Sit down and have a
cup of coffee. It’ll refresh you.’

Joelyn sat down and took a sip of the
steaming beverage. It was the most delicious coffee she’d ever
tasted. ‘I don’t recall any of last night,’ she said with an
embarrassed look.

He sat opposite her and placed his hands on
the counter. ‘Don’t worry, you were great.’ He pushed towards her a
plate with a couple of fish-fingers, three slices of brown bread, a
slice of bacon and a boiled egg. ‘Eat, Joe, and replenish your
energies.’

She loved the way he smiled, the way he
mentioned her name, and the sexy masculine scent of him…

After they had had a bath together and a bout
of morning sex in the bathroom, he left her house in a cab. He
promised to call her.

The first night came and went, and then the
first day came and ushered in the second night since he’d left, and
still no call from him. By the fifth day, Joelyn was near hysteria,
but she was not going to call him, because that would make her seem
desperate. In the dating game, either party always wants to have
the upper hand. Right now the gorgeous hunk called Andy whose last
name she didn’t know definitely had the upper hand because he was
driving her insane by holding out on calling her.