come to work for me,” Amarava teased, pulling a hound’s-tooth print dress out of her wardrobe.
Litha rolled her eyes and left, closing the door behind her. Amarava chuckled. Her sister worked as a pharmacologist for a large cosmetics company, and Amarava had been trying to coax her away for ages. She didn’t really expect her sister to leave her job, however. Litha had worked hard to get to where she was and she didn’t want to give it up. Besides, living and working together might be a bit too much for them.
Amarava tugged the dress over her curves, taking care not to smudge her carefully applied make-up. Then she opened her shoe closet, which was half as big as the one for her clothes. She settled on a pair of Christian Louboutin heels, a bright red handbag, and a brown butterfly clip to hold up her long, relaxed hair. She grabbed a black cropped jacket and threw it on over the dress.
After a quick glance at her face she decided a little mascara was in order. Amarava had wide eyes, plump lips and high cheekbones, rather like the outline of Nefertiti that served as Amarani’s logo. She ignored the array of cosmetics on her dressing table and opened the large faux snakeskin vanity case on the chair beside the table. It was filled with make-up; hundreds of little coloured squares of eye shadow, blusher and lipstick, pots of gloss, several wands of mascara and enough nail polish to sustain all the women in town. As far as Amarava was concerned, a girl could never have enough cosmetics.
She snatched up some dark grey mascara and a rosy shade of lipstick, dropped them into her bag and closed the case, then hurried out of the room. Litha was waiting at the dining table, her laptop open as always, her big eyes moving swiftly from one side to the other. She looked up as her sister entered, and gave her an appraising look.
“Are those new shoes?”
“I’ve had them for ages,” said Amarava smoothly. It was true – three weeks was ages in her book. “Here.” She pulled out the lipstick and handed it to her sister. “This colour will work perfectly with that shirt. Now can we get going, please? We’re late and you’re still on Twitter!”
“Excuse me! I was up hours ago, and for your information, I’m working!” Litha shook her head in disbelief. She packed up the laptop and put it away, then followed Amarava to the red Mini Cooper they shared, a joint gift from their uncle and aunt.
Olivia, their mother’s sister, had taken them in after their parents were killed in a car accident. Amarava was only seven at the time, Litha was three. The children had been dropped off at their grandmother’s house so their parents could spend a quiet evening together, but the young couple never made it back to their Germiston flat. After the tragedy, Clement, Olivia’s well-to-do husband, graciously accepted the two girls and raised them alongside his only daughter, Senzeni.
Amarava started the engine and put the car into gear before her sister had even closed the door. Litha leaned forward, peering into the hand-mirror on the dashboard as she slicked on a coat of lipstick. Amarava jerked the steering wheel to one side and stepped on the accelerator, pulling the car smartly onto the road.
“Ama, please!” moaned Litha, clutching the dashboard.
“Hhayi suka, the car’s barely moving,” Amarava replied in a breezy tone. “Litha, I really think you should reconsider joining the Cupid Club.”
Litha snorted. “Here we go again.”
“I’m serious.” Amarava glanced at her.
“I don’t have time to date!” her sister protested. “I barely have time to sleep!”
“Just come to one meeting. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll join the club when Botho makes it to a second date.”
Amarava scowled. “That’s low.”
Litha grinned. “Just focus on finding your own Mr Right.”
Amarava had always been optimistic about love. She’d had some good relationships, but now that she was twenty-nine, only seven months shy of thirty, she felt ready for something more serious. “My Mr Right is on his way,” she told Litha.
“You’ve been saying that for years,” her sister pointed out.
Amarava shrugged and stepped on the accelerator. “It’s a long road. Maybe he’s walking.”
Her sister laughed. Amarava smiled, but she was serious. If there was one thing she never worried about, it was finding love. She still had her whole life ahead of her, and true love was bound to come knocking at some point. It was inevitable.
2
Amarani Cosmetics was run from a small, neat office in Parkview. There were only three full-time people on the staff: Amarava, her cousin, Senzeni, and their administrative assistant, Portia.
Amarava and Senzeni sat in the office with Raj, their legal counsel, going over the details of their first major contract. For the last few weeks they had been in negotiations to provide make-up services and products for Jozi VIP, a new lifestyle TV show. Amarava had been working as a freelance make-up artist and stylist for years before she finally decided to produce her own range of cosmetics.
Success was a matter of necessity for Amarava, who liked to pay for her own luxuries. Although her aunt and uncle had tried not to spoil the girls, they had grown up with a strong knack for business and knew all the right people. Amarava loved her designer clothes, but she had financial savvy and knew how to save and invest her money wisely.
After graduating from university with a degree in cosmetology, she had done a one-year course in fashion while working for a cosmetics company. She had worked her way up the ladder and three years later she branched out on her own. She had now built up an impressive clientele, including several celebrities and women’s magazines, all willing to pay top dollar for her expertise. All in all, she had done very well for herself. Now she worked under the company, and Jozi VIP would be her first big job for Amarani.
“The contract’s looking much better,” Raj was saying. “They’ve adjusted that loophole we found last time, so now it’s ironclad. You’ll be using Amarani products exclusively, unless there’s something needed that the range does not provide. I don’t have any more concerns as far as this contract goes.”
“So we’re good,” said Senzeni, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“I’m happy,” he replied, nodding.
“If you’re happy, we’re happy,” said Amarava. “Tell them we’re ready to sign and we want to meet asap. If they want to start shooting next month, we need to be prepared.”
“Will do.” Raj got up, sliding the contract into a plastic file. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve spoken to them.”
“Thanks,” replied Amarava. When he was gone, she leaned against the reception desk and sighed. “It’s lunch time already!”
“Is it?” Senzeni glanced at her phone.
“Time flies when you’re making money,” quipped Portia from behind the desk. “This contract is a big deal. We should celebrate.”
“We’ll do that when the ink on the contract is dry,” said Senzeni, the voice of prudence as always. “Besides, I’m still worried about the pressure this is going to put on you.” She nudged
