would stain her new dress.
Mister M’s party had finished going through customs and was waiting inside the terminal, watching us. The Brick stayed silent longer than I liked, but eventually pulled out a cell phone. The conversation was brief, but after he hung up, the doors opened and people moved to their respective limousines.
The Brick said, “The bomb dog will inspect your gifts. You will both be searched very well. If you pass, the gentleman will see you.” Then he frisked me. When he finished, I lit a cigarette, ordered him some flowers, and made a note to find a day when the two of us could go pick out curtains.
The bomb dog took care of business as soon as he got out on some grass, but showed no interest in the gifts. When he finished, I held the gifts while a lady goon in a suit and simple scarf hijab frisked Rose.
After Lady Goon finished and gave the all-clear, Rose asked her something in Arabic. Lady Goon looked surprised, but produced an emergency backup scarf from her jacket and arranged it on Rose, keeping the folds well-clear of her neckline.
Hair bad, boobs good. Welcome to Vegas.
As Mister M and family emerged from the terminal, the Brick told me, “Do not speak or step forward until I introduce the gentleman to you. Do not look at his wives unless he introduces them to you, which he will not do. Your lady should not speak unless asked a question. If my employer accepts your gifts, Qadriyah will walk with your lady to meet the gentleman’s wives. The ladies do not give their names to those they don’t know, and will not open the presents here. That is custom and not intended to give offense. Do not express admiration for anything the gentleman owns. If he admires something of yours, which I cannot see him doing, custom is to present it to him. Conversation should be brief, and will end at the gentleman’s order.”
“Got it.” I decided not to tell him Karen already gave me the ladies’ names.
Mister M was far younger than I’d pictured—only a few years older than me, medium athletic build, short beard, famous-label designer suit and Italian loafers, hair hidden under a plain white keffiyeh . His wives were wearing colorful, Western-style, but still modest, clothes and matching hijab . Two more lady goons stood on either side of the three wives, watching everything in the area.
The Brick made introductions and stepped out of the way. Mister M clasped hands with me and nodded toward Rose. Lady Goon—Qadriyah, I presumed—led Rose to the senior wife and stood to the side while Rose presented herself and her gifts in Arabic. The ladies appeared to be delighted, even smiling a bit.
Mister M watched the gift exchange with a wry smile. “A clever thought, my friend. May I ask who whispered the idea to you?”
I handed him Karen’s business card. “She met you—”
“I remember her.” He handed the card to the Brick. “Perhaps I will speak with her. This is your wife?”
“My fiancée.”
“I see.” He looked at his entourage and sighed. “Will you have children at once, or do you prefer to wait?”
“I’m afraid children are…denied us,” I said. “Rose was injured two years ago. She’s still trying to get over it, but it’s hard.”
“I am denied children as well. I know the empty place it leaves in the heart. It is worse for a woman. If your gifts bring happiness to my household, even for a few hours, I will be in your debt.” He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “It is a good place to be sitting, is it not?” He kept laughing and climbed into his limo. Everyone else followed, filling the limos to capacity. The Brick waited until last, checking people off on a tally sheet. Once everyone was accounted for, he whistled once and climbed into the passenger seat of the first limo. They caravanned up and took off, heading for the exit and the Strip.
I took Rose’s hands and raised my eyebrow. Rose nodded and started laughing. “I think we made some friends
Mister M’s party had finished going through customs and was waiting inside the terminal, watching us. The Brick stayed silent longer than I liked, but eventually pulled out a cell phone. The conversation was brief, but after he hung up, the doors opened and people moved to their respective limousines.
The Brick said, “The bomb dog will inspect your gifts. You will both be searched very well. If you pass, the gentleman will see you.” Then he frisked me. When he finished, I lit a cigarette, ordered him some flowers, and made a note to find a day when the two of us could go pick out curtains.
The bomb dog took care of business as soon as he got out on some grass, but showed no interest in the gifts. When he finished, I held the gifts while a lady goon in a suit and simple scarf hijab frisked Rose.
After Lady Goon finished and gave the all-clear, Rose asked her something in Arabic. Lady Goon looked surprised, but produced an emergency backup scarf from her jacket and arranged it on Rose, keeping the folds well-clear of her neckline.
Hair bad, boobs good. Welcome to Vegas.
As Mister M and family emerged from the terminal, the Brick told me, “Do not speak or step forward until I introduce the gentleman to you. Do not look at his wives unless he introduces them to you, which he will not do. Your lady should not speak unless asked a question. If my employer accepts your gifts, Qadriyah will walk with your lady to meet the gentleman’s wives. The ladies do not give their names to those they don’t know, and will not open the presents here. That is custom and not intended to give offense. Do not express admiration for anything the gentleman owns. If he admires something of yours, which I cannot see him doing, custom is to present it to him. Conversation should be brief, and will end at the gentleman’s order.”
“Got it.” I decided not to tell him Karen already gave me the ladies’ names.
Mister M was far younger than I’d pictured—only a few years older than me, medium athletic build, short beard, famous-label designer suit and Italian loafers, hair hidden under a plain white keffiyeh . His wives were wearing colorful, Western-style, but still modest, clothes and matching hijab . Two more lady goons stood on either side of the three wives, watching everything in the area.
The Brick made introductions and stepped out of the way. Mister M clasped hands with me and nodded toward Rose. Lady Goon—Qadriyah, I presumed—led Rose to the senior wife and stood to the side while Rose presented herself and her gifts in Arabic. The ladies appeared to be delighted, even smiling a bit.
Mister M watched the gift exchange with a wry smile. “A clever thought, my friend. May I ask who whispered the idea to you?”
I handed him Karen’s business card. “She met you—”
“I remember her.” He handed the card to the Brick. “Perhaps I will speak with her. This is your wife?”
“My fiancée.”
“I see.” He looked at his entourage and sighed. “Will you have children at once, or do you prefer to wait?”
“I’m afraid children are…denied us,” I said. “Rose was injured two years ago. She’s still trying to get over it, but it’s hard.”
“I am denied children as well. I know the empty place it leaves in the heart. It is worse for a woman. If your gifts bring happiness to my household, even for a few hours, I will be in your debt.” He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “It is a good place to be sitting, is it not?” He kept laughing and climbed into his limo. Everyone else followed, filling the limos to capacity. The Brick waited until last, checking people off on a tally sheet. Once everyone was accounted for, he whistled once and climbed into the passenger seat of the first limo. They caravanned up and took off, heading for the exit and the Strip.
I took Rose’s hands and raised my eyebrow. Rose nodded and started laughing. “I think we made some friends
Similar Books
