must have many men begging to see you. Your beauty draws the eye of every man here." There was a possessive catch to his voice. Afia managed not to roll her eyes. She smiled instead.
"You are overly kind," she replied.
Jabar launched into a boring conversation about his residency, which she followed with some difficulty. The way her attention skittered off at every distraction didn't bode well. She tried to appear attentive, but Afia was sure she was failing. Jabar didn't seem to notice. He brought her refreshments, sweet cakes and spicy punch, and he rambled on about wanting to be a neurologist, but she had visions of bikers flying down the highway of her thoughts.
"And, my first choice for a bride didn't suit. I think American culture ruins good women. Their self-importance becomes inflated. Of course, I expect a woman to be possessed of intelligence, but not so vulgarly secular. So..."
Afia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I understand," she murmured, not hearing a word he was saying.
"A woman like you, for instance, your brilliant mind must be turned to pleasing your respectable parents. I've heard nothing but virtuous things about you, Afia. Wise is the woman whose name is above reproach. You're almost done with graduate school, if I've heard correctly?"
"That must be so," she uttered. Her gaze found Rayan at the open bar yet again. She frowned. It was about the fourth or fifth time she had caught him there. She wondered if her parents were paying any attention to him. Likely, her mother was somewhere watching her, making sure Afia crossed her T's and dotted her I's. She sighed involuntarily. Catching herself, she covered it with a dramatic yawn. "I'm sorry, Jabar," she excused herself.
He chuckled. "Yes, I know education taxes you. If you were my wife, you wouldn't have to worry about your financial well-being. I am on course to be a successful neurologist. Did I tell you that?"
"I'm sure," she muttered. She spied Rayan slink from the main room where the gathering was centered. He looked unsteady on his feet. "I, uh—excuse me a moment. I need to go check on my brother. Will you hold my drink?"
She left Jabar's side without a backwards glance. She discreetly moved across the room and slipped into the corridor where she had seen Rayan disappear. She hissed his name. "Where are you?" she whispered.
"Whaaa?" His slurred speech was all the evidence she needed to hear. He was sloppy drunk.
Afia huffed and moved deeper into the shadowy hallway where she found Rayan sprawled face down on the floor, his nice suit rumpled and stained. He reeked of liquor. She couldn't believe he would act so irresponsibly in a place like this. "Come on." Afia grunted with effort, as she laboriously dragged her brother to a kneeling position, so he could struggle to his feet. He stood up, albeit on wobbly legs.
She guided him step by step to the front door and out into the night. Why was it she was always on clean-up duty? Afia persisted to his Camaro. She dug into Rayan's pocket for the keys and opened the car, shoving him into the passenger seat. She had traveled to the social event with her parents. She didn't have her hybrid. When she was sure he wouldn't climb back out in a drunken stupor because he was passed out, she rushed quietly back into the house to find her mother.
Fatima was mid-laugh in a conversation with some of her peers when she saw Afia hurrying towards her, and her smile left her face. She excused herself from the gathering of women talking about their oafish husbands and ungrateful children, and she met Afia halfway. "I thought you were supposed to be talking to Jabar," she admonished.
"I was, Maman, but Rayan grew ill. I think it was the shellfish. Didn't it taste off to you?"
"What? No, of course not. Where is your brother?"
"I have him in the car. I'm just going to drive him to his house and make sure he gets inside and gets something to
"You are overly kind," she replied.
Jabar launched into a boring conversation about his residency, which she followed with some difficulty. The way her attention skittered off at every distraction didn't bode well. She tried to appear attentive, but Afia was sure she was failing. Jabar didn't seem to notice. He brought her refreshments, sweet cakes and spicy punch, and he rambled on about wanting to be a neurologist, but she had visions of bikers flying down the highway of her thoughts.
"And, my first choice for a bride didn't suit. I think American culture ruins good women. Their self-importance becomes inflated. Of course, I expect a woman to be possessed of intelligence, but not so vulgarly secular. So..."
Afia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I understand," she murmured, not hearing a word he was saying.
"A woman like you, for instance, your brilliant mind must be turned to pleasing your respectable parents. I've heard nothing but virtuous things about you, Afia. Wise is the woman whose name is above reproach. You're almost done with graduate school, if I've heard correctly?"
"That must be so," she uttered. Her gaze found Rayan at the open bar yet again. She frowned. It was about the fourth or fifth time she had caught him there. She wondered if her parents were paying any attention to him. Likely, her mother was somewhere watching her, making sure Afia crossed her T's and dotted her I's. She sighed involuntarily. Catching herself, she covered it with a dramatic yawn. "I'm sorry, Jabar," she excused herself.
He chuckled. "Yes, I know education taxes you. If you were my wife, you wouldn't have to worry about your financial well-being. I am on course to be a successful neurologist. Did I tell you that?"
"I'm sure," she muttered. She spied Rayan slink from the main room where the gathering was centered. He looked unsteady on his feet. "I, uh—excuse me a moment. I need to go check on my brother. Will you hold my drink?"
She left Jabar's side without a backwards glance. She discreetly moved across the room and slipped into the corridor where she had seen Rayan disappear. She hissed his name. "Where are you?" she whispered.
"Whaaa?" His slurred speech was all the evidence she needed to hear. He was sloppy drunk.
Afia huffed and moved deeper into the shadowy hallway where she found Rayan sprawled face down on the floor, his nice suit rumpled and stained. He reeked of liquor. She couldn't believe he would act so irresponsibly in a place like this. "Come on." Afia grunted with effort, as she laboriously dragged her brother to a kneeling position, so he could struggle to his feet. He stood up, albeit on wobbly legs.
She guided him step by step to the front door and out into the night. Why was it she was always on clean-up duty? Afia persisted to his Camaro. She dug into Rayan's pocket for the keys and opened the car, shoving him into the passenger seat. She had traveled to the social event with her parents. She didn't have her hybrid. When she was sure he wouldn't climb back out in a drunken stupor because he was passed out, she rushed quietly back into the house to find her mother.
Fatima was mid-laugh in a conversation with some of her peers when she saw Afia hurrying towards her, and her smile left her face. She excused herself from the gathering of women talking about their oafish husbands and ungrateful children, and she met Afia halfway. "I thought you were supposed to be talking to Jabar," she admonished.
"I was, Maman, but Rayan grew ill. I think it was the shellfish. Didn't it taste off to you?"
"What? No, of course not. Where is your brother?"
"I have him in the car. I'm just going to drive him to his house and make sure he gets inside and gets something to
Similar Books
