A Family Affair (3 page)

Malik stopped laughing long enough to tell Rashid what Trisha had said. “When we get back home, the first thing I want you to do is find me two belts, one plaid and one studded with rhinestones. That’s an order, Rashid.”

“Consider it done, Your Highness.” Rashid turned his head so Malik couldn’t see the laughter in his eyes.

Thirty-five minutes later, they were at McCarran International Airport. Ten minutes after that, they were airborne. Their next stop: Al Maktoum International Airport in Dubai.

T
RISHA GATHERED UP THE REMNANTS OF THE
C
HRISTMAS WRAPPINGS.
She looked at the three beautifully wrapped presents sitting on her cocktail table, pleased that they had come out so pretty. One for her sister, Emma, one for her niece, Melissa, and one for her best friend, Connie. A cardboard FedEx mailer sat on the floor, along with a FedEx airbill. Tomorrow she would mail it on her way to work. Connie’s gift would have to wait until the Christmas party in two weeks. She was ahead of herself this year. Normally, she was a last-minute Christmas shopper, but while she was recovering from the flu, she’d had too much free time on her hands. So she’d shopped over the weekend, and she was done earlier than she had ever been.

In three more days, she could return to work. Actually, she felt well enough to return immediately, but she had to obey the doctor’s orders and take his release slip with her when she reported to work in three days. Nathan, her boss, was a stickler when it came to the girls’ health. Dancing was strenuous, as well as exhausting. So, for the next three days, she had nothing much to do except cook some nourishing food, watch television, and take a walk every day. Her mind raced as to how many more ways she could serve the leftover Thanksgiving turkey she’d cooked for several friends a few days ago. She’d already made hash, patties, a salad; all that was left was to cook the carcass and freeze the soup.

After Trish disposed of the scraps from her Christmas wrappings, she got out her soup pot and the vegetables and spices she would need to make the soup. She was rummaging in the cabinets for containers to store the soup in when the bell to her town house sang its three-note song.
Connie?
She looked at her watch.
No, not Connie.
It was too early in the morning for a visit. She shrugged as she made her way to the front door. She looked through the peephole before she opened the door. She eyed the dead bolt and the security chain, something she had installed herself the day she moved into the town house. A FedEx driver was standing in front of the door. By stretching her neck, she could see the truck sitting in front of her building. Safe to open the door. She did.

“You need to sign for this, ma’am.”

Trish reached for the clipboard and signed her name with a wild flourish. She thanked the driver, then closed and locked the door. She hefted the slim envelope, wondering who could have sent her something by FedEx.
Emma?
No, it was an international airbill. Her heart kicked up a beat as she made her way to the wheat-colored sofa in her living room.
The prince?
Her hand started to shake as she ripped at the tiny piece of cardboard that would open the mailer. Another envelope was nestled inside, with a heavy gold seal on the front and a circle of gold wax underneath.
Impressive,
she thought.

What could be inside? Why would someone be sending her something like this?
The prince? An early Christmas present? An invitation? To what? Open it, Trish!
Instead of opening the heavy seal, Trish leaned back into the softness of the wheat-colored sofa and closed her eyes. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d thought about Prince Malik. She thought about his kind, dark eyes, his generosity, his easy laughter, the way he’d had his people take care of her.

How many times had she played the scene over and over in her mind, wondering if she hadn’t been sick that night, whether she would have accepted the thousand-dollar bill and had a drink with the prince? She’d finally answered herself. She would not have accepted the money, but she might have had a ginger ale with him after the show. She had a rule, and that was never to drink with customers. Most of the girls were just like her. Some were mothers with kids at home with babysitters, and the only thing they wanted after the show was to go home. While she wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, she was just like them. All she wanted after a night’s work was to go home, take a hot bubble bath, and crawl into bed.

Trish opened her eyes and stared down at the cream-colored envelope. She tapped it against her knee as she wished someone was here with her when she opened it. Finally, she couldn’t stand the suspense a second longer. She picked at the wax seal with a fingernail. Inside was an exquisitely worded invitation inviting her to Dubai three days from then to celebrate Dubai’s national holiday, aptly named National Day. A private jet would be waiting for her at McCarran International Airport if she accepted the invitation. She read the invitation several times, till she had it committed to memory. She was about to slide the heavy card back into the envelope when she realized there was a folded note still in the envelope. She unfolded it with shaky hands. A personal note from the prince, but he wasn’t a prince anymore. He was a sheik. She smiled when she read the note.

It was signed simply “Malik,” with no title in front of his name.

What to do? What to do? What to do?

Three days! Could she be ready in three days? What to pack? Did she have the right clothes for a trip to Dubai? She’d packed away all her summer clothing months ago. She didn’t have anything fancy. What to do? What to do? What to do?

Trish walked out to the kitchen, looked at the turkey carcass and all the things she had ready in preparation for making turkey soup. Without thinking, she scooped up the remains of the bird and tossed them into a trash bag. The vegetables were returned to the refrigerator; the soup pot and spices were returned to the cabinet. She wasn’t making soup that day. She reached for the trash bag and raced out to the Dumpster in the parking lot. She tossed in the bag, then ran back into the house. It was freezing cold. Dubai was hot and dry. She thought she could feel the sun warming her bones.

Back in the living room, she picked up the phone to call her sister, Emma, but the call went straight to voice mail. She then called Connie, who lived in the same gated community she lived in. Connie’s sleepy voice came across the wire.

“Oh, Connie, I’m sorry for waking you, but I have to talk to you.
Now!
Can I come over? I made some cinnamon buns earlier. I’ll bring them with me. Please, Connie, I have to talk with you.”

“Bring the coffee, too,” Connie grumbled good-naturedly.

Ten minutes later, Trish was sitting at Connie’s dining-room table. She watched as Connie read the engraved invitation and the personal note.

“You’re going, right?” Connie said, her eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t know. Should I? I want to. I don’t have the right clothes. It’s seven degrees outside. Dubai is hot and dry. I’ve heard stories about women who go to places like Dubai and are never seen again. I tried calling my sister, but the call went to voice mail. For sure, Nathan will fire me if I take off for a few weeks.

“Think about it, Connie. When will I ever get a chance to do something like this again? It just fell into my lap, so to speak. I read up on Dubai when I got back home after being sick, and it’s a modern city. It has the seventh largest shopping mall in the world. It has the highest building in the world. I can’t remember how many feet high, but it is the highest. They’re in the middle of building an airport that will be the biggest in the world when it’s finished, and they have some fancy-dancy hotel that cost over six hundred fifty million to build. I think everyone who lives there is a millionaire. Oh, I’m so confused. Why me? Why did he pick me?”

“Maybe because you’re pretty, not full of yourself, you did return his thousand dollars, and in the end, he had his people take care of you when you were so sick. Maybe he’s like the Chinese. You save a life, then . . . whatever that saying is. Maybe, Trish, the guy fell in love with you. Did you ever think of that? You have stars in your eyes when you talk about him. I rest my case.”

“Nathan . . . I’ve taken so much time off already. My sister is not going to approve.”

“When you get there, sign in at the American embassy. If they don’t have an embassy, then go to the American consulate. I doubt Nathan will fire you. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve heard via Ernie, who seems to know just about everything, that the prince had a talk with Nathan, as did one of the owners of the casino. That means to me that you are golden as far as he is concerned, and no matter how much time you take off, your job will be waiting for you.

“Your sister? Well, she’ll get over it. You’ll never get another chance like this. I can guarantee that. Sometimes, Trish, you have to reach for the brass ring. As to clothes, I think we girls can outfit you so that you won’t be a disgrace to the prince. But you said he’s not a prince, but a sheik. That’s even better. I’ll make some calls. But first, you have to decide if you really want to go or not.”

“I do! I do!”

“Then let’s get this show on the road, no pun intended. First, hair, nails, pedicure. You have a passport, so that’s no problem. I think you should get a light spray tan so you glisten. Highlights in your hair. The works, Trish! Clean out your bank account if you have to. This is a once-in-a-lifetime gift that’s been given to you.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I don’t have any fancy luggage. Do I need fancy luggage, Connie?”

“We’ll work on that. So are you going to call and accept?”

“You betcha. Okay, I’m going home to make my appointments. Thanks, Connie. You can call me on my cell, okay?” At the door, Trish turned. “You’re sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure, and I’m jealous. All the girls will be jealous, but in a good way. You know that. Get going. But leave the cinnamon buns.”

Trish laughed as she slipped into her jacket. “Nathan would skin you alive if he saw you eating all those buns.”

“I’ll do an extra half hour on the treadmill.
Go!
”

Trish walked down the portable stairs of the private Gulfstream belonging to Sheik Malik bin Al Mohammed. It was hot and dry, not to mention breezy. She could see a Mercedes stretch limo with the flag of Dubai whipping from the front of the vehicle. The door was opened by a man in a long white robe. Out stepped one of the most beautiful women Trish had ever seen, dressed in Western clothes. She smiled at Trish and held out her hand. “Welcome to Dubai, Miss Holiday. I’m Soraya, Malik’s sister. He wishes me to apologize to you for not being here personally to welcome you to Dubai, but he had to go to Abu Dhabi early this morning. However, he will return in time to dine with us this evening.”

Soraya had the same warm, caring eyes as her brother. The same welcoming smile and, Trish suspected, the same sense of humor. “Thank you. Please, call me Trish.”

“Then you must call me Soraya. Did you have a good trip? Was everything satisfactory?”

Trish found it hard not to stare at the beautiful young woman welcoming her to Dubai. The outfit she wore had to have cost more than Trish earned in a year. Chanel, if she wasn’t mistaken. Her jewelry looked to be priceless and probably was. She was as beautiful as her brother Malik was handsome. They had the same warm dark eyes, the same tawny skin, the same wonderful smile. She felt dowdy in comparison.

“Absolutely. It was marvelous. The food was wonderful. I enjoyed the special tea and the rice cakes. I need to learn how to make both. I slept a lot, so the trip went faster than I thought it would. I also read up on your country. I can’t wait to see it all, so I can tell my friends all about it.”

Soraya stepped aside so that Trish could slide into the limo. It was as plush as the Gulfstream. Glasses of sparkling water filled with ice cubes waited for her on a little shelf. Soraya motioned to her to drink it.

“One must drink a lot of water here.”

When both women were settled, Soraya started to talk. “Malik has appointed me as your tour guide. I love showing off Dubai. In return, I would ask that you tell me everything there is to tell me about America. Malik shared the experiences of his school years with me, but I want a woman’s perspective. My dream has always been to travel to America, but my father would not allow it. I cried for days when Malik left. My father paid no attention. I was to study here, and that was the end of it. Malik has promised me that I can make the trip soon. I am not sure whether he is placating me or not, but I can be relentless when it comes to things like that.” She laughed, the same musical sound as her brother’s laughter.

“Can’t your mother intercede?”

“I have no mother. She died giving birth to me. Malik and I grew up motherless. Having a mother was something we both missed sorely. That is not to say my father ignored us, but it is not the same as having a mother. My mother was very beautiful. It has been said that we both look like her. My father was neither handsome nor beautiful. He had swarthy looks, and his face was heavily pockmarked. He used to say that he could not believe my mother chose him to marry when she came of age when he was so ugly. He referred to himself as ugly at all times. When he would tell us those stories when we were little children, we thought of them as fairy tales. He said he could never marry again, because he could not replace such perfection as my mother. Do you have parents, Trish?”

“I did, of course, but they died from carbon-monoxide poisoning. I was away for a weekend sleepover at a friend’s when it happened. I have a divorced sister who lives with her fourteen-year-old daughter, my only niece, in Princeton, New Jersey. I miss my parents and think of them every day. My sister took over my care until I was old enough to go it alone and be on my own. We’re very close, even though she lives at one end of the country and I live on the other end. We talk daily and try to see each other at least twice a year, sometimes three times, depending, of course, on our finances. Air travel across the country is expensive.