A Family Affair (4 page)

“Soraya, can we stop at the consulate so I can register? My sister made me promise I would do that.”

“It has already been taken care of, Trish. Malik filed the papers the day you said you would accept his invitation. I had one of the servants place the papers in your suite. You, of course, can call the consulate yourself when you feel like it and speak to your people. We can even stop by if that will make you feel more comfortable when we do our tour. Malik wants you to see
everything.
”

“I’m beyond excited,” Trish gushed. “Between us girls, I wasn’t sure if I should come or not. My friends encouraged me. It seems like I should be doing something for your brother, instead of the other way around. I don’t know if he told you this or not, but if he hadn’t found me when he did, I would have died out in the cold. I will never be able to repay him for saving my life. And yet, here I am. It isn’t quite computing in my head.”

“That’s Malik for you. He’s a wonderful person, even if he is my brother.” This last comment was said with a wink of the eye. Trish laughed.

“It is not much farther, Trish. I know you must be tired. Air travel is wearying. Perhaps you would like to take a swim or a nap. It’s the heat of the day, and you aren’t used to our weather here yet. Tell me, what is it like to be a dancer? How is it you decided to do this?”

“It’s exhausting, but I love it. I always wanted to be in show business. Ideally, I wanted to be a movie star, but I simply wasn’t good enough. I have always loved to dance and took lessons all my life. Las Vegas was the closest I could come to fulfilling my dream. All the girls in the chorus are friends. We’re like our own little family. I can’t imagine doing anything else, but I do work part-time sometimes when I need extra money for something or other that is not in my budget.”

Soraya leaned forward. “Budget? What is that?”

Trish laughed. “Living within your means, not spending money recklessly. I have a mortgage payment, and my car is old. I paid that off, and now I have to get a new one. That’s going to be a huge bill, so I’ll be working weekends again. Normal household bills. I had to budget rather harshly because I needed to buy a new bed. It took me ten months to save up for it, and I had to work in a department store weekends. I did that because as an employee, I got thirty percent off anything I bought in the store. I guess you don’t live on a budget.”

“No. I must try that. Malik lived like that when he was going to school. He did not call it a budget, though. He just said he lived like the other students. He had a ledger with a list of his expenditures. It made my father crazy that Malik wore jeans with holes in the knees and sneakers that looked like they were soaked in mud. He bought food in a store and listed in great detail strange goods. My father would have to look it up to see what he was buying. My father’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw that Malik had bought something called a rattletrap. He asked me what that was, and I did not know. It’s a car, but we only figured it out when he called Malik to ask. He paid three hundred American dollars for it. My father was appalled.”

Trish burst out laughing. “Sounds just like my car. A lot of college kids drive rattletraps. I’m sure your brother just wanted to be like his friends, so he would, as the saying goes, blend in and not be different.”

“But Malik drove it himself! He had to learn how to do that. Rashid was supposed to drive him wherever he wanted to go, but Malik would not hear of it. My poor father was beside himself. He simply did not understand or refused to understand. In the end, he thought Malik was becoming too Americanized. They had sharp words, with Malik threatening to stay and not return. Then my father had his accident. If that had not happened, I think Malik would have stayed in your country.”

Trish thought Soraya was too chatty. It almost seemed like she had a list of things she wanted to talk about and was in a rush to get them all out. Things her brother wanted her to speak of. Why? On the other hand, Soraya was young, and maybe she just liked to chatter to another female near her own age. Though Trish thought she was perhaps five or six years older than the young woman sitting next to her.

“We’re home. This is the palace, Trish.”

She was there! At a palace! Trish strained to see through the heavily tinted windows but was unsuccessful. In a minute, she’d be outside. Then, a few minutes after that, she’d be inside the palace. A real palace.

Oh my God! I’m actually in Dubai.

A
ND THEN
T
RISH STEPPED INTO ANOTHER WORLD.
S
HE FELT
like a tourist must feel when visiting Las Vegas for the first time. She needed sunglasses to ward off the glare from all the gold she was seeing. It appeared that everything was trimmed in gold, coated in gold, or
was
gold. She knew she was gawking like a rube, but she couldn’t help it. She wondered if she was supposed to say something. Like, “How beautiful,” or maybe, “I never dreamed I would see something so opulent, so unbelievable.”
So decadent. So tacky.
In Las Vegas, at least you knew it was make-believe, a place to have fun and games, with all the gilt and noise.

And then she said something so stupid, she couldn’t believe the words had actually come out of her mouth. “Who polishes all this gold?”

Soraya stopped in her tracks, her expression puzzled by the fact that a guest should ask such a question. “I have to admit, I don’t know. I would imagine the servants. If it’s important for you to know, I can find out.”

Trish flushed a rosy pink. She shook her head and mumbled something as she followed her host to an elevator whose interior was as big as her living room back in Las Vegas. Inside, there was seating for four with satin-tasseled, gold-covered chairs. Ankle-deep carpeting. Art hung on the walls. In an elevator no less. Absolutely mind-boggling. She hoped she would be allowed to take pictures, because she knew her friends and her sister would never believe it when she tried to describe the incredible wealth she was seeing.

The operator was dressed in a
kubaya,
and he pressed a button the moment the doors slid soundlessly shut. Evidently, royalty didn’t press buttons on their own. What did royalty do to pass the time? Did they do anything for themselves? How had Malik survived in California for seven years on his own? How had he blended in with the other students? She wondered if she would ever find the answers to her many questions. Then again, maybe questions were out of bounds, off-limits. She made a mental note to play things by ear.

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Soraya stepped aside to allow Trish to go out first. The servant bowed, his face expressionless.

“This is your suite, Trish. You will have three servants, Zahra, Nada, and Ara. They will see to all your needs and tell you how things are done. Later, we will introduce you to Mustafa, who will be your bodyguard. Samir will be your personal driver. Hasim is your backup driver and bodyguard in case neither Mustafa nor Samir is unavailable.”

“Six servants! Oh, Soraya, I don’t require all that. I’m used to taking care of myself.”
Crap, another verbal screwup,
according to the expression on Soraya’s face.

“But who will draw your bath? Who will turn down your bed? Who will fetch you your early morning coffee? My brother ordered all this. One does not argue . . . ever, with Malik. His words are law.”

Trish felt like a schoolgirl caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She forced a smile she didn’t quite feel, and said, “I guess I am just not used to so much attention. I’m sorry if I misspoke.”

“It is of no importance. Do not fret.”

The heat on her face made her uncomfortable. Easy to say not to fret. She
was
fretting. Big-time.

A small lady, whom Soraya introduced as Nada, motioned to Trish to follow her. Gawking again—she simply couldn’t help it—Trish followed the little lady through the suite of rooms. Silks and brocades, the furniture trimmed in gold, patches of ankle-deep carpeting, overhead fans, though the suite was cool. There was obviously air-conditioning coming from somewhere, because she could feel cool air swirling around her ankles. Everything was so magnificent, it took her breath away. She whirled and twirled as she tried to take it all in. She could fit her entire town house into the sitting room. She got dizzy trying to count the number of chairs and what appeared to be love seats.

Was she supposed to entertain people here? She was about to blurt out the question, but instead bit down on her lip and followed Nada to her bedroom. She gasped aloud as she stared at the biggest bed she’d ever seen in her life. She almost asked where they got the sheets and coverlet but thought better of it. A dozen people could sleep in the bed, which had a small ladder one used to get into it. Maybe it wasn’t a ladder but a set of steps.
God, what if I fall out?
Wisely, she didn’t voice that thought, either.

More chairs, more settees, priceless art on the walls. At least she assumed it was priceless art. Certainly not pictures bought at Target, like the ones in her town house back in Vegas. It was almost impossible to comprehend. Such wealth. Such decadence. If this was a guest suite, she could not help but wonder what Malik’s and Soraya’s suites looked like. She couldn’t begin to imagine.

She was shown the bathroom and, once again, gasped aloud. It appeared to be gold from top to bottom, with gorgeous tile and ceramic work throughout. Like the sitting room, her whole town house could be fitted into the magnificent bathroom. There was a settee covered in scarlet silk, two chairs covered in gold silk. The walls were glass and mirrors, so that she could see her reflection a dozen different ways. The vanity was long and wide and held pots, jars, and ornate containers of God only knew what. A blow-dryer and a curling iron were set into niches in the wall, the plugs unseen. Luscious, healthy-looking green plants were nestled next to what she thought was the biggest bathtub in the world. She gave up trying to count the jets that she could see. Marble steps, padded with what looked like gold rubber strips, had to be climbed to a place where another set of steps descended into the tub. Again, she almost blurted out a question, how much water did it take to fill the tub? Dubai was the desert. Where did the water come from?

Damn. What is wrong with me?
Why was she being so critical? She needed to kick back and just enjoy her vacation instead of picking it apart. If she kept this up, her hosts would send her packing before she could catch her breath. Trish turned to face the two women.

“It’s all so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous, so splendid. It takes my breath away.”

“Wonderful. Malik will be so pleased that you like everything. He worries when we have guests. He wants to be a good host, as do I. I will leave you now. One of the servants will come for you for dinner, which is served at eight o’clock. Tonight dinner is not formal. Malik knows you will be tired, so he suggested casual clothing. Wear anything you feel comfortable in. There are many books and magazines in your sitting room. Nada will show you how our television works. There is also a stereo system, with all your American music. Malik is addicted to it, so he has all the latest tunes. If you care to swim, Nada will take you to the pool. It is very private, and no one will be in it but you. If you wish something to eat, Nada will have Zahra fetch you whatever you want. I will leave you now.”

Trish wasn’t sure what she should do, shake hands, shrug, smile. The hell with that. She was a hugger, always had been. Her arms went out, and she clasped Soraya to her and almost drowned in the heady scent of her perfume. Screwup or not, she didn’t care.

“We hug where I come from. It’s a show of thanks and affection.”

Soraya giggled. “I like it. Malik told me of this. He said men slap each other on the back and shake hands, and women hug and kiss cheeks. Rest now. You must be tired after your long flight. Nap if you feel like it.”

Trish wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, other than be alone with her thoughts and try to figure out how she was going to handle all the opulence that surrounded her.

She turned to Nada and said, “I’m sure you have something else you would rather be doing. I think I’ll just walk out to the garden and sit there for a little while. I’ll be fine. Tell me what it is I need to do if I need you.”

Trish was stunned when she saw Nada’s eyes fill with tears. Shit. Now what did I say? she thought. She found out quick enough.

“But I am here to serve you. I can run your bath and turn down your bed for a nap. Would you like something to drink? I will fetch it.
It is my job.
”

Ah, therein lies the rub,
Trish thought. If Nada retreated to . . . wherever, others in the palace would think she, Trish, did not like the servant.
So much to learn.
“I don’t want a bath right now. Later, before dinner. I don’t wish a nap, because if I nap now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I would just like to sit in the garden for a while and rest. Perhaps you could fetch me some coffee.”

Nada’s face lit with a smile. A task to be performed. “But of course, Miss Trisha. I will do that immediately. Sheik Malik said we are to serve you American coffee. He has it shipped here from Hawaii for himself.”

“Your English is flawless. Where did you learn it?”

“Here in the palace school. It is mandatory. We have many American guests here who do not speak Arabic. It is a pleasant language.”

A pleasant language.
That was a new one on her. She needed to start a diary so she didn’t forget a moment of this visit.

Trish kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot through the doors and out into the garden, which could only be described as an oasis. She heard trickling water and smelled scents she’d never smelled before. She almost laughed out loud when she saw the Adirondack chairs scattered about the garden, with gaily painted wooden tables also strewn about. There was grass and a wild profusion of colored flowers everywhere. Trees whose names she didn’t know, with glossy, shiny leaves. Little paths with colored stones that led to somewhere, probably to more chairs and little tables. The chairs had tufted cushions and looked comfortable. Hometown America. Sort of. Kind of.

Trish sat down on one of the chairs and hooked her big toe onto a footstool to draw it nearer. She realized she still had her purse on her shoulder. If ever there was a cigarette moment, this was that moment. She didn’t smoke a lot and didn’t consider herself a smoker, but at that moment she found herself wanting a cigarette. Malik smoked, because she had smelled it on him the night he picked her up off the ground. And the suite she had stayed in smelled of cigarette smoke, so his entourage smoked, too. Did women in Dubai smoke? She had no idea. Obviously, someone smoked, because there were gold-rimmed ashtrays on all the little tables. She fired up a cigarette and almost immediately felt the tension leave her shoulders.

Trish turned when she saw Nada out of the corner of her eye, pushing a little table on wheels with a full coffee service and several plates with cold domes sitting on top of them.

“It is what we serve with tea in the afternoons. Sweets. Shall I pour your coffee, madam?”

Trish nodded as she continued to smoke. Coffee and a cigarette. It was as American as you could get. She thanked Nada and reached for the cup. She sipped at the fragrant brew. Even back in the States, she didn’t think she’d ever tasted coffee this good.

“Just ring the little bell on the tray if you wish anything else, madam. Before I leave, would you like me to bring the cell phone Sheik Malik left for you? He said yours will not work here and that you need a special one. He thought you might want to call your family or perhaps some friends from your home.”

“Yes, thank you very much. I would like to call home.”

“One moment. I will fetch it, madam.”

Moments later, Trish was holding a cell phone that looked like any other cell phone. She clicked it on and pressed the country code for the United States and dialed the number. A moment later, she heard her sister’s voice. Trish squealed out a greeting, hardly stopping to breathe as she proceeded to describe the palace and the garden she was sitting in that very minute.

She stopped for a moment to listen to her sister and responded, “No, no, I haven’t see him yet. I will tonight at dinner. Dinner is at eight, and it’s casual. Casual here might mean something different from what we consider casual back home. Yes, I am registered at the consulate. They did it for me.” She listened some more, then signed off, saying she wanted to call Connie. “Love you, sis. I’ll bring you a present from Dubai. Give Missy a hug for me.”

Trish pressed in the digits of Connie’s number. She quickly calculated the time difference, knowing that Connie was about ready for the second show of the evening. When her friend answered, she could hear all the backstage chatter. She momentarily felt homesick. She started to babble as soon as she heard Connie’s voice.

When she finally wound down long enough to catch her breath, she heard Connie say, “C’mon, cut to the chase and tell us the good stuff. What did
he
say? What did
he
do? Is
he
still as handsome as you thought? Did
he
kiss you yet?”

“I haven’t seen him yet. Oh, Connie, I’m so overwhelmed. I’ve asked the most stupid questions. I feel like a hick. You would, too, if you could see this place. I don’t belong here. This is not . . . I could never get used to this kind of living.”

“Trish, you’re just visiting. It’s a vacation of a lifetime. Can’t you just roll with it and enjoy it for what it is, a vacation of a lifetime?”

“At the moment, I have no other choice. It’s all so new. I just can’t imagine all this wealth. It’s mind-bending, to say the least. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how it goes when I meet up with Malik. I have to figure out what to wear. What do you think
casual
means over here, Connie?”

“Casual is whatever you want it to be. Wear the white piqué sundress. It will show off that wonderful spray tan you paid good money for. Wear your cross on the chain. This is no time to deny your faith. Are you listening to me, Trish?”

“I am. I’m wearing it now, but it’s not noticeable under my shirt. You know I never take it off. My mother gave it to me on my tenth birthday. The white sandals with the inch heel, right?”

“Absolutely. You’ll look like a million bucks, kiddo. No matter what they wear, you won’t be overdressed or underdressed. You’re a nervous wreck, aren’t you, Trish? I can hear it in your voice. Relax and just go with the flow.”