‘He’s got what?’
‘He’s fugly,’ she replies with an expressive glance. And by that, I mean crossing her eyes.
‘You haven’t got your glasses on. From where you’re sat, they could both be primordial, lacking opposable thumbs.’ I hold both of mine up with a manic grin.
‘I dated a guy like that once. From Cork. They’re a bit like that from down there. And I’ve got my lenses in, ‘cos boys don’t make passes—’
‘At girls who wear glasses,’ we finish together.
‘That’s crap, though. They buzz ‘round you like flies on—’
‘Shit?’ she asks, sweetly.
‘I was going to say sugar, but it is what it is. See, what I’d like to know is, if you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, why doesn’t your gob keep them away?’
‘Some men like to be humiliated.’ She snorts before her eyes become wide, like she’s farted in the middle of mass or something. That can’t be right, Niamh doesn’t blush. It must be the lights.
‘Hey, if I’m playing the faithful seeing eye dog tonight ‘cos you’re too vain to put on your specs, I should tell you there’s a woman over there waving at you.’ I gesture behind her with my glass.
One look over her shoulder and Niamh is pushing back her chair, exclaiming, ‘My god, Liv!’
Half watching the pair’s effusive greeting, I take a small sip of my martini before scooping out the suicidal olive bobbing in the glass.Death by martini. Not a bad way to go.
I start as hands cover my eyes.
‘Guess who.’
The accented voice is distinctive, familiar almost. Before a split second passes, I know it isn’t Kai. The hands move as Kai’s cousin slides himself into Niamh’s vacated chair.
‘Essam?’
He certainly looks like Kai’s pretend pious cousin, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A mufti in mufti.I know, lame.
‘You remembered.’
He smiles with satisfaction, grabbing a bottle of beer from a waitress’ passing tray. I expect her to bat his hand away but instead, she smiles and gives him the eye as she sashays away. His gaze and salacious smile eventually draw back.Looks like the wolf in sheep’s clothing is au naturel tonight.
‘I... I wouldn’t have expected to see you here.’ My voice holds a false brightness, the understatement hiding in the words.
He hooks an elbow around the chair back, eyes flicking over me, obviously so. I straighten in my seat, aware again of how alike, and yet poles apart, he and Kai are. Similar features, the same luxurious hair, but where Kai has a slight air of rake about him, in Essam I can only sense sleaze.
His hand grasps my wrist. ‘Shu al moshkil? What’s wrong?’
‘No, nothing,’ I answer too quickly, retracting the offended appendage ostensibly to push hair behind my ears. ‘So, what brings you out? I mean, a bar is the last place I’d expect to see you.’
Foot. Mouth. Cultural sensitivity and I are passing acquaintances sometimes.
‘We are all here for the same thing, I think.’
I look down at my glass before scanning the space over his shoulder, looking anywhere but at him, as warning bells the size of a cathedral’s begin to ring. ‘Yeah, what’s that?’ I mumble distractedly.
‘A drink, a chance to relax. To make new friends... To fuck.’
Words fire from my mouth, incredulous. ‘You’ve got a wife!’
‘They do not naturally go together,habibti.’
‘Don’t call me that.’ The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and rise and I can’t help the look of derision, of distaste, that crosses my face. ‘I guess she doesn’t know you’re here, then.’
