EVERY FIRST SATURDAY OF THE MONTH, Blu dragged Amara to a party or an event with her rich friends. They would spend all night drinking and dancing. In their evening get-up, in the early hours, they would have breakfast in Soule their favourite restaurant in the city square. Soule's bohemian yet chic decor - colourful pillows, golden accents, and hand-painted doors - was the only thing that cheered Blu up after spending all night being the adored 'it' girl. Was loneliness the culprit of her decision to keep this routine?
Blu stared into the obscure horizon wistfully. There was something beautifully haunting about her. A wave upon her iris spilt through as if lonely thoughts occupied and swirled inside her head. How could that be?
"Can you believe that I'm almost thirty-one?" she asked. "It seems like yesterday when I crawled down my mother's womb drenched in blood and covered with nakedness. Now, I'm planning my thirty first birthday?"
"Do you dread it?" Amara asked.
"Sometimes. I remember how eager I used to be to leave home. How much I hated our small town. How I desperately sought ways to dilute the trappings of rural isolations." She sighed. "I think those were the best days of my life and I didn't even realize it."
"Are you okay?"
Blu's smile started to bloom again into its ethereal form like a paradise that had just been found. "I'm fine."
A waiter approached their table. "Are you ready to order?"
"Not yet..." Blu responded. "We're waiting for someone."
"We are?" Amara asked.
"Eric. He wanted to join us for breakfast before he left for a business trip in the evening. We're trying to spend as much time together before he leaves. He'll be gone for a week."
"Okay."
The sky was as hushed as the breath of a bee and the world was bathed in shades of pink and purple. The first rays of sun-warmed Amara's shoulders. The crisp air stroked her cheeks. She took a breath and felt that she too was replenishing.
"Here, baby," Blu called, standing.
Eric appeared beside Amara and wrapped Blu tightly in his arms as if they hadn't seen each other for an eternity. He whispered something in her ear, and they chuckled together like lovesick teenagers.
"Amara." He finally acknowledged her. "How are you?"
She assessed him from his green polo shirt to his white khakis and bare feet. His expensive cologne wafted in the air as he greeted her with a broad, captivating smile. She wouldn't have guessed he was fifty. He didn't seem a day over thirty-five.
"Good. Yourself?"
"Can't complain."
"Sit," Blu instructed. "I'm starving."
Eric took a glance backwards. "I invited a friend to join us. I hope you don't mind."
The stranger Amara kissed at the flea market approached their table. She caught his smile as he advanced which stopped her breathing. She couldn't tell if it was a mirage or a hoax; couldn't tell facts from fiction.
"This is my business partner, Mr Andrew Fahad," Eric introduced. "Andrew, this is my beautiful wife, Blu, and her cousin Amara."
Andrew offered her a greeting. Amara didn't know what she replied, all thoughts were now fleeting as she was still tangled in his eyes. They sat. None of them mentioned that they had already met. It was their little secret.
Amara stared morosely at the men and women floating through the square like moths among the whisperings and the bright morning light. Suddenly, the air was alive with chatter and laughter.
As everyone on the table talked, she was lost in translation, bound by hallucinating sensations. Cautious of how she looked, she sucked in her stomach and surreptitiously wiped her face. Did her make up smudge? Did she smell like she had spent the entire night on the dance floor? Was her stomach still bloated? Did the strap of her dress reveal too much of the fat on her arms?
"Hi?" Andrew finally acknowledged when the waiter set their food on the table. "It seems like we are always running into each other."
"It seems like it."
His tone casual and light, he asked, "are you okay?"
"Excellent." Grabbing a napkin from the table, she lay it on her exposed lap. "Yourself?"
Almost smiling with a hint of wickedness, Andrew looked into her eyes, "I am now."
Over the soft music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. Everyone was munching on something. The rich aroma of the dishes wafted down and beckoned. Amara loved the smells of the open-air kitchens. Fresh wood barbecue roasting the kebabs, which cost few cattleyas each, fish cooked in olive oil, french fries, tanginess, and the samosas... was there anything better? She picked an oily kebab saturated it in the rich, sweet sauce and moaned a little when she took a bite.
Andrew watched her as she ate. Embarrassed, she put down the kebab and licked her fingers. His golden eyes were now a shade darker. She dipped her finger in the sauce, looked at him and swirled it into her mouth again. He smiled roguishly and she suppressed the urge to laugh.
Effortlessly, he set his hand on her lap. Amara let out a tiny gasp and squirmed uncomfortably. Her face heated. She summoned enough courage to meet his gaze, his eyes twinkled with a warning. It was like he was declaring war and she knew she was most likely the opponent to lose.
"How is the new job taking you, Amara?" Eric asked. "Do you enjoy working at Afrique?"
"It's a good job. Thank you for the recommendation."
"You're welcome. Although the offer to manage one of my very many hotels still stands."
She nodded. "I appreciate the offer, but I still prefer working somewhere else. You've already done so much for me. I don't want to impose more than I already have."
"You are family," Eric stated. "We look out for our own."
Andrew's hands travelled between her thighs. She squeezed her legs together to hold it in place and bit down on her lip.
"Darling, are you okay?" Blu asked.
"Mmmm, the food is..." He parted her legs and placed his finger right at the seam of her underwear. "So good."
Andrew tried to suppress his laughter. She wiped her hands on her napkin and tried to extract his hand, but he only drove it higher. She sprung up from the seat causing the attention to fall on her again.
"Ex.. Excuse me, I'd like to u...se the was...shroom," she stuttered and ran off to the bathroom.
Heaving, she splashed some water on herself, grabbed the paper towels, dipped them into the water and dried her neck down to her chest. She tried stalling in the bathroom, but when she couldn't anymore, she stepped out.
Andrew waited outside the empty hallway separating the men and women's bathroom. He scrutinized himself on a mounted mirror, combing his windswept, tapered hair. She attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed her.
"What are you doing?" she murmured.
"Since we met, that afternoon in the market, I've been thinking about you all the time. Even yesterday, I'm in the car and my boy is driving me, and I think I see you, folding up an umbrella and walking into a coffee shop in the corner of Basire avenue. And I thought I was going crazy, but now I probably think it was you."
"I was in bed all day yesterday," she declared.
He stared right into her eyes, imploring. "Why are you always running from me?"
"Running? I'm standing right here with you."
"Yet your mind is running away as fast as it can. I can see it in those gorgeous eyes."
There's something about him that was enthralling. Amara couldn't put her finger on it. Was it the way he looked at her with such wholehearted assurance? Was it the way he seemed to see right through her?
"How about that drink you owe me?"
"Blu must be wondering where I am."
Andrew laughed. "Do you believe in fate?"
"Not everything is about fate. Just choices that we all make."
"Choices." He shoved his hands into the pocket of his suit, a sharp grey one with barely detectable pinstripes. "Why not choose to get to know me?"
"Do you want a practical lie or the truth?" she asked, letting go of the breath she held in.
"Practical lie."
"I'm not interested." She smiled. "I'm focused on my career; I don't have time to date."
"Truth."
"I don't want to be deceived again."
Andrew reached towards her and slowly traced his thumb along her jaw. His eyes dazzled with promise. He took her arm and drew her closer. She observed the rapt glow of sensual invitation in his gaze. There was a promise in them. He took her hand, raised it, prepared to kiss the inside, but she yanked it away from him. She took a few steps back trying to compose herself before she met his eyes again.
"What's his name?"
"We have to go back to the table," she deflected. "I don't want Blu to suspect anything."
Amara expected him to fight her, but to her dismay, he didn't. As she walked away, she could feel his eyes burning into her back.