THE YEAR WAS ABOUT TO END. The air, even in the cold weather, cackled with December festivities. Tourists flocked into Khana as they did yearly during the holidays.
Smoking under the front light, looking out in the night on the steps of her studio apartment, Amara wondered when she would own a place of her own where she wouldn't have to take herself outside and stand, hiding from the rain, staring at nothing with nothing but her keys. Smoking was her biggest vice. The putrid smell of cigarette and cheap whiskey breathe felt like home. No matter how many people told her to stop and breathe in life, she still smoked.
The winds echoed whistling while cold rains descended in a blur. There was a fine sunset over the Island of Khana. The clouds were like great wings of gold and yellow and rose-colour, with a smaller diminutive twinkle in one spot, like a shower of glowing stone. It reminded her of Andrew Fahad. She'd only seen such lustre in his eyes.
When she slept, his eyes were her last thought. She tried not to long for him. Many of her days were already tormented by longing. So many dreams life did not fulfil, longing for opportunities that never came, longing for the life that never came.
Her phone's alarm buzzed in her pockets. She took it out and turned it off. Slowly, she climbed the steps of her apartment building. Amara dusted off a sweatshirt from her closet, wore her worn-out jeans, grabbed a few things, and went out down the steps. She was off to work again.
Amara worked the night shifts on Mondays. The hotel had a different vibe during the night. There was something sad yet poignant about it. A different world. In between the crack of daybreak and the dreary night, she would be anyone she wanted to be. A single mother who works as a maid in a first-class hotel. By a twist of fate and mistaken identity, she meets a handsome heir to a political dynasty, who believes that she is a guest at the hotel, and they fall in love. A prostitute hired by a wealthy businessman, to be his escort for several business and social functions, and their developing relationship throughout her week-long stay with him.
Hotel Afrique was tucked away in a crescent-shaped lagoon with miniature villas spread out along the beach. It was set within an oasis of palms and mature olive trees with a pergola in the garden for intimate dining, and a traditional birthplace for spa treatments. For Amara, the night shift offered those gaps in time when the world melted away and it was just her fantasies before reality dizzily spun her back down to earth, to the crushing lonely silences that she normally filled with meaningless boys and meaningful books and lots of noise.
Lydia, a tall girl with a high, perspiring forehead and pleasantly freckled cheeks, handled the reception for the night. She stared down her nose as Amara signed in for her shift.
"You're not in uniform."
"Yes." Amara smiled. "It's in my locker. I'll change as soon as I check my schedule for the night."
"No," Lydia said vehemently. "That's against hotel policy. You have to be in uniform before I give you your schedule."
For whatever reason, Lydia disliked Amara. She had made it her point to isolate her from the other hostesses. It made working at the hotel difficult, but Amara didn't have any choice. She needed the money.
Quickly, she changed into her uniform and sat at the reception, checking her schedule for the night. Afrique was in the business of allowing its clients to book hostesses of their choice to cater to their needs. It was a good way of earning extra money for both the hotel and the workers. This was an added advantage for Amara. At the end of the day, the tips were always worth the stress.
"Do you know who's booked me?" she asked Lydia.
The booking card did not give a name. It just read "private guest". Before Lydia could answer, their manager appeared by her side. A short man with a bald head and very peculiar silver-like eyes. Something in them always warned Amara that he was up to no good and she should stay away from him, which she always did.
He wore his usual uniform, a black and white tux with his little half coat. His left arm slid up Amara's naked thigh, but his eyes remained on Lydia. "Ladies, shouldn't you be working?"
"Just taking her through her schedule, boss," Lydia answered through gritted teeth.
He turned to Amara and smiled lazily. The urge to roll back her eyes and throw up simultaneously hit her like a sledgehammer. To avoid problems, she smiled tauntingly. "Bass?"
"Amara, how are you? You weren't at work when I checked in last night," he said rubbing his hand up and down her thigh.
Amara and Lydia looked at each other with disgust. When he got promoted, Bass felt like he had powers to be even more perverted than he was before. She was his object of desire. Repeatedly, she had reported him to the HR, but no action was taken. Nothing could be done until he crossed a line. She didn't understand what that meant.
"I was off last night," she replied, getting up from her seat so that his hand would slide off her thigh. "Excuse me. I'm already late for work. I have a client waiting for me at the lobby."
The lobby was a mess, with magazines and newspaper pages scattered over several chairs. To her surprise, Andrew was at the lobby reading a magazine. He sat there, in one of the corners, in a shirt and tie, with a suit jacket slung over the chair.
"Mr Fahad." She stood beside his chair; hands clasped to her back. "What are you doing here?"
He studied her from head to toe, paused a little on her thighs making her feel how short the uniform she wore was and then smiled as he focused on her face. "I came to take you out for dinner."
"Why would you book me for the night without asking first?"
Andrew stood, thrusting his hands into his pants, and took a step closer. He looked so tall, standing over her that way. "Would you have agreed to go for dinner with me if I had asked?"
"No."
"Exactly.
Their gaze connected on some silent, powerful level. Her colleague's eyes, boring into her back, was reason enough for her not to argue. Amara moved closer, leaning into his ear. His scent, the warmth emanating from his body, the heady sensations of being so close to him ... She concentrated on her feet and not him. "I don't think I'm dressed appropriately for whatever you want to do."
"You look perfect."
Under the intensity of his glare, nothing was humorous. She was spinning out of control, fed by the direct contact with him and the elusive scent that was making her mouth water.
"Listen," he said. "I've never been the type of guy that believes in fate or destiny. But what are the chances? I mean, we kissed about two months ago and I keep running into you more than I run into my friends. It sounds crazy, but doesn't it feel meant to be?"
"Meant to be?"
"Destiny. Fate."
She shook her head. "No. Just coincidences."
"Just have dinner with me, Amara. It's one dinner."
Amara knew, in her heart, that this was the last thing she should be doing. The absolute last thing. "Fine. One and that's it."
Andrew's face engaged in a smile that created little wrinkles around his eyes and grooves in his cheeks. "Thank you. Shall we?"
"Sure."
Amara followed him outside the hotel lobby. A white Chevrolet Camaro pulled up in front of the hotel and he opened the door for her. Everyone's stare made her skin crawl. Andrew, on the other hand, had a smug look on his face as she slid into the passenger seat. Closing the door, he circled the car and slid in.
"I was prepared for a fight," he said. "I didn't think you would accept to go out with me so easily."
The purring of the car as it came alive sent tingles down her stomach. "I didn't. You paid the hotel for my time. This is required of me. I take my job very seriously."
He smiled checking the rearview mirror and she felt like a challenge to him. "If that'll make you sleep at night, Amara, I won't argue with you."
She chuckled. "Where are you taking me?"
"I had something prepared at my place."
"Your place?"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything inappropriate. Just taking you out for dinner as I promised." He placed his left hand on his chest as assurance. "I'm a perfect gentleman."
"I didn't ask you to take me out, I didn't even want to come."
The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking, reappeared. "Sure."
Her heart skipped a beat.