"You sure you can manage without me? I mean I did teach you all the tips and tricks !" Leila asks nonchalantly.
"Go! Go! I knew most of this already! Don't flatter yourself !" Naheed scowls without looking at us. She has her daughter Najma face the wall away from the vanity mirror inorder to pin up the curls on her left side.
Ofcourse..typical Naheed, refusing to provide gratitude where gratitude is due.
Leila rolls her eyes. She took this opportunity to replace Najma's soft sculpting hair spray with one of the hard spray sample bottles Mister Cortes had been offering for free. I bit back my laugh until we leave their presence.
"You just wait and watch on tv!" Leila remarks in between her giggles. She proceeds to dial baba so he could pick us up.
A few feet away, I spot Bev and Katie smiling and waving at me. They stand near two dark haired guys, eyeing me with suspicion. I feel the uneasiness return as I nearly trip over my feet while following after an unaware Leila.
Those two men are clad in immaculate black suits and ties not much different from Arielle's abductor. Their suave appearance emits a sinister vibe.
I'm uncertain if both Bev and Katie are beckoning me over. Fortunately, Leila grabs my arm in time and starts heading towards the exit. "Let's go, baba is on his way!"
◆◆◆
Naheed and Najma return home shortly after us. Their expressions utterly defeated and humiliated for they were unable to go through with the pageant.
This resulted in Najma's termination. Leila and I exchange knowing looks with each other, aware too well what must have occurred.
The result of the switched hair spray rendered Najma's hair un-pliable. It looked as if some crow had built a nest which was destroyed later by a tornado.
Few hours later I click on the t.v. just in time to see who won tonight's round in the beauty pageant.
There on screen is Katie clad in a pale pink sleeveless evening gown. A silver necklace gleams around her graceful long neck. It was no surprise to see a silver crown for the first round's winner, set atop her head.
" -and again I'd like to thank everyone I've mentioned, I wouldn't have gotten this far without you!" She concludes her speech which I've missed out on. The host, a short chubby man then proceeds to speak through his ear mic.
"Give another round of applause for Katie Nielsen!" He claps his hands joyfully. The audiences roars in approval as Katie curtsies on the stage.
Even I'm happy for her. I nearly stop myself from applauding since Naheed and Najma are present.
Yet suddenly a deafening blast overtakes half the screen.
If I'm not mistaken, the sounds of gun shots pierce through the t.v. speakers. There on screen, a tempest of screams and shrieks emit from panicking people of the audience.
The camera swivels around fully towards the bleachers. I catch a glimpse of those two dark haired men aiming their guns, shooting and ducking behind chairs while someone else is firing back at them. There is a trail of fire rampantly blazing all over the bleachers.
The crowd rapidly disperses from the few seconds of live tv footage we could receive before the screen goes black. We stare in horror at the blank screen,
What the hell just happened ?!
"That was so cool! I wish I was there to see the action!" My stepbrother Asad says, extremely impressed. "Mummy why didn't you tell me this was part of the show ?"
"It's not, you idiot !" Najma snaps at him instead.
Naheed grabs the remote control from my hand and switches to the local news channel. They are already issuing a state of emergency as they air video clips of the gunfight.
For the first twenty minutes the news anchors report of the police and ambulances making their way on to the scene. They replay the footage of the gunfight and the panicking crowds. They state the unidentifiable gun men have fled the scene already.
No seriously wounded or death casualties were reported so far. However, people were being transported to the hospital for minor bruises from the stampede.
"-No suspect is in custody as of yet. But the police are questioning the family of tonight's beauty contestant winner, eighteen year old Katie Nielsen who has been hospitalised for sustaining minor injuries resulting from the stampede-" A female news anchor reports, standing outside of the local hospital.
Naheed clicks the t.v. off before I could listen to more details. She gathers Najma into her arms. "My baby! Allah has saved you ! You see this ! It's the reason why we didn't stay there! This was going to happen!”
I reach for the remote again so I could find out more about Katie and her family. I hope they were safe.
"What are you doing ?" Naheed's bitter tone halts me. "I don't want Najma traumatised any further! Do not turn the news on for a few days and nor should I hear any one of you discussing this pageant and anything related to it in this house ! Now get to bed, it's late!"
◆◆◆
Bilal and I had decided to sleep in the guest bedroom with Leila since she got here. We discuss in hushed tones over the gunfight. I reveal the details of rescuing Katie's niece, Arielle from an armed man.
My sister listens, clearly horrified when I mention that Bev told me she was glad I had a face veil. But like me, Leila is uncertain as what to make of Bevs cryptic words.
Albeit, she reassured me that what I did was a good deed and that because of it God will keep me safe from any harm.
Those words comfort me a little. Soon I drift into a restless sleep, only to end up dreaming of dark shadows looming closer around me. I spot a glimmer of blue eyes as vast as the ocean. Seeing them brings me tranquility.
Chapter 3
"Sanam jaan, just please relax." Leila squeezes my hand reassuringly as a bright flash nearly blinds me.
The camera man is at it again
Hasn't he already snapped enough pics of me from this angle?
We are reclining on a silk couch atop a one foot tall mini stage. It's my wedding day. It is almost over and the nikkah ceremony has been completed. I'm officially Mrs Sanam Imran Mirza.
"How can I when everyone is looking at me !?" I whisper tensely as my gaze sweeps over the attendants in the banquet hall.
All of baba's and the Mirza's relatives and friends are reclining on plush seats at round tables laden with food and drink.
It was a decent banquet hall, simple yet elegant and paid for by mr Anwar Mirza since he insisted that his one and only son was to be married.
I catch sight of my reflection in the compact mirror Leila briefly holds out me. I looked pretty for my wedding. I had many of my mother's features.
I was inwardly grateful to have inherited her features. From the almond shaped eyes adorned by thick lashes that swept the apples of my cheek to a straightly narrow medium length nose.
Then there was my skintone, sun kissed throughout the shifting seasons. All of this set on a rounded neotenous face adorned by a head full of glossy and voluminous dark hair.
All for the exception of my eyes which were a dark chocolate brown with hints of mauve while hers were explicitly light hazel.
Yet for some reason I never thought I was as beautiful as her or beautiful at all for that matter.
"Quit the paranoia, you will end up a sweaty mess and that'll only ruin your make up!" Leila rebukes me as she proceeds to dab the corner of my eye with a napkin she has pulled out of her glittery pink clutch.
She's dressed stylishly in a pink sequinned gown and there are rows of silvery swirl designs on her hijab, a sequinned flower pinned above her ear.
She's caked with make up just as I am. My make up matches my red embroidered wedding dress. The hijab I'm wearing has small simple red flowers bordering my forehead.
"Well then, you shouldn't have forced me into wearing make up in the first place !" I huff, not bothering to conceal my irritation.
Oh my Allah ,I hope I don't look like a sweaty slimed goo ball.
Damn it, Leila why did you have to pressure me into getting make up done?!
"Shut up!" I whisper dreadfully and pinch the skin of her hand.
Yes she's right, it's the exact reason why I'm feeling so nervous.
He's sitting this close and he will hear Leila's stupid nagging. She's trying to play her silly little games.
I risk a quick side glance at the brooding young man I'm married to now, seated to my right.
His name is Imran Mirza. That is the main detail I remember about him since his last introduction by his parents. It was when baba and Naheed had invited them over for dinner to discuss our arranged marriage prospects.
Imran did not appear pleased then as he certainly isn't now. His mother, Razia Mirza had goaded him reassuringly before my eyes. And he had agreed upon marrying me anyway. And now here we were, husband and wife.
"Don't embarrass me !" I plead to Leila.
She shakes her head knowingly and smiles. "Well then I'll leave you here for now."
"No! Leila stay !" I implore regretfully.
She steps down from the stage before turning around halfway and pats her tummy. "Can't this pregnant woman eat? You just sit there and look pretty."
I roll my eyes and refrain answering. She weaves her way to an empty seat at a table and begins stuffing her mouth.
"Dear just look up to the left and then look straight ahead but tilt your head down as well, come on dear these moments don't return. Once in a lifetime dear .." The annoying camera man won't quit ordering me to pose for pics. I feel like snatching that camera out of his hands.
"Camera uncle, please it's enough pictures." I heave a sigh.
Go away or you'll blind me for life.
I sneak another peek at Imran, he's looking handsome in his traditional Afghan wedding attire. A long velvet embroidered black kameez and trousers.
He seems to sport a monotonous expression. I ponder back to what Mrs Razia Mirza confessed earlier, Imran had Supposedly fallen for me or was taken by me-that I was the only one he'd marry.
Why doesn't he seem the least bit interested then ?
I'm brought back from my thoughts by my father in law, Mister Anwar Mirza's merry voice. " Sanam, meet my very good friend Rachael Nielsen, headmistress of Griffith University where I teach!"
That name ?!
My eyes widen as I look upon the tall blonde woman I had met two days ago. She's just as astonished to see me. Mister Mirza gestures her to take the empty seat next to mine. He makes the camera man leave.
"Princess jassssmiiiine!!" There running towards me excitedly is Arielle.
She skips over the stage and hastily climbs up my lap, making herself comfortable. Recovering from my surprise, I feel a bit awkward, embarrassed and flattered all together.
"Arielle, that is rude ! Get down!" Rachael chides her daughter, breaking eye contact with mine. "Or I'll call over Grigori to take you back to the limo."
Arielle shakes her head in refusal, only impelling Rachael to beckon someone over with her hand from the crowd of attendees. My gaze trails after her gesture.
I'm extremely appalled as I glimpse one of those familiar young dark haired guys from the pageant. He's trekking towards us.
I was particularly overtaken by shock to see him. He was meant to be in prison right now since there was footage of his participation in a gunfight forty eight hours ago.
As his gaze aligns with mine, he aims me a scowl. With quick strides into the stage, he hauls Arielle up into his arms.
She gives out a loud shriek. "Grigori let go of me!"
"It's alright, let her stay." I manage to say to Rachael, albeit in a shaky voice.
"Are you sure?" Rachael asks. "Arielle is a handful, I wouldn't want her to ruin your night."
"It's fine." I answer reassuringly.
"Grig, let her go." Rachael orders.
The guy named Grigori eyes me with suspicion. I'm uncertain if there's a hint of disdain. He frees Arielle and steps down from the stage. As he stands facing towards the crowd, he slips one of his hands into his pants pocket.
My eyes widen when I notice briefly, a gun holstered near his belt as his hand shifts the flaps of his jacket. Unease starts clawing at my mind.
Is he a body guard ?
That could be the only reason why he's armed and dressed in a suit.
"Ah! I see you've met before?" Misrer Mirza raises a brow inquisitively at both Rachael and I.
"Yes something like that." Rachael smiles warmly at me before adding "Congratulations, you look gorgeous."
"Thank you.." I reply shyly before curiosity finally gets the best of me. "How's um...how's Katie ?"
Her smile vanishes at the mention of her younger sisters name. She reluctantly answers. "Katie..she was discharged from the hospital Saturday morning...thank you for asking."
I was intrigued to further question her regarding the shooting incident. Yet her discomfort at discussing this causes me to refrain from delving anymore.
Mister Mirza cuts the uncomfortable atmosphere short. "Rachael, if you ever have time to spare, I'd like you to acquaint Sanam with the tour of Griffith."
"Oh yes ofcourse." Rachael affirms, She then rummages through her purse and draws out a card and hands it to me. "You just ring me up to let me know and I'd be happy to schedule a tour for you."
I thank her with a lack of enthusiasm and slip the card into my red embroidered clutch. I saw no reason for me to attend college anymore. I had attempted to pick college as excuse to hinder an arranged marriage which ended up occurring anyway.
"Rachael, debriefing in twenty minutes." Grigori ends up interrupting sternly. "Let's go."
"Well it was nice to see you again." she states to me as she hastily arises and shakes my hand. "Come on, Arielle. Mummy's got an important meeting to attend."
"I don't wanna go." Arielle whines. The child pecks me on my cheek with a kiss, earning a chuckle from me.
Grigori steps up and rudely snatches her out of my lap. She starts crying as he strides out swiftly with her over his shoulders.
"Meeting at 8pm on a Sunday ?" Mister Mirza inquires of Rachael.
She appears uncomfortable again. "It's an urgent matter. My apologies for the short stay."
◆◆◆
Half hour later, the doors to the banquet hall burst open with a loud thud. The attention of the entire banquet hall aims upon the new arrivals.
In stroll a group of brawny young men dressed stylishly in white tuxedos and black ties. They appear to be of Middle Eastern descent. They are hooting and laughing mischeviously as they point fingers in Imran's direction. Quickly, they strut over.
"Imran ?! What is the meaning of this?" Mister Mirza furiously questions his son. "Did I not warn you that your hooligan friends weren't allowed?"
Imran groans, face palming as we glimpse ahead at the young men approaching. They are lead by a guy more stylishly dressed than his counterparts.
Deviant Fixation Page 3