I know I should have been more bothered, but I’d heard this sentiment more often than you’d think. The comment pricked but didn’t hurt much more than that. Not really. “Had enough? Now why don’t you move before I sneeze all over you?”
Then Belet’s phone rang again. All eyes went to it, and Zack’s widened. “That is swee-eet. What model?”
“Model?” replied Belet. “It’s a one of a kind. Tim Cook gave it to me.”
“Really? The Apple guy?” Zack asked.
I would have called anyone else a liar. Anyone but Belet.
I nudged her. “Just hand it over to him. It’ll save time, effort, and pain.”
Zack snapped his fingers. “You heard the raghead. Hand it over.”
“I think not.”
“Give it,” ordered Zack.
“No.” It was subtle, but Belet rose to the balls of her feet. Guess she was getting ready to run. I hoped she was fast. I also hoped I was faster.
“Think you get a pass ’cause you’re a girl?” Zack’s beady eyes locked greedily onto that exclusive phone. “I’m not sexist. I believe in equal pain.”
Hobbs and Clyde planted themselves on either side of Zack, blocking any possible escape.
I stepped in front of Belet. No, it wasn’t bravery. I was just sick of violence. “Listen, the phone will attract the wrong attention. How are you going to explain having one when no one else in the world has it? I’m doing you a favor, Zack.”
Hobbs laughed. “Careful. Sik’s about to go full jihadi on us.”
Sometimes the whole Islamophobe thing gets tiresome. “There’s no need for—”
“Outta my way.” Zack shoved me aside.
And then it happened.
Belet spun. She twisted her whole body, from the hips to the waist to the shoulders, then unwound it like a spring, throwing her left foot around high and fast. Like a wrecking ball.
Her heel smashed into Zack’s temple. He crashed into the lockers and tried to hold himself up, but his legs jellified and down he went.
Belet’s pirouette completed, she slowly lowered her foot like a ballet dancer. She faced Zack’s petrified chums and raised an eyebrow. “You next?”
Whoa. Now what did that remind me of?
Belet tucked her phone away and stepped over the groaning Zack. Clyde and Hobbs pressed themselves flat against the wall to clear the way.
I jumped over the sprawled lump and caught Belet at the outside steps. “What’s your story, Belet?”
“Story?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You did the same fancy kick when you knocked out Idiptu’s teeth.” I gestured back down the corridor. “And what was that? Karate? Kung fu?”
“Ballet.”
“Ballet is not a martial art.”
“It is the way Mother teaches it.”
Sarcasm? With her accent, I wasn’t entirely sure. “No, I think you’ll—”
Belet raised her hand to stop me. “Wait. This discussion, and any subsequent discussions, will go much quicker if you just assume I’m always correct.”
I frowned. “About ballet?”
“About everything.”
I stared, waiting for her to laugh, or smile, or acknowledge that she’d made a joke. But she didn’t, so I guess it wasn’t. “Wow. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”
“Friends like you? Er, no thanks.” She gazed at the passing traffic. “Now if you would just go away. Mother will be here soon.”
“First, tell me what you were doing at our place last night.”
“Besides saving you?”
“From your uncle,” I said.
The roar of a car engine drowned out her reply. A gleaming jet-black top-of-the-line Jaguar coupe performed a tread-melting illegal U-turn, much to the horror of the cab coming head-on. The two cars missed each other by an inch, and the Jaguar wedged itself between the school bus and the principal’s 1970s Cadillac, tires smoking. The cabdriver rolled down his window and began yelling.
Belet went pale. “Oh, Mother.”
The Jaguar’s horn blasted once, twice, and was followed by a cheerful shout: “Belet, sweetheart!”
Belet’s groan was louder than Zack’s had been.
“She can’t be that bad,” I said, feeling the need to stand up for all the moms of the world, but a picture was forming in my head of a hulking female boxer with a busted nose and cauliflower ears.
Belet elbowed me in the ribs. “Just don’t stare.”
“Ow! Of course I won’t. Why would I…?”
The car door swung open, and Belet’s mom stepped out.
I stared.
The woman stretched up, tall and lithe. She wore an emerald-hued wraparound silk dress that emphasized her curves, and her wavy raven-black hair cascaded loose over her shoulders and halfway down her back. She removed her sunglasses, and her smile hit me like a thunderbolt, electrifying every atom. The taxi driver stared, too, agog.
Belet met her mom halfway down the school steps. “You could have waited in the car.”
Her mom patted Belet on the cheek. “Sweetheart, don’t scowl—it does you no favors. Now tell me…” Then she strode past her with those long tan legs to where I stood, still staring. I smelled lemons warmed by the summer sunshine, my favorite scent in the whole world. “Who is this dashing young man?”
Her husky voice was irresistible, and I glimpsed starlight in her dark, mysterious gaze. “I’m…I’m…I’m…” What was my name? It was hard to think while looking into her eyes. Then it came to me. “I’m Sikander Aziz, Mrs.…?”
“Sikander? How delightfully heroic.” She offered me her hand. “And no need to be so formal. You can call me Ishtar.”
“ISHTAR?” I ASKED. “LIKE THE GODDESS?”
“So handsome and clever,” she replied. “Yes, like the goddess.”
She’d just called me handsome and clever. My millennium couldn’t get any better. “My brother taught me all about the myths of Mesopotamia. He was a—”
“Hey! Get that rusty tin can outta my way!”
We turned to see the traffic at a standstill along Hudson. Ishtar’s fancy move had forced a cab across the lanes, blocking a pickup truck.
“Take a detour, pal!” the cabdriver shouted. “How about right up your—”
I missed the rest as the truck blasted his horn long and loud.
Belet stood by her mom’s Jaguar. “Can we go now?”
Ishtar held up her hand. “In a moment, dear. I think they’re going to fight.”
The cabbie flung his door open, and the pickup guy jumped down out of his seat and flicked a cigarette butt at him.
Ishtar winked at me. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
Judging by Belet’s groan, this wasn’t the first time her mother had caused trouble.
The two guys stood chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose. Pickup guy had a few extra inches in height, but the cabbie was built like a bull and already pumping his thick, hairy arms.
My money was on the cabbie. His ham-size fists—haram, I know—could crush rocks.
“Mother! Stop it!” snapped Belet.
Now, that wasn’t going to happen. Both of the men were rolling up their sleeves, huffing and posturing like a pair of alley cats. A small crowd surrounded them, enjoying the morning’s street theater.
Ishtar sighed. Then she put two fingers between her lips and whistled. Like, shake-the-teeth-out-of-your-jaw whistled.
The two would-be boxers looked over at her.
“Boys!” shouted Ishtar. “There’s no need for violence! All you need is love!”
I swear I am not making this up. That’s exactly what she said, and I could not believe it, but the two of them paused and looked at each other, slightly bewildered, and then hugged.
“Now that’s strange,” I said, keeping an eye on Belet and Ishtar. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” asked Ishtar. She smiled, and I think the word for it is beatific. It made you forget what you were thinking as it warmed you
r very innermost innards. Ishtar made it hard to stay focused on…
Wow, she had the longest eyelashes.
Now the cabbie and trucker were sitting on the cab hood exchanging phone numbers.
“Satisfied?” said Ishtar as she joined Belet by her car. “It would have been much more dramatic if they’d spilled a little blood first.”
“Do you really need more drama in your life, Mother?” Belet held the driver door open for her. “Time to leave.”
Something weird was going on. I pulled myself back to the main question. “You need to tell me…who was that guy last night?”
Belet crossed her arms. “Or what?”
How could she be related to Ishtar? Belet may have had serious fighting skills, but she didn’t have a single molecule of charm in her whole body. “Your mom’s right about the scowling—it’s a little one-note.”
“Ha! I like him!” said Ishtar as she nudged Belet. “I told you to leave it to me, darling.”
“I would have handled it if he hadn’t got in the way,” snapped Belet.
I turned to face Ishtar. “You know what’s going on?”
She responded with a vague, dismissive wave. “Oh, it’s family business.”
“Your family business destroyed my family business,” I replied. I wanted to sound angry, but I couldn’t bring myself to raise my voice to her. “That bug guy…he’s your brother?”
Ishtar looked shocked. “Brother-in-law. But my dear sister, Erishkigal, always did have a terrible taste in gods.”
“In gods?” I repeated. “Did you just say she had a terrible taste in gods?”
“No, you’re hearing things.” Belet took her mother’s hand and tried to pull her, gently but firmly, toward the driver’s seat. “Come on, Mother. We’ll be late.”
“For what, darling?”
Belet paused. “Er…ballet lessons?”
There was a sudden smattering of applause from across the street. The crowd cheered as the cabbie went down on one knee before the trucker, who was wiping tears from his eyes.
Ishtar clapped, too. “This is the kind of moment that makes me realize it’s all worth it. Now, Sikander, how can I help you?” She took my hand, and her whole demeanor transformed as she gazed into my eyes.
I’d never felt so seen, so attended to. It was as if she really, truly, deeply cared for me. I wanted to tell her everything. “I…”
“Enough,” said Belet. “He doesn’t need to be involved. I can just watch out for—”
“Nonsense,” said Ishtar. “Sikander’s already involved.” Then to me she said, “We’ll explain everything, but not here. Come along with us.”
I glanced back at the school. “I can’t. I’ve got to go to the principal’s—”
“Do you want to know or not?” Belet asked. “Last chance.”
She wanted me to back down—I saw it in her eyes. She wanted me to go to the office, get my detention, and stay out of her life. Me? I wanted to return to the deli and never see her again. But I had to find out, to understand why giant fly-infested monsters and demons had trashed our home.
“Yallah,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I want to know everything.” I could get identities for the police, learn who to go after for damages, and maybe even find out what their relative had been looking for.
“My chariot awaits!” Ishtar gestured to the Jaguar. “Why don’t the two of you snuggle into the back?”
Belet’s lips tightened. “I can think of nothing worse.” She pushed the front seat up so she could climb into the rear and then, firmly and decisively, pulled the seat back into place. Leaving me to ride shotgun with Ishtar.
Not so bad.
Ishtar settled herself into the driver’s seat. “It’s been so long since you had a friend over.”
“Oh, joy,” said Belet.
Even with her posh British accent, I was pretty sure that was sarcasm.
The seat was comfier than a leather recliner, and the dashboard looked like it had been designed by NASA. Ishtar drove stick, and the engine purred to life. One thing stood out, though: a button with a strip of tape across it marked DNT. As in do not touch. Ishtar caught me looking at it and tutted. “I really wouldn’t, Sikander.”
“What’s it for?” I asked. She’d guessed right about my intentions. Buttons like that almost demanded pressing. “Turbo boost?”
“Something like that.” She smirked as she twirled the steering wheel. “It’s for when I really need to fly.”
“YOU LIVE HERE?” I ASKED.
“For now,” said Belet. She slammed the passenger door behind her. “Come on.”
We were somewhere on the Upper East Side—way out of our school district—and we’d gotten here in no time, thanks to Ishtar taking a few illegal shortcuts, including one across a playground. Tall, elegant town houses and a few fashion boutiques lined the street, and there was a fancy florist shop on the corner. Birds sang from the branches of the fruit trees growing near the curb. Actual fruit trees. I stood on the sidewalk and let the perfumed breeze blow over me, free of construction dust and exhaust fumes.
This was epically upmarket, but I couldn’t let Belet know I thought that. “Nice.”
Ishtar’s phone rang, and she tucked it under her chin as she fished around in her Chanel purse. “Ah, Bee! I’ve been expecting your call. The twins are gorgeous! How quickly they’ve grown! Yes, yes, the babysitter…”
Vines rose from the lower corner of Belet’s brownstone and climbed up and across the exterior, sprinkling the front with lush red flowers. Butterflies of different vivid colors danced from petal to petal, and they seemed to cloud around Ishtar as she ascended the stairs to the front door, still on her call. “Give her six months’ severance and put her on the next flight back home. I’ll send over someone less…distracting. Svetlana is older, a grandmother type, and utterly brilliant. Her goulash is to die for.” She tossed her phone back into her purse. “Another marriage saved. I live for victories like this.”
A large tabby cat lounged on the top step, watching us. Belet smiled at it as she tickled its chin. “All safe and sound, Sargon?”
“Wait a minute,” I said. The cat had scars all over it and one completely white eye. “I know this kitty. It was outside our deli last night.”
“Of course he was.” Belet stroked his head. “Now pay attention, Sargon. This is Sikander, and he’s a guest, so you can’t kill him. For now.”
Ishtar shook her purse. “Now, where are those keys? I swear I had them last—”
“Use mine.” Belet dangled a bunch off her forefinger.
“Oh, darling! What would I do without you?” A moment later, the door swung open and Ishtar casually tossed her handbag into the corner. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Humble? Ishtar’s abode made the White House look like a tin shack.
The hall led to a sweeping spiral marble staircase that went up a whole lot more floors than seemed possible. Cats prowled around the hallway and upon the staircase, and a sleek black one sprang up into Belet’s arms. A huge chandelier hung down from on high. Portraits lined the walls, and statues filled the alcoves. Massive bunches of fragrant flowers covered every mahogany table. Mo would have loved this place—those orchids looked rare. Ishtar gently brushed the sapphire-blue petals with her fingertips. “Arrived fresh from the Amazon this morning.”
“Amazon does flowers?”
Belet looked up from the black cat she was tickling while I was ogling the room. “The Amazon rain forest.”
“Yeah, I knew that. Obviously, the rain forest.” I hoped I wasn’t blushing too much. A tawny cat sat upon a couch, gazing at me. I reached down—
“I wouldn’t,” warned Belet. “Simba’s a biter.”
“I think I can handle a cat.” But I left Simba where he was. Those fangs did look longer than normal.
A pile of wafer-thin bronze business cards lay on the nearest table. Ishtar handed me one.
I read the text engraved into the metal, “‘
The Two Rivers Matchmakers.’ You run a dating service?”
“Not just any dating service, darling boy, but the first and very best. Established in 2635 BCE.”
“Riiight.” Every business needed a gimmick, I suppose, and hers clearly worked if she could afford a pad like this. I tried to calculate how many kebabs we’d need to sell to live here. Several times infinity.
The black cat sprang out of Belet’s arms and onto the marble stairs to join his half a dozen or so companions on the landing.
Two more came through one of the doors, a ginger and a tortoiseshell. “How many cats does your mom have, exactly?”
Belet looked confused by my question. “All of them?”
Why did she insist on making no sense? “Er…okay. Must be a lot of maintenance.”
“No. They know how to look after themselves.”
“I feel a celebration is in order,” said Ishtar. “Now, tell me, Sikander, what’s your favorite meal? I’ll whip it up in no time.”
But before I could answer Kofte wrapped in homemade pita, Belet interrupted. “Can’t we order takeout as usual, Mother? You know you can’t cook.”
Ishtar frowned. “You really don’t think much of me as a mother, do you…?”
“Belet. My name’s Belet.”
“Of course it is.” Ishtar paused at a door. “Kitchen?”
“That’s the coat closet, Mother.” Belet pointed at the third door on the right. “The kitchen is downstairs, next to the pool, remember?”
Okay, officially impressed. “You have a swimming pool?”
“Just a normal one, not quite Olympic-size.” Belet peered at her mother. “And before you ask, no, we are not getting dolphins.”
I laughed. “Dolphins? You’ve got to be joking.”
“Belet rarely jokes. It’s part of her charm,” said Ishtar. “Darling, give Sikander a tour while I cook something delicious.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yeah, does she have to?” I replied. “I’d much rather hang with—”
But Ishtar was already gone.
Two cats prowled around us. The tabby—Sargon—and the jet-black one wove between my legs, purring softly. “At least your pets are friendly,” I said.
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