by Holly Rayner
Hannah looked at him, puzzled.
“I get out at the front; the main entrance is around the corner. But you get out here.” He could tell by the look of shock on her face that she had no idea what was happening. “I know I told you that jazz is still not a popular thing in my country. I just didn’t tell you why. You see, women, well, they do not have the same rights here that they have over in the States. It is seen as, well, how can I put it, inappropriate for a woman to be performing on stage at a club.”
He watched as Hannah took in what he was saying. “So,” she began, “you’re telling me that I’m good enough to sing for you and your royal friends, just not good enough to use the front door?”
Sadiq looked down, ashamed. He knew he’d offended her. Maybe he should have told her this before he had brought her here. But then, she might not have come.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before,” he said. “It’s just that, I figured if you knew you would have to do some sneaking around, that you wouldn’t want to come here and sing. I was afraid the people of my country would never get the opportunity to hear your voice.”
Darn him, she thought. He’s trying to flatter me, and it’s working.
Hannah sighed and looked at the scratched metal door they had entered before. She finally understood why she was being paid so well; she was black market goods. But, hell, it wasn’t so bad. Some part of her quite liked the whole sneaking around thing. It made her feel like a spy. A good spy, who happened to work for a very rich, very good-looking sheikh. She could live with that.
“Okay,” she said, “I get it, and I don’t blame you. I understand our cultures are worlds apart, and I guess I should be flattered that you want me here to sing. So, I can live with the whole back door thing.”
Sadiq’s face light up. “Thank you,” he said, reaching out to hug her. “Thank you!” He squeezed her hard and then planted kisses on each of her cheeks. “Okay, so you go in here and I go in the front, but I’ll be watching you the whole time. When the show is over, Raffi will escort you out to the limo. Got it?”
Hannah nodded. “Got it.”
He hugged her again and then nodded for Naasir to go around and open the door.
A moment later, Hannah, dressed in a cobalt blue evening gown, stepped out of the limo and into the Shimab backstreet. Minutes later, she was inside the club and waiting behind the curtain for her cue.
The band started up and Hannah stepped out onto the stage and grabbed the 1940s-style microphone. The houselights were dimmed and with the spotlight on her, she could only make out shadowy figures in the crowd. Just the way she liked it. She never liked being able to see who was watching her. It made her nervous. Besides, there was only one person she wanted to see tonight. And she could tell, even in the shadows, that the tall, dark figure with the wavy hair in the back was Sadiq. Just knowing he was there put her at ease.
After a few measures of music, she opened her mouth and began to sing. She closed her eyes and fell into her groove, feeling the band, tasting the words as they flowed out of her, breathing in the soul of the jazz. She was quietly amazed that here, in this distant land, where she spoke not one word of the language, the music was the same.
Jazz was like that. It was a universal language. She could go anywhere and people would understand her, even if they didn’t understand the words. They could feel the message in the way she sang the lyrics, in the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and pushed words out. That was what music was all about. That was what she loved. And she got lost in it.
So lost, in fact, that she never saw Sadiq leave. When her performance was through, the house lights went up and Hannah got her first real look at the guests. She scanned the audience, smiling and bowing slightly to the cheering fans. The stage lights made her eyes sparkle as she looked across the faces and toward to the back to where Sadiq had been. She didn’t see him. Her eyes moved across the room more quickly; she didn’t see him anywhere.
Where was he? She glanced over to the stage door; nothing. A wave of panic rose up in her. All the fearful thoughts she had had the night she first met him came back to her. What if really he was a crazed stalker?
Hannah felt the fear creeping up inside her. She knew she was thinking crazy, but couldn’t help herself. Here she was, in a city she had never been in, at a club she didn’t even know the name of, in front of a room full of men all speaking a language she didn’t understand. This was not good. She was on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack when she heard her name being called.
“Miss Green! Miss Green!”
Hannah turned her head to the stage door and saw Naasir’s smiling face standing at the open door.
She let out a huge breath and gave a final wave to the crowd before practically running off the stage and into the waiting limousine. She hopped in and Naasir closed the door behind her. It wasn’t until he started the car that Hannah realized she was alone in the back seat.
“That was wonderful, Miss Green! A wonderful performance!” Naasir smiled at her through the rear view mirror as he pulled out into the busy city traffic.
Hannah looked puzzled and was still breathing hard from her panic on stage. “Thank you, Naasir. But where is Sadiq? I thought he would be at the show? I mean, he was at the show, and then he wasn’t.”
Naasir nodded to her. “Yes, ma’am. He was. But he got called away on urgent business. He asked me to extend his apologies to you.”
“Oh,” Hannah said, cursing herself for overreacting. “Oh, okay, thank you.”
She sat back against the leather seat as Naasir drove back to the palace, chuckling at how worked up she’d just gotten. A stalker, a murderer, a human trafficker. She really needed to stop watching so much television.
Hannah closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. She felt good now that she was singing again. It had only been a week, but a week was a long time to go for her. Singing was her therapy. It was her medicine. It was the cure to everything that ailed her. She was glad she’d gotten to sing tonight and was looking forward to the next few weeks of performing. Even if she had to use the back door.
ELEVEN
Over the next few weeks, Sadiq and Hannah visited several other clubs around the capital of El-Shakanish, the city of Shimab and the outlying regions. Each time she performed, Hannah would enter through a back door and Sadiq would enter through the front. There were a few occasions when he stayed for the whole show, but most of the time he would be called away halfway through, for some business emergency or another. Finally, after four weeks of touring around the country, Hannah decided to confront Sadiq about his mysterious disappearances.
She broached the subject one evening, as they were in the back of the limousine, on the way to another one of her performances. “Sadiq,” she said, glancing at him, stunned again at how amazing he looked in his tuxedo.
“Yes, Hannah,” he said.
A shiver ran up her spine as he looked at her. Since her tour had started, their relationship had remained rather ambiguous. There had been times when he had put his arm around her in the limo, and others when he seemed to want nothing to do with her. Now was one of those times.
“I was just wondering what type of business you are always running off to during my performances.” There. I’ve said it. Hannah looked at him and held her breath.
Sadiq watched her as she waited nervously to see his reaction. God, she was gorgeous. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her when she was on stage, singing, moving so slowly in those dresses. And when they were alone in the limousine, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath, it was almost too much to bear.
He had to be careful. He knew that getting involved with Hannah would be playing with fire. He didn’t want a relationship. And yet, he was finding himself more and more attracted to her every day.
Hannah waited, hoping he would finally tell her what was really going on.
Sadiq opened his mouth and was about to speak when Naasir slammed o
n the brakes and the car screeched to a halt, sending Sadiq and Hannah flying forward.
“Oh no!” Naasir’s voice rang back from the front seat. “Are you all right? Sir, Miss?!”
“We’re fine, Naasir,” said Sadiq as he found his way back on the seat. He looked over at Hannah and realized that he had his arm wrapped tightly around her, holding her in place. She hadn’t been shaken or injured; in fact, not a hair on her head was out of place.
She looked at him and he looked at her and she knew; there was something he wasn’t telling her and he certainly wasn’t going to do it now. He had been so close to opening up to her, but Hannah knew the near crash had jolted him back to reality, and whatever courage he might have mustered was gone.
“I’m sorry, sir, the car in front of me, it just…”
“It’s okay Naasir. We’re fine. Are you okay?”
“Yes, sir. I’m fine. We’re moving again now. I’m so sorry, sir.”
“Naasir, it’s fine. Now please, just drive.” Sadiq pulled his arm away from Hannah, sat back against the seat and turned to face the window.
A few minutes later, the limo pulled up to the back door of the club and Naasir opened the door for Hannah. She stepped out without looking back at Sadiq. It wouldn’t have mattered. He never turned to face her either.
When she got on stage, Hannah looked out to discover that Sadiq hadn’t come in at all. On the ride home, she decided to ask Naasir what was really going on.
“I don’t want you to betray his confidence, of course,” she said. “I just feel like I deserve an explanation. I kind of feel like I was brought here under false pretenses.”
Naasir drove without looking back at her. “Miss Green,” he started. “Have you ever done something that your parents didn’t want you to do?”
Hannah furrowed her brow and looked at Naasir in the mirror. “Of course. Everybody does. Why?”
Naasir flashed a quick look at her and then focused back on the road. “Well, that is exactly what His Highness struggles with.”
Hannah sat back and thought about that. “Like, struggled with when he was a kid? Or struggles with now?”
“Both,” said Naasir.
Hannah sighed in exasperation. “Naasir, you’ve got to help me out here; I feel like he’s mad at me or something. I don’t understand.”
Naasir looked at her quickly again. “Miss Green, our culture is very different than yours.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. The whole back door thing.”
Naasir smiled. “Yes, but even more than that. Having a woman performer is culturally unacceptable to many, if not most people.”
Hannah looked out the window and thought about what Naasir was trying to say without actually saying it. Parents, breaking rules, unacceptable. Oh my God. “His parents don’t know I’m here, do they?”
Naasir shook his head.
“And he can’t tell them, can he?”
Naasir shook his head again.
Wow, Hannah thought. Their cultures really were different. It made sense now. Sadiq had never spoken about his parents, and she now thought she understood why. Perhaps they wouldn’t agree with what Sadiq was doing with Hannah. Perhaps they wouldn’t agree with his taste in western music, never mind western women.
Hannah had heard enough for one night. She realized that despite her feelings for Sadiq, whatever was happening between them could never go anywhere, as much as she secretly wanted it to. Their cultures were just too different. Besides, she couldn’t allow herself to be with a man that didn’t respect her enough to use the same door as her. Nope. She had to abandon any hope that something might happen between them. In that moment, Hannah made a promise to herself to dedicate the rest of her time in El-Shakanish to business and business only.
TWELVE
Over the next few weeks, Sadiq tried to distance himself from Hannah as much as possible. He had known he felt something for her the moment he first saw her perform. He had thought then that it was just the sensual sound of her voice, but since bringing her to his country, and spending more and more time with her, he had come to realize that it was much more than that.
Sadiq hadn’t just come to love the sound of her voice; over the past few weeks, he had fallen in love with her smile, her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes in the evening light, and the way she crinkled her nose when