Layover in Dubai

Sam stood to catch their eye. He pulled out a pair of chairs and bowed theatrically.

Sharaf smiled. So did Laleh.

“Oh, my God, they’re with him,” someone muttered to his left.

Sharaf’s smile broadened as they reached the table. He held out a fleshy hand, then pulled Sam into a firm embrace.

“Amina also sends her farewell,” Sharaf said, “although I will not pretend she was eager to deliver the message personally.”

“Can’t blame her,” Sam said. “She could’ve lost you both. Besides, I think I forgot to make the bed that last morning at your house.”

When Sharaf released his grip, Laleh leaned forward and lightly touched his forearm. The gesture put a dent in Sharaf’s smile.

“How is your shoulder?” she asked.

“Sore, but no lasting damage. I’ll have the bandage off in a few weeks. What about you? Holding up okay under the glare?”

The Sharafs were still reeling a bit from all that had happened, especially with regard to its impact on Laleh and her reputation. The local newspapers had covered the events extensively, but their accuracy hadn’t always matched their zeal. Laleh emerged as a hero but also as something of a libertine, and there had been loads of innuendo with regard to what must have gone on between her and the young American.

To help calm things down, Amina and Anwar had decided it would be best to send Laleh away for a while, by letting her take her long-desired trip to New York. Her brother Yousef would return from his own European travels to escort her, and she would be staying with protective aunts and uncles living in New Jersey. Sam wasn’t yet supposed to know any of this, but Laleh had passed along the details in a series of surreptitious texts and e-mails. He had been wondering if Sharaf would dare mention it now.

Sam got his answer sooner than he expected. As soon as father and daughter had taken their seats, Sharaf waved away an approaching waiter and said, “Laleh, dear. I have some important business to discuss with Mr. Keller before we say good-bye. In private, if you don’t mind.”

She rolled her eyes and looked to Sam, who answered with a shrug.

“I’ll go look at the postcards,” she said. “But only a few.”

Sharaf watched until she was out of earshot.

“You may already know this, Mr. Keller, but my daughter will soon be traveling to your own city of New York.”

Sam tried to look surprised.

“Good for her,” he said.

“Perhaps my relatives who will be taking care of her will invite you to their home in New Jersey one evening for dinner.”

“If they do, I’ll gladly accept.”

Sharaf went on to describe the various layers of escorts and chaperones who would be surrounding Laleh at all times during her stay, generally making it sound as if getting time alone with her would be more difficult than wedging your car into a presidential motorcade.

Not that Sam was too concerned. If he could wind up alone with her in an empty office at daybreak in the heart of Dubai, then certainly he should be able to beat the odds on his home turf. Sharaf must have realized this as well, judging from his next words.

“All the same, Mr. Keller, I know firsthand that you are a resourceful young man. So I ask only that if and when you do see my daughter in America, that you act responsibly, and with the greatest of care for her feelings. Yes?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t think of treating her in any other way.”

Sharaf studied his face for a moment. Then he nodded, resigned if not entirely placated.

“I still cannot believe my wife thinks this trip is a good idea. But she feels it is the only way Laleh will ever regain her privacy. The worst of it is, that jackal Assad is spreading the foulest rumors. But try explaining that to one of these salivating fools from the Gulf News.”

“So what will happen to you next?” Sam asked. “A promotion?”

Sharaf chuckled dismissively.

“Doubtful. The Minister, at least, is happy. I suppose that will always be worth something.”

“Wasta?” Sam asked.

“Oh, major wasta. Perhaps a lifetime supply. As for the police, well, you never earn much credit by bringing down one of your own.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You, at least, can always go to work for the competition. Not an option for me, unless I want to end up like Assad. Ah, here comes Laleh.” He scraped back his chair and stood. “I will say good-bye, then, and let her say her own farewell in private. She demanded that of me before we came, and you have seen how powerless I have become in refusing her demands. That is what always becomes of fatherhood, I suppose. Eventually no one pays any attention to you at all.”

“If that means she has learned to think for herself, then you’ve raised her pretty well.”

It wasn’t clear from Sharaf’s uncomfortable expression whether he considered that a compliment or not.