Chapter 2
"I know what you're going to say, but you should have given me more notice," Christian turns defends into attack, as he drops onto the bed beside Syed at 3am, abruptly waking him up and breathing alcohol fumes all over him.
"It's fine," Syed mumbles, turning away from him.
"You wanna?" he huskily whispers about 5 minutes later, his mouth pressing against Syed's ear. His hands begin to travel and his naked body presses insistently against him; and even in his drunken state, Syed has to work hard to get away. He ends up sleeping on the sofa.
#
"I suppose you're angry with me?" he asks defensively the next morning.
"No," Syed says quietly. He hands him a cup of coffee and carries on eating his breakfast.
"But you're going to be in a mood all day; I told Rox you would be," he challenges.
"It's fine, really," Syed responds without rising to the bait. He finishes eating, and goes to wash his dishes in the sink.
"Maybe we could go for lunch," Christian hazards.
"Hmm," Syed murmurs distractedly, his mind whirring with anxious thoughts.
"Lunch, yes or no?" Christian impatiently repeats a question he may have asked several times.
"I'm having lunch with Mum," he offers vaguely.
"You had dinner with her last night; is it really necessary to see her again so soon?"
The door closing behind Syed ends the discussion.
###
Syed isn't quite sure why he lied about lunch, or why he didn't even mention in passing about Nazir; there was nothing to hide. He puts the matter out of his mind, and concentrates on setting up the stall.
###
Lunchtime
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me; I hope I'm not taking you away from other commitments." Nazir greets.
"Tam's covering for me, but I don't have very long." Syed makes his position clear.
"Shall we eat first?"
"I'm only meant to be showing you around," he protests, but Nazir is already on his way into the Argee Bhajee.
"Hi again," Afia greets. She shows them to a table next to one of the windows overlooking the Square. "If Syed starts to bore you, I'll take a break and come and join you," she suggests, giving her brother-in-law a playful nudge in the shoulder before leaving the menus and walking away.
"You get on well?"
"Yes," Syed answers stiffly.
"Afia has been married to your brother for very long?"
"They were married in 2011."
"Does her family live around here?"
"No."
Nazim waits for him to continue.
"Afia's mum died when she was a child and her father died in a fire in 2012."
"Poor man."
"Yes," Syed politely agrees.
"Afia's lucky to have you."
"If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about my family. You obviously know too much as it is."
"So, what shall we talk about?" Nazim asks lightly.
"Whatever you like," Syed coolly responds.
"Maybe we could talk about your first sexual experience in Leeds?"
"I don't have to listen to this," he hisses, pushing his chair back with the intention of getting up and walking out.
Nazim puts a hand on his arm. "I'm only teasing you," he lightly assures. "Please, we've had an unfortunate start, let me make amends.
His disarming smile, the reasonableness of his request has Syed reluctantly sitting back down.
"Why have you singled me out?" he demands.
"I haven't."
"So, why are we here?"
"We're of a similar age, we are both of Pak*stani origin and I would like to get to know you better; that's it, I promise you."
"Would you like to order?" the waiter appears at their table.
"What do you recommend?" Nazir directs his question to Syed.
"The chicken Karahi is good."
"We'll have two. And to drink?"
"I'll have a glass of still water, thanks."
"I'll have an orange juice." Nazim offers a friendly smile as he hands the menus back to the waiter.
"I take it you don't want to talk about Leeds?"
"No."
"I guess I'll just have to use my imagination."
Syed purses his lips in annoyance."
"Were you ever attracted to women?"
"No comment."
"You went to university, and yet you are happy working on a stall?"
"No comment."
"You don't like talking about yourself?"
"Not especially, no."
"That's unfortunate, because I find you very interesting," Nazim confesses, his tone intimate, his eyes once more intense, pinning him back, looking into his soul.
After a charged moment, Syed abruptly pushes back his chair once more and quickly gets up. "I need to make a call," he explains, his voice cracking slightly over the words.
He goes outside, and Nazim watches through the window as he leans against the building, his head back, taking a few deep breaths and slowly releasing, running his hand through his hair, his manner agitated. Someone passing by says hello, but he does not notice. Had he during this time turned his head to see the look on Nazim's face, he might well have run away.
The food arrives just in time for Syed's return to the table. Nazim nods his thanks as the plates are placed in front on them.
They eat without speaking for a short while.
"Have you got family over here?" he abruptly demands.
"No, unfortunately not."
"Who did you stay with when you first came to London?"
"I stayed with a friend of my father's; but only for a couple of months, until I could afford my own place. I am currently renting an apartment in an area called Millharbour."
"Canary Wharf?"
He nods.
"It's a nice area. Doctors really are well paid," Syed surmises.
"There are other ways of making money."
"Really?" he asks, looking directly at Nazir for the first time since his return.
"There are certain products you can buy here, under value at UK customs and sell on the black market back home at a 100% mark-up. All you need is enough money to pay for the merchandise and you're set."
"What sort of products?"
"Would you like to get involved?" Nazir tempts.
"Is it totally legal?"
"What do you think?"
"Okay, how illegal is it?"
"Let's just say that the UK part of the transaction is simple to negotiate, but it starts to get a bit more complicated once you arrive at customs in Pak*stan."
"Complicated?"
"If you know the right people, it's not a problem."
"And you know the right people?"
"Of course," Nazir smiles. "I always get my way," he adds softly, his eyes once more hypnotically holding Syed's gaze.
"I was supposed to be showing you around?" he huskily reminds them both. "Afia," he calls a little too loudly, "can we have the bill?"
"I've got it," Nazir insists, handing her his credit card.
###
"He was all polite, didn't have a go," Christian tells Roxy over lunch in the Caf.
"Wow, he's that angry," she responds with a grin. "You're in the dog house, good and proper. You won't be getting any tonight, or any night for the rest of the year," she guesses.
"Don't worry about that; it's usually how I get round him. No matter how angry he is, he just can't resist little Christian," he confidently responds.
"Sometimes I think that's all that's keeping you two together," she muses.
"Na-ah, we love each other; if someone were to write about us, it would be a beautiful love story, up there with Romeo and Juliet."
"They died."
"Well some other couple then."
"It might have been like that a year or so ago, but you're hardly besotted now," Roxy dismisses.
"Of course we are," he insists.
"When was the last time you had a romantic meal together?"
"Last week, Thursday, we got take-out."
"A romantic meal cannot include children," she laughingly reminds him.
"Yea, well Yasmin's with us a lot of the time now, so finding alone time is difficult."
"You and I spend lots of time alone together …"
"This conversation is starting to bore me," Christian laughs to disguise his irritation. "What have you been up to? Who've you shagged this week?"
"What makes you think I've shagged anyone," she responds miffed.
"So you haven't?"
"Well, apart from Max and AJ, I haven't actually," she sets him straight.
###
"To be honest, there isn't a lot to see around here," Syed admits, as they stand outside the restaurant looking around them.
"There's the pub, the club, the little park and the little shop; and I'm already familiar with those," Nazir says dismissively, as he flags down a cab. "Let's go somewhere a little more interesting," he beckons, getting in and waiting for Syed to follow.
He stands without moving until Nazim lowers the window. "Maybe you'd prefer to return to the stall?" he suggests, his eyes challenging. "Those t-shirts won't sell themselves," he adds mockingly.
"I can't be away for long," Syed reminds him, his tone now a little less convincing.
"It's up to you whether you come or not," Nazim shrugs. "Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime," he adds as he gestures for the driver to move.
"Okay, another hour won't hurt," Syed convinces himself, quickly opening the car door and getting in.
"Morton's Private members club, Berkeley Square," Nazir instructs the driver.
"It sounds exclusive," Syed remarks.
Ignoring him completely, Nazir takes out his phone and spends the whole journey focused completely on it.
Syed looks out the window and thinks about why he is never able to stay on the right path for very long.
After about 40 minutes they arrive in an exclusive area of London Syed has only ever heard about.
Nazim discretely shows the doorman an electronic code on his phone and they are immediately given permission to enter. "You're a member?"
"I know the owner," Nazir casually confirms.
"Why are we here?"
"Drink?"
"Orange Juice, thanks," Syed automatically replies, looking around, impressed despite himself.
"You have a daughter?" he opens the conversation once they've been seated in a secluded booth.
"Yes, Yasmin," Syed replies warily.
"She lives with her mother, but you have access when she's in the mood?"
"It's not quite like that; Christian and I spend lots of time with Yas, everyone's happy with the way things are."
"Amira's father, I've heard of him, Qadim Shah, he's a successful businessman."
"Yes, he has properties, and other business interests."
"I'm guessing he's not impressed with the gay son-in-law working on a market stall?"
"I haven't spoken to him recently, and I don't particularly care what he thinks of me," Syed responds, his defensive tone and obvious embarrassment giving lie to his words.
"And you've been persuaded to leave your Mo*que."
"I'm perfectly happy with the Mo*que I go to now."
"As long as they never find out who you really are."
"Is there a reason you've brought me here today? Because I'm getting pretty tired of your insinuations," Syed storms. "You're a friend of my father's, and I'm supposed to be showing you around as a favour to him, but you and I have no reason to cross paths, and there is definitely no reason why you should be sticking your nose into my business."
"Can you discuss your situation with Christian? Can you talk to him about what it's like being British-Pak*stani, Musl*m and gay?"
Syed does not respond.
"When you decided to travel to Kar*chi with Amira recently, did you never for a moment consider that it might be a risky decision?"
"How do you mean?"
"If she were in a mood for revenge, she might have revealed your secret. Bring gay in Pak*stan is illegal. There are stories of mutilation, hangings, gang rape ..." As he speaks, Nazir is once more looking straight into his eyes, and Syed has the feeling he had the previous day of not being safe.
"I need to get back," he says shakily. He makes a move to get up, but Nazir stops him by firmly gripping his shoulder.
"You don't have to be afraid; I haven't come here to hurt you." As he says this, he forces Syed back onto his seat.
"I don't need any more ... friends," Syed weakly tries to insist; it comes out as more of a plea.
"It can't be because you already have so many, because you don't; in fact, you're all alone. There's no one you can speak to about your fairly unique situation."
"I can speak to Tam."
"He's married now, and busy with his new wife and business. Soon they will have children, maybe a son, and finally your bother will have his mother's love and approval. You will be usurped, you will no longer be the favourite, the one to be looked up to. Your mother admires success, and since you can offer her no daughter-in-law, no more grandchildren, no more than a market stall ... She expected so much of you, but you've disappointed her in everything."
"I can't help the way things have turned out, I've tried ..."
"How easily you crumble. You're supposed to be proud to stand up for what you are, for who you're with, for the life you've chosen; yet you make excuses for all that you are."
"I am proud."
"Are you proud of Christian? As I was driving back from a call at around 3am this morning, I saw him falling out of the Queen Vic with that blond Rundi. He was so drunk he could barely stand."
Syed can't help the blush rising in his cheeks. "What do you want me to say?"
"I expect you to say that it's none of my business, that you and Christian can live your lives however you please, that you're not ashamed of what you are, of what he is, that you would rather live your life honestly and go to a different Mosq*ue than hide what you are and be miserable. I expect you to remind me that working on a market stall is a job, that there is no shame in earning a decent living, no matter the work. But you can't say any of those things because deep down inside you, you don't feel them. You want desperately to fit in; more than that, you have a desperate need to be successful, admired, especially by your mother and father. And yet, every move you make takes you further in the opposite direction. You and your wild boyfriend are an embarrassment to your parents."
"My parents don't have a problem with Christian."
"Of course they do. How often does your mother have that look on her face like she's chewing on a wasp when she talks about him? How often do you have to arrange to come to her instead, when she phones to say she's on her way over; because Christian is lying on the couch hungover and the flat stinks of beer, and you can't bear to have her see him like that?"
"If you knew him," Syed says, his voice lacking any strength of conviction.
"I don't need to; all I have to do is spend 15-20 minutes sitting in the Vic discretely watching him and Rox," he says the last with a sneering imitation of Christian. "He has no self-control of any kind."
"He's good with Yasmin," Syed offers weakly.
"Of course he is, she's a child; he'll be her best friend when she grows up; they'll go to clubs together. But he won't discipline her, and he won't let you do so either. She'll be out of control be the time she hits her mid-teens.
How important is your religion to you?" he asks when Syed doesn't respond. "Do you still believe God hears your prayers now that you're living your life this sinful way?"
"I am a good Muslim, God loves me and accepts me the way I am," Syed insists.
"You truly believe that?"
"I believe it because it's true."
"Finally, a bit of conviction."
"Why have you singled me out this way? My father introduced you as a friend …"
"You're the runt of the litter, the weakest link. You're pretty, pretty empty. We both know your family would be better off without you."
"Enough, that's enough," Syed cries harshly. He gets up and walks away. Nazir doesn't stop him. His eyes, following him as he walks towards the door, glitter with satisfaction.
As Syed sits in the back of a cab on his way back to the Square, he feels irrationally upset by the encounter; he has to bite his lip to stop himself crying."