Chapter 4
The next morning
"Morning babe," Christian calls out in a singsong voice, as he enters the flat.
"Morning," Syed returns, his voice flat.
"Any tea in the pot; I'm parched?" he asks, as he hangs up his jacket on the back of the door and goes to get some.
"Amira is dropping off Yasmin in an hour; can you take her until lunch time? I'll look after her in the afternoon?"
"Sure, no problem," he says evenly.
"Right, see you later." Syed gets up to go.
"Wait, you're leaving, just like that? No questions? No accusations?" Christian asks incredulously.
"What do you want me to say?"
"You keep asking me, but maybe it's time you came up with the answer to that question yourself. I'm beginning to think you don't care what I do, whether I'm here or not. Are you trying to tell me something?"
"I don't have time for this; I've got to set up the stall."
"No, Syed, this is more important. I've stayed out all night, and you don't want to know why, where I've been?"
"You went clubbing with Roxy, got drunk, crashed at her place, it' doesn't take a genius ...," Syed says wearily.
"But I've never stayed out all night before, and yet you didn't think that maybe something might have happened to me, or that maybe I'd hooked up with a guy; nothing. You really don't care."
"Why don't you and Roxy discuss what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to feel, and let me know," Syed responds waspishly.
"And before Christian has thought of a come-back, he's gone."
#
That afternoon
"What do you want?" Syed asks in exasperation, when Zainab opens the door.
"Want?" she asks innocently.
"You sent me a text saying you needed me to pop round, that it was important," he reminds her as he walks into the sitting room, only to stop in his tracks.
"Hi," Nazir greets, his expression bland.
"Nazir, hi, I didn't expect to be seeing you again so soon," he responds, only a slight tremor in his voice.
"I met Mrs Masood in the street, we got talking, and she very generously invited me for lunch."
"Right, well, I'm afraid I can't chat, I've just popped over to help with something."
"You might as well join us, now you're here," Zainab says cheerily, coming up behind him as he starts to back out of the room, blocking his escape.
"Sit, chat to Nazir while I finish cooking," she orders, as she walks towards the kitchen.
Syed reluctantly sits down on the couch. "Why are you here?" he hisses, as soon as his mother is out of earshot.
"I'm sensing some hostility," Nazir responds, his voice filled with amusement. "It's almost as if you'd rather I hadn't come."
"Nazir," he barks.
"Like I said ..."
"Why did you tell my dad you could help me?"
"Is that so bad? We all need to stick together; living here in someone else's country."
"This is my country; I've grown up here."
"But your parents are both from Pakistan; you were born there."
"This is my home, not Pakistan."
"You aren't at all interested in the politics of our country? You never think about getting involved?"
"No."
"How do you feel about the way things are for us now?"
"Us?"
"Musl*ms."
"I live my life, and I allow others to do the same. The only prejudice I've ever experienced to a degree that it bothered me, has been over being gay; and the worst of that was from my own Musl*m community. I have no views either way on the subject of being Musl*m and living in the West, or on the problems facing the country where I was born."
"How very convenient."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if everyone watched their own backs, didn't bother about their own people, what kind of world would we live in? Is it not written, 'Let not the believers take for friends or helpers unbelievers rather than believers: if any do that, in nothing will there be help from All*h, except by way of precaution.' I thought you were a religious man?"
"If there was something I could do that didn't involve violence ... I might consider; it would depend on the circumstances. I'd be prepared to do something like, maybe, write a letter to ... someone, maybe?"
"Saying what?" Yusuf asks, amused.
"Anyway, I don't believe we should shut ourselves off from other religious groups; or any group of people, for that matter. We fear what we don't understand; I'm sure someone wrote that, once. The people around here, for example, they come in all shapes and sizes, they fall out over little things, some struggle to make ends meet, one or two commit crimes; but I know without a shadow of a doubt that All*ah would never wish me to do the slightest harm to even the most sinful of them, no matter what someone interprets from a religious text. I may be religious, but I also have a moral compass that is my guide above all else."
"It is easy it is to hold such sacharine views from the relative comfort and safety of your privileged western life.
"Maybe you shouldn't have moved here, if our views are so distasteful to you."
"When you were in Karach*, didn't you have a sense of belonging, a calling ..."
"I felt like a tourist; a temporary visitor. It found it to be a beautiful place, and the people were very nice, but that is as far as my thinking went. I have a life here I'm very happy with."
"I think we figured out during our last conversation that that isn't strictly true, that you are in fact a man in need of a sense of purpose."
"And I thought we'd decided during our last conversation that my life was none of your business, and that you were going to leave me alone," Syed snaps, getting up and walking out of the room.
"No we definitely didn't come to that understanding," Nazir murmurs.
"Syed, you'll set the table." Zainab's voice comes from the hallway, and he is almost immediately on his way back in with cutlery, plates and glasses.
"Where are Tam and Afia?" he asks once they are seated.
"Working, of course, where do you think they would be at this time of the day?"
Syed gets a questioning look from his mother as, for the first time ever, he blushes at being spoken to with such abruptness.
"What's wrong with you? Why are you all flushed in the face?" she questions, drawing attention to his awkwardness. "Are you ill?" She reaches over a hand to touch his forehead.
He impatiently swats it away. "I'm fine, it's nothing," he says through gritted teeth. "I'll get some water."
He hides out in the kitchen as long as he can, wondering if he should duck out the back door.
"Syed, where did you go for the water, to the well?" Zainab calls out.
He reluctantly fills the jug and walks back in, without making eye contact with anyone.
"Nazir was just telling me about his latest business venture," she updates.
"I thought he was a doctor," he cannot resist reminding her.
"Well, yes, of course he is," his mother impatiently agrees, "but it doesn't mean he cannot take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself."
"Back home, the only people who are not looking to buy are people looking to sell; everyone's a businessman," Nazir explains, "and if it becomes known that you're living in London, you get bombarded with offers."
"Yes, of course," Zainab agrees, as if this were not news to her.
"I've told my contacts all about this area. They were frankly amazed to discover that such an underdeveloped place could still exist in such close proximity to The City of London's affluent financial district, and are eager to snap it up. By the time they are finished with Albert Square, you won't recognise the place."
"Really?" Syed, asks, interested despite himself.
"These business men need someone who knows the area to provide advice and negotiate on their behalf, and I've told them about you and your background in real estate."
"Some people might not be willing to sell," Syed points out, "they've been here for a long time."
"My contacts will pay over the odds; they have a lot of money to launder."
"Money Laundering? Is that legal?" Zainab reluctantly asks.
"Of course," Nazir assures, "there are different kinds of money laundering; this is the legal kind."
"Of course it is," she laughs relieved.
He gives Syed an amused sideways glance, which she misses.
#
And so, the course is set. It is decided that the next day Tamwar will cover for Syed on the stall, and he will go with Nazir to meet his contacts, whose names Nazir is unwilling to divulge for the moment.
As he is leaving, be turns to Syed with the apparent afterthought. "Come with me for a drink tonight, and I'll fill you in on what they'll be looking for; give you a few tips on what to say to impress."
###
On his way home, Syed takes a detour to the park. He wanders aimlessly for a while, mulling things over. "I don't have to meet him tonight, or tomorrow or ever again. I could stop this right now," he reminds himself.
He buys a coffee from a vendor and sits on one of the benches. "I don't trust him," he admits, biting his lower lip uneasily. "I barely know him; and what I do know, I don't like."
The beeping of his phone alerts him to an angry message from Christian demanding to know where he is. With a sigh, he texts Nazir to say that he won't be able to meet that evening and no longer wants to be involved with the deal. He then slowly retraces his steps back towards the flat. "I won't see him again," he decides. The choice made, he feels more than a little deflated.
"Hi, sorry I'm late, mum asked me to ..." he begins, as he walks in the door of the flat.
"Where the hell have you been, you were supposed to be looking after Yas this afternoon? I've had to rearrange a client," Christian hisses, keeping his voice low enough so that their daughter cannot hear.
"Sorry, there was trouble up at th' mill," Syed murmurs.
"What are you taking about?"
"Nothing, it's from an old saying ... Never mind," he concludes gloomily, as Christian rushes out the door.
"What would you like for tea? I thought we could ..."
"I'll be late back; going for a drink with Rox after work," Christian calls over his shoulder.
"Our conversations are getting shorter and shorter," Syed thinks with a sigh.
That evening
"So, where are we going?" he asks once they are in the taxi. "Another fancy private members' wine bar, so you can lord your success over me one more time?"
"That's a little harsh," Nazir responds with a smile. He looks out the window at the passing shop fronts and people crowding the streets, to avoid the temptation to stare a little too obviously at his companion, who looks so striking in a snow-white shirt which sets off perfectly his beautiful brown eyes.
#
The place turns out to be a little less private, a nightclub in Central London.
"This is more Christian's scene than mine," Syed admits, looking around him at the seemingly endless wall of people eating up the space. He has only arrived, and is already feeling overwhelmed by the ear-splittingly loud music and the sense of chaos everywhere.
"Come," Nazir's voice says, close to his ear, and his arm around Syed's waist guides him towards a set of steps. The QR code on his phone gains them access to a raised, secluded VIP area.
"Drink?"
"Orange Juice," he automatically responds.
As Nazir speaks to the waiter, Syed has a moment to think, time to feel apprehensive about being out without Christian. He wonders for the first time in weeks what Christian is doing; where he and Roxy are; if Christian will wonder where he is. He didn't leave a note, or text to let him know he was going out. He turned off his phone after dropping Yasmin off with his parents. He knows that lately he's been making life difficult …
"This is a strange place to have a business meeting," he comments.
"We can talk business later," Nazir casually responds. "So, you don't go clubbing with Christian?"
"The odd time, but usually not."
"What do you like to do for fun?"
"I don't really … I suppose reading, going for dinner."
"Pretty boring. It's a good job Christian has blondie to hang out with."
"When I was in Leeds, I went out quite a bit; business drinks, lunches; social events and other business development opportunities with clients, which often ended with us going to a club. I went to museums, art galleries."
"Did you ever go out with people who had nothing to do with business? Did you have any friends?"
"Yes, I got on with the guys I worked with; the guys I shared a flat with."
"They weren't what you'd call friends, though, where they?"
"If you don't mind, I'd rather talk about our meeting tomorrow, I can't stay out very late; Christian will wonder where I am," Syed snaps icily.
"But talking about you is so much more interesting," Nazir responds with a mocking smile. As he reaches out to teasingly tap him on the cheek, someone passing behind Syed accidentally knocks against him; pushing him closer, so that Nazir's hand ends up in buried in his hair.
"Don't," Syed says huskily, his eyes widening, his gaze helpless as he looks up at him.
Nazir's initial surprise quickly gives way to something a little more intense. They stare at each other without speaking for a charged moment. And then, after what feels like an eternity, Nazir leans forward to kiss him and he sighs with relief, his eyes drifting closed.
The kiss is immediately impatient, urgently pressing, demanding; Nazir's tongue forces its way into his mouth, his arms go around his waist and he pulls Syed up against him.
Syed can feel hands moving over his back, gripping his hips. He shudders as Nazir grinds up against him; his whole body is on fire. His hands grip solid shoulders as he starts to feel light-headed.
A slight realignment, and he finds himself with his back against a wall. "Nazir," he breathes.
But there is no time for talk. His moan, as Nazir reaches between them to pull down the zip of his jeans and slip a hand inside, is swallowed up in another punishing kiss. He searches for the other hand, to encourage it to find its way down inside the back of his jeans. "Touch me, please," he whimpers, a feeling of almost painful pleasure ripping through his body. "Please," he hoarsely begs, no longer caring about anything apart from the powerful need to be taken roughly.
Nazir has never in his life experienced anything like it. He has found his mate. Every time Syed moves against him, his body shudders in response. "I want you so much," the words burst from him.
"Now," Syed pleads, mindlessly attempting to turn to face the wall.
"Not here," he breathlessly insists.
"Please," Syed cries hoarsely, but Nazir grips his hands to still their frantic efforts to hold onto him.
"Shush," he soothes, reaching out a hand to gently stroke his cheek; it slides along to cup the back of his head and gently draw Syed to him once more.
Syed buries his face in the crook of his neck. His arms go around Nazir's waist and he clings to him, his body trembling with a need he can barely contain.
Nazir's arms, now on his back and around his waist, tighten their grip, attempting to bring him impossibly closer. "This is what paradise must feel like," he thinks feverently. As a hand moves back up to the back of Syed's head, he has another's thought, "I could kill him right now, I could smother him." Almost subconsciously, he increases the pressure, pressing Syed's face further into the crook of his neck until he cannot catch a breath.
Syed begins to struggle, grasping at his shoulders, trying to push him back.
Nazir thrills to feel his panic rising, his desperation. He can feel the moment Syed begins to weaken, to lose the strength to fight back. He waits an eternity before letting him raise his head.
Syed takes a big gulp or three of air. As he looks up at him, Nazir can see the fear and confusion in his eyes, but also a helpless hunger and need.
Syed lets himself be slowly drawn into Nazir's embrace once more. He lets himself be kissed, and is soon responding with equal vigour.
As their passion builds once more, his mouth moves to Nazir's cheek, to his neck.
"What would you be prepared to do for me?" Nazir whispers in his ear.
"Anything," he moans, pressing worshipful kisses against the exposed skin.
"Would you kill for me?" he softly wonders, too softly for Syed to hear.
"Let's get out of here," he growls, abruptly letting Syed go. "Syed?" he whispers harshly, when he gets no response.
"What?" he asks vaguely, instinctively leaning towards him once more.
"Not here," Nazir groans against his mouth. "Come," he commands, taking his hand and leading him outside.
The fresh air hits Syed with force, jerking him out of his trance.
"Taxi," Nazir impatiently calls, raising his right hand to summon one waiting nearby, whilst holding tightly onto Syed with his left. The taxi pulls up and he opens the door. "Get in," he commands.
"I can't," Syed says shakily, his breath catching on the last word. He pulls his hand free and rushes off before either of them can change his mind.
Nazir is thoughtful, as he sits in the taxi on his way home. He has discretely dabbled in the past, but would consider himself without question to be straight. A couple of months earlier, when he was scoping the area, he saw Syed for the first time, and felt an immediate, intense attraction. He remembers standing spellbound at a discrete distance watching him working on the stall; his beautiful smile at a customer, the way he laughed when a blond woman stopped to tell him something, the way he looked into Christian's eyes when he stopped by for a quick chat. Nazir experienced jealousy for the first time in his life that day, and has had Syed in his thoughts every moment since.
"Tonight, he looked into my eyes with that same intensity," he thinks with a shiver. "I guess we're not going to need the 'business contacts'." His fingers move to his lips; he can't wait for their next meeting.
###
Syed gets undressed as quietly as he can, and gingerly gets into the bed beside Christian.
"Where've you been," he mumbles.
"They had a large booking at the restaurant; Tam asked me to help out."
"When I couldn't reach you, I phoned Tam; you weren't at the restaurant."
He doesn't respond, and Christian soon falls back asleep. Syed turns so that he is lying with his back to him. He stares for a long while at a smiling, happy photo from their wedding day sitting on the bedside table. His eyes are looking at the photo, but all Syed can see is a pair of dark brown eyes staring deeply into him own; his heart is pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement.