Layla
I run to the bathroom in my office to dry the tears. Over the last month, tears have been catching me off guard at any given time during the day. It's hard to concentrate on work and more than once I have had to fight them and fake a smile during public events. My marriage is failing and the burden is too great for me to handle it on my own, but my husband, the one person I thought I could count on for this, thinks that everything is fine, that I'm overreacting and that all that needs to change is my attitude and try a little harder.
With a disposable tissue, I dab the corners of my eyes so my makeup doesn't get ruined. After throwing that tissue away, I take another one to blow my nose. When I take a couple of steps towards the trash can, I feel my skirt move around on my waist. I try to fix it, make it tighter, but nothing works, it's too big on me. How is that possible given the way I look now? I take a glance at the mirror but I can barely stand it. That's it, I'm only having a salad today.
When I step back into the office, I'm startled by Farouk standing in front of my desk, wearing a white kandura and holding a folder in his hand.
"Oh, hi!" I greet him.
"Um... I'm sorry, I'm a bit early. I hope that's okay," he apologizes as I walk towards him to exchange a kiss on the cheek.
"Don't be silly," I look at my watch. "It's only ten minutes. Why don't we go to the majli? I don't want Maktoum or any of his people seeing you here."
He agrees to my suggestion and we head towards our usual and more private meeting spot. We sit on the same couch, facing each other and I rub my palms together, anticipating the news.
"We got them," he announces.
I gasp. "Seriously? Who are they?"
He opens the folder and clears his throat. "Well, with the other two letters you got, it was pretty apparent that we were not dealing with professionals or the brightest minds around, you know? Which can be good and bad."
"Okay," I nod expectantly.
"The bank account they gave us was tracked down to a certain Harriet Taylor."
"Who?" I frown.
Farouk hands me a picture of a blonde woman with short hair, probably in her fifties, carrying grocery bags on the street.
"There you have her," he says.
"I have never heard of her before, who is she?"
"Well," he continues. "After following Mrs. Taylor for a couple of days..."
My sight moves from the picture on my hands to Farouk and I can't help but to smile.
"What?" He wonders when he notices.
"I think you're truly enjoying this whole thing, pretending to be a spy, some sort of 007," I explain
He sighs. "Now that you mention it, I think it's time for an Arab 007."
I chuckle at his idea and it feels so good, I cannot remember the last time I laughed honestly at anything, and he follows suit.
"I cannot believe we're laughing in the midst of all of this," I confess.
His voice goes deeper and he raises a single eyebrow. "Laughter is the most powerful of my weapons."
We chuckle some more and then he goes back to business.
"Anyway," he clears his throat again. "After following Mrs. Taylor for a couple of days, our friends in London realised she has some sort of relationship, probably romantic, to a Mr. Martin Flynn."
My jaw drops. "Flynn?" I ask.
Farouk nods and hands me a second picture. "Robbie's father."
In the picture there's a bald man, with a big belly, apparently leaving his house. "This asshole is the one blackmailing me?"
"Have you met him before?"
"No," I shake my head. "But I heard of him. He and Robbie were estranged since I met him and until Robbie's passing. His dad used to beat him when Robbie was a kid and finally kicked him out of the house when he was only sixteen. How did he get a hold of Robbie's belongings?"
My blood boils and the heat goes up to my ears.
"Woah, I guess he hasn't changed his old ways," Farouk points out.
I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose with eyes closed, thinking about my next move. I'm not sure what angers me the most; what this jerk is doing to me or remembering the stories Robbie told me about what an awful person his father was.
"How do you want to proceed?" Farouk asks me.
"I will pay them."
"What? Layla, don't—"
I put my palm up to cut him off. " Listen to me, I will pay them. Not what they're asking for, not even half of that, but I will give them some money. And now that I know who they are, I'm sending that money with a threat, no wait," I correct myself. "Let's call it a warning. I need to know everything about them, anything your friends can find out."
"Okay," he agrees.
"And with that info and the money I will not very politely ask them to stay quiet and for the pictures to never see the light of day, otherwise, me and my team of lawyers will hunt them down until they end up in jail for what they're doing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I reply. "I'm afraid that if we go to the authorities the case might become public. British tabloids are ruthless and they would love a story like that and I can't have it. Even if the pics are never released, you know? I have enough problems already."
Farouk tilts his head to the side. "Is everything okay? Are you okay?"
I straighten myself up. "What? Yeah, of course I'm fine," I lie.
"Really? Because it seemed to me like you were crying when you stepped out of the bathroom in your office," he points out.
"Wha—" I let out a fake chuckle and wave my hand dismissively. "No, it was nothing."
He exhales, takes the photos from my hand and places them along with the folder on the coffee table. "I don't mean to intrude, I say this with the utmost respect and care for you as your friend, but you don't look fine."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugs. "You look sad, you have lost your glow and again, I'm telling you this because I'm starting to get a little bit worried, but looks to me like you have lost some weight, is your health okay?"
I blink rapidly and swallow the knot in my throat. "Yeah, it's just that—" My gaze drops down because I can't keep lying and denying.
Farouk scoots closer to me. "What's wrong?"
Words seem to amass in my mouth and I must let them out. "I... I don't think Hamdan and I are happy," I finally admit.
"What?" He whispers with disbelief.
I lift my head up to look at him, when our eyes meet he seems to realise how truthful I am being.
"I can't believe it," he says. "You two seem like, I don't know, such a perfect couple."
One tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it with my finger. "Don't we look great in pictures?"
"But why? What happened?" He wonders.
"I don't know, we're dealing with a lot and I suppose we're not doing it right."
Another tear rolls down on my face, he lifts his hand and gently and slowly wipes it away. His hand lingers there, touching my cheek and I stare into his caring eyes looking back into mine. He's definitely someone I can talk to, on our dates we would talk for hours and hours without any awkward silences and I feel like blurting out to him everything I have been blotting up inside me for months.
There's a sudden knock and the door gets opened. Farouk takes his hand away from me and we both jump back and away from each other.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Reem apologizes.
"Yes, Reem, what do you need?" I reply, taking a deep breath.
"It's your 11:30 appointment, she's here," my assistant announces.
"I'll be there in five minutes."
Reem nods and closes the door one more time. I immediately stand up, drying my face some more, and apologizing to Farouk.
"I'm so sorry, I don't know why I told you that."
He stands up as well. "Because it is obviously taking a toll on you."
"So, could you please talk to our friends in London?" I request, in an attempt to take the conversation to a different place. "Let them know that--"
"Layla," he interrupts me, taking one step closer. "If you need to talk to someone I'm here for you, any day, any time, it doesn't matter, you have my number."
It does sound tempting but at the same time something doesn't sit right with this. I already feel guilty about hiding the extortion from Hamdan and now, I'm going to talk about my marital problems with Farouk? But if not him, then who? Who else I can talk to that's not from inside the family? I feel so lonely in all of this and I really could use a friend, someone to simply listen to all I have to say without minimizing it or reminding me of the great man Hamdan is and how hard he is working.
"And of course I will talk to them," he continues, taking the folder and pictures from the table and giving them to me. "This is yours."
"Thanks."
Farouk strokes my arm and squeezes it softly. "Take care of yourself."
I can't bring myself to say another word to him and when he walks away and finally closes the door, I let myself fall down on the couch once more. My hand goes up to my arm and then up to my face where he touched me. I hadn't noticed until now how much I miss being touched, I would kill for a hug from Hamdan and it's unbelievable to me that now I don't even know how to approach him to get that from him. And the sex... that's entirely off the table, it has been months and I'm done with getting rejected. The state of my marriage it's so much worse every time I stop to think about it and I get one of these realisation moments.
I fix my hair and try to focus on my next meeting, so I leave the majli and head straight into Reem's office to leave the folder Farouk gave me.
"Reem, please put this somewhere safe," I instruct her, puting the folder on her desk.
"Uh huh," she replies from her chair without actually opening her mouth or looking at me.
"Reem?"
She looks at me with a straight face.
"Am I getting some attitude from you?" I wonder.
"No," she raises one shoulder. "I just really like Sheikh Hamdan, you know?"
I cross my arms. "Is that so? Well, you should try actually being married to him."
She presses her lips together.
"And just for the record," I add. "Farouk is my friend and he's helping and you know it."
Turning around, I walk towards the door leading to my office. Attitude from my assistant, another thing I do not need. Besides, what does she think she saw? Farouk was concerned about me and tried to be comforting, that's it. Someone showed more care about me than about Hamdan and his important job, it was nice for a change.
---
This chapter simply flowed out of me, yay! I love it when that happens. Btw... we have about 8 to 10 chapters left!
So... this one is an interesting one, huh? I know some of you already have some theories circling around in your minds about what's going to happen, but since we're getting closer and closer to the end, I'm keeping my mouth shut :)
Lots of love,
Sophie.