Free The Night Counter by Alia Yunis Page B

Inc.’s, online dating tips. “Love is not.”
    “Then why does your business—Giselle’s business—avow that there are infinite opportunities?” she said. “Take one of them.”
    “Giselle’s going to see Lamya tomorrow,” he answered. “Lamya’s going to interview her on Al Jazeera.”
    He wasn’t sure if Nadia’s sigh was out of longing for his twin sister or from disapproval of Giselle being in the same room with her other child.
    She placed Aladdin and Jasmine, Inc.’s tax returns in front of him.“I’m done. If I were a greedy corporate monster, I would say that Giselle’s expansion idea has made sense,” she admitted. “During her travels, she has increased membership 50 percent, and the costs of running the business in Europe and South America have not even come close to the contingency figure.”
    “See?” Zade said.
    “See what?” she asked. “Perhaps it would be advisable to not confuse her commitment to the business with—well, anything else. We all have different things we can commit to. Love isn’t one of them for her.”
    “I’m the one that broke up with her,” Zade said.
    “Then act like it,” his mother snapped. “I filled out the questionnaire for you and added your profile to the database. We’ll find a good match for you. I’m going home to call your dad and find out how his lecture on Middle East civil disobedience in the British and French colonial era went. And before I forget, there’s a girl waiting outside to see you.”
    Nadia said the last part as if it were an afterthought, which it most certainly wasn’t.
    “Remember who introduced me to Giselle,” he warned.
    “I don’t know this girl,” Nadia said rather convincingly. “See you tomorrow.”
    Zade was sure she would tell his father how she wanted to drown Giselle in the Qatari’s Jordanian olive oil. Elias would calm her down, as he always did. His mother and father certainly could be on a poster for Aladdin and Jasmine, Inc.
    When the girl walked in, Zade didn’t recognize her from the database, but he didn’t pay as much attention to the photos as his mother did. She shook his hand. There was a slight awkwardness to her confidence, as if it had come with much practice rather than naturally. But his mother did have a good eye. “Cute with kick,” he might have written for her profile. The girl sat down on the ottoman. Her skin was very white and was framed by very black hair that fell down her back in thick, straight strands.
    “Hi, I’m Mina Parstabar,” she said.
    “I’m sorry to put you through this, but I’m not looking for anyone right now,” he apologized.
    “How do you know that if you don’t know what I have to offer?” she replied. “Offer you exclusively.”
    He sat up straighter, almost rising out of his lethargy. She was bold.
    “So, Mina, what are you offering?” he said, and arched an eyebrow. “Exclusively.”
    She returned his gesture with an eyebrow raise of her own. “What do you think?” she said. “A partnership.”
    “Like I advise my clients, let’s start slow,” he said. “Partnership is a big word.”
    “Do you think I’m going to let you run the show?” she said. “Fifty-fifty. I already get more marriage proposals than you.”
    “Oh, yeah?” Zade said. He leaned in without meaning to. “What’s your secret?”
    She leaned back and pulled out a photo album. “I can claim to have nearly 1001 marriages under my belt,” she announced, and handed him her card. Then she flipped through the brides and grooms, photo after photo. She was not the bride in any of them.
    Zade looked at her card: “The First 1001 Nights to Forever. Iranian singles no more. Mina Parstabar, CEO.”
    “Look, I know you already have a partner,” she continued, and pointed at the poster. “You guys got your little Arab-on-Arab business going, like I got my Iranian thing going. But I’m thinking bigger. Big Middle East and Muslim lovers plan. I’ve already been to see