Page 47 of Damaged

Twenty. Not even. His cheeks are pocked with acne scars, and he has a black mustache with visible gaps between every hair.

“Hello. You must be Mr. Callaway. I am Edward,” he says with an English accent. He offers James his hand, but James is slow to take it.

Edward looks and sounds like he’s of mixed heritage. Egyptian and English.

James cuts right to it. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s in prayer but will be out shortly. I hope you brought a lot of money with you. The artifacts we are looking to let go of won’t be cheap. As you know, the government likes taking the most historically valuable pieces, but we’ve found a way around that.”

“Money is not a problem,” James says, his tone short. “This is my assistant, Sophia. She’ll be appraising the pieces.”

I hold my hand out for Edward to shake, but he just stares at it. The corner of his mouth snarls a little as he finally takes it. He doesn’t shake. Just puts his hand in mine for a second and then lowers his to his side.

“You think you know Egyptian history?” he asks with a condescending smile stretching his lips.

“Well enough.”

“You went to college?”

“Yes.” I narrow my eyes at this kid.

“That’s too bad. A woman so pretty should not be concerned with the world of men.”

I look at James, wondering what my ability to talk back is here. I don’t want us to lose this deal, but I’m not going to stand and take this. There’s a flame in James’s eye, like he wants to fillet Edward.

I watch him close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Listen, kid. The last time I was here, you were crying because your dad took your Xbox away. You run your mouth again to her, and I’m taking my belt to your ass right here. Now where’s your dad?”

Edward goes white with fear. “Papa!” he yells, like he’s suddenly a kid again, and trots scared to the door.

What looks to be Mr. Karim himself walks in at the same time. He’s an older man with a graying beard and ballooning belly. I’m afraid we’re about to have the guards with rifles sprung on us, but instead Karim grabs his son by the ear and twists.

“Why did my friend have to threaten you with his belt? Huh? I’m sorry, James.”

“He was disrespectful to my assistant,” James says.

“Of course,” Karim says. “I listened to his mother and sent him to school in England to be a gentleman. Instead, he comesback from the west talking about being analpha male. You would’ve learned better manners in Egypt! What do you say to the woman?”

“I’m sorry,” Edward whines.

His dad lets him go, and he flees the room.

“James.” Karim widens his arms, and the two give each other a big hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Getting richer.”

“Good, my boy! Good!” He looks at me and points at James. “That is what I told him he should be doing the last time he was here. Make more money.” Karim gives a toothy, charismatic smile, and then he takes my hand and shakes it vigorously. “And you are?”

“Sophia Simms. I’ll be doing some appraisal estimates.”

“Very nice to meet you, Sophia. Apologies for my boy. You can only do so much. I’ve learned the minds of young men will always be shaped by other young men. And unfortunately, the stupid ones at that. A tragedy. Now!” He points to the back of the room. “Let us see the collection, shall we?”

He struts to the back of the room and stops in front of a bookshelf. He widens his arms. “Open sesame!” he says, and from somewhere deep in the bookshelf comes a tectonic click and then it swings open.

“Do you like that? Voice-activation software. It cost ten thousand dollars, but worth every penny. I am Ali Baba!”

James and I are both grinning. Karim has that big guy charisma that makes it hard not to like him, although I’m sure his fortune was made with rather questionable, and dark, methods.

He turns on a light switch, and my mind goes blank. Everything in front of me is glittering.

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