Page 29 of Tarek

Her voice is husky and soft. It’s like drinking a chilled honeyed wine on a hot summer’s day. Shit now she is turning me into a fucking poet.

“Are you ready, Tarek?” a grainy fussy voice breaks my train of thought.

“Right. Bella let’s cancel tonight.” Just the thought of being in her company makes my eye itch.

“Excuse me. I waited all night,” she screeches as we re-enter the dining room, leaving the chill night air.

“Listen, let me get one of my drivers to get you home safely.” My fingers dig into my side pocket in search of a much-needed nicotine relief.

All the chairs are flipped onto the tabletops; the white linens hang over them like ghosts swaying in the night.

“You can do better. She has nothing on me,” she shouts.

I halt mid step turning to see her standing in the middle of the dining room.

Within two strides I’m in front of her breathing.

With practice puppy eyes she looks up at me. “Tarek.”

“I don’t even remember your name. You stand here disregarding your pride and dignity waiting for a man who hasn’t spared one glance in your direction. While he entertains another you wait. All in hope that you will ride my dick to a fucking ever after. Pick up your dignity.”

Yes, I definitely need a cigarette, shit. It’s like Penelope leaves and my world is pulled back into the mire that is my life.

“All this for her, she is not even pretty.” Now she reverts to her tears, wiping her pale cheeks.

The slow slide of her tears angers me. “You my dear would have been prettier at the back of your mother’s throat or in a tied off condom in a hotel trash, but here you are.”

She clutches her hands to her chest and wipes her eyes. “Fuck you, Tarek.”

“That’s something that you will never have the privilege of doing. Forget my driver…LEAVE.” I don’t bother to escort her out.

The metal door flaps as I push through the kitchen, as expected its clean and pristine.

My temper is simmering; I should have thrown her out by her neck.

My phone buzzes. Who the fuck is texting me at two thirty in the morning…Oh it’s Penelope.

Pen: Maybe next time we can have pizza.

Me: I will bring the wine.

Pen: Wine? You’re the chef. Make the pizza.

Me: Are you trying to acquire an invitation to my house, Penelope?

Pen: Goodnight, Mr. Fairisles.

Just like that the need to smoke is gone.

* * *

PENNY

My focus is off today. I can’t help but think about how great last night was. All day I fought with myself, pulling my fingers away from dialing his number.

The grainy sandy feeling in my eyes signals for me to take a break. What time was it? With a stretch I feel my back lengthen.

“Snap its 7:30pm already. I have been sitting way too long.” What should I do? My belly grumbles out loud.

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