Page 39 of Kiwi Gold
An abused wife,I’d thought for a moment, back at the theater, but she hadn’t really seemed like that. Now, though, she seemed terrified, which wasn’t one bit rational, unless it was. Unless there was a reason. I said, “I’ve got this. I’ve got you. No worries, Laila. I’ve got you.” And dropped back myself to stay beside her.
Drake was still advancing. He hadn’t got nearly as far as he should have before he said, his voice booming out from within his acre of Viking chest, “What the hell are you doing with my daughter?”
* * *
Laila
I’d thought, when Dad had rung,It doesn’t matter what he thinks about me going out, or about me being dressed in something that wouldn’t raise a single eyebrow anywhere but a mosque. If he says anything—well, that’s a conversation I need to have anyway, because this is my life, and I’m the one in charge of it now.
All of which had sounded excellent, until I’d seen him.
He was my only parent. He’d been my rock when Kegan hadn’t, and my safe harbor always. And now, all he’d done was see me with a man, my hand barely touching his arm and my dress nearly to my ankles, and he was roaring. And no amount of brave self-talk was working.
The first time I remembered seeing my father angry, it hadn’t been at home, because he was never angry at home. It had been when I was four or five, because we were in Texas, I think. Anyway, I remember the hard, bright light making my eyes hurt and my hand feeling sticky in my mum’s, and thinking that we might get ice cream later. And I remember the sound of the men’s voices behind us. Harsh as crows, calling out something I didn’t understand. Something about camels, but there were no camels, because camels lived in the desert, and we didn’t live in the desert. We lived in the city.
My mother didn’t pay any attention to them, but her hand clutched mine tighter, and she started walking faster. We were going to meet my dad for lunch, and I trotted to keep up and decided they must have been saying the thing about camels to somebody else. I could still hear their voices from behind us, though, so I looked around. Their faces were red, and they were telling my mum to go back home, and saying other words that I didn’t know, but they sounded bad and angry. It scared me, and I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t stop to cry, because Mama was going too fast.
When I turned my face around to the front again, I saw my dad. He looked even bigger than usual, but his face didn’t look right, and I wanted to cry again.
I thought he’d stop, that he’d pick me up in his arm and cuddle me, and we’d go have lunch and leave the angry men behind, but he didn’t. He went past us instead, and I saw his arm go out, and then there was a loud sound and one of the men fell down. One of the others was trying to hit my dad, and then Iwascrying, and scared. My mum cuddled me, her arm around my back, and I wanted to hide my face, but I couldn’t. My dad hit the second man, too, and he fell down, and then he got up and ran away. The last man, the one my dad hadn’t hit yet, was grabbing the one who’d fallen down, and my mum was grabbing my dad, even though she never did that outside of the house. She said holding hands was for at home, except that she could hold my hand. She was holding his hand now, though, and saying something quiet and private and strong, and I was standing there alone and crying.
So, yeh. That was the first time I saw my dad angry, but not the last. I was seeing it again now. I wasn’t four anymore, though, and it seemed I had a temper of my own, because I said, “Whatever you’re thinking, whyever you’re here, it’s not Lachlan’s fault. He’s only here because I begged him to go out with me and teach me how to date and what a man wants, and he said he’d do it. Because Iasked.”
Beside me, Lachlan made a sort of choking noise, and I said, “Kegan’s dead, and I’m not. I’m on a date, and this is him. I’m trying to … to go on with my life, Dad. And, yes, that includes dating. What else am I going to do? I live in New Zealand, not Kuwait, and I need to learn to date. But you said you had something to tell me, and here I am. Lachlan can go inside and do … whatever he needs to do here, with his sisters, and you can tell me. And then we’re going out. On a date. Like … like regular people.”
Did I tremble while I said it? Yes, I did.
“Wait,” Lachlan said, as if he were waking up. “You said Laila Drake. At the barbecue. You meant …”
My dad said, “Yeh. My daughter. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know that. You’re doing her a favor? Yeh, right. I know better. I’ve left your family alone. I’ve leftyoualone. Strictly professional, I’ve been, even when you did me out of that last contract, exactly like your dad. Not your fault, I’ve reckoned, that Peter is …” He glanced at me. “Who he is. But my daughter’s another matter, and she’s off limits.” He told me, “I’ve got something I need to do, and then I’ll take you home. That dress is—” He looked at Lachlan and cut himself off. “We’ll talk about your clothes later. Once he leaves.”
I had hold of Lachlan’s arm again. To hold myself up, or to support him? I wasn’t going to examine that too closely. To hold myself up, though, definitely, because there was a buzzing in my head like a hive full of bees, and my legs weren’t entirely steady when I said, “No, Dad. If you’ve got something to say about my dress, or whatever else it is you asked me here to talk about, let’s talk about it. After that? I have a date. I’m not going home with you, because I have a date. So say it now.” I turned to Lachlan, then, with the very last of my composure, and said, “You may want to ring the restaurant again while you’re in there. Ask for a nine o’clock booking, I’d say. This could take a while.”
18
A BIT AWKWARD
Lachlan
Laila was still holding my arm. I was still trying to work out whether that was to keep Drake from hitting me, or to hold herself up against the way she’d just kicked over the traces, when Drake said, “Wait a minute. Peter Hughes.LachlanHughes.”
“Yeh,” I said. “In the flesh. With your daughter.” Standing square, facing off. You could face off, or you could back down, and I wasn’t backing down. Not from Torsten bloody Drake, who thought everybody should march to his tune and step aside when he wanted a contract.
Yeh. Not backing down.
“Hughes,” he said again. “And you’re here to meet somebody. Your sisters.Foursisters. Who are also named Hughes.”
The cold prickled on my arms, and I said, “No.”
My dad went to grad school in the States,Laila had said.In Texas.
My sisters were all gingers. And the sperm bank had been in Austin.
Laila said, “What? You mean Dad … No. That can’t be. Muslim men aren’t allowed to— to sell—” She cut the word off, and the dark started creeping up her cheeks again. Not too surprising. It probably wasn’t easy to converse with your dad about his sperm, and Laila was …
Modest. That was the word. I hadn’t really known any modest girls, or maybe modest girls just didn’t like me, because she was the first.
Wait. I needed to focus here.What?
