“If it’s not me, I’m sure there will be plenty of other offers. Maybe a stranger with a murky past or something.” Yusuf said, looking suspiciously innocent.
We made our way out of the coffee shop towards our respective stores. It was time to corner Rashid.
RASHID WAS BUSING TABLES, TAKINGorders, and making conversation with our few customers as if he had been working in a restaurant all his life. I finally got him alone when he went outside to throw out the trash.
“I have to talk to you,” I said.
Rashid instantly looked guilty. “You should hear my side before you jump to conclusions.”
“Just tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”
Rashid closed his eyes tight. “Fine, I admit it. I played baseball with the enemy this morning—and I liked it! Please don’t be angry. At least, not until I make a few more friends. I don’t handle loneliness very well.”
I blinked. “You played baseball with Aydin?”
“Yes. He was terrible. He kept dropping the ball and asking if youand Yusuf are an item. I told him you’re too smart to fall for thatullu.”
Ulluwas Hindi for “owl,” which was a total burn in India.I would have to work on redeeming Yusuf in my cousin’s eyes. “He’s not so bad,” I said, but Rashid misunderstood me.
“I’m so glad you feel that way. I think Aydin might have a small crush on you, and as the object of many unrequited crushes, I know the important thing is to let your admirers down gently.”
My cousin thought Aydin had a crush on me? Not possible after the way I had yelled at him. I dragged my mind back to the real reason I had sought out Rashid. “I want to talk to you about Kawkab Khala. She mentioned something about her nickname last night. I think I’m missing some family history here.”
Rashid’s face instantly shut down. He hefted the garbage bag into the Dumpster and dusted off his hands. “I should get back inside. The Imam was about to tell me a funny joke about Friday prayer and the difficulty of keepingwuduafter eating channa.”
“What about Kawkab Khala?”
“Kawkab Khala is here to visit with family. That is all.” He went back inside the restaurant.
My cousin was hiding something. Well, he wanted to visit Canada, and around here we believe in a little thing called snooping.
I followed Rashid into the dining room and watched as he laughed at Imam Abdul Bari’s jokes. Nalla was wearing a beautiful green abaya with white embroidery down the front and on the cuffs of her sleeves. The Imam waved me over and I hugged his wife in greeting. Her shoulder blades felt sharp beneath the dress. I wanted to hold her even closer, but I was afraid I might hurt her. Years ago, Nalla had been my Sunday School teacher. She had told the best stories about the Prophets, acting out all the parts and even bringing in props.
After a few moments of conversation with the Imam and Nalla, I grabbed a water jug and filled glasses, smiling and making small talk with our regulars. In the far corner, an older woman wearing a pale yellow cotton salwar kameez sat in front of an untouched plate of biryani.
“Are you enjoying your food?” I asked when I filled her glass. She jerked, large brown eyes flying to my face as fingers clutched the folds of her cotton dupatta shawl.
“I’m sorry, Aunty, I didn’t mean to startle you. Can I get you anything else?”
The woman looked away. She seemed to be my mom’s age, maybe older, but unhappiness had been carved into her drooping shoulders. Her voice was so low I had to stoop to hear. “I am waiting for Kawkab,” she said in Urdu.
“My aunt?” I asked, surprised.
Again she knotted her fingers in her dupatta. “Please, can I have some more water?” she said.
Her glass was full. “How do you know Kawkab Khala?”
“Meri dost,” she said. My friend. “Please bring Kawkab?”
My aunt was in the kitchen, chatting with Mom. She rose instantly when I told her about Sad Aunty.
In the dining room, Kawkab enveloped her friend in a hug that lasted a long time. They spoke quietly, their voices too low for interested parties to overhear. My curiosity only grew.
My phone pinged. StanleyP was back, ready to offer advice on how to crush Wholistic Grill.
StanleyP
Since I don’t have more specific details about your business,here’s some general advice to drive your competition into the ground. I come from a family of canny entrepreneurs, so heed my words. Step 1: Know your enemy. Find out who you are working against. Observe them in their natural habitat, among friends, family, strangers, enemies. Step 2: Hit them where it hurts. Are they afraid of public humiliation? Losing money? Worried about their family? Once you figure this out, then you can decide how best to make them bleed. Step 3: Be gracious in victory. Always offer to compromise, but make sure you’re left with the better hand.
