Once back at Three Sisters, I sat in my usual booth to wait for customers and did what I should have done a long time ago: I googled “Wholistic Burgers and Grill.” A professional-looking website was the first hit, and links to the restaurant’s menu had already beenposted on Facebook. I noticed its page had over a thousand followers, and when I clicked on its Instagram account, a barrage of artfully arranged white plates heaped with glistening baskets of hand-cut fries, perfectly round and crispy onion rings, and artisan gourmet burgers topped with avocado slices, alfalfa sprouts, fried egg, and crispy halal beef bacon greeted my stunned eyes. The meat was organic and hand-cut, sourced from a local farm, an advertisement claimed. “The way zabiha halal was meant to be!”
Another picture displayed a parade of milkshakes in pastel colours, each topped with whipped cream and artful decorations such as creamy chocolate shavings and luscious fresh fruit. The French vanilla came with silver and gold sprinkles, and the vibrant green mint chip shake was studded with bright red-and-white candy cane. All were offered in lactose-free and vegan varieties.
Each picture had been liked hundreds of times, and the comments were positive and slavering:
Can’t wait!
omg loooooove where do I line up?
gourmet halalz in Golden Crescent? Finally! SIGN ME UP BROTHER!
My mouth began to water, even as I felt an overwhelming wave of jealousy mingled with panic. I closed the apps. We were screwed.
The last time Three Sisters had bothered to advertise had been... never. My attempts at making a website had been nothing but wishful thinking so far. No one in the family had even thought to marshal the power of social media to post beautifully curated, well-lit pictures of our food, or to distribute flyers and coupons. We didn’t even have a menu posted online.
I checked my phone for messages from StanleyP. He had sent me a meme of an army of spider robots attacking a fortress.
It was time for the next phase of my plan. I couldn’t let Aydin win. Not when my family had so much to lose.
THAT NIGHT I SIGNED ONto Facebook using an anonymous account I had created and proceeded to write unflattering comments under a dozen professional photographs on the Wholistic Grill page. “Halal gourmet? More like halal not,” I wrote, wincing. My attacks didn’t have to be clever, only damaging. “I know where this so-called halal restaurant buys its meat, and they aren’t halal. The owners aren’t Muslim either. STAY AWAY!”
On the carefully curated Wholistic Grill Instagram account, I spent half an hour planting more seeds of doubt about the restaurant’s authenticity. Muslims who care about the halal provenance of their meat take that designation very seriously. If there was any suspicion the owners were lying about the authenticity of halal on offer, the results could be disastrous. Ours was a close-knit community, and rumours spread quickly. I hoped.
I logged out of my fake accounts. My queasiness had now turned into actual nausea.For my family, I reminded myself, but the thought wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. If Mom or Baba knew what I had done, they would be horrified. But someone had to fight dirty.
I texted StanleyP. He would be on my side, surely.
AnaBGR
Checking in. You said you would soon be anticipating success. How goes the campaign to vanquish your foes?
StanleyP
Not as well as I’d hoped.
AnaBGR
What happened? Were you double-crossed? Is there a spy in your midst?
StanleyP
The more I get to know my competition, the harder it is to hurt them.
AnaBGR
This is business, not personal. Repeat after me: NOT personal!
StanleyP
Except it would be personal, for both of us. I can’t stop thinking, is this what I really want to do? There has to be a better way. What is the point of destroying your enemy if it leaves you all alone?
AnaBGR
No matter what happens in the kitchen, never apologize.
A long pause. Then:
StanleyP
