Page 43

They ended up squeezed into a corner near the bar itself, with barely enough room to stand without pressing against strangers. Arezoo tried to make herself smaller, acutely aware of every accidental touch.

"What do you want to drink?" Drova asked, having to raise her voice over the noise.

"Something without alcohol," Arezoo said. "I believe it's called a mocktail?"

"On it." Drova turned to the bar, using her height to catch the bartender's attention. Not Fenella because she was at the other end, holding court with some object in her hands, but the bar owner himself, who looked harried but happy.

While Drova ordered, Arezoo studied the faces of the patrons, most of whom she recognized from the café, but seeing them here, relaxed and laughing, was different.

"One virgin mojito for you." Drova pressed a glass into Arezoo's hand. "And a real one for me."

The drink was pretty, with mint leaves and lime floating in clear liquid. Arezoo took a tentative sip and found it refreshingly tart and sweet.

"Good?" Drova asked.

"Very."

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Fenella's voice rose above the noise. "Who's ready for some psychometric readings?"

The crowd cheered, and Arezoo found herself caught up in the energy. She watched as Fenella held up an old pocket watch.

"This distinguished timepiece," Fenella said dramatically, "has a confession to make. It's been living a double life!"

"Oh no," the watch's owner said with played-up concern. "What has it been up to?"

"By day, it keeps perfect time for important meetings and appointments," Fenella continued. "But by night..." She paused for effect. "It runs backwards, trying to return to the year 1887, when life was simpler and it didn't have to deal with daylight saving time!"

The crowd erupted in laughter, and even Arezoo giggled. The absurdity of it, the way Fenella delivered the lines with such conviction, was infectious. She didn't know that her newfound cousin was such a good performer.

It seemed that blood, no matter how diluted, was still thicker than water. Fenella and Jasmine both thrived on the adoration of a crowd.

"Furthermore," Fenella added, "it's been having an affair with the grandfather clock in the living room. They synchronize every midnight!"

"That hussy!" the owner exclaimed, playing along. "And here I thought we had something special!"

As the performance continued, the tension in Arezoo's shoulders eased. This wasn't the den of iniquity her mother had probably imagined. It was just people having fun, laughing at silly stories, and enjoying each other's company.

"She is amazing." Drova nudged her. "Do you want to hand her an object?"

"I didn't bring anything," Arezoo admitted. "But maybe?—"

The words died in her throat as the door opened and Ruvon walked in. He stood by the entrance, scanning the crowd, and when his eyes landed on her, his face brightened.

"Did you tell him I was going to be here?" Arezoo hissed at Drova.

"I might have mentioned that to someone," Drova said innocently. "You know how news travels in the village."

"Drova!"

"What? He's nice. You're nice. Nice people should talk to each other."

Ruvon was already making his way toward them, and Arezoo's flight instinct kicked into overdrive. "Let's go. Before he gets here."

"Not a chance." Drova's voice turned firm. "You wanted to come to the bar. You're here. You don't get to run away just because a guy who likes you showed up."

"But—"

"No buts. You need to develop a backbone, girl. I guarantee that you can survive talking to a guy for a few minutes. You've talked to him plenty at the playground."

Before Arezoo could argue some more, Ruvon reached them, looking nervous, which was usual for him, or maybe just when he was around her.

"Hey," he said, his voice barely audible over the bar noise, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's really crowded tonight."

"Everyone wants to see Fenella perform before she leaves for Egypt," Drova said. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'll get it myself," Ruvon said quickly.

As he turned toward the bar, Arezoo grabbed Drova's arm. "Let's go now. Before he comes back."

She was dimly aware of how ridiculously she was acting, and that it would be terribly rude and hurtful to give Ruvon the slip, but she was driven by an irrational need to flee.

"No way, Arezoo. Ruvon is just a dude—a shy, awkward dude who thinks you're special. Give him a chance. Talk to him. It's not like anyone expects you to go home with him."

Arezoo nearly choked on her drink. "Don't even say things like that to me. You are fueling my panic attack."

Not really, but maybe a guilt trip would get Drova to be more cooperative.

"Five minutes," Drova bargained. "Give him five minutes. If you still want to leave after that, we'll go. But first, finish your drink and watch Fenella make someone's car keys confess to secret dreams of being a guitar pick."

Arezoo snorted despite herself. "She said that?"

Drova nodded. "According to Fenella, that one over there," Drova pointed to where Fenella was holding up a key ring, "wants to run away and join a rock band."

"That's funny and completely ridiculous."

"That's the point. The ridiculousness of her readings is what makes them fun. If she gave real readings, I bet they would be boring because, let's face it, most people are boring."

Arezoo took another sip of her mock mojito, using the glass as a shield. Around them, the crowd laughed at another of Fenella's silly revelations.

Five minutes. She could manage for five more minutes.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Okay?"

"Five minutes. But if I want to leave after that?—"

"We leave," Drova promised.

Arezoo nodded and turned her attention back to Fenella's performance, determined to focus on the entertainment rather than the anxiety churning in her stomach.

She'd taken the first step by coming here.

Now she just had to survive the next five minutes, one second at a time, even if it involved talking to Ruvon.