She scraped her foot back and forth against the pavement. Her eyes were fixed on her knees and she pressed her palms against the sidewalk. She leaned against the parked Land Cruiser and sighed, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip.
She looked at her watch, stood up, and took a good look around. She was alone. She picked up her phone, placed her finger over the call button, hesitated and then put the phone back in her pocket. They told her not to call; it was better not to call. She lit a cigarette and paced back and forth along the sidewalk. It had been an hour since they left her. They had told her they only needed twenty minutes.
This is ridiculous, she thought. I'm not a hooker. I'm not just some dog they can tie to a pole and leave behind. This is gender discrimination. They think I can't handle it. They think I'll just giggle or get scared. Who the hell do they think they are? A bunch of dirty, sloppy, greasy boys. Me, I'm sophisticated. Who do they think they are, treating me like a child? I'm the only one who speaks Arabic; I could have taken care of this much faster. I would have been totally nonchalant; I would've walked right up to that guy, shook his hand and said as few words as possible, striking a deal and getting out of there as fast as I could. Yeah, I wouldn't have lingered like an idiot. Idiots.
She thought and thought as she paced back and forth. She thought about how useless those boys were, how superfluous and unreliable. She smoked her cigarette down to the filter, threw it on the ground, stepped on it, and with that step, decided that she didn't care what any of them said. She decided she was going to march over to that corner two blocks down from the mini-mart, and take care of business herself.
She let out a deep breath and walked to the end of the street, turning to face the florescent green sign. She squinted and continued walking, passing the mini-mart and making her way towards the red Wrangler that was parked two blocks away. A group of boys sat around the car, and from what she could see two were sitting inside it. One of the boys saw her, widened his eyes, stood up and walked hurriedly towards her, his shoulder-length brown hair bobbing up and down like a dog's ears.
"What the hell are you doing here? We told you to stay by the car," said the boy.
"I've been waiting there for an hour, damnit! What the hell is taking so long?"
"Look, we're not exactly trading Pokemon cards okay? This shit takes time. All we asked you to do was wait by the damn car. We thought you'd appreciate not having to do any of the work."
"Well, all I know is you said twenty minutes, and I've been waiting for an hour. It's creepy back there okay? It's dark, and there's no one around. What if someone came and kidnapped me or something?"
"We're in a compound, genius. The only people that live here are couples and their children. Look, I don't have time to talk to you. Tom's parents are going to be back soon, and we need to get this shit sorted out before they show up."
"Yeah, you're clearly working hard, sitting there on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette with Kyle and staring at the pavement."
"Look, whatever, I don't have time for this. Just go back to the car or I swear, man, we're not going to give you your share."
"Don't tell me what to do. I'm going over there."
"You know what, I don't feel like dealing with this crap. Go ahead."
She paused and stared at him for a moment, arched her eyebrow, and then with a huff, made her way towards the Wrangler. Jimmy was in the backseat, looking down at his lap and fiddling with something she couldn't see. There were two guys in the front, neither of whom she recognized. She knocked on the driver's window, and he turned his head slowly to face her. He stared at her for a few seconds before rolling down the window.
"Yes?" he said.
"Hi, I'm Tamara," she said, "I'm with the guys. I just want to know what's taking so long?"
"What do you mean?"
He looked much older than they were. He had the caramel skin typical to the region. His nose was obtrusively large and his eye sockets were so deep it appeared his eyeballs were gradually being sucked into his skull. His cheeks were concave and the skin around his eyes was darker, almost black, like the sky at night, out of which peered two dismal stars. He looked like a malnourished child made old, but of course she knew better. She knew the cause of his look of decay, and it made his gaze all the more perturbing; it made him all the more nightmarish. His face was an oracle, his silence a witch teasing the thread of destiny with a dagger.
"I mean, are you guys going to be done soon? I've been waiting by the car for an hour and I just wanted to know how much longer this was going to take?"
"Do you speak Arabic?" he said.
"Yes, I do."
He smiled and stuck his arm out the window, placing it on her shoulder and rolling his fingers down to her elbow.
"Lebanese. You're definitely Lebanese. I love Lebanese girls. What are you doing hanging around with a bunch of Americans?" he said in Arabic, laughing faintly as he finished the sentence.
She followed his fingers with her eyes as they crept down to her elbow, and then she shuddered, softly pulling away.
"Don't leave, come on. We're almost done here. Don't you want to test out the merchandise? I'll roll you one myself; we can share it."
"Um, no. I'm fine thanks. I'm just going to wait by the car," she said in English.
She walked away slowly, stopping to peer in through the back window at Jimmy. His eyes were still fixed on his lap. He was twirling rolling paper between his fingers, and balancing four joints on his thigh. She walked back to the car, calling her mom on the way just to say hello. A half hour went by, five cigarette butts lay strewn by her feet, and the tap of her shoes reverberated throughout the empty street. She saw the boys at the end of the street, walking towards her languidly. They saw her, waved, and let out slow, abrupt giggles. They got in the car, drove to Andy's house and lit up. She said she felt sick and wasn't in the mood; she stuck with shisha.
