*1*
A reigning number one athlete keeps
his place at the top by both physical and psychological superiority.
It’s not only exertion and excellence
at the sport that keep him at the number one spot, but also the firm belief in
his invincibility. If his competitors believe in his impregnability as well, then
he will keep that number one place for a long time. Feeding into the psyche
that the Stasi were supreme kept every Eastern German shut for life, though in
the end, it took the people a few months to bring the system down on its knees.
Psychological dominance is much more powerful and durable than any competitor’s
strength.
And Lela Kraft believed in that.
After all, that is what her father had
taught her, and it had proven right so far. Since her first year in elementary school,
and throughout her entire education, the top spot of the class was always
reserved for her. She earned her place with exhausting study, patience,
punctuality, and of course, by emphasizing the vast distance between her and the
rest of her class.
Lela's medical class
After two years in Harvard Medical
School, she had fared, as ever, with exceeding perfection!
So it was completely justifiable to
feel threatened when she suddenly got squashed in front of her classmates by Daina
Stravinski, the Lithuanian. The overtly sexy girl, from the outskirts of Vilnius,
never seemed a threat to Lela’s supremacy. If anything, Lela had always seen
her as a recluse who was going to carve her way into medicine by whoring. The Baltic
girl employed her attributes readily with male colleagues and much more often with
some of the college staff. It was clear that this attitude was not going to
take her far.
However, this time that was not the
case.
For two weeks, Lela revised the syllabus
of Oto-rhino-laryngology (ear, nose, and throat) anatomy, more than ten times
and was by then confident of knowing the how and where of every structure, its embryology
and its applied anatomy. She could reconstruct the entire anatomy of that
region from zero. On the “challenge test” by Professor Stifles, she thought, she
would surely seize the spotlight and shine over the rest of the class as usual.
On one of the opposing podiums, Lela
stood her place against the first four students, kicking them off the other podium
after two or three questions. She was chewing her third Mentos mint tab, the flavor she got out of the candy far more
exciting than the challenge at hand, as she was yet to face a worthy challenger.
Even the studious Greek, Mark Giannakos,
couldn’t manage the anatomical relationship questions. Professor Stifles eyed
Lela, asking for mercy with the lowly competitors. Only three students were
left and still he had more than an hour of scheduled time left. It was supposed
to be a “back and forth” process. Lela looked to Stifles like the Spanish
Armada that squashed the fishing boats that stood in its way to the British
Isles.
In a sleeveless top, short enough to
reveal her pierced belly button, and a skirt short enough to show the new henna
dragon tattoo on her thigh, Daina assumed her place on the podium like a model
on a catwalk. She brushed Lela’s shoulder provocatively and out of her full
purple lips, she blew a big bubble in Lela’s face.
“Slut,” murmured Lela coolly.
Daina looked back and raised an
appraising brow. “You’re dead today, massive hemorrhagic-neurogenic shock dead.”
Lela couldn’t believe what she had
heard. The girl was challenging her, Lela Kraft, or as some called her, out of
respect for her scholarly prowess, The LELA.
“Let’s get on with it, girls…Lela,
don’t jump over protocol,” directed Professor Stifles.
“Start asking the origin-insertion
questions then relationship then injury and applied anatomy. This is my class
and it will go my way. This isn’t a spelling bee competition. It’s anatomy
revision.” He pointed at his watch and nodded at the thin crowd left behind
him. “And we’ve got a full hour on our hands. So make good use of it.”
Nervous, belittled Mark Giannakos
uttered with a grudge, “It’s Lela’s fault; she wants to be hailed prom queen tonight.”
Daina burst her next bubble and
uttered with malice, “No, not tonight.”
A guy snorted while another giggled
while Mark waved Daina scornfully.
No one in that classroom believed
anyone could challenge Lela. But Lela wasn’t so sure, not anymore. If Daina
declared the challenge in front of everybody, that meant she had a weapon to
hit with, or was she bluffing only to eventually embarrass herself in front of
the crowd? Anyhow, being squashed by Lela was never an embarrassment.
Wasn’t
that what Helen had said the other day?
Stifles fetched Lela out of her
thoughts when he yelled at Daina.
“I told you to spit out that gum. Just
because I allow it to be chewed in class, doesn’t mean you can blow bubbles
like that. Be respectable of the class, Ms. Stravinski.”
She didn’t spit it out and the professor
didn’t repeat his request. Perhaps he preferred his revenge to be at the hands
of Lela.
Let the show begin.
Until now, protocol had Lela pitching
till the opponent was grounded, and then the other side had a grace one or two
questions, which Lela would answer while she swallowed her next Mentos or
stretched her bored backside.
Anxious and eager, Lela threw a
devastating question at Daina, “What’s the course of the maxillary nerve,
origin, distribution, fibers, injury?” Then she gave her most authentic “Fuck
you” smile.
Stifles interrupted. “Hey, Lela. This
is ENT remember, not neurology.”
“Maxillary nerve is ENT, Professor.”
Now it was Daina’s right to sneer or wag
her finger in front of Lela’s eye. Instead, she waved her hand in acceptance.
“It’s OK. That’s an easy one.”
It’s unusual for fifty-five-year-old
Professor Eric Stifles to lose control over his class. However, the prospect of
that punk, who hadn’t attended even half of his classes, answering this
difficult question was a sight to see. Most of the class thought Daina was going
to play a practical joke. David Finely, who had a crush on Daina, whispered to
Helen Bailey that perhaps she’d play it lewd and get topless. But Helen
remarked somberly that the joke wouldn’t work, that it’d be more appropriate for
a class on the thorax.
Daina told it all, from A to Z, as if
reading from Gray’s Anatomy. But no,
it wasn’t from Gray’s, because she said things Lela herself had never read
about before.
After five minutes of flabbergast, during
which Daina summarized more than five packed reference pages, David Finely
whistled in admiration and clapped. “Daina, will you marry me?”
His outburst broke the tension in the
atmosphere for everyone but Lela. Daina whisked her skirt, bending graciously
in front of her admiring crowd. She turned maliciously towards Lela, and then
burst another gum bubble.
“Next. Perhaps it’ll be the histology
of olfactory epithelium,” said Daina.
Already losing her cool, Lela
consented. Stifles was protesting, but Daina was already at the board with the
marker, and in 30 seconds was drawing the damned cells.
“These are the microvilli and this is
the terminal web.”
“Stop it, you two. This is ENT
anatomy, not neurology and not histology. Some manners, please. Daina, get back
to your place.”
Lela was already kneading the sleeve
of her top, a nervous tic from childhood, as Daina rested her elbow on the
podium and looked Lela right in the eyes.
“Is it my turn, blondie?”
“I still have a question or two.”
“I’m dying for it to be my turn.”
Lela nervously clasped her hands
together. “Fine, go on…”
Stifles was already fed up with the girl
fight, so to bring the head-to-head to a close as soon as possible, he didn’t
interrupt again. When Daina looked challengingly to Stifles for permission, he nodded
passively.
“Embryology of the maxillary nerve,” uttered
Daina placidly.
“Embryology of what?” Lela looked
towards Stifles for help, but his face said “not today.”
“Maxillary nerve is ENT, right?”
Lela couldn’t reply with the lowly “it’s not in the college reference.”
She couldn’t admit to being another ordinary student. She bit her lip to control
herself. She would have to throw her trump card.
“So you know it?” asked Lela
cautiously.
“Sure. It’s in Clinical Neuro-embryology by Donkelaar, the 2006 edition if you
have it.”
Silence.
Daina drummed her podium for a
second.
“Too difficult? Should we skip it?”
Lela turned her head to the side
defiantly.
“OK, the basal cells of the olfactory
epithelium. You asked me about it. Could you tell me about the types, the divisions,
and the differentiation rate of that type of cell?”
Lela almost collapsed in her place.
If anyone had given her a gun, she’d have shot herself on the spot.
Lela, distraught
To add insult to injury, the bewildered
Professor Stifles rose to challenge Daina to answer her own question. Surprisingly,
she did.
Furious, Mark Giannakos whispered in desperation,
“Who’s that girl sleeping with now, Einstein?”
Helen smiled jokingly. “If sex
infuses genius, then perhaps we all should get in line.”
Lela was walking off stage and back
to her seat, head down. “And apparently even Lela needs to get in line,” she heard
Helen say.
She had never felt more humiliated.
****
Lela’s home was a luxurious apartment
building, across the river, in Charlesgate East Street, in one of the
wealthiest neighborhoods in Boston, Back Bay, a town greatly influenced by the
Haussmann renovation of Paris in the 1860s.
Kathleen, one of her roommates, was
already at home when Lela returned early in the evening. Top of the class
herself, but two years Lela’s senior, Kathleen was a step ahead in Lela’s goal
meter.
When Lela entered medical school, she
followed her usual plan: find able competitors and seek role models, and
Kathleen Finch was the epitome of the two.
Their other roommate was a Swedish
girl, Annali Adamsson, who had finished her internship the past summer and had just
left for home. To afford the rent of the lush apartment, the medical girls had
reluctantly agreed to let a law student move in.
Kathleen, a motivated person herself,
and an amateur poet, had the uncanny ability to see the distressed girl behind
a giggling face. That was exactly the case when Lela opened the door that
evening and began retelling a funny episode that had happened at the drugstore,
about how a silly addict asked for tramadol with a photocopied prescription.
“The asshole insisted that he’d lost
the original one and that he really
needed the medication for a kidney stone. The cretin couldn’t even feign the
pain well, putting his filthy hands over his belly…”
She was laughing hard.
Without lifting her head from the detective
novel she was reading, Kathleen muttered, “Who pissed you off, girly?”
Lela stopped abruptly.
“Nobody. What’s wrong with you? I’m telling you a funny story
and you’re being a smart ass.”
Kathleen lifted her face and gave Lela
a knowing sarcastic smile.
“Come to Mamma, Lela. Tell me
everything.”
“Get off me, you freak.”
Kathleen dragged her iPad over to her.
“OK, let’s consult the Facebook. Let’s see. Oops. A status by nasty Daina has 34
likes and 212 comments. Whoo, in just under 40 minutes.”
Lela jumped, seizing the tablet. She
looked fearfully at the screen, tears welling in her eyes.
“The bitch, the bitch. I’ll kick her
ass back to her communist side of the world. I…”
She then burst into tears. Kathleen took
her role as the elder girl and hugged Lela, offering her the Kleenex tissues.
“Man up, Lela. You don’t want the law
girl laughing at us medical warriors, thinking we’re sissies. Come on, tell
me what happened. What does that bitch mean by ‘I decapitated the LELA in the altar
of medicine’?”
Sniffling her tears away, Lela told the
whole incident of Stifles’ class.
“And as I remember, that Daina was
pretty much average.”
“Below average. Whatever good grades
she got were won by flashing her boobs and knees.”
“She has good legs all right.”
“Cut it out, Kathleen.”
“OK, maybe I have some insight. She
was coached for this event.”
“But she was good, actually very
good. You know me, Kathy, I wouldn’t be intimidated easily.”
“Those questions she asked you,
believe me, would have been tough even for Stifles. She had a good coach, one
of the best.”
“But who?” Lela caught the reaction
on Kathleen’s face. “You have someone in mind?”
“Hmm, it’s a pretty well-kept secret,
but who knows. Perhaps that Lithuanian got wind of it somehow.”
“And what’s that?”
After struggling with her thoughts,
Kathleen blew at a stray hair that was hanging over her nose and muttered in
defeat.
“The Egyptian.”
*2*
“I decapitated the LELA
in the altar of medicine.”
70 likes, 300 comments.
“The Lithuanian chick rocks.”
3 likes, 2 comments
“Lela dethroned, the myth is broken.
If a moron like Daina could beat number
one, anyone can.”
107 likes, 24 comments.
Michael Gallagher scrolled through
the Facebook sensation.
Though his mind was in a state of
empathy, his heart was trembling with relief. There’d been a breakthrough, at
last.
Michael scrolls through the Facebook sensation
Michael, a last year medical student
and a classmate of Kathleen, was everyone’s idea of a friend: fun, smart, and
very good looking. However, the below average, underachieving student had
nothing in common with Kathleen and her friends except the check that enabled
him into Harvard.
Even the ability to afford medical
school was granted several years earlier, when his father opened a bank account
that covered the expenses of the long-craved medical school. But since then tides
eroded a lot of sand castles.
When ‘08 came, the economic crisis
hit his family harshly. Midrange bankers had to go, and so Michael’s father was
one of the first. Losing their savings in the process, the family had to move
to an apartment for rent in the poor side of New York, the Bronx. They had to
tighten the belt greatly. Still, debts chased the family, and his overwhelmed
father knew he had to disappear, and so he did, the next fall.
His mother, finally free to join her in-the-shades
boyfriend, left too. Therefore, two years into college, Michael was on his own
for the first time.
Michael had just been getting used to
a comfortable, somewhat luxurious life of having an iPhone, driving a new car,
and being able to afford daily outings to Starbucks. As such, he befriended
colleagues who enjoyed the same lifestyle.
Then Fate had another thing in mind,
and he ran out of luck and money.
It would have been humiliating to let
go of his upper-class friends. So, he did the most awkward and painstaking
things to keep his friends and to keep his bearings in front of them. He kept
the iPhone 3G, for three years, on the claim that it had grown on him, and he
less frequently bought new clothes, presumably, because he was lazy. He studied
used books and skeletons and ate readymade meals and cookies for sustenance to
have spare money to use for the expenses needed to keep up appearances: café beverages,
picnics, and hangouts.
Working was
always an option, but not for Michael. It would have been disreputable among
his coterie and would have indicated his slippage down the social ladder. Moreover,
Michael never fooled himself. He never liked work. He had always dreamed of an
idle life, that of a celebrity on a never-ending vacation. The prospect of being
stuck with patients for the rest of his life was never his dream, but rather
the high hopes of his, now defunct, parents.
One of his rich friends was Kathleen.
He was a favorite of Kathleen, and she
sometimes offered him a revision of a subject or two before semester exams.
They usually met in the college library, or at a café. One time, however,
Kathleen had a sprained ankle, and asked Michael to pay her a visit in her
apartment.
The sight of the shiny façade of the
luxurious building, the suited security men, the marbled entrance and corridors,
and the perfumed elevator generated quite an impression on Michael. When he
entered the lavish apartment, he was yet to gasp over signé furniture, and art
pieces that spoke of the high life. Then Kathleen introduced Lela, “The LELA,
my smart friend and rich roommate.”
Roommate? Pffft...The apartment was
3000 square feet! He was happy to share a 130-square-foot room, on campus, with
a hippy kid from Oklahoma.
He looked between Kathleen and Lela,
and lo, he fell instantly for Lela. Was it her lavish living space, her long
blond hair, her serious yet attractive looks? She had a slim body, but he was
not looking for the prospect of sex in a partner, at least not then.
Still, it seemed he would need to
exercise a lot of his magic to attract Lela to his ever-growing list of
admirers.
After exchanging a couple of Facebook
likes and comments, Twitter retweets, and then a couple of drinks at the University
hospital cafeteria, Lela was gradually softening to him.
However, taking their relationship to
the next level seemed elusive.
He really liked Lela, but always had
that feeling. He was well below her, financially, scholastically, even
mentally. He wanted her to need him, demand his presence in her life. Only that
way could their relationship mature.
The Stifles anatomy class fiasco seemed
like his ticket.
Among the scores of gloating
comments on Facebook, his were amongst the few that defended Lela, even
trashing Daina (with almost racist comments). He tried contacting Lela on the chat,
but she was offline. He gave her a ring, but she didn’t reply.
It was better
this way.
What
he needed then was to go directly to her and be by her side, be the consoling embrace,
and add the missing emotional dimension to their faltering relation.
****
The security
man looked coolheaded and talked to him formally, but Michael Gallagher saw the
real situation: he was looking down on him as an outsider. With his dark, wholesale
outfit, he was fit to be a pizza deliveryman, not a friend to a resident of a Charlesgate
East apartment building.
“Let me check
with Ms. Kraft. Falcon Security Firm runs this place, and it sure has some
protocols.”
To ward off bums.
I know, asshole.
Michael put
the security man on his mental vengeance list and dragged two lines below his
name. “Philip Irish” the name on the tag read. One day he’d kick him right in
the balls, and then tell him that he had his own protocol.
“Yes, Philip,
he’s a school colleague. Please let him in.” Michael could hear Kathy’s voice.
Philip raised his brow sarcastically.
Colleague? Is that
it, Kathy?
He wanted to
add Kathy to his mental list, but it was full already. To increase his portion
of hatred, the man ushered Michael in, without even lifting his eyes off his
desk.
“The elevators
are to the left. Press the button only once. It’s touch sensitive”
Got it, moron.
These aren’t like the ones in the ghetto you live in.
Michael
added yet another thick line under Philip’s name.
****
Surprisingly,
Lela was standing right there when the elevator door opened.
“Hi, Michael.
Do you know Summer Street in East Boston? Kathy says you’d probably know the neighborhood
rather well.”
Yeah, yeah,
the impoverished guy must live somewhere near a place like that.
Perhaps Kathy
deserved a place in his mental list after all.
Hiding his
growing grudge, he smiled. “I think I
dropped a friend off there once.”
Lela stepped
inside the elevator.
“I came to
talk you about the incident from earlier. Daina is a nobody. You know you’re
the best, always have been. Perhaps, we can—”
“Does your car
have a GPS?”
Actually, he no
longer had a car. He had sold it a year ago. With no allowance at hand, Michael
sold the car to make use of the money for his ever-growing expenses. He lived
on campus, and Boston’s transportation was effective, so he let go of the car
easily.
He told his
friends it was because of a backache.
Lela didn’t
have a car either, but for entirely different reasons. She had no time for a
car. Pumping gas, maintenance, parking, all that seemed like a lot of wasted
study time. Her father could have arranged for a chauffeur, but that would have
looked too pretentious.
They resorted
to a cab.
“Where are we
going exactly?”
“Summer
Street, Eastie.”
“Sure, you
already said that.”
“To a guy, a
medical drop out.”
Lela’s anxious
reply kept Michael on the hem. He was supposedly there to win her over, to reach
the point where he could put his hand on her back, then hug her, then kiss
her...
“I’m sorry
for what happened to you today—the anatomy class.”
“You didn’t
do anything.”
“I mean, you shouldn’t doubt yourself.”
She gave him
an acerbic look.
Tread softly,
man.
“I mean
you’re the best of the class. Perhaps that girl just readied herself somehow
for this event. Eventually the year’s final grades will reveal where both of
you truly stand.”
Silence.
He kept
thinking of the next appropriate thing to say, but nothing crossed his mind.
“Perhaps your
mind was preoccupied; even the best of minds slip up at times. You know, lack
of sleep, family matters. Things you don’t realize are at the back of your
mind, the unconscious lizard mind.”
“I was tops.
The Lithuanian was different than usual; she could have bashed Stifles himself
pretty easily. She was totally different.”
“But how?” He
rubbed his hand mockingly. “Maybe she got a genie out of a bottle. “
“Exactly.”
“Sorry…?”
“We’re
going to see that genie.”
****
Michael now understood
why Lela had taken him with her. East Boston didn’t stand up to the reputation
the rest of the city had. “Eastie,” a neighborhood bordering the Logan Airport,
with a Latino majority, was one of the less secure parts of the reputable hub of
New England.
He was
serving as her bodyguard. Certainly, that’s what it looked like to a pair of teenagers
at the corner of the shaggy pizza building. Though he had abandoned the gym
years ago, he still had a six pack and admirable biceps and shoulders. But one
of the kids had enough guts to snoop around anyway.
“Yo, you lose
something here, man?”
“Looking for 304.”
“It’s that
yellowish front. Who you lookin’ for?”
Lela
interjected, “Dr. Omar Yakoub.”
The second
kid joined in, looking Lela up and down.
“Dr. Who? We
have no doctors here.”
It was
Michael’s turn. “Yakoub, what? Is that Jewish?”
“He’s
supposedly Egyptian.”
The younger
of the kids smiled knowingly.
“Ah, el hombre
sesudo, Brainy. He lives there all right. Top floor, the studio at the
end of the hall.”
He took his
pal and skidded away, knowing that the visitors were legit.
Seizing the
opportunity, Michael held Lela by the arm and guided her towards the building.
“It’s better
this way.”
She obliged.
It felt safer and was presumably more acceptable visually. Moreover, to Michael
it felt like they were boyfriend and girlfriend.
The
building’s gate was unlocked, and no one obstructed their ascent. They were
already at the top of the flight of stairs, when Michael tightened his grip on
Lela’s arm, commanding her to stop.
“Maybe it’s
time to let me in on the purpose of this excursion. I can be of better help if
I know what we’re up to.”
She tested
him with her eyes, but he didn’t look to yet garner her trust. He had to let
go. Still, at the doorway of the worn-out door, resilient Michael, to gather
some authority, pressed the buzzer.
Not before
two full minutes did the door finally open on a thirty-year-old, dark, unshaven
man of average build. He was clad in pajamas and hand-rolled cigarette dangling
from his mouth. Trying to open his sleepy eyes with real effort, he looked
curiously at his unexpected visitors.
“Mr. Omar?”
It wasn’t a regular
smoke, the pungent smell told a different story. It wasn’t even marijuana or
hash. Michael, a man of diverse experience, was sure of that.
“Who’s asking
for him?” said the man in a slightly accented tongue.
His eyes were
alert, but not anxious or alarmed.
“Medical
students”
He nodded
waiting for the rest of the story.
“Medical
students,” Lela repeated.
“Yes, medical
students?”
“We have come
for… you know”
“Know what?”
“Revision
stuff. You’re supposed to do that super dooper revision stuff. Right?”
He
straightened his back for a minute and eyed them suspiciously, “Who are you?
IRS?”
IRS! He was
supposed to say Boston Police, the FBI…Michael was trying to figure out what
the guy was smoking. Is that garlic?
“We are not…the
IRS. Or the police. You don’t have to be afraid of us. Some of our colleagues
in Harvard told us about you, and we thought of paying you a visit.”
“Who did?”
“Kathleen
from final year,” Lela paused for a second. “And Daina, the Lithuanian from second
year.”
The man
reflected for a moment, and then his mouth widened into a smile. He opened the
door and stood aside.
“Come in, Ms.
Kraft.”
Lela felt
betrayed that he knew her name. Humbled by the discovery, she lowered her head
and entered the studio followed by Michael.
“You don’t
lack looks after all.”
Michael looked
cockeyedly at the seeming flirt.
“You don’t
look to me like an overachiever compensating for her defective looks,”
continued the Egyptian.
“Who said
that!”
The Egyptian
motioned his guests towards the lone couch, before resting himself on a big swivel
chair, extending his legs over a tea table. He replied vaguely to Lela’s
question. “You can easily guess.”
Daina.
Lela sat with
her posture tense while her eyes inspected the premises, a typical studio with
a living room, a single bedroom and a bathroom, books everywhere, a recently bitten
pizza in its box, and a pillow!
The
archetypal bachelor.
Michael,
pacing the place, was drawn to the window with an overextended view of the distant
ocean.
“You’ve got a
nice view over here, man.”
“Not even the
best hotels in town have it, my friend. And in the summer, believe me, I have a
breeze I can make you pay per minute to enjoy.”
“How did you know
who I was?” Lela said, coming back into the scene.
“The
intersection of two circles: Kathleen in her final year at Harvard Medical and Daina
in her second. And there you have Lela Kraft, the rich New Yorker who everyone
seems to hold some sort of emotion for.”
“Emotion?”
“Admiration, jealousy,
hatred.”
“Would you mind
explaining, please?”
“Why are you
here, Lela?” He sucked on his cigarette and kept the smoke inside for a
considerable time. His complexion darkened by a tone or two. He let it go with
a spasmodic cough.
“What’s that,
man?” Michael waved away the acidic smoke. “It smells like hell.”
“Medicinal
herbs.”
Michael
sneered. Heard it before.
Omar turned
his eyes to Lela, now with greater attention.
“I was saying,
how can I help you, Lela?”
“However you
helped Kathleen and Daina before.”
“I helped
them for completely different reasons. I’m a person with a flaky schedule. When
I accepted tutoring Kathleen and some of her classmates two years ago, I was
starving, in need of any stray penny. As for Daina, I had to help a girl that
pleaded for help in reclaiming her boyfriend from the grasps of the serpent—the
rich, overachieving girl from New York.” The Egyptian’s eyes sparkled as he
stared at her with a smirk.
Lela jumped
to her feet, almost screaming. “Boyfriend? That bitch fooled you, Mr.
Egyptian.”
“If you’d
seen those teary eyes, you’d have believed every word she said. And then, there
is this nice looking guy. David Finley?” He gestured towards Michael.
Lela burst
into laughter.
“This isn’t
Finley. Oh, my God. So, her dim mind threw in David Finley’s name? The guy drools
over her. Had you called him, he’d have told you that she’s the one ditching
him all the time. She dates only a specific type of people: lecturers,
residents.” She whispered, “Perhaps Egyptians.”
Omar heard
her and smiled.
“Will you
correct your fault and help me as you’ve helped her? If I understood correctly
from Kathleen, you do some sort of advanced crash course revisions, maybe some
studying schemes.”
Omar sized
her up.
“For
starters, you really don’t need me. From what I heard from Daina, you’re a first-class
studier. You needn’t change your style just for competition. A goalkeeper
needn’t aspire for the legs of an attacker. Sorry for my soccer reference. But
I think you understand me.”
“Let me
decide what I need in my studying.”
“I think I’ve
a better offer. I can stop tutoring Daina. Apparently she’s a liar and doesn’t deserve
my help.”
Lela looked
to Michael, as if for consultation, and then remembered his status in the
academic world, and turned back to Omar. As the guy said, she needn’t change her
methods over one incident. She could sit with Kathleen, figure out the strengths
in this man’s tutoring courses and then implement whatever’s useful to her own
routine. After all, she wouldn’t like her reputation tarnished with claims that
she had private tutoring.
She was already
getting up.
“I guess I’ll
agree with your suggestion for the time being. OK, Mr. Omar.” She was
stretching her hand outward.
He sneered
back at her. “But then what will I get for abiding by my recommendation?”
“Sorry? You
want me to pay you!”
“I take money
when I need money. I don’t need it now.”
“Then what
did you take from Daina?”
He smiled
mischievously and twisted his lips provocatively. Michael stood closer to Daina,
holding her arm. She shook his hand away, feeling the insult of him feeling her
helpless.
“She paid
something you probably won’t be willing to pay.”
“I always knew
she was a slut. But sorry, you’re ringing the wrong bells here.” Lela sneered
back.
“No, it’s not
sex. You’re rich, Lela, aren’t you?”
“They say.”
“Your daddy is
a renowned ophthalmic surgeon at the NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, right?”
“Hey, you do
know me! Have you been snooping around?”
“No, Daina
mentioned it while envying your bourgeois background. Anyway, your old man is
reputable. I read his article in Scientific
American last year if I remember correctly.”
“Last August.”
“OK, now, are
your folks the socialite type? Do they hang with other known figures of New
York society?”
“Where are
you heading?”
“Do your
folks by any chance know a Professor Patrick Moore, professor of the physics department?
Same university as your father, different faculty.”
“What do you
want? To steal his research papers, to knock his home?”
“Sort of.”
“Hey, knock
it off!”
“We’ll be
getting to that later. But trust me, it’s nothing awful or illegal. I just want
a photograph.”
“A what?”
Michael interrupted
forcefully. “Hey, man, where is this heading? What do you do for a living?”
Omar sucked
the last breath of his cigarette then flicked what remained out of the window.
He got up and smoothed his pajamas.
“I’m a
freelance detective.”
Michael laughed,
while Lela smiled for the first time since being there.
“Are you more
like Sherlock Holmes? Or like Philip Marlowe?” inquired Lela mischievously.
The Egyptian
raised his brows accepting the challenge. “Well…you can find out for yourself
or perhaps you’d like to keep enjoying the Lithuanian’s ride on your back.”
The smile
disappeared off her face.
“Tell me,
exactly what do you want?” she said seriously.
View from Omar's room
You're about to meet Fred Ashby, an English Baron, who undergoes an incredible encounter with a man who claims time travel. Shaken up and lost, the English noble resorts to 'el hombre sesudo,' Omar.
Find out how Boston's leading detective, amazingly steers through this exceptional adventure, here. Now for $0.99
No comments:
Post a Comment