Veiled By Privilege (Radical Book 1) by Anne Garboczi Evans

Author:Anne Garboczi Evans [Evans, Anne Garboczi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-20T05:00:00+00:00

Thursday, October 6th, 3:30 p.m.

Only one more day until Alma’s wedding and far from convincing the girl to run away, she’d just spurred Alma into hanging up on her. Kay’s shoulders slumped as she scrolled through the JSTOR database. She owed Dr. Benson a draft dissertation by Saturday morning, but by then Alma would have bound herself for life to a terrorist. Muhammad had already left for his bachelor’s party.

The doorbell rang. Kay walked to the door. She peered through the peephole.

Joe stood outside. She cast a nervous glance behind her. With Muhammad gone, she’d given all the servants the day off.

The street stood empty, no passing car or watchful neighbor to report that she’d let an unrelated male in the house. She swung the door open.

Jerking back, Joe stared at her uncovered hair. “You know you’re not supposed to greet a male guest.”

“Yeah, yeah, I have the scar to prove it, but Muhammad’s not home.” She beckoned him in and slammed the door shut, hiding her naked face from any passing pedestrian.

Joe looked around the empty house. “I got off work early to see him before going to his bachelor’s party.”

“Bachelor’s party?” Kay let laughter into her eyes. “Now that doesn’t sound like something a good homeschooled boy would attend.”

“It’s Saudi Arabia. I’ve gone to company brunches more erotic than the traditional Saudi bachelor’s party.” Joe lowered his eyebrows.

“Really?” Kay kicked the carpet fringe. “Also, I’m bored to tears. The malls close early for the holy day and there’s nothing to do.”

“Harvard’s brightest mind turns shopaholic?” He grinned at her.

“Don’t you dare say that to me. You can travel the streets at will. You don’t have to wear a garbage bag.” She flung herself on Muhammad’s leather couch. With the servants on leave, she didn’t have a driver either.

“I thought you loved Middle Eastern culture.” A teasing glint lit Joe’s blue eyes as he stood on the other side of the coffee table, feet spread. Did he conceal a gun underneath that puke-colored polo?

“I haven’t gotten to experience any in this isolation chamber women live in.” Kay touched her scabbed cheek

“What if I took you to see some?” He pointed to the door, despite that he’d already blown off work for her multiple times this week. “Come to the desert with me. I can rent a camel.”

“Rent a camel? Can you do that?” Kay sprang off the couch. “And yes!” Maybe they’d have a chance to search for the constellations that Omar Khayyam had written about. She’d texted back and forth with Joe about Omar Khayyam all afternoon. Joe was a fascinating conversationalist.

Five minutes later, she snuck out a back alley, niqab pulled over her face. With the air of a thief, she leaped into the passenger seat of Joe’s car and envied his Saudi driver’s license.

A hot breeze blew through the open car windows as Joe drove through crowded marketplaces and winding back roads, and she soaked in the culture of Saudi Arabia. An eerie stillness pervaded all, no music livening the marketplaces.

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