“So this means you’ll come work with us, right?” Marian winked at her.
Layla laughed, but it died off quickly. “No, actually, I’m going to travel for a while. I have enough savings to last me at least a year and a half, maybe two, if I play my cards right. I’ll have to get a job again eventually, but, damn…I’m ready.” She blew a puff of air from her mouth. “I put in my two weeks today.”
Marian squealed. “Wow! That’s so exciting! Congratulations!” The two friends hopped around. “Now I see why you’re so hellbent on getting out tonight!’”
Layla smiled mysteriously and scooted into the bathroom. “I’m going to start getting ready!”
Marian cleaned up the kitchen before heading to her dresser to pull out the appropriate necessities: sheer stockings and a push-up bra. She stripped out of her work clothes and shimmied into the tights and bra just as Layla came out of the bathroom in a form-fitting blue dress.
“That’s cute,” Marian remarked. “Totally good for an ‘I’m quitting my job’ night out on the town.”
Layla grabbed her make-up bag and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the far wall. “Thanks. I thought so, too.”
The two friends readied relatively quickly amid pop music and a few anecdotes about Marian’s trip to Parsabad. By the time six thirty rolled around, the two were smoking hot and ready to go.
“This feels great already,” Marian said, locking the apartment door behind her. They strutted down the hallway like bad bitches and then hailed a cab like they owned the world.
In the taxi on the way to their first stop, Layla was bubbling. “This is gonna be such a great night. You’ll see that not all men are bad. There are some good ones out there.”
Marian lifted a perfectly painted brow. “I thought this was about your upcoming travels.”
“Well, yeah, that too.” Layla patted at her hair, stealing a glimpse in the rear-view mirror. “But this is also about you feeling good. Feeling better.”
Marian shrugged. “Whatever it is, we look awesome, and there’s gonna be vodka.”
Layla grinned. “Exactly.”
About fifteen minutes later the taxi pull
ed up to their destination, a Mediterranean restaurant Marian had never heard of. A car horn blared behind them as they approached the main doors, and the smattering of people on the sidewalk stared at them.
Inside, the restaurant was strangely empty. Not a single patron filled any table, despite the entre place being illuminated.
“Whoa,” Marian muttered.
“We must be early,” Layla said. “I made a reservation, even. Looks like we didn’t need it.” She laughed a little as the maître d’ led them to a table with banquettes in the far corner of the restaurant. The two sat down, receiving stiff board menus, and a moment later, a waiter appeared with water and a bottle of wine.
“Compliments of the house,” he said, bowing slightly as he poured the wine.
“Was this a Groupon or something?” Marian whispered.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Layla blurted, jolting to her feet. “I’ll be back.” Layla trotted off into the recesses of the restaurant. When she disappeared around a corner, Marian stared peering around. Something seemed off, but she didn’t know what. The disturbing lack of people irked her. Maybe she just wanted to be ogled, and since there was no crowd, it was a letdown.
I wish Omar could see me now. She’d love to send him a selfie of herself in this hot dress, all dolled up, let him see what he was missing. She smiled smugly. If only she’d allow herself to message him. But maybe after a few martinis, she’d break down. Probably she’d drunk-confess to him that she loved him. The word hung bulky and threatening in the back of her mind. Just a little loosening of her defenses and it might slip out, unbidden.
Marian sighed, taking a sip of her water. The wine looked nice. Like, really nice. She squinted as she studied the label. What sort of language was that? Foreign symbols crawled across the label, a strange language. She picked the bottle up, studying the origin information. Minarak, Parsabad.
Her eyes widened. No fucking way. What sort of weirdness was that? She set the bottle down and looked around again, as if Omar might materialize. A pipe dream if she’d ever had one.
She dragged her fingertips over the white linen tablecloth, waiting for Layla to return, until a movement caught her eye. Something fluttered in the air. She looked up and gasped. It was a butterfly. A black and blue butterfly heading straight for her. Followed by another one…and another.
She furrowed a brow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Why were there butterflies in here? She craned her neck to see someone, anyone, that might be able to explain this. Was this part of the restaurant’s shtick, and she just didn’t know about it? Maybe that’s why Layla brought her here, for the butterflies. God, where was Layla?
Marian sipped her water and then choked, spraying water everywhere over the tablecloth. Omar was in the doorway. He was in the fucking doorway across the room, the same one Layla had disappeared through. Tears pricked her eyes, and she covered her mouth, struggling to make sense of it. Either Layla was secretly Omar…or Omar had flown across the ocean after her.
Her lip trembled under her palm as he approached, his dark eyes set on her. More butterflies fluttered in the air as he came near, framing him in the most ethereal way. Maybe this was just a dream, spawned from heartbreak and intense longing. That still seemed a legitimate possibility.
“Marian.” Omar slid onto the banquette next to her, reaching for her hand. The warmth of him rooted her to her spot, and a few tears escaped.