Accidentally Engaged(62)
Mum waved her hand at Reena. “It’s not high stakes. We play with small change.”
“But it’s gambling!”
Mum just waved her hand. “Your father doesn’t know everything I do.”
Reena shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. “It’s against Islam.” Which, Reena accepted, didn’t mean much coming from her.
“I know. But it’s small money, and when I win I always donate it to charity. It’s just fun, Reena. Giovanna convinced me to come years ago, and I enjoy it.”
That’s who Vanna was. Giovanna Pelozzi was the little Italian lady across the street from her parents. Reena didn’t remember her having purple hair. The realization didn’t do much to make this whole situation make sense.
“So Dad doesn’t know?”
“No.” Mum sighed. “I am not playing to win or lose, only to enjoy time with my friends. It exercises my brain. I’m at peace with my choice to play, but I know your father wouldn’t understand.”
Reena closed her eyes, blowing her hair out of her face. She’d known her family kept secrets, and she’d known they were a little…well…odd, but this took the cake. Her aging, Muslim mother playing in a ladies’ poker league? What would come next, news that her father had secret tattoos?
She peered again at her mother’s face. Calm. Stoic. Small purse to her lips and narrowing to her eyes, but no betrayal whatsoever that she was ruffled about getting caught. Reena couldn’t help it, she snort-laughed. It was actually perfect. Who would have a better poker face than someone who never revealed her true self, ever?
Reena stood. “This has been…educational, but I need to go. Can I assume we have an agreement? I’ll keep hush about your secret card shark life, and you let me continue my job search without letting Dad know.”
“Reena, I’m your mother. You can’t—”
“Mum, please. Just let me try to deal with this. If I need help, I’ll come to you. But trust me to live the way I choose.”
Unexpectedly, Mum stood and hugged Reena tightly. “Of course I trust you.” She released Reena and held her arms. “We love you and want to help you. All we want is for the family to be successful.”
The family to be successful. Not happy, successful. And not Reena, individually, but the family.
Actual success or the illusion of it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next day, Nadim left work early for the drive to Amira and Duncan’s. On the way, Reena attempted to warn him about them. She adored her friends, but for most other people, they were acquired tastes.
“Just to let you know, Amira and Duncan are…a lot.”
He laughed. “A lot what? I’d figured they would be unusual if they are your closest friends.”
“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand while watching the road in front of her. “I know you think I’m weird, but you’re the one who brought a sourdough starter for a weekend in the country.”
“You know Al doesn’t like to miss feedings. Anyway, what’s wrong with your friends?”
She merged into the highway traffic. “Nothing wrong with them, Amira’s just a bit…blunt. She’s an engineer and kind of…cerebral at times. She won’t put up with anyone’s crap—ever. Watch yourself for anything even remotely sexist or racist.”
He chuckled. “What about Duncan?”
“He’s her opposite. He’s a musician and a little eccentric, but easygoing. He teaches high school music and guitar at a private music school. And he sings in an a cappella group. He looks like a lumberjack. Expect a great deal of plaid flannel.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, pointing to the flannel he was wearing. Nadim’s style had changed so gradually that she barely noticed that he’d almost completely transformed from bougie douche to Brooklyn hipster in the last few weeks.
“And Doug and Shirley, Duncan’s parents, may ask you a lot of questions. They are coming to terms with having a Muslim in the family and are…annoyingly curious.”
Now Nadim really laughed. “Okay, I cannot wait to meet them. They accept your friend, though?”
“Yeah, actually. Everyone expected the worst because they were so conservative, but they adore Amira. Duncan’s brother is a racist dick, though, so it hasn’t been a complete cakewalk, but all things considered…”
“I guess it’s easier to date within your own culture.”
Reena shrugged noncommittally, but she disagreed. Maybe for others dating within their own culture was easier, but for her? No. Dating from within meant family expectations were higher. Parents intruded more. Were involved more. After all, here Nadim and Reena were, apparently “dating within their own culture,” and neither had the balls to tell their parents about the relationship. This was hardly easier.
She finally pulled into the long gravel driveway of Amira and Duncan’s country house to see them on their porch couch, both in jeans and flannel shirts. Reena squeezed her lips shut so as not to laugh at how frickin’ adorable her best friend had become.
“Watching the sunset over the river,” Duncan said, standing as Nadim and Reena approached. Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he made his way toward them in his trademark Duncan-strut and gave Nadim a blatant once-over before crossing his arms in front of him with menace. With the low evening light illuminating his angry eyes and red beard, he looked like a fire Djinn appraising his foe. “Duncan Galahad,” he drawled. “I gather you’re this Nadim we’ve been hearing about?”