Yusha

I press down his intercom button, "Come in, Vance "

A disembodied voice replied, "Yes, Mr. Zaber."

The translucent doors to my office room eases open, allowing Vance in. A groomed young man in his early thirties, with prickly hair and a naturally pale face, Vance marched purposefully towards my desk in wingtip shoes, with a tab firmly grasped in his hands.

"What's my schedule this Saturday?" I ask.

Immediately he starts tapping away on the screen. Once he finds what he was looking for he begins saying, "On Saturday you have a meeting with the Japanese delegates at 7:30 A.M. in New Jersey, an interview on Good Morning America here at 9 A.M., a luncheon with Mr. Zayan Kahil of K&K Industries in La Grenouille at 12 P.M. In addition to these, Trinity School wants you to be their guest of honor for its 50th anniversary. Lastly, youth magazine Caliber is hosting a seminar plus networking party at The Peninsula, commencing at 6:30 PM, where you are invited as guest speaker." Vance concludes and looks up from the tab.

"Vance?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I suppose I don't look human to you, do I?"

My secretary blinks, taken aback by the question. "I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"Take a good look at me." I speak calmly. "How do you expect me to do all those activities on a single day? That too on a weekend day."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I thought-"

"Think better next time. And if you have something personal going on and require a break, say so. This isn't a place for birdbrains. For now, drag up the meeting with the delegates at 7 A.M. and let them know that I'll have the meeting via video conference. Then tell the head of Trinity School that I'm flattered by the invitation but I can't make it."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll try to make it to the luncheon." Zayan, one of the the CEOs of K&K Industries, is my cousin. "And the seminar. That's all."

"Yes, sir." Vance turns to leaves but stops on his track, "Oh, um, Mr. Ayman Zaber called earlier today. He wanted to know if you'll be free anytime this weekend-"

"For?"

"Something he needed to talk to you about."

I lean back on my leather chair and the corners of my lips turn up slowly. "Something, huh?"

___________________

There was a girl sitting at the very center of the empty basketball court, the sun highlighting strands of her dark brown hair. It was the second time Yusha was seeing her there, and this time he wasn't planning on walking away.

"Hey," He said.

The girl tilts her head back squints at the buy looming over her. Then she sprang up to her feet. "Hi." she said back, jovially.

"I need the court. Do you mind getting off?"

Turned out it was possible for her to smile wider. "Not at all."

"Great." Yusha waited for her to leave, but she didn't budge. "Well, what're you waiting for?"

"Oh, I didn't mean that easily." And, in a flash, the girl whisked away the basketball that Yusha was cradling in his arm. "I meant after you beat me in a one-on-one match."

"Excuse me?"

"No can do." The girl bounced the ball once. "Come on! One friendly game won't hurt. Unless you lose, of course. That might hurt your pride."

"Let me let you in on a little secret." Yusha put on a smug smile and said in a cocksure tone, "You'll never win against me."

"That's not for you to decide." The girl teeters back three paces, and not because she felt intimidated in any way. "But let's see how true your prediction is, shall we?"

Yusha lets himself smile an almost imperceptible smile. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh, and that's the fun part my friend," The girl sassed while taking her stance, her lips a playing a scallywag's smile, "Because you did." She tossed the ball up in the air. "The first to score-"

"Gets one wish granted."

"We have a deal."

Yusha allowed the girl to play with the ball while pretending to sloppily guard his goal. He even allowed her to get very close vicinity of his goal only to swat the ball away. Until he decided he was no longer in the mood to draw out this game any longer. He made a grab for the ball but the girl passed it under her legs and jogged in the opposite direction, toward her own goal. Yusha laughed a half laugh, growing somewhat annoyed as he strode toward the figure that was a full head shorter than him.

The girl stopped dead in the middle of the court and permitted Yusha's elongated shadow to draw closer. Then the most unpredictable thing happened. The girl, still facing the side of her goal, propelled the ball behind her. The time it took for Yusha to terminate the look of surprise on his countenance and and make a massive yet futile leap to misdirect the ball was all it took for the ball to whish over his head and swoop through the hoop on his side.

"Three things. One, let overconfidence get the better of you. Two, underestimate your rival. Three, let your guard down." She stuck out a finger with each number. "Three thing and you're pretty much telling your opponent you're ready to lose. And not necessarily in that order."

The flashback dissolves as the wheels of the black SUV churns on the graveled driveway and halts before the front steps of the Casa de Delilah. Yusha emerges from the copious backseat as the chauffeur courteously holds the door open for him. If he is at all tired from his overseas online meeting and the consecutive interview with Good Morning America, nothing on his demeanor betrayed him.

A silhouette appears on the frosted glass of the front doors of the house and a second later the same doors swing inward, revealing the lined and square-jawed face of a man who barely leveled with Yusha's shoulders. The man's thin lips stretch into a welcoming smile as he greets Yusha.

"Assalamu Alaikum! Well, well. Look who it is!"

"Wa alaikum Assalam, Uncle Jafar. Don't you look as handsome as always." Yusha replied warmly with a smile. "I suspect you've been well?"

"As well as old folks my age can be I suppose!" Jafar answers mirthfully. "Come in!"

"Thank you, but I'll be in the garden, if you would call him please."

As Jafar traipses inside to fetch Yusha's father, Yusha glances around and notes that not much has changed since he came here all those years ago for his mother's funeral. No new fountain or birdbath or bench. The garden is the same lush foliage and harlequin blossoms. The only out of place thing he finds is a woman spraying water on some potted plants. The woman pivots to her right and notices Yusha.

"Oh." she says, evidently surprised.

Someone clears his throat near Yusha and the latter didn't have to guess who. Ayman is only slightly shorter than his son but the difference is almost inapparent. His iron-grey hair is neatly trimmed into a crew cut and a pair of silver rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

"I don't think you two have been introduced." Ayman says. "Hiba, this is my son Yusha. Yusha, this is my wife."

"Assalamu Alaikum," Yusha says, courteous yet clinical in manner.

"Wa alaikum assalam." The woman smiles genially.

"Can you excuse us?" Ayman asks his wife. After Hiba leaves, he says, "Thank you for coming, despite your busy schedule."

"I hope you make it worthwhile." Yusha replies flatly.

Ayman readjusts the glasses perched on his nose. "I'll get straight to the point. I plan to retire at the end of this month. I've run my company long enough. But I don't want to hand it over to a blind trust. I want you to take over."

"Your and my wants don't align, you should know that by now."

"Don't let your resentment for me speak for you. Give it some good thinking. The assets of my company combined with what you've accumulated so far, you will be- "

"I will be what I want to be without your help and generosity."

Ayman sighs. "I don't doubt it."

Yusha checks his wristwatch as a silence stretches to more than a few seconds. "If that's all-"

"I heard you plan to reopen Yamira's case."

Yusha glances at his father. "You have a sound informant."

"I should say you're wasting your time- "

"You don't have to concern yourself with how I choose to waste my time. You can go and look for some other potential candidate to assume control of your domain." Yusha checks his watch again. "I'd love to stay and chat some more," he says wryly, "but I've a lunch appointment with someone I don't want to keep waiting."

<>

"Mr. Zaber, this way please." a waiter says and escorts Yusha to the table reserved for him and his cousin. They stride towards the only white-adorned table flanked by two men in fitting dark suits and where Zayan, in a button-down shirt, is sitting and browsing through his phone.

Zayan, sensing their approach, elevates his gaze and beams when he sees his cousin. He rises from his seat to embrace Yusha in a brotherly hug.

"Did you bring these men to flaunt your status?" Yusha asks once they take their seats, "Because those biceps of yours are telling me you seriously don't need protection."

Zayan laughs. "These men are here so I can catch up with my dear cousin without interruptions. I'm meeting up with a celebrity after all." Then he smirks. "Speaking of interruptions... "

"I hope you don't mind us joining you, gentlemen."

Yusha tilts his head and finds a guy identical to the one sitting across from him and a girl with a black and white bandanna, both grinning down at him.

"Dude! Hablas en serio?" Yusha asks in Spanish, looking pleasantly surprised.

"Si, mi amigo." Zayan replies, smiling.

Waiters bring in two extra chairs for Shayan, Zayan's twin, and Inara.

"What's the occasion?" Yusha asks, as he individually takes in his cousins whom he hasn't seen in months.

"The occasion is a Rex4 surprise reunion." Inara says simply, her inky hair splaying over her right shoulder as she angles her face to look at Yusha as though surveying a piece of art.

"Inara's personal reason is to see if you've any secret woman in your life." Shayan says and Inara rolls her eyes.

"Women are too high maintenance. And I don't have time for commitments."

The next two hours they eat and chat while Inara occasionally clicks pictures. When she goes to Facebook to upload the pictures a live news was going on.

"Yusha, are you sure it's okay for you to be here?" she asks.

Inara shoves her phone towards Yusha, the side of the screen facing the latter. Shayan and Zayan turn on their own phones.

The news anchor is saying, "...he's hospitalized. We're now waiting for one of the young women who came to his help. Oh...she's here!" The camera zooms in and Yusha's eyes widen. It's Maha. What the hell is going on?

Dozens of reporters swarm around her.

"Miss, can you please tell us what happened?"

"Miss, can you state your name?"

"How did you help Millionaire Ayman Zaber?"

Maha looks frightened. Everywhere she turns there are reporters closing in on her and jockeying their mics toward her face to record her story, as though every word she speaks might save someone's life, while bright flashes of cameras blink at her.

Yusha slams Inara's phone on the table, stands up and makes a beeline for the exit. He calls his chauffeur and orders him to take him to the hospital.

Before he leaves he turns to Inara and, pointing a finger at the black and white bandanna she's wearing around her head, asked, "Can I borrow that?"

Inara doffs it and hands it to him unquestioningly.

"I'll come with you." Zayan offers and Yusha nods.

<>

"What do people think you're doing? This is a hospital." A voice booms.

The reporters' heads turn and, while their attentions temporarily divert, a hand locks around Maha's right arm. She is then dragged sharply away from mob of reporters and to another side of the hospital.

Maha is too dazed to yank her hand away from the firm grasp of the tall stranger in a long, black overcoat. As they hide, Maha notices the black and white kerchief that masked the lower half his face. She clocks him with her fist and he lets out a hiss before clawing at the piece of cloth, revealing the grey-eyed Adonis whom she met the other day. More specifically, who she now knows he is. Yaz. And suddenly she forgets how to breathe and becomes acutely aware of her heartbeat.

"And so we meet again." Yusha says softly, mainly because they are supposed to be hiding.

"You're real." Maha finds herself whispering, blinking out of her catatonia.

"I'm not Santa Claus."

"Sen deli misin?" Maha snaps.

"What?"

It takes a moment for Maha to realize she spoke Turkish. Then she translates, "Are you crazy?"

"Is that an actual question or a rhetorical?" Yusha asks as he glances around and shrugs off his coat. "Put this on. We're going to walk towards that black car over there. Relax. Don't look back."

"We're not kidnapping you." Yusha says five minutes later to Maha in a tone that's meant to be assuring, once both of them and Zayan are inside the car. Zayan takes the wheel while Yusha sits shotgun and Maha at the back.

"We technically are, though." Zayan smirks, stealing a look at Maha through the rearview mirror. "With good intentions, of course. I'm Zayan, by the way. Yusha's cousin." He adds. "It's great to see Yusha making friends he cares enough to come running."

"We drove here." Yusha reminds his cousin with a glare.

What didn't escape both Yusha's and Maha's notice is that the other did not deny that they are friends.

"Same thing." Zayan shrugs.

"Oh yeah? Then why don't you run your way back to the restaurant?" Yusha counters.

"If you two want to be alone, I can-"

"No!" Both Yusha and Maha say in unison.

"Okay. All right. Got it." Zayan grins, the amusement in both his face and tone can't be more conspicuous. "I think I've news Inara will be highly interested in."