-Editors note. This story is published under duress. I made mistake to entrust woman with my dox and this is how she repay me. She say if I don’t publish she will reveal even more details, completely ruin my exploding Facebook Marketplace business!
Faisal shaved carefully, using the light from his phone to examine every aspect of his jawline in the mirror, making sure everything was even, no spots were missed. He’d already shaved that morning, of course, but he had to take care of that five o’clock shadow. Tonight was an important night. This morning he’d aced an interview, but he had a feeling the interview wasn’t over yet.
He was fresh out of college, business major, and had moved to Sarasota to live in an apartment with his cousin while he looked for a job. He’d had poor luck with interviews at the investment firms, so his aunt suggested getting his realtor license, and he took the class online and passed the test on his first try. The market was hot and there was a lot of money to be made for someone unafraid to work - and Faisal had always been a hard worker, just like his parents. He had fond memories of his childhood, and knew how much his parents loved him and his brothers. They’d sacrificed everything - leaving behind prestigious jobs as professors at the University of Beirut, a house with servants, their entire extended family network, even their native language - just to have a chance at a better future for their sons. They worked seven days a week at their restaurant and still made time to check the boys’ homework every night. He knew how much his parents loved him, which is why he’d felt guilty about throwing away his mother’s homemade school lunch every day. But the first time he’d sat down at the table and opened up the Tupperware filled with delicious, fragrant bamia with rice - he still remembered the other kids’ comments and laughter. So he started stuffing it in the bottom of his backpack and eating the bland cafeteria food - though pizza day wasn’t so bad. He knocked the container out in the neighbor’s garbage can before coming home every afternoon, so his mom’s feelings wouldn’t get hurt.
When he rebranded as a realtor he decided to reinvent himself a little. He got color contacts - not blue, but a slightly lighter shade of brown, and cut his curly hair short. It must have worked, because Mr. Somerland hired him - warning him (he knew this) that it usually took a realtor three to four months before he’d see his first paycheck. That was OK, Faisal had his car registered with Uber so he wouldn’t have to be a burden to his cousin - not that he mentioned that to Mr. Somerland. After the interview, his new boss stood up, shook his hand, and walked him out to the lobby, where a girl sat in one of the cushioned chairs, looking at her iPhone. “Frank, this is my daughter, Jess,” he said.
Jess looked up at him and replied, “hello.”
“She’s down here for spring break with her friends, but she made time to have lunch with her old man. I’ll be out in just a minute, honey, I just have to make a phone call. Frank, I’ll see you on Monday. Welcome to the team.” Mr. Somerland went back into his office and closed the door. Jess kept looking at him. He felt like he should say something to her,
“Do you and your friends have big plans for spring break?”
“Mostly beach stuff.” She kept staring at him. “But we’re going out for dinner tonight, and then clubbing. You should come with us.”
Oh my God. This never happens. “Hey, I’d - I’d love to. Where are we going?”
“Tell me your number and I’ll text you the details.”
He did, and she typed it into her phone, then, looked back over at her dad’s closed office door, “OK, well, see you later then, Frank.” He told her goodbye, and left.
Now, it was approaching nine p.m. and he was driving his Acura up to the Pangea Alchemy Lab - he’d looked it up, it was a trendy cocktail bar. He’d read the reviews on his phone and figured out what he should order. In case they asked his opinion, he’d also researched the high-end steakhouses and waterside seafood restaurants for dinner afterwards. This night was going to cost a lot of Uber trips but that was OK. When he walked into the packed bar he saw them - five college girls, all blonde, all wearing short skirts, sitting at a high-top, with bright orange drinks in front of them, half empty. There was one remaining seat, and no other guys. He tugged on the ends of his sleeves - it was really too warm to wear this shirt, but he was self-conscious of all the dark hair on his arms - and walked up to the empty space and sat down next to Jess. “Oh heyyyy, you made it! Girls, this is Frank Coulter! He just started working for my dad. Frank, these are the girls!”
“Hi Frank!” They all said in unison, smiling at him.
“Hello ladies.” The waiter approached and asked for his order. He looked around the table again - they were all drinking some kind of fruity drinks, but he’d already decided in advance all the right things to order tonight and he didn’t want to deviate from the plan. “I’ll have your signature Manhattan, made with Basil Hayden rye.”
The tall girl on the other side of Jess finished her drink while he was ordering, sucking on the ice at the bottom through her straw, “and we’ll take another round of tequila sunrises.” After the waiter left, she turned to Faisal, “you said your name was Coulter? Is your family from Boston? I know some Coulters up there.”
“Oh no, my family’s from - New York. New York City.”
“Oh really,” she replied.
Jess interrupted, “Frank, this is Candace Rotworth. Her dad teaches anthropology at Boston. He talks about skulls or something.”
“He doesn’t care about that,” replied Candace, “come on, ask him.” At that moment, their drinks arrived, and Faisal took a sip of his heady Manhattan while the ladies were being served. After the waiter left again, Jess leaned forward on her elbows, close to Faisal’s face, and said in a low voice,
“Did you bring coke?”
Oh. This was why he was invited. “Uh, no, sorry, I don’t have any.” All the girls leaned back in their chairs with a huff and looked at Jess, who raised her hands in a gesture of apology.
She asked him again, “what about your cousin, don’t you have a cousin? Can he bring some?”
He wished his cousin knew where to find cocaine. His cousin was a middle-school math teacher. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t have any either.”
“Ughhh,” replied Jess. They’d finished their drinks again, he’d only had a sip of his. “Let’s just go eat then.”
“I know a place nearby, they have a phenomenal filet -” but Faisal was interrupted by Candace,
“No, I want something quick, so we can go dancing. Let’s go to the Sahara Cafe.”
They headed to the Sahara, a little Lebanese fast casual place Faisal knew well. As he opened the door for the college girls, the delectable smell of roasted fava beans and creamy baba ghanouj made his mouth water. But they also had salads, he was going to order a nice normal salad, then Candace turned to him and asked, “so, what’s good here?”
“How…how should I know?”
She smirked at him, “‘Frank.’ I know you know.”