Grecian Club

Illustration: TBS.

The Grecian Club bar was crowded as usual on a weekend evening. I had done my research well.

And, sure enough, I spotted Kaleem in one corner laughing uproariously. This club was where he usually stayed when visiting from the United States and I knew he could never resist one last evening of dirty drinking jokes with his idiot buddies.

I sidled up from behind and hit him with my palm on the shoulder of his coat, using just the right level of pressure to convey that mine was not a friendly gesture. He turned around with annoyance on his face and I enjoyed seeing it dissolve into a sheepish grin as he realised who was towering over him, disturbing his poise.

"Hello Kaleem," I said. "I heard you were in town and thought I would catch up with you before your plane leaves tomorrow."

He quickly worked out the importance of the heaviness of my hand upon him, namely that he owed me a ton of money and would rather have not wanted to be reminded of this fact until it was too late for me to do anything about it. But he was a master of deflecting.

"Ha ha," he said, "nothing like a last minute get-together. That always makes the lovers more aroused."

"Oh, so my emails which bounced and calls left unreturned were all so that you could create a scene from Romeo and Juliet! You were always a tasteful motherf****r."

We were now left in a circle of two as his other companions moved away as fast as their slime would take them.

"You do remember, I suppose, the money you owe me?" I went on. "A million dollars is no lover's quarrel. You were going to pay me back in three months, I believe?"

"It was a sure thing, boss. Otherwise I would never have asked you for the investment. Look, this is me, Kaleem, would I ever do you dirty?" he said.

"You certainly did," I said angrily, "when you kept me waiting for news while ghosting me like some two bit girlfriend you've got tired of." It is never a good idea to get angry; it loosens one's hold over the situation. I had started out so well, in command, and now I was slipping.

"That's because I had nothing good to tell you," Kaleem replied. "I can't tell you how painful it was for me to think that you mistrusted me. But guess what? As soon as I get back to Denver, I have two meetings lined up which are absolutely gold, gold I tell you!"

"I don't have time to wait anymore. You get me my money back. Or else."

"Why're you being so unreasonable? Just let me get to Denver and it'll be okay. What do you want to do with me? Here in the middle of the Grecian Club?"

"It's not up to me, arsehole," I shouted. Everybody turned to look at us. In my confused rage, I blurted out "There's a string of hitmen lined up to get me."

There was a big silence. A general rush for the doors. A sneaky look came into Kaleem's eyes.

"Ah, yes, yes I see now," he said, flicking off imaginary specks of dust from his shirtfront.

"Because you had borrowed most of it yourself from some tough cats. You know, I always believe that if a deal sounds like it is too good to be true, it is probably not worth pursuing," he said with a sanctimonious sneer.

"That's not what you said at the time," I said.

"Hey, I'm not perfect."

I clutched wildly at Kaleem's body but my grip was watery.

This story is part of a collection developed in a creative writing workshop run by Shazia Omar. If you would like to join the next workshop, please email her: [email protected]