“I did not expect to find a place like this in Egypt,” Alex said as they took their seats in the dining area.
“Would you believe the owner is a woman?” Trinity said. “Badia Masbni is a legendary singer, dancer, and actress. She owns several clubs and businesses, but this one is her crown jewel.”
“I can see why,” Constance said. “I could almost believe we were in New York.”
“Or Paris,” Stone said.
Trinity quirked an eyebrow. “You went to Paris without me?”
“It was for business, not pleasure.” It was one of the many memories Stone wished he could forget.
“The ‘business’ you never talk about?” Alex said.
“Exactly.”
It was then that a server came to take their orders. Soon, they were dining on a sumptuous meal of Nile perch, vegetables stuffed with rice, and thick slices of brown bread baked with bits of fig and date. They took their time, enjoying the food and the performances. Stone had booked passage on the luxury steamer P.S. Sudan, which departed in the morning. Knowing they would be cooped up on the ship for several days, Trinity and Constance had insisted on an evening out.
They were surprised to discover that the band was led by trumpeter Memphis Joe Johnson, a black man from Tennessee. He was supported by the Big River Band, a group every bit as diverse as the clientele. Stone and his friends bobbed their heads and tapped their feet while the band played upbeat tunes. When the band broke into "I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate", a popular dance number written by Louis Armstrong, Trinity stood and took Stone’s hand.
“Dance with me.” It was not a request, but an order. Stone didn’t bother arguing. On the other side of the table, Constance fixed Alex with an expectant look. Alex sighed, drained his glass of wine, and stood.
“I’m such a cement mixer on the dance floor. I always look like a fool,” he complained.
“More fun for us,” Stone said.
The four moved out on the dance floor and joined the crowd. Alex quickly shed his inhibitions and was soon doing the shimmy with clumsy enthusiasm. The band segued into the song “Charleston” while the club patrons twisted and glided their way through the dance of the same name. When the song ended, Memphis Joe introduced their next act.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this singer comes to us from the city of Ubar among the sands of Arabia. Please welcome Desert Rose.”
A beautiful woman, tall and graceful with indigo eyes and black hair cut in a bob stepped out onto the stage. She had a regal bearing and acknowledged the applause like a queen to her subjects.
Stone blinked twice, gave a shake of his head. It couldn’t be!
“That canary has some lovely plumage,” Alex whispered.
“Eyes over here, Mister Stone,” Trinity said.
“Sorry. I thought I recognized her.” But it couldn’t be the same Rose. It was impossible.
Trinity let the subject drop as the band began to play “As Time Goes By”. They swayed to the music, and for a minute, Stone lost himself in the moment. Why couldn’t he feel this content all the time? What was broken inside of him that he couldn’t enjoy a simple life? He pushed the thought aside and let the music wash over him.
Rose sang, “It's still the same old story, a fight for love and glory, a case of do-or-die…”
Stone glanced up at Desert Rose. Their eyes met, and she flinched. Her voice went up an octave and she butchered the next line. She regained her composure in a flash, and the song continued. Trinity looked up at him, her eyes filled with unanswered questions.
“Moonlight and love songs, never out of date. Hearts full of passion, jealousy, and hate.”
It was as if the song was speaking directly to him. He had kept Trinity in the dark for too long. But where to begin, and would she still love him if she knew the things he had done under the guise of serving his country?
“I need to tell you something.”
“You have several years of ‘somethings’ you need to tell me about,” Trinity said.
“I can’t tell you all of it in one night.” His voice was suddenly thick. He cleared his throat.
“It’s all right,” Trinity said. “Just tell me.”
“In the service, I was often sent on solo missions. Gathering intelligence, eliminating problems…” The words hung in the air as he waited for her reply. On stage, Rose belted out the last line of the song, holding the last note for what seemed an eternity. “Things I deeply regret.”
“I understand,” she said softly, “and I don’t judge you for it.”
Stone swallowed hard, took a deep breath. And then something caught his eye. A tall man with beady eyes and a large, hooked nose was eyeballing Alex. Stone’s instincts told him something was amiss.
“Just tell me,” Trinity said.
“This next song is dedicated to an old friend with a heart of stone.” Rose didn’t look at him, but there was no doubt whom she meant.
The band struck up a soft number. Stone recognized it immediately—“Looking for a Boy” by George and Ira Gershwin. Memories came flooding back. Impossible as it seemed, it truly was Rose.
Trinity paled, flicked a glance at Rose as she began to sing. “Explain.”
Stone took a breath. “Rose was one of my missions.”
Trinity froze, stared at him like a viper coiled to strike. The song washed over them.
“I am just a little girl,
who’s looking for a little boy,
Trinity gritted her teeth. “Were you… intimate with her?”
“No!” How could he explain? He glanced up at Rose, searching for the words.
who’s looking for a girl to love.
Trinity’s slap caught him completely off guard. “Do you take me for a fool? At least have enough respect for me to tell the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
She shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. He didn’t budge. She looked like she was going to hit him again, but then her visage crumbled. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I am going back to the hotel.” She turned and shoved her way through the crowd.
“Trinity, wait!” Stone shot an angry look at Rose, but she steadfastly avoided his gaze. He muttered a curse and forced his way through the crowd. He saw Trinity storm out the door. The hook-nosed man followed her. Stone turned, caught Alex’s attention, and pointed to the door. Alex cocked his head to the side, frowned in bemusement.
“Trouble!” Stone mouthed and pointed to the door. Alex understood immediately. He took Constance by the elbow and steered her in Stone’s direction. As they pushed their way through the crowd, Stone explained what had happened.
“Really? You and the singer?” Alex asked.
“It wasn’t like that. But that’s not important right now. I have a bad feeling about the man who followed her out the door.”
They emerged on the street to the sound of screams. Across the way, he saw Trinity being forced into a Rolls Royce Phantom limousine. Stone broke into a run. He dodged an oncoming Buick Roadster. The driver shouted something in Arabic, shook his fist, and screeched away in a cloud of dust. Stone zigzagged through a group of camel riders, vaulted a horse-drawn cart, and reached the other side of the street.