My Best Friend Brother

Chapter Seven

Scarlett POV

I smiled to myself as I stirred the chunks of goat in the well-worn cast iron pot as Annika set the table and Mrs. Bashir supervised my work. This is what it’s like to have a mother, I

thought. “Now taste it, Scarlett, and tell me

what it needs,” she directed. I grabbed a clean spoon and dabbed it into the pot, then tasted. “Lemon juice—acidity,” I answered. “Just a little.” She raised her eyebrows, impressed,

then handed me half a lemon. “Just a squeeze and it will be perfect,” she answered.

I fit in seamlessly with the Bashirs

and sometimes daydreamed I was really a part of their family and not just a houseguest. My dad was doing well in Nevada. He called

me every night to check in, and sometimes he sent a check for spending money, which I was grateful to have. With junior year finished,

Annika and I looked forward to a summer of fun and relaxation. I imagined we would spend our days sipping mango lassis by the mammoth pool in the backyard. Apparently, Mrs. Bashir had a different idea.

“Do you have a job lined up this summer, Scarlett?” Mrs. Bashir asked as she ladled the

fragrant goat curry onto my plate. I hoped no one could hear my stomach growling as I piled my plate high with basmati

rice. “Oh, well, I hadn’t thought

about it,” I stammered. “I have my internship once a week with Texas

Monthly…but it doesn’t pay anything.” I balanced my heaping plate carefully as I took a seat with the rest of the family at the dining room table under an ornate chandelier hanging from a 20-foot ceiling. The house was stately and massive, decorated expertly by

Mrs. Bashir who had a keen eye and a slight obsessive compulsion that nothing should be out of place. She liked to be in control of

her surroundings—a characteristic I would be rudely familiar with later on. But for now, it was harmless. We were only missing Dev at

the table; he was at college and hadn’t been home for months. I was grateful for his absence. Something about his dark, brooding eyes

and his always-serious gaze unnerved me. I knew he didn’t like “or anyone for that matter—and it was much more pleasant without

him here.You can work at the hotel.

Front desk. Okay?” Mrs. Bashir informed me, as if it had been settled already behind closed doors and this was merely a formality. She looked at Mr. Bashir for confirmation and he

nodded in agreement, his mouth full of goat.

Annika groaned. “Mom, Scarlett and I had plans this summer! Don’t make her work at the

hotel!” Mrs. Bashir put on her stern

face. Even Stalin wouldn’t dare to argue with her when she made that face. “Annika, you’re working at the hotel, too. We need help. It’s good for you to work.” I could see Annika try to

steady herself and slow her breathing. She was beyond mad but she wisely knew her place. She put her napkin on the table and stood up. “May I be excused? I’m not very hungry anymore,” she asked, each word poorly veiling her utter

disappointment. Annika looked at me expecting me to follow. What she didn’t realize is that I wasn’t a spoiled child of privilege. I was thrilled and grateful and already thinking of what I would do with the extra cash from working at the hotel. Besides, nothing was going to stand between me and that luscious goat curry. I gave her a weak smile. “I’ll be up in a minute,” I

assured her, chewing on a mouthful of rice. Mrs. Bashir sat down with her plate. She smiled warmly at me. “It’s a good thing you are

here, Scarlett. We are less tempted to spoil our daughter. And your good grades are making her work harder, too.” I beamed. It was nice to

feel appreciated, especially by this family who had given me so much.

The first week of summer

vacation, I learned how to check in guests, ask for extra towels from the cleaning service in Spanish, and tell people how to find the best pizza take-out in Fairview. The long hours during slow weekdays were perfect for researching and writing my articles for Texas

Weekly. I got paid a little more than minimum wage, but the extra

money went straight into my savings account. In the back of my mind

I hoped I wouldn’t have to take out very much in student loans when it came time for college. I had already applied for every scholarship under the sun, so maybe if the stars aligned, I

wouldn’t go into debt trying to become a writer. The guests were pretty nice

to me, although there was always the odd one who could never be

satisfied. Overall, it was pretty good gig and I was grateful for it. Until he strolled in one day and ruined everything.