Sharon walked up to his seat, number 3D. She was standing next to him.
“Have you made a choice yet, Mr. Al Tamani?”
“I have.”
“What will it be?”
“Mezzeh, then lamb.”
“Would you like a glass of wine with your meal?”
It was a tricky question. Sharon always feared the passenger would curse her. Appearances are deceiving. A man with a full beard dressed in dishdasha had blamed her for not offering him alcohol on an earlier flight. Another wearing jeans with an open shirt had shouted her down when she had offered him a glass of champagne right before take-off.
Sharon was still waiting for his answer.
“Sparkling water will do, thank you.”
“With a slice of lemon?”
“No lemon, no ice cubes,” he answered immediately, in anticipation of her next question.
It made little doubt he was a freq
