‘Sure.’ Layla folded her arms, her face like thunder. ‘Alberto, this is Precious. Precious, Alberto.’
‘Who is definitely not Layla’s brother, right?’ said Precious, all smiles. ‘And American, is that right too?’
‘That’s right,’ said Alberto, taking Precious’s hand. ‘Hi, Precious.’
Then he turned to Layla. ‘Now come here and gimme a hug, Layla. And in answer to your question, your mother asked me to come. That’s what I’m doing here.’
‘Oh. Dear. God,’ said Precious, stretched out on Layla’s bed an hour later and staring wistfully at the ceiling.
Alberto had departed, taking his entourage with him. And Precious had said there was not a single doubt about it: she was in love.
‘What?’ snapped Layla, sitting on the stool by the dressing table.
‘Oh, come on. That man is fabulous.’ She turned her head and stared at Layla. ‘And he’s not your brother? Really?’
‘Of course he’s not my brother. Not in any way, shape, or form. His father married my mother. We’re in no way related.’
‘Right.’
Precious was staring at Layla’s face.
‘What?’ demanded Layla.
‘You seem mad at me. Why are you mad at me?’ asked Precious. This was a feature of the girl, and one of the reasons Layla had taken to her. She had this disarming, completely in-your-face and open honesty – she was so unlike Layla herself, who bottled everything up inside.
‘I’m not mad at you,’ said Layla.
‘Well, you seem to be.’
‘It’s just…’ started Layla.
‘Yes?’ prompted Precious. ‘Just what? Is there a problem with me fancying your brother…?’
Layla jumped to her feet. ‘He’s not my fucking brother!’ she yelped.
‘Oh.’ Precious sat up, her eyes fastened on Layla’s face. She swung her legs to the floor. ‘Oh dear. I think I’ve got it.’
‘You’ve got what?’
‘You fancy him yourself.’
‘That’s…’ Layla swiped a hand over her scraped-back hair. ‘That’s complete and utter bullshit.’
‘Is it?’
Layla’s face seemed to collapse in on itself. ‘Oh Christ… no it’s not. Oh damn it, I’m such a mess…’
‘No you’re not.’
Layla started pacing around the room. ‘It’s totally ridiculous. How could I be so stupid as to develop a crush on him? It’s insane.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it quite as strongly as that,’ said Precious, smiling slightly. ‘How long have you felt this way about him?’
Layla looked at Precious uncertainly. She’d never shared this with anyone. But she liked Precious. They’d formed a bond from the instant they’d met. And… yes, she trusted her. Precious wouldn’t blab, she knew it.
‘Oh shit, just about forever,’ she said, exhaling sharply. ‘Since I was ten years old, I think. It was so bad I was embarrassed to be anywhere near him – I was relieved to be at school in England. And whenever he came over, I did the vanishing act.’ Layla looked at Precious. ‘Pathetic, yes?’