Page 87 of Sapphire Spring

Find your sister.

Mahin Kazemi texted infrequently and succinctly, and only whenshe considered the matter to be of great importance. During the work week, thiswas doubly true. Her messages often combined a nightmare scenario—Yoursister might bedead!—with a directive—Findher now!The goal was to conceal a truth more unpleasant than disturbing.In this case, that Pari was ignoring her calls.

He knew better than to argue.

He also knew better than to ask follow-up questions.

Naser typed a text to his sister—Stop ignoringMaman—and figured that would be the end of it. Nodoubt, Pari would text back in twenty minutes with a cover story she wanted himto pass on. In turn, he’d respond to their mother with the slimmed-down,one-line version he was willing to share—the one that made him feel less like aliar.

An hour later, there was no text from his sister.

Another hour, silence from his sister.

Three texts later, still nothing.Sohe texted Fareena. She hadn’t heard from her best friend in two days, and shewrote back a few minutes later to say she wasn’t getting a response either.Then, with a little jolt, he remembered the choke in Pari’s voice when she’dabruptly ended their last call. His worry turned into fear.

He checked his emails to make sure he hadn’t missed any fromher.

Nothing.

That meant she still hadn’t returned a signed copy of thecontract.

Soshe was brushing off thelifeline that would save her business?

That was impossible. Something was wrong.

At four-thirty, about an hour before he usually left work,he called Mason. “SoI think I might have to postponeour first restaurant dinner. Something’s up with my sister.”

“Up?Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, she’s not responding to calls or texts. I’m going todrive up to LA, make sure she’s okay.”

Mason’s desk chair squeaked.

“You want company?”

He did and he didn’t, and he wasn’t quite sure how to sayit. Mason sensed his wariness. “Sorry. Family thing. Got it.” But he sounded alittle petulant, like a kid who’d been caught reaching for an extra cookie fromthe jar. The truth was, this unexpected change in their immersive schedule madeNaser feel weird too. A last-minute trip to LA might have him coming back late.Would it make sense for him to spend the night at Mason’s house—for the fourthnight in a row? Or did his discomfort have more to do with his hesitancy toexplain hisnew—meetings? Assignations? Regular bootycalls?Relationship?—to his opinionatedsister.

Better to let Mason be an old classmate, a shadowy investor.For now.

Which made Naser feel like a hypocrite given his speech thenight before.

He didn’t want to be Mason’s dirty secret, and now he wasturning Mason into one.

“It’s just…my sister can be kind of a drama queen, and I’mnot sure I want to inflict that on you. Yet.”

“Got it.”

“You sure?”

“It’s a family thing. I understand. Still coming over lateror will you…” Mason’s voice trailed off.

“Let me call once I figure out what’s going on with her.”

“Sounds good.”

If it sounded good, why did it feel so weird? Would thesmallest bit of distance between them cause this whole thing to fall apart? Ifthey stepped back for even one night, would they realize the craziness of whatthey were doing and come to their senses?

Traffic was stop and go for most of the drive north, anotherreminder of why he preferred living in Orange County, where most streets hadfour lanes in both directions and there was a left turn light at everyintersection.

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