Homegrown Hero - Khurrum Rahman Jay Qasim

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to marry Steph‚ mate. You know that‚ right? It’s not even possible. Khala will throw a fucking fit!’

      ‘I’ll find a way.’

      ‘Course you will! I can see it now. Khala‚ I’m seeing a white chick called Stephanie. Slap! She’s a divorcee. Slap! Oh‚ and she’s got a kid from a previous marriage.’ Shaz mimicked loading a shotgun. ‘You get the picture: Khala stood over you with a sawn-off; you‚ lying on the floor with a hole in your chest‚ wishing why-oh-why did I not do the simple thing and marry a Muslim girl.’

      ‘Alright‚ Shaz. You’ve made your point.’ I busied myself with work‚ looking for a way out of the conversation. But Shaz had other ideas.

      ‘Show me the picture of this girl‚ then‚’ Shaz said.

      ‘No‚’ I said.

      ‘C’mon‚ man‚’ Shaz pleaded. ‘Just show it.’

      ‘There’s no point.’

      ‘Of course there’s a point.’

      ‘What? What is the point?’

      ‘I want to see it!’

      ‘That’s not a valid point.’

      ‘It’s what mates do‚’ Shaz said.

      ‘I swear‚’ I said‚ as I unlocked my phone and located the picture. ‘You’re such a child.’

      ‘Am not!’

      I faced the phone in his direction.

      ‘Here‚’ I said. ‘Happy?’

      ‘Hang on‚ let me call NASA‚ see if they can lend me their telescope!’ Shaz said‚ from behind his desk. ‘Fucking hell‚ Imy. Bring it over here.’

      ‘You want to see it‚ you can come to my desk.’

      ‘I’m your senior.’

      ‘Why don’t you start acting like it?’

      I had hoped his lazy nature would win out‚ but his perverted nature prevailed. He approached my desk with his hand out. I reluctantly handed my phone over.

      ‘Oh my‚’ he said‚ softly as he took his time making eyes at the photo. ‘And you’re going to say no?’

      ‘I’m going to say no.’

      Shaz bit down on his fist.

      ‘Imy… Imy… Imy!’

      ‘I’m not in the mood‚ Shaz. Here‚ give it back.’ He stepped back before I had a chance to swipe it from him.

      ‘I don’t mean any disrespect‚ Imy. I want to make that clear.’

      I scratched my head‚ it was either that or pin him to the ground‚ wrench my phone away and smack him over the head with it.

      ‘Steph is fit‚ yeah. But this girl is next level. I’d give both my kidneys just to deliver her mail.’

      ‘I don’t even know what that means‚ Shaz. Give me my phone back.’

      Shaz watched it all the way as he handed it back to me‚ as though he was trying to commit her to memory. I hit the home button and the image disappeared.

      ‘You definitely going to say no?’ Shaz asked carefully.

      ‘Don’t say it‚’ I said.

      ‘Say what?’

      ‘Just don’t.’

      Shaz blinked and stayed stood at my desk‚ and I just knew that he was going to ask anyway.

      ‘Maybe you could give me her number?’

      ‘No‚ Shaz. The hell is wrong with you!? Just go back to your desk.’

      Shaz liked to paint himself as quite the ladies’ man‚ but his tales of sexual escapades were like those created in the mind of a teenage boy. I’d never met any of his so-called conquests. He would constantly tell me that once he found somebody he was serious about‚ he’d introduce her. I knew him and I indulged him‚ but Shaz was well and truly cemented in the lonely hearts club. His heavy consumption of weed had turned him into a wreck when it came to the opposite sex.

      ‘At least send me her photo.’

      I couldn’t help but laugh as he sheepishly trudged back to his desk.

      ‘What’re you going to tell your Khala? What fault are you going to find with this one? That she’s just too beautiful?’ He shook his head in disappointment. ‘You need to man up‚ Imy. Tell Khala the score and then deal with whatever she throws at you.’

      For once‚ Shaz was right. Khala deserved to know the truth and I had to be a man about it and deal with the consequences. But I wasn’t ready. As always‚ the time wasn’t right.

      *

      I signed off from work early with a list of viewings for the next day‚ and went back to the flat to get ready. I didn’t overdo it with the outfit. If it was up to Khala she would have had me turn up in a suit. As it was‚ I opted for smart casual dark denim jeans‚ a navy blue shirt and Chelsea boots. I drove the short distance to Khala’s and pulled up outside her modest home. I was about to hit the horn when I noticed her waiting impatiently at the kitchen window‚ even though I was ten minutes early.

      I got out and opened the passenger side door for her as she walked down the path‚ wearing a parrot-green Indian suit that I hadn’t seen before. Khala eyed me up and down before deciding it’ll do‚ then planted a kiss on my cheek. She handed me the address. It was an East London post code. I cursed under my breath as I entered it into Google Maps. I was going to be so late for Stephanie and Jack.

      I indicated and pulled out‚ as she filled me in at customary breakneck speed.

      ‘Both parents retired but still involved in running an Indian fashion boutique on Green Street. I can’t remember the name. You would have seen the advert on Star Plus.’

      ‘I don’t watch Star Plus‚ Khala.’

      ‘You don’t watch Bollywood films anymore?’ She seemed shocked. We had spent many nights together eating our way through a three hour song-and-dance fest.

      ‘Anyway‚ you were saying?’

      ‘They have lot of money‚ I saw picture on Facebook‚ they have gold fence around their big house.’

      ‘Okay‚’ I rolled my eyes discreetly.

      ‘They have two sons‚ Nadeem and Kareem‚ one is accountant and one is lecturer. They both live at home with their parents.’ I could sense her eyes lasering into me. I kept mine straight ahead on the road‚ praying for the traffic to open up.

      ‘Are you going to tell me about the girl or...?’

      ‘Her name is Rukhsana. She is graduate!’

      ‘What subject?’

      ‘Don’t know. Just know she is graduate.’

      ‘Okay‚ graduate‚ got it.’ I thought I could just ask Rukhsana directly in the name of small talk. ‘Anything else?’

      ‘I told them that you still live at home with me.’ She said it straight faced.

      ‘Why couldn’t you just tell them the truth?’ I asked‚ redundantly.

      ‘Astaghfirulah. That you live in a chicken shop.’

      ‘Above a chicken shop.’

      ‘Sometimes it is better to tell small lie than to lose face‚’ Khala said‚ in fortune cookie wisdom.

      ‘I’m thirty-six‚

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