Capítulo 6: Chapter Six
Rashida wore a jade dress, so bold it left almost nothing to the imagination. The bodice was designed to look like a wrap-around, with each breast in its article of clothing, leaving a bit more cleavage than necessary. But that was Rashida for you.
"I'd never miss an important event such as this." She ran her long, tapered fingers through the wavy brunette locks that cascaded past her shoulders, down to the small of her back.
"Indeed. You look exquisite habibi." Rafiq captured her hand in his and placed a brushed his lips across her knuckles. His russet gaze-maintained eye contact as he did so.
"I missed you too." Rashida beamed at the prince as straightened to his full height.
"And now you have my full attention. Now come you shall sit with me." He gathered her hand through the loop of his arm and ushered her to their seats.
__________
"My goodness, I'm tired." Ziza puff out air through pursed lips, pulling at the black hijab all the waitresses wore as part of their uniform. She never felt comfortable wearing the clothing item especially while working. It almost always got a bit sweaty in there due to her frequent movements.
In the slightly too warm, too crowded and definitely too large kitchen, Ziza peeked at the clock high up on the wall. Apparently she’d been on her feet for four hours straight and they were now throbbing. That was four more hours than she was used to working per day. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if she were to find bunions the size of onions when she’d take her shoes off later. Simply thinking about it heightened the temptation to throw ‘appropriate’ to the wind go barefoot. But no, she’d probably be charged for that.
"I thought you said you were going to enjoy yourself." Ferran snickered as he finished up, along with other chefs the last dessert plate in the last batch going out to the guests.
"Oh, shut up." She scoffed. He was only rubbing it in because the only part of the palace she’d seen was pretty much the servants’ gate, the bathroom and the kitchen. Ferran had been right. She’d been way over her head and that was an understatement. Even if she were to go off exploring on her own, which she desperately wanted to, there was a guard on duty on almost every door in the place, not to mention the twice as many CCTV cameras. She’d never risk jail time for ‘adventure time’.
"Tables one to fifty are up. Move it people!" The head chef announced so the waiters would start taking out the food at once.
What made her night bitter was, in all those four hours she hadn’t served the King or Queen, or any of the royal family members. Instead, she was stuck serving a table too far from theirs for a good enough glimpse. She was basically serving a table that wasn’t even in the same zip code as theirs.
She sighed, at least she’d made it this far, within the palace’s state of the art kitchen and its noble prize worthy gardens. How many people could say that? Most poor people like her would lose their minds at being this close to their charismatic rulers.
"I hate you." Ziza whine as she balanced a tray holding five plates in one hand.
Ferran laughed, "I love you too, now get out there."
Focused on not dropping the expensive dishes, Ziza didn't reply as she joined the line of servers leaving the kitchen.
Oh, what she would do just to take a few minutes of shut-eye, maybe a long, well deserved bubble bath before that. But she couldn’t because a good soak or lying in bed would mean her thoughts slowed down, then before she knew it she’d be back reliving the disaster with Kevin and her Aliyah. So no, work it was.
Ziza quickly carried out her task, serving the guests their meals before dashing off to the ladies' room.
But as Ziza walked down an unfamiliar corridor, she realized she had forgotten where the employees' toilets were located. A moment of panic set in. What if she’d get in trouble for it? Guests and employees weren’t supposed to mix. What if the cameras thought she was on her way to steal something, after all, she had passed no one.
Calm down before you do something stupid, she chastised herself. Stopping for a moment, she turned, trying to determine which way she’d come from. Maybe she’d meet someone along the way who’d point her in the right direction. Yes, that sounded right. With her decision made, the girl walked along. But the longer she walked, the more she worried her situation was worsening. You know that feeling where you know you’re lost and you’ve been walking for something like two minutes but it feels like the time has stretched way past that, and that people have started searching for you? That’s how she felt. Panic her old friend turned round the corner and slammed into her. But it wasn’t the only thing that did. She was so worried about being able to find her way out of that maze, that she hadn't seen the person she actually bumped into around the corner.
She crushed into the other person and the force was great enough to send her and her victim tumbling to the pristine marble floor. Please don’t be someone highly important, she prayed.
"Oh my goodness. Miss, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going.”
“Clearly, do you have any idea how expensive this is?” She snapped through the curtain of hair that covered her face as she went about checking herself, probably for any injuries.
Ziza scrambled onto her feet and began helping the woman up but stopped when she flinched from her touch. Ziza’s heat beat fast in her chest.
“I’m so sorry. You didn't hurt anything did you?” Praying she hadn’t torn her beautiful dress, Ziza reached out to help her up.
"Get your sweaty hands off of me!" This time she slapped Ziza’s hands away. Even when the lady tucked some of her glossy hair behind an ear, she was so focused on inspecting her garment that Ziza was compelled to do the same, praying she wouldn’t find anything wrong with it.
"You almost ruined my dress, do you know how expensive this is?” The woman slapped Ziza’s hands when she attempted to assist her to her feet again. Finally she stood on her feet, brushing down the front of her dress furiously, as if to get imaginary creepy-crawlies off the silk garment.
"I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, I wasn't looking where I was going I—"
"Well, that is why we have eyes don't we?" The woman, satisfied that everything was in place and undamaged, she looked up.
Ziza felt air get right knocked out of her lungs. The universe must be on a roll today.
Old, unpleasant memories rushed to the surface of her mind. As if they’d been made yesterday. The laughing, the gossiping, the nasty rumours. The constant humiliation.
"Rashida?" Ziza blinked as if to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. She wished.
It took her a second to remember, and when she did, that cruel, unforgettable smile stretched her full lips, revealing perfect white teeth.
"In the flesh," her arms spread out as if presenting herself.
"My, my Ziza Bashar. How have you been doing darling? I take it your little ‘hobby’ eventually landed you…,” she swept her eyes up and down Ziza’s uniform, “here." She smiled.
"I don't have time for this," Barely able to maintain her composure, Ziza spoke through clenched teeth.
"Don't be embarrassed. Everyone knows life is tough. It’s good to see you, it’s been too long," she laughed again, “How’s my good friend Aliyah? I should call her one of these days."
At the mention of her half-sister’s name, Ziza knew it was time to hit the road. She swallowed the thick lump building in her throat and blinked the tears that prickled her eyes. Memories threatened to swarm her again but she would not let herself cry, not I front of Rashida—she was stronger than that.
The smaller girl took the most logical action then....ignoring the remarks and walking past the woman. But of course Rashida wasn't done yet, she grabbed a hold of Ziza’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
"Oh, come on. Don’t be rude. It was just a question?” She said.
"Rashida leave me alone, if you want to talk to Aliyah, call her. I'm working." Ziza tugged her wrist out of her grasp and walked past her.
"Hey! I'm still talking to you. You just don't walk away." Rashida snapped.
"Excuse you, not everyone has to follow everything you say Rashida. This isn’t high school anymore." Said Ziza.
"Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that. You know we were just having harmless fun. It was high school," Rashida waved her hands about as if that justified bullying. People like her abused other for their own selfish gain. Who in their right mind would consider telling someone they’re a mistake, or that if they died only her dad would care—a harmless joke.
"What are you? Five? You people ruin other people’s lives.”
"I didn’t ruin your life habibi, if that’s what you’re implying,” she laughed, “You have your mother to thank for that." Rashida laughed as she turned around and strutted off.
That’s where she was drawing the line. All the resentment she thought she’d long since buried after high school boiled to the surface with a vengeance. Ziza wasn’t one for violence, but when the occasion called, she answered the door—pulling it wide open. You could take the girl out of the streets, but you can’t take the streets out of the girl. She acted without thinking.
Ziza tore the hijab from her hair and charged after Rashida, tackling her to the floor—football style. They fell to the floor hard. Their noise would probably attract some unwanted attention, but she couldn’t care less. She needed to be put in her place.
"I dare you to say it again to my face." Ziza gripped her hair and yanked hard.
Rashida cried out in pain, her arms flailed up to her hair and tried to pry off Ziza’s hold on it. It didn’t work. She changed tactics and began bucking Ziza’s weight off her back. It threw Ziza off balance, causing her to almost topple over and head for the floor face first, only she quickly released her hold on the long hair and broke her fall by holding onto the adjacent wall. This allowed Rashida just enough time to wiggle about beneath her until Ziza no longer straddled her back but her legs.
Ziza wasn’t going to allow her opponent to gain any other advantage over her, so she threw the first and then the second punch. The first one connected with her mouth. The second grazed past her cheek because Rashida had used her forearm to block the punch. With her other hand, she quickly reached out and yanked at Ziza’s curls.
"Get off me!" Rashida screamed.
Using her heeled foot, she shoved Ziza completely off of her body, giving her ample time to get onto her knees and hands. But the smaller girl launched herself on top of her back. Rashida yelled out in pain when Ziza grabbed one of the arms from beneath her and wrenched it back viciously. Holding her face down as if she intended to cuff her.
Desperate to shake her off and end the pain Rashida thrashed against the floor, kicking Ziza in her thighs. The heels of her stilettos painfully bit into Ziza’s flesh, and again it caused her to loosen the grip she had on the arm. Again, it was enough for Rashida to escape. From there, it turned into a full-on catfight—hair pulling, scratching, punching, slapping and a whole lot of screaming.
"Hey!" A deep voice boomed from down the corridor, but Ziza didn't care for the newcomer as she retaliated her opponent’s every move.
One moment she was yanking at Rashida's hair and the next she was yanked away and thrown just as harsh onto the floor.
"What the hell is happening here?!" The man boomed.
It was the prince, prince Rafiq.
Even in her state of mind, still livid—wanting to go out for blood, the air of power he commanded evidently crackled in the air. It was clear he knew how to grab the entire room’s attention. So this was what it felt like to be in the presence of royalty—and she’d been acting like a crazy person. Ziza bet she looked like one too, considering her tousled hair.
"This crazy waitress attacked me! I thought she was going to kill me, she's wild!" Rashida panted, tears staining her blotched face.
Ziza knew those were crocodile tears though. Such a pity he didn’t, but man did it feel good to see her on the receiving end of someone else’s wrath.
"She tore my dress!" She continued to whine after another round of inspecting herself.
Ziza only sat on the floor, one sneaker missing from her feet. She might look the lunatic, but she sure as hell wasn’t the crazy one.
"Who are you?" The prince asked, but Ziza couldn’t find her voice. Instead she stood to her shaky feet, scrapping her hair from her face. He turned to Rashida, "Who is she?"
"Some waitress, I don’t know!" Rashida cradled her arm as she continued to cry. Ziza chose that moment to stand to her shaky feet.
"You lying—" Ziza tried to grab onto Rashida’s neck. Her fingers had just wound themselves around her neck when, again, the Prince shoved her back.
"Guards!" He shouted and immediately two guards materialised as if out of thin air, ready to "escort" Ziza off the premises. Oh no, she was in trouble.
"Home wrecker." Rashida mouthed, smirking as prince Rafiq shielded her protectively and began leading her away. That was just one of the nicknames her and her posy used to call her whenever they picked on her.
Oh hell no, she thought.
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