Mila gave a serious nod and repeated the chancellor’s question in perfect English. The other interpreters leaned forward and whispered in the ears of their leaders. Some nodded. Some frowned, especially Tahjad. Others remained unmoved. Mila didn’t have time to take it all in, though. Questions were flying, discussion was raging, and Mila was whispering nonstop in the chancellor’s ear.
By the time the meeting was over, the sun was down and the guests were given an hour to conduct their own business before meeting in the dining hall where Mo and Dani were hosting dinner, celebrating the cuisine of Rahmi, Surman, and Tahjad. They were a small region along the Arabian Sea and very proud of their food.
Mila said goodbye to the chancellor at his room and headed to the room set aside for the interpreters. It was there they would be eating beforehand. During the dinner a few interpreters would sit out of the way and wait to be signaled if they were needed.
“Mila!” a loud, accented voice boomed. The room went quiet as forks clattered on dishes.
Mila relaxed and gave the old Frenchman her happiest smile. “Anton. It’s so nice to see you again. Did you help prepare dinner tonight?”
The six other interpreters decided it wasn’t interesting anymore and went back to eating as Mila picked up a plate. Anton sat next to her as a harried server filled her plate with wonderful-smelling food—so much better than the quick sandwich she was used to.
“I did,” Anton beamed. “And how is our Zain doing with his summit?”
The forks clattering stopped again. Gossip was clearly global.
“The summit is going well. I can’t say more than that. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do. My wife, that’s something different. She’ll be upset if I go home empty-handed. Now, hurry and eat. I know you don’t have much time.”
Mila turned back to the room. It was like high school. Surman and Tahjad were as far away from each other as possible. France was the popular one, as the men from Saudi Arabia and India hung on every word the woman said. That left the Philippines. Mila started toward them when they stood up with empty plates.
“Oh, I’m sorry, were you going to join us?” their interpreter asked.
“I was, but I can see you’re done. Maybe next time,” Mila smiled at the interpreter and the assistant.
“I look forward to it. See you soon,” the woman said politely before heading off.
Mila set her plate down at the empty table. The door to the room opened and Abby and Jackson entered. They spotted Mila and gave her a wave while Surman and Tahjad shot her matching glares from opposite sides of the room.
A minute later, Abby and Jackson took a seat at her table. “What are you all doing here? I mean, I'm thrilled to have someone to eat with . . .”
“We’re the two local guards for the dinner tonight so we have to eat while we can. Much like you. How is it going so far? That talk on cyber threats was intense,” Abby said before taking a bite of her dinner. “Too bad my brother wasn’t here for it. He likes all that kind of stuff.”
“Very, but Zain’s unorthodox meeting seems to be working. They got a lot accomplished,” Mila said, trying not to sound too proud. She didn’t have a claim to Zain, but she was proud of him regardless.
“Tomorrow is all about disease outbreaks and I heard that Piper is coming in on Wednesday. She’s been texting me nonstop, asking about the dignitaries here,” Jackson told her. It was nice. Mila felt included, like she was part of this crazy group of cousins and friends. Growing up, she had never been in one country more than three years or so; she never had a chance to experience friendship at that level. Yet, here she was only in town a couple of days, and she already felt rooted here.
“Did you hear?” Jackson smiled mischievously as he leaned forward. “The panty dropper hit again. This time it was a pink thong.”
Mila laughed out loud as everyone stopped and stared at her again, but she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t need to be the cool kid in the lunchroom. She had something better—friends.
“Where were they this time?”
“Henry Rooney, the local defense attorney, found them in the parking lot behind his law office.” Jackson’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement.
Abby groaned. “We’re never going to hear the end of it now. And really, panty dropper?”
“Henry coined it. Said just the thought of being close to him caused women to drop their panties,” Jackson said seriously before taking a bite of food.
Mila snorted. “Are you serious? Let’s not even mention how sexist that sounds.”
“You haven’t met Henry yet,” Abby said with a fond smile. Mila noticed she said yet as if she weren’t going to be gone on Thursday.
“Henry is the master of pickup lines. Bad ones. His wife, Neely Grace, just rolled her eyes when he asked her if she remembered her panties that morning. Addison is their daughter. She just finished her first year of law school and is filled with righteousness. She’s vowed to get her dad to stop his inappropriate comments. I put twenty on her failing at the café.” Jackson took another bite of his food as if this were a normal conversation.
“What?” Mila asked. Why would he pay the café twenty dollars?
“The betting pool at the café.”
Mila gasped. “I knew it!” She turned in her chair and glared at Anton who waved back at her. “What would Anton put twenty bucks on?”
Jackson looked to Abby who just shrugged.
“For or against?” Abby asked.
“For.”
“He bet that you and Zain would become a couple.”
“He did what?!” Mila shouted. Anton gave her a wink.
“Is that what all those odds are in the paper? The numbers in The Keeneston Journal weren’t Vegas odds—they were Keeneston odds. The café is running an illegal betting ring on people’s lives?” Mila asked.
“Legal . . . illegal,” Jackson said as he shook his hand to show it was a gray area.
“How did you two bet on me?” Mila asked after taking a calming breath.
“For,” they both said at the same time.
“What other bets are going on?” Now she was curious. She also wasn’t going to admit the excitement she felt that Zain’s friends thought they would date.
“The date Sienna and Sydney are going to get pregnant,” Abby told her.
“If Addison can reform her father,” Jackson snorted.
“Who the next person to get married is going to be,” Abby added.
“If Nikki will cause an international incident during the summit.” Jackson smirked.
“Nikki?” Mila asked.
“Have you heard of the Keeneston Belles?” Abby asked. When Mila nodded, she continued. “Nikki is their president, and how can I put this nicely?” Abby looked up to the ceiling and bit her lip.
“She’ll nail anything with two legs and money.” Jackson paused and thought for a moment. “Well, maybe I narrowed it down too much. I don’t know if two legs is a requirement.”
“She's always had her sights on Zain. She wants to be a princess,” Abby said with disgust.
Mila was stopped from saying anything that would come out sounding jealous when the door opened and Veronica came in to announce there were five minutes until dinner. Veronica sent Abby a wink before heading out, and Jackson snorted.
“What?” Abby asked.
“Nothing.” Jackson’s eyes were sparkling again. It was definitely not nothing. But then his eye went flat as he looked at his watch. “We gotta go. We’ll see you in there, Mila.”
“Thanks for the company,” Mila smiled up at them as they stood. She had to go, too.
Mila hurried up to the chancellor’s room and waited quietly in the hall. Soon enough, the door opened and it was time to get to work. And by work, she meant sitting in a chair trying not to look at Zain who was dashing in the same suit he’d worn all day. Some of the leaders had tried to dress up with military sashes and medals, but not Zain. She watched as he effortlessly commanded the table of men and women twice his age.