She sent what they had to Charlie by computer, and he called her two hours later.
“My God, Blaise, what did you do to the guy? You had him eating out of the palm of your hand.” It was even better than he had hoped. Bin Sabur had looked completely smitten with Blaise.
“Not exactly, and I’m not sure how honest he was with me. Like about his brother, and on a number of other subjects, but he gave a great interview.”
“You got a great interview out of him. He didn’t just sit there and spill his guts, you pulled it out of him like silk scarves out of a magician’s hat. Lady, you are good.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the compliment, and even she had to admit it had gone well. She was anxious to see it for herself. “He gave me a diamond bracelet too, from Cartier,” she said with a giggle.
“Did you sleep with him?” Charlie sounded shocked, and worried. He didn’t want her getting arrested for something she shouldn’t do, but Blaise was too smart for that.
“Of course not. It was a gift to thank me for the interview, when it was over. He’s actually a nice guy, and very flirtatious. I let him take me to dinner. And after that I came back to my room.”
“Well, lock your door in case he shows up tonight. He looked like he wanted more on the feed I just saw. Guys don’t give diamond bracelets for nothing.”
“Guys in the States expect to get laid if they feed you dinner. At least here they hand out diamond bracelets. It’s a better deal,” she teased, but she was in good spirits. She had had fun with him, and he made her feel young and sexy again. Not having a man in her life for four years since Andrew made her feel as though she were no longer a woman at times, and wonder if she ever would be again.
“Just be careful until you leave. I don’t want to have to get you out of jail, if you break any laws. Or look for you in Riyadh if he kidnaps you.”
“He won’t. He admitted on camera tonight that he has three wives, and I’m older than he is, by about ten years.”
“So? That didn’t seem to be slowing him down, neither your age nor his wives. Besides, I think they’re allowed three or four, or five.”
“Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll be home tomorrow. And this was good for him too. It gives him great PR in the States. It was a win-win for us both, and I got a diamond bracelet on top of it. I’d say Dubai was a success.”
“Just get your ass home. I’ll feel better when you’re back in New York.” She would too, but she had enjoyed it and was pleased it had gone well. As it often was in the life she led, interviewing fascinating subjects, it was more than just work. Sometimes it was magic, when it clicked. And it had. Perfectly.
She didn’t hear from Mohamed bin Sabur again before she left, and she left her thank you note to him at the front desk to be delivered to his hotel, and she caught her flight back to New York. She felt a little bit like Cinderella after the ball. But instead of losing a slipper, she had a beautiful Cartier bracelet on her wrist and smiled every time she looked at it on the way home. She arrived in New York after the fourteen-and-a-half-hour flight, and she was back in her apartment three days after she had left. And both interviews looked fantastic when she saw them at work the next day. All of her producers were thrilled. It had gone particularly well. And Charlie made sure he checked out the bracelet when he saw her and looked impressed.
“I’ll bet you hear from him when he’s in New York.”
“I doubt it. Saudi men just give very generous gifts. Believe me, it doesn’t mean a thing.”
“I gave my wife a Cuisinart for our tenth anniversary,” Charlie said, looking at her. “I didn’t give her a bracelet like that.” She laughed.
“That’s why I’m not married anymore. I’d rather buy my own Cuisinart. You’re not supposed to give household appliances, Charlie, after ten years.”
“She likes to cook,” he said, looking miffed.
Blaise’s first day back went well, but the time differences caught up with her that night. She went to bed at eight o’clock and fell asleep in five minutes, and she was up at five the next morning, in time to see the sun rise, as she went over some research for interviews she was doing the following week. She was still thinking about going to California to cover the UCLA shooting, but the story seemed a little cold now. Pat Olden was still in a coma, and the doctors were no longer sure he’d come out of it, nor what his brain function would be if he did. It was tragic but not necessarily newsworthy anymore, it was just sad.