Hidden

”We’re here with Daniyal.” The face retreated, the panel slid closed, then opened again, “Who?” “Daniyal, she said a little bit louder.” Voices came from inside as the door opened. “It’s okay, they’re with us.” Two adults, one with a mug filled with a golden liquid, the other with something darker. All of them exchanged greetings. He motioned for the two girls to enter, and followed after them, looking around.

The sky was clear, the stars twinkling in the darkness. It was a cool winter night, not too cold, a little chilly. He stuck his hands in his pockets after shaking those of the others. He could hear the soft noises of conversation, lights in the single story house in front of him. Huge lawn that was adjacent to them, he could barely see it through the bushes that guarded it. The air was tasteless, hushed. Finger on its lips. 

They walked through an opening in the bushes, and into the lawn. Big. Big enough. Two tables carelessly placed. Or maybe very thoughtfully. One by the entrance. One a little further away. They would be coming to that second one later that night. It was empty now. On the first table sat a few men, some with cigarettes in their hands, and glasses in front of them in varying stages of emptiness. Most everyone had a glass in front of them. They were talking in low voices, calm, soothing. Not raucous and obnoxious like most everyone else he had to deal with on a daily basis. 

In through the door, and at the entrance, they met two more young adults, who led them to a room inside. A drawing room that had been turned into a bar. He was shocked, this place was incredible. Seating areas, at least four different ones, one by the TV, nice sofa, many chairs, another on the other corner to that. One by the far corner of the room, and the one they could not see from the entrance. That was where they came and stopped. All the while, his host was talking. Cheery, non stop.

They sat down on the tall stools by this last spot, a polished wooden bar between them and the man on the other side of the counter. He was dressed plainly, a little short, a mustache perfectly suited on his lips. Eyes quick. Stocky build. “What can I get you?” Behind him, shelves lined with different kinds of alcohol, a fridge with different beers. “Help them bro, they are my guests.” “The man nodded in deference, and then returned his attention to them. His host asked for some drinks, and they waited as he poured them out. She was talking, “Do you want to say anything?” she asked him, he laughed. He had been laughing throughout, this was his default. “Your friend,” one of the adults, Sadiq, who had met them at the entrance, placed a special emphasis on the friend, “doesn’t talk much. Does he keep laughing?” He uttered a firm indignant reply and kept laughing. Drinks were placed in front of them.