The car ride back to the apartment with Tyler is silent. Laure, seated with her eyes practically pressed to the Vuber window, captures a blur of the last falling leaves attempting to penetrate the gray reality of city life. A beautiful day gone to shit. Nothing like being young and in love in New York City. Her own sarcasm makes her laugh unintentionally out loud.
“What’s funny?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Laure, I told you before, I don’t care what they want. I’m not marrying A.”
Noticing the driver checking them out in the rearview mirror, she doesn’t respond.
“Hey,” he takes her hand, “I love you.”
With those three small words, she’s undone. Turning towards him, his green eyes almost beyond reach, she’s desperately trying to bridge a gap of culture that would take centuries to unfold. “I know you do. That’s why this is so bat shit crazy.” Knowing Tyler is not the enemy, she moves on, “So, what’s her story, really?”
“A?” He sighs. “She’s an only child to a mother who desperately wanted a daughter and a father who desperately wanted a son. My aunt almost died giving birth to her and she could have no more children after that. My uncle, her father, was the eldest of all of my grandfather’s six sons, and he was thirty years older than her mother.” Anticipating Laure’s reaction to this, Tyler pauses; her silence a concern.
The car pulls up just shy of their apartment building, and they both get out. At the front door they are greeted by the entourage of doormen who are eager to break the monotony of their stations. The elevator ride is quiet, both of them restless, even as they settle on the couch.
“Go on,” Laure coaxes, curling her legs up under her. “It’s important I understand a little more about her.”
Tyler gives her the once over, then continues, “Like me, she was sent to boarding school. We saw each other during the holidays. She’s smart, funny and can be incredibly manipulative.”
“Ya think?”
“It’s a self-defense mechanism.”
“Really?”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he states, “Her parents died when she was ten.”
Laure is taken back a moment before she asks, “How did they die?”
“A car bomb.”
“Get the fuck out!”
“It’s true.” A silky smile appears as Laure’s candor delights him. “I remember when it happened, I was about fifteen. They were traveling in the Congo, overseeing some labor issues at a mine they owned when it happened.”
“They owned a mine?”
He nods, taking a sip of water.
“What type of mine?”
“They owned several but this particular one is in Rwanda. Originally it was a source of tin and gold, but now it’s mostly mined for tantalum.”
“Tantalum?”
“It’s a mineral used in capacitors and resistors for electronics and cell phones. They also use it in surgical equipment now. Anyway,” he sits back against the couch, “mining can be a dirty business.”
“In Africa? It’s more like slavery. In that area, I hear it’s a slaughterhouse. Haven’t you seen the documentaries? Most of the mining there propagates terrorism. They have women and children digging. Who are not paid!” Jersey leading the way, Laure catches herself.
“There is always a bad guy,” Tyler acquiesces.
That sits with her for a moment, Tyler’s father comes to mind. “So, did she live with one of the other uncles’ families?”
“No. Her family home was kept and when she wasn’t attending school she went home. On holidays she would visit with the rest of the family.”
“Then who raised her?”
His shoulders rise, “I don’t know. The staff. Her nanny when she was home, I guess.”
“Jesus!” Barely wrapping her brain around this dysfunction, she catches herself knowing Tyler was raised similarly after his mother died, so she doesn’t push.
“My grandfather was her guardian. When he died my uncles took over her trust and care.”
“She’s thirty. When will they leave her alone for Christ’s sake?”
“You need to understand Laure, the Adom money is all tied together. Like a hedge fund, except one person doesn’t oversee it. It’s divided among all five remaining brothers; each one maintaining their own individual component. A’s father oversaw mineral investments.”
Nodding her head, the picture becomes clearer. “So how do you figure into this?”
“I am the only son, of the only daughter. I have no controlling power over finance. I own property that was my mother’s and receive a dividend from my shares of the family-fund.” He pauses in thought that turns to a smirk, “But my grandfather changed the rules when he died,” he adds, his tone subtly amused. “The eldest living son, my Uncle Naguib should have inherited all of the family homes in Egypt. But my grandfather gave them to me instead, with all of their treasures inside.” He smacks his lips, placing the empty glass on the table.
Having shared a great deal of his life and childhood memories with her, Laure understands how close Tyler was to his grandfather, and how much time he spent with him. His homes in Amarna, Cairo, and Karnak, a world away, seem more like a dream than reality. They’ve talked about sailing the Nile on his dahabeeyah, another mythological treasure bequeathed to him, but she also knows he’s hesitant to return. Now she knows why. “How much of a stronghold do they have on you?”
He smiles, his green eyes simmering, “Like you said, it’s only money.”