by Beena Khan
The Name of Red
Not everything beautiful is long lasting
A Beena Khan book
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead is purely entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Benish Khan
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information:
https://www.beenakhan.com
Cover design Les German Creative
In Chapter designs Mns Art Studio
Author Photograph Richard Hart
Cover Photographs Depositphotos
Editors Tamarind Hill Press and Goddess Fish
For public speaking, book events, and other publicity related matters.
Please contact
[email protected]
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Manufactured and Published in the United States of America
Literary Fiction, Contemporary Romance,
Book #1 (Red Series)
May 15, 2020
“A very talented writer. I would describe this as more of a literary novel. For some reason I was reminded of the French writer, Marguerite Duras. I really love the basic premise of the story – two people meeting over a shared love of reading - plus the subtle storytelling, and the character-driven nature! You’ve woven together an intriguing mystery. Considering it’s a debut book, I think you’ve done a great job.”
—Karen McKellar, Book Editor
“Your love of books shines through just in the first few pages. I think this book will really appeal to book lovers!”
—Stephanie Parent, Polgarus Studio Book Editor
“I love the exchange of books that leads to these characters meeting.There is a flowy, almost lyrical quality to the story. I feel drawn into the world.”
—Mary DeSantis, Book Editor
“I was in tears whilst reading the book. I mean literal tears. In general, I liked it – well, as much as you can like a novel that makes you cry. It’s odd that isn’t it? Why do we like novels and movies that make us cry?”
—Rosie, EditYourInk Book Editor
“I was immediately intrigued by the mysterious girl in the red dress who captured everyone's attention.”
—Christine W, Write my Wrongs Chief Book Editor
“The writing has a great hook, and you capture the reader’s attention from the start. With the very first chapter, it has a strong opening to the story. It’s very imaginative and colourful.”
—Julia, Bookspectra, Goodreads Review
“I like your writing style. It’s very easy to read, but at the same time creatively descriptive.”
—Katia Hernandez, Beta reader
“You've written an impressive piece of literature. This definitely reads like “serious literature” for me. It’s beautifully written with a unique premise, that is to be commended. I really loved the title of the novel as well. It created intrigue in the beginning but was quickly explained to us, so we didn’t end up lost in the intrigue.”
—Rachel Welsh, Reviewer
“I wanted to turn onto the next page with each scene, which flowed effectively to the next. My hubby had to actually make me come to bed.”
—Christine Miller, Book Reviewer
“There was no character concealer in the story, which is rare nowadays. It was a raw and intriguing read. This book made my quarantine bearable, as I was completely immersed in the story. I’m wondering what’ll happen to me now as I’m done reading it. If you like Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, you’ll like this book too as the story is based on second chances.”
—Samiya Sultana, Book Reviewer
“Me: “The perfect man doesn’t exist.
Kabir: “Hold my beer.”
I was around the 75% mark when I realised that I was essentially reading a Nicholas Sparks novel. Each character, Kabir, Red and Aryan, all deal with their own inner emotional turmoil, and all very different, that they have to come to grips with by the end. It moves beyond romance and friendship, and at the core of it, it’s about dealing with our own personal demons.”
-—Sophia Ismaa, Book Reviewer
Dedicated to the love of my life, Yahya.
This is my debut novel. It is special to me because it is based on a fantasy, a dissociation I had due to my illness. It was a two-minutes-fantasy, but it felt very real to me.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Afterword
Translations
Chapter 1
The restaurant Ferdaus was filled with a buzzing crowd.
The smoke around the people twisted and formed curls, illuminated under the bar lights. The atmosphere was a hazy cloud, lingering against their clothes. Several people came in seeking shelter from the pouring rain outside. The customers of the restaurant turned to look at the entrance door-bell jingling. They glanced at the large crowd coming as the glass door was pulled open, and they watched as someone new stepped in behind them.
The woman walked into the bar for the first time in the winter rain.
She didn’t have an umbrella on her; her little sleeveless dress ended at her ankles, fully drenched. Her wet dress clung to her body, showing the outlines of her curves. In one hand, she carried the skirt of her dress. Suddenly, she let it go, and one long, bare arm moved upward as she tried to fix her damp hair which had darkened in intensity due to the rain. It fell past her shoulders, the strands sticking to her face. She attempted to comb through the tangles with her fingertips.
The men watched her movements hungrily, their eager faces drawn to her and at the sight of someone new. Their eyes trailed from her face, to her wet body, then back to the movements of her hands entwined in her hair. Under her other arm, she carried a book and a trench coat. It appeared strange she wasn't wearing the coat when it was pouring outside and freezing in the middle of November.
Men were mesmerized by her, and she turned heads as she walked by. Something radiated from within her, drawing the men around her in. The women who were with some of these men noticed their gaze on the unfamiliar woman. Now they stared at her with jealousy and anger.
Who is she? they wondered.
T
he woman in red held her head high and waltzed in an effortless manner of someone a decade older. She walked into the bar with an uncommonly confident stride, ignoring all the patrons' stares. Seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world, she took a seat on one of the bar stools. She was tall, maybe five-foot-seven. Her white heels added to her height, their clicking in sync with the background music playing in the room. Her dress dripped with rainwater as it made small puddles below her heels. People near her noticed a long, deep scar starting on her left shoulder that went downward hidden behind the soaked fabric of her dress.
The men watched with fascination as she opened a book and bowed her head in it. It looked like she was avoiding the crowd, and she appeared to want to blend in. It was impossible though since she’d already caught the attention of her audience by simply standing out in her red dress. She ordered a vodka on the rocks from the bartender who glanced at her with curiosity. He didn't appear to recognize her since she wasn’t a local.
It was as if she didn’t have a care in the world, and she just wanted to live in blissful peace alone with her booze.
❖
Kabir was busy wiping tables in the back lounge of the restaurant, when he jumped on hearing the thunder rumbling outside.
He gazed through the glass windows; it was drizzling, and the rain showed no signs of coming to an end anytime soon. He watched as the servers walked around him to reach the customers in the restaurant section.
It was then that Kabir saw her for the first time.
His eyes automatically were drawn to her red dress that dripped water, and then to her slick, naked back that was exposed. Her face was hidden partly by her arm that was resting on the nook of her neck. His eyes moved to look at the book that she was holding.
Was she reading when it started to rain? he wondered. Only a lunatic would purposefully soak their book.
She turned her face slightly toward the bartender as she appeared to order her drink. Kabir gazed around the restaurant and was amused at how the men around her took in her ivory skin and her willowy frame. He wondered what color her eyes were. He couldn’t tell from the distance he was at.
Like everyone else, even he thought now, Who is she?
He’d never seen her in the neighborhood before.
Night after night, she began to frequent the restaurant, primarily the bar. She sat at the same spot but in different dresses. Each night, she had several drinks, downing one after the other. Given her attractiveness, it was no surprise men approached her, but she didn't speak much to anyone besides the bartender, and then only to order more drinks.
Kabir wondered if her behavior sprung from arrogance or if she just didn’t want to speak to anyone.
Maybe it’s because she’s a true New Yorker.
He overheard the conversation from the table near him. The young college students were betting on who would get “Red’s” number first.
Red, huh? He doubted that was her real name.
A young man approached her, one of the regulars. Kabir crossed his arms against his chest and smiled.
Oh, this should be good.
He couldn’t hear much of the conversation since he was at a distance, but he did hear a feminine, soft voice say, “Go away kid. I could be your mom.”
Kabir laughed out loud, and he caught the attention of the locals around him. He gave a small, apologetic smile and pointed toward his work earpiece. They didn’t need to know who he watched.
The young, rejected man returned to his seat, walking away from the woman who could be his mother's age.
She looks only twenty-five. She was probably being sarcastic.
His friends threw their heads back and howled like little children. The poor, rejected guy didn’t speak for the remainder of the night because he was embarrassed.
Kabir pitied him.
At the end of the night, the place was empty. Kabir realized when she came, the room always buzzed with energy at her arrival. When she vacated, something was missing. He sat down on the stool at the bar and ordered a Red Bull for himself. The bartender walked over to him and spoke with him.
“What’s up?” Aryan asked.
“Who’s that woman who always comes to the bar?” Kabir asked.
Aryan grinned. “So, Red has charmed you too?”
Kabir shrugged, a smile played at his lips. “She’s already got a name?”
“No one knows her name so the guys started calling her Red,” Aryan said.
“The red dress,” Kabir commented.
Aryan was quiet as he studied him. Then he spoke again, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a girl who has caught your attention.”
“I’m just curious,” Kabir admitted.
“She doesn’t talk much to me, my friend, so I don’t know her name.”
Kabir slapped his palm against his forehead. “You’re a useless friend.”
Aryan sighed as he crossed his arms across his chest. “She doesn’t talk to anyone at all.”
Kabir was silent. He didn’t know how to approach her since he had a feeling she wouldn’t talk to him, not after she’d dismissed all the men surrounding her. He was awkward when he tried to talk to women which was typically why he steered clear of their way.
“I only know that she loves vodka and reading,” Aryan offered.
Kabir glanced up, and he realized he had an idea in his head. He grinned and said, “For a shitty friend, you're a genius.”
Aryan looked up, confused and asked, “What are you thinking?”
Kabir remained silent and with a smile, he ordered another Red Bull.
Chapter 2
As she walked toward the restaurant, she noticed the thick blanket of white everywhere. It peeked out from below her feet and the footprints in front of her. The wind howled and blew her hair backward. She wore her thin jacket over her clothes, and she walked bent over in the snow, protecting her eyes with her arms against the cold.
This is what I get for not wearing a thicker coat, she thought. I freeze my ass off.
She saw frosted snow on the building’s doors when she reached her destination. She stood outside the restaurant Ferdaus, the name meaning “heaven” in Arabic. The logo of Ferdaus was illuminated and glowed in the darkness. The two-story building was painted black and blue with a small waterfall at the entrance. She wanted to reach out and touch the falls, but the glass blocked her.
She walked up the stairs to the entrance and headed straight toward the bar. For the past month, she’d come to the bar late in the evening and typically stayed past midnight. Sometimes, she even lingered until the morning, just before dawn. She liked the crowds, there was something magical about them and being one of many. It helped ease the loneliness in her heart and soul. At that moment, she felt free and unified with everyone.
Most of the time, she began by reading a book, but often, by midnight she’d have a hard time focusing because she had gotten drunk and became oblivious by then. She noticed the stares she received. She knew she was attractive, and she was reading in a bar. People probably thought she was strange to come to a bar where people socialized to read instead, but she didn’t care. She found comfort in her own company.
She hadn’t planned on coming into the bar originally. It was raining the first night she came in. She came in to hide from the rain but ended up staying. She liked it now. The bar was walking distance from her apartment.
She had easy access to booze.
Lots and lots of booze.
She didn’t want to stay home, a home that was gloomy and empty. She didn’t like quiet areas as quietness haunted her.
The bartender placed her drink, in front of her. She eyed the amber liquid and the golden glow of the glass-like cubes in her cocktail. Sometimes, she ordered whiskey mixed with vodka because she liked the amber color, otherwise she preferred vodka. The bartender called it New York Whisk. She was entranced by the mini icebergs in the glass. She reached for her drink with her slim, long fingers.
Alcohol
.
The elixir of her life.
The strong tonic was the only cure to her life. She lifted the drink to her lips, and the taste burned her tongue and throat.
She put down her drink, opened her book and began to read. She loved the crinkling sound the pages made as she turned them and the look of a good, worn book with yellowing papers. The smell of both old and new books was comforting, and she usually had a book in her purse wherever she went and finished one every night. She lost track of her drinks when she read and usually didn’t get up from her seat until she finished her book. It was a great barrier against men, a smart technique to avoid them and appear disinterested.
One day, she came ten minutes after seven in the evening, later than her usual time. Only a few people were seated at the bar, not loners like her, but men chatting with each other. The bar was in the shaded area of the restaurant, and its walls were painted blue, as if wanting to inspire calm. The long table in front of the bar stool was painted black. The bartender didn't let anyone else sit in her spot, since she was one of his best paying customers.
Aryan seemed like a nice guy.
He hadn't made advances toward her ever since she started going to the bar. It was a surprise to her, that she had no effect on him.
If she did, he hadn’t shown it.
Maybe he’s being a perfect employee and not flirting with customers, she thought.
She glanced down as she took her seat and found a book on the table. It was The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri. She hadn’t read that one yet, but it was on her winter reading list. She removed her jacket and rubbed her hands together to warm them. Then, she looked around her, wondering who'd left the book.
From her seat, she had a view of the entrance and noticed the restaurant was full. The noise and smoke levels were high, but it didn't bother her. She didn’t care. The crowd was primarily young with either university students who had stopped by after classes or professionals on dates or with their friends.
