It was apparent to all three of them — to Phei, to Noor, to Soraya — that everyone now knew precisely what had happened behind that locked door.
The main crew especially. Their looks came in flavours: envy from some, jealousy from others, and from a particular cluster of men, a hot black hatred aimed squarely at Phei, it was so much Phei was sure that it would have curdled milk at forty paces.
He could hardly blame them. Two women that beautiful did not move through a workplace without accumulating admirers, and somewhere in those crews were men who had spent weeks nursing quiet hopes and rehearsing casual conversations — and who had just learned, in the span of a single locked hour, exactly how those hopes had concluded.
He could practically hear the private little funerals being held.
'I am a very very bad man and bad news to men with beautiful girls and women, tragic for them, I love it!'
