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I have something you would find even more interesting. A very fine rug, made entirely by hand in Siwah. We keep it in the back room, just over here.” He gestured to a plain metal door in the back wall.
    I lifted my eyebrows. Go into a back room with a guy who made used-car salesmen seem blasé? Who made sharks circling a carcass seem soft and cuddly? No way, no how, not even if he was now my fiancé.
    “No, I don’t think so. What about this rug? How much is it?”
    “But this other is made in Siwah,” he stressed. His smile faded. The mild enjoyment I’d experienced at his flirting was replaced by a little tickle of uneasiness. I looked around for Kyla and caught sight of her beside DJ and Nimmi, laughing as he haggled for a rug. Ridiculous to be nervous in such a public place, I told myself.
    “ La , shokrun ,” I said firmly. “No, thank you. I can’t buy anything, and I need to join my friends now.”
    He gave me a very hard look. “You misunderstand. You should come with me now.”
    I took a swift step back, no longer amused. He stepped forward grimly, but at that moment Alan Stratton appeared beside me. He gave me an encouraging smile and turned an inquiring eye on the salesman. I was so glad to see him that I clutched his arm, which felt warm and hard under my cold fingers. Surprised, he automatically covered my hand with his own. It felt really good. I left it there.
    The salesman instantly transformed back into the smiling boy he’d been a few minutes earlier. “Ah, your boyfriend is here. Perhaps you would like to buy a beautiful rug for your beautiful lady, sir?”
    “I don’t want a flipping rug!” I snapped, my voice sounding shrill even in my own ears.
    “Ah, then I thank you very much for your attention,” said the boy. And never taking his eyes off Alan, he backed away and then darted off.
    I gave a sigh of relief and then reluctantly released his arm. He looked down at me with a little grin. “Flipping?”
    “Didn’t mean to offend you,” I said, hoping I wasn’t blushing. I couldn’t swear in front of my students, so over the years I’d acquired a slew of milder expressions that occasionally popped out in my real life.
    He laughed outright at that, then glanced after the salesman. “He looked like he was getting pretty intense.”
    “Yes, and thank you for stepping in. Everybody warned me that the haggling here could be overwhelming, but I had no idea. He actually wanted me to go into the back room. It was creepy.” Very creepy. Surely that wasn’t a normal part of the ordinary rug-buying experience. It bothered me.
    Alan didn’t seem to think it too strange. “Part of the culture, I suppose,” he was saying. “It’s just something you have to get used to. Look at DJ. He loves it. He’s going to have to buy another suitcase for all the junk he keeps buying.”
    I couldn’t help smiling. DJ apparently was an inveterate haggler. This was the fourth time I’d seen him at it today. While the rest of us scurried past the vendors with eyes lowered and teeth clenched, DJ swooped in with a huge smile and with vigorous gestures haggled for all he was worth. On at least two occasions, a little crowd gathered to watch because DJ was very loud and his performance impressive. He towered over the hapless salesman, as he towered over most people, and a casual observer might think the match was weighted heavily in his favor. But the Egyptian vendors were tenacious and experienced and enjoyed the contest as much as DJ. He always returned in triumph, holding some tacky knickknack like a trophy, but the vendor also seemed quite pleased. Here at the carpet shop, the quality of the objects, as well as the prices, were considerably higher, but the contest was the same. DJ was very loud; Nimmi, tugging at his sleeve and whispering in his ear, was very quiet; and the salesman gesticulated wildly as though in agony. At last, though, DJ gave a triumphant smile, and two men rolled up a large carpet