Silicon Valley Sweetheart (2 page)

O
h shit
, I thought as our cab pulled in front of my uncle’s brownstone.

“It looks like my uncle is home. The lights are on, so he must be waiting up for me. You two had better go home.” I tried to play it off as though it was nothing to be worried about, but I could feel my heart racing as I stepped out of the car.

“You’re 21 years old. Doesn’t your uncle realize that?” Amanda asked.

“Well... he’s a bit old-fashioned. I’ll call you in the morning,” I said, and got out of the cab.

I trudged up the walkway, dreading going inside. I put my key in the lock and guardedly opened the door. The silence was deafening. I picked up on the anger in my uncle’s eyes the moment I saw him.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m heading to bed. Have a nice evening.” I tried to walk toward my bedroom as though I didn’t notice how angry he was.

He got up from his chair and started to walk towards me. He hesitated. He shook his head, took a deep breath and then bellowed, “Where the hell have you been, Shirin!”

I had never seen him this angry. His whole demeanor frightened me.

“I went out with my friends Amanda and Emily. It was sort of a going away party for me.” I tried to stay calm. I knew how my uncle could sometimes overreact in situations like this. Still, he’d never been this upset before.

“Have you been out drinking?” he shouted.

“Yes. I’m 21 years old. That’s the legal drinking age in the state of New York. I only had a few drinks at a nightclub before coming home. It's not like I was driving or anything. My friends were with me the whole time.”

I was leaving for San Francisco in the morning. How could he not believe I was capable of acting like a responsible adult?

His brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell me you were going out. Why? What else were you doing tonight?”

“Absolutely nothing!” I shouted.

“You’re out late drinking and you expect me to believe you’re not hiding anything? I don’t believe you.”

He looked at me like he was waiting for me to back down. I just stared at him.

“You are an embarrassment. An embarrassment to me... an embarrassment to your family... and an embarrassment to yourself!”

I couldn’t believe how much my uncle had overreacted. He’d lived in this country for nearly 20 years. Surely by now, he could have figured out that going out with friends is what everyone here does.

“I didn’t do anything wrong! All I did was go to Club Nine with a couple of girlfriends. All my friends do that. I don’t see what the big deal is.” I knew this would upset him further, but he needed to understand I’m not a child. I’m an adult, and I can make good decisions without him having to look over my shoulder at every turn.

“I will not have you embarrass me while you are staying in my house. I agreed to take you in out of respect for my brother. You have been nothing but an annoyance since day one.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Since I got here, I had tried extremely hard not to overstay my welcome. I had done everything I could to help out around the house. Even though I was working full-time and going to school, I did all the cooking, grocery shopping and cleaning for him. Never once did he say “thank you” to me.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way. The only thing I did tonight was go to a nightclub with my two best friends and have a couple of drinks. It’s not like I had sex with a random stranger in a bathroom stall.” I thought it would be better not to divulge that having random sex with a stranger had come up as a possibility.

“Uncle, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m going to bed now. I will see you in the morning.”

As I started to head to my room, he grabbed my shoulder. Shaking me, he shouted, “Who do you think you are coming into my home, acting like a common whore? I won’t stand for your wonton ways, wandering around all hours of the night. It’s a disgrace!”

I didn’t know what to say to him. I just stared at him in disbelief.

He was silent for a moment and then he roared, “You are no longer welcome in my home. Get out now!” He pointed to the door.

“Uncle, I just went out with some friends. It was no big deal. Please be reasonable.”

I could see the fury in his eyes. He just stared at me as he slowly walked towards me.

I felt my stomach knotting up, but I stood my ground.

When he was right in front of me, we stared at each other eye to eye.

“Get. Out. Of. My. House. Now!” He was so mad, a spray of saliva spewed from his mouth.

Before I knew what happened, he raised his hand to me. As the back of his hand hit the right side of my face, I stumbled.

I was shocked. This was the first time he had ever hit me.

My uncle didn’t say anything. He just stormed over to his desk and pulled out a manila envelope from the drawer. Looking me in the eye, he threw it at me, and shouted, “Here is a one-way ticket back to Tehran. Go home! I won’t deal with you any longer. You’re no longer my problem. Return to your father. You’re his problem now. You had better hope the authorities don’t put you in jail where you belong once you get back to Iran. You’re an indecency.”

I had no idea that he had purchased an airline ticket for me. This didn’t make any sense to me at all. How long had he been planning to send me back home?

My heart sank just thinking about what going back home would mean—it would have probably meant I never could pursue my dream of becoming an engineer. All of the work my father and I put toward me becoming an engineer would go down the drain.

Happy that I had finished packing before going out, I frantically gathered up my stuff. Before walking out the door, I placed the manila envelope on the kitchen table with my key to the house. I grabbed my bags and ran out of my uncle’s brownstone.

Once outside, I didn’t even think about which direction to take. I just started walking. My blood was boiling. All I wanted was to get away.

I hailed the first cab I saw. The driver got out of the car and put my luggage in the trunk. I jumped in as fast as I could.

“To JFK, please,” I said, without looking back. Once we were on our way, I let out a long sigh, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. I couldn’t get to the airport fast enough. Tears started to sting my eyes. I never expected this night to turn out so badly.

The good news was, in less than 24 hours, I would be in California, far away from my uncle and ready to start my new life.

Or so I thought…

O
nce I got
to the airport, time passed very slowly. I wandered around, but nothing was open, yet. I tried to close my eyes to get some sleep, but my adrenaline level was too high. The fight I’d had with my uncle kept replaying in my mind.

My stomach started growling a bit. I was relieved to see a diner in the terminal open up. I grabbed my stuff and made my way to the counter. The waitress came over and poured me a cup of coffee. Not having slept, it helped perk me up a little bit.

As I was eating my bacon and eggs, my phone beeped with a text from Emily:

Everything ok at home?

I let out a sigh and responded to her.

No, my uncle was super mad. He kicked me out. I’m at the airport now. I can’t wait to get out of here. California here I come…

Awww... It will be ok. He’ll get over it in a few days. Sorry I couldn’t take you to the airport. Be safe! I’ll miss you. Oh... and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do .

I did have great friends. It was nice of Emily to be concerned for me.

I had no idea what had gotten into my uncle. Up until now, he had been pretty cool. I felt sad things ended the way they did last night. Even though I may have been wrong for not letting him know I was going to be out late, he had no excuse to hit me. That was completely unacceptable. The way I felt at that moment, never would have been too soon to see him again.

I picked at the food on my plate, deep in thought. How I wished my father could be here. I picked up my phone and sent him a text message:

Hi, Daddy. I’m at the airport getting ready to leave for Stanford. Thank you for all you did to make this possible. Tell everyone I love them.

I had no idea if my uncle had called my father, or not. I didn’t care. My parents sent me to the United States so I could have a better life. They didn’t really expect me to stay home knitting slippers every Friday night.

Taking the bill from the waitress, I gasped when I saw the total was $18.96. That much for a plate of eggs, bacon and hash browns? Highway robbery if you ask me. I pulled out my debit card and handed it to her. “I’ll be right back,” she said, hurrying away.

I looked down at the newspaper I’d picked up in the terminal. On the society pages, there was a picture of some Silicon Valley rich kid’s crashed car. The whole thing was engulfed in flames. The headline read, “
Billionaire Bad Boy Mark Woodham’s Fiery Crash”. Boy, some people have got it so easy
, I thought.

I was lost in thought when I heard a voice. “So, we meet again.”

I looked up to see the handsome guy I’d met in the bar last night.

“Shirin, isn’t it?”

“Strange man from nightclub, isn’t it?” I hoped the makeup I’d put on the bruise from my uncle’s backhand would hide it. Nervously, I pulled my hair down, trying to make sure he couldn’t see it.

I looked around for my waitress. I didn’t want to deal with this man again today. I hoped she would be back soon.

“May I sit down?” he asked, pointing to the seat next to me.

“It’s a free country. I was just leaving, anyway.”

Or was it really a free country? It isn’t when you have an over-protective uncle who doesn’t believe a girl can go out to a nightclub without fucking more than one man—or animals if they happened to be around.

Sitting down, he grabbed the newspaper I was looking at and folded it over. It was clear he wasn’t going to leave me alone. Couldn’t this guy take a hint?

“I think we got off on the wrong foot last night. Can we start again? Hi, my name is Mark. Nice to meet you.”

Before I could respond, the waitress walked up and handed the black folio with my bill back to me. With a huff, she said, “Your card wouldn’t go through. Do you have another one?”

I looked at her incredulously. “What do you mean it wouldn’t go through? There’s plenty of money in the account. Try it again,” I said, handing it back to her. My heart started to race. My card had never been declined before.

She laid it back on the table. “I did. The bank said there were insufficient funds. You’ll need to pay a different way.” She had an irritating, matter-of-fact tone of voice.

I had no idea why my card wasn’t accepted. It worked fine in the taxi last night. Frantically, I started looking through my purse for cash. I don’t usually carry much and I had spent most of it last night. I knew I should have gone to the ATM yesterday afternoon.

Mark smiled at me. Picking up the bill before I could stop him, he said, “Please, allow me. I was a bit of a jerk last night. Let me make it up to you. It’s the least I can do.” Before I could respond, the waitress scurried off with Mark’s credit card.

“Well, my plane should be boarding soon,” I said, picking up my stuff. “Thank you for paying for my breakfast. If you’ll give me your business card, I’ll send a check to repay you.”

He reached into his jacket pocket. Holding his card out to me, he said, “I’ll give it to you, but only if you promise that you’ll call me.”

“We’ll see about that.” I took the card from his hand. I wasn’t ever going to call. I just wanted to get away from him. Hopefully, he would leave me alone if I accepted his business card. I needed his contact info so I could repay him, anyway. It’s the right thing to do.

“Thank you. I have to get to my gate now,” I said, wheeling my carry-on toward the plane.

I
walked
to my gate and sat down on a chair. A lot of people were starting to gather around, so I knew we must be boarding soon. I pulled out my phone to check my banking app. I wanted to see why my debit card had been declined. I swiped the quick balance button. I couldn’t believe it. $0. WTF!!! Where had all of my money gone? I had $53,904 in the account yesterday. I had been saving that money since I was in high school.
There has to be some kind of mistake.

I opened the app to see the transactions that had been made. I saw a transfer posted today for the full account balance. I pressed the ‘speak with us now’ button and my phone dialed the bank. My voice was shaking as I asked the customer service rep about the transfer.

“According to our records, a transfer was initiated at the request of Farid Pahlavi,” the customer service rep said.

“What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. “How could he do that? It’s not his money!”

“Please hold while I verify some information.” The bank’s music began to play. My heart was racing frantically.

Suddenly, I remembered that my uncle had cosigned for me. I was only 16 when I opened the account. He told me the bank wouldn’t let me open it on my own since I was still considered a minor. It never occurred to me that I should have taken him off the account once I turned 18.

The customer service rep came back on the line. “Well ma’am, I have checked, and Farid Pahlavi is listed as an authorized user of this account.” The world seemed to slow down upon hearing this.

“Yes, he’s on the account. He cosigned for me when I was 16. But it’s not his money! I need you reverse the transfer.” I was frantic at this point.

“I’m sorry ma’am, you’ll need to contact the bank the money was transferred to. We have no way of reversing this transaction.”

“But... but... there has to be something you can do!” It felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“No ma’am. I cannot do anything to reverse the transfer. Is there anything else I can do to help you today?”

“Yes! I need you to put the money back in
my
bank account.”

“I’m sorry ma’am. That’s not possible. The request was initiated by an authorized user of this account. I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. Will there be anything else I can help you with today?”

“No.”

“Well thank you for calling Northerly Bank.”

My heart sank. How could this even be happening? My head was starting to hurt.

The gate agent announced that they would begin calling passengers to the plane. I picked up my stuff and headed toward the passenger boarding bridge. As I was waiting in line to get on the plane, my phone dinged that I’d received an email. I opened it. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I read this message from Stanford:

I couldn’t even believe what I was reading. How was this even possible? How could they revoke my financial aid? Even if I somehow found a way to come up with the money my uncle had taken from me, what’s to say there would still be a spot for me when I applied to Stanford again? Tears filled my eyes as I saw my dreams going down the drain. How was I ever going to find a way to get the money I needed within ten days?

Mark walked up to me. He looked concerned. “Is everything OK?” he asked.

“Not really. I just need to get to my seat,” I said, turning away from him. I hoped he hadn’t noticed the tears in my eyes. I was relieved the gate agent called my boarding group.

As soon as I got situated, I pulled out my headphones hoping some music would distract me. My dream was becoming a nightmare. How could this day get any worse?

My phone dinged that another new email message had come through. Reluctantly, I picked it up to see who the message was from. It was from the committee that had awarded me my scholarship.

This couldn’t really be happening. I picked up my phone and texted my uncle:

What are you doing to me?

I stared at the phone waiting for a response. I knew he probably wouldn’t reply, but I was just so angry, that I didn’t know what else to do.

The flight attendant came up to me and asked me to turn off my cell phone so we could prepare for take-off. I put my phone back in my purse and shut my eyes, praying this was just a really bad dream that I would eventually wake up from. The engines roared as the plane took off, but I didn’t even look out the window to see the New York skyline getting further and further away.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a voice:

“Excuse me for bothering you. Would you mind trading seats with me so that I can sit with my friend here?” It was Mark talking to the guy next to me. “I’m seated up in first class. You’re welcome to have my seat there if I can sit here.”

I silently begged,
Please don’t let him sit next to me.

The guy who had been sitting there didn’t hesitate to make the trade. Pulling his carry-on from the overhead compartment, he said thank you to Mark.

I looked up at Mark. “What are you doing?”

“You seemed upset. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Everything is just fine. Now please go back to your seat and leave me alone.” I looked out the window to avoid his gaze.

“Well, considering I just gave mine up, it would appear this is my seat, so I’ll just sit down.” He made himself comfortable and adjusted his seat belt. I feared this was going to be a long flight.

“Suit yourself. As long as you leave me alone for the next five and a half hours.” I closed my eyes like I was going to sleep, praying that he would take a hint.

“Don’t they bring any beverages back here?” Mark said, raising his arm to press the call flight attendant button. Clearly, he was used to flying first-class. It takes time for the flight attendants to begin beverage service. I ignored his comment about it taking a while for them to come.

When she got there, he asked for a Bloody Mary. Looking over at me, he asked, “What would you like?”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Hemlock. Do you happen to have any of that?”

“Please bring us both Bloody Marys,” he said to the flight attendant. He looked at me and said, “Oh, it can’t be that bad. Why don’t you have a drink with me and tell me about all your troubles.”

“My life is falling apart right now. That is all.” I pretended to be looking for something in my purse so he would leave me alone.

“What do you mean?”

I’d probably never see this guy again, anyway. What difference would it make if I shared my problems with him?

“Well, I have been working since I was 16 years old to save money to go to Stanford. How many 16-year-olds do you know who work 30-40 hours per week plus go to school? After I graduated from high school, I worked two jobs while I went to college at night to make my dream possible…”

“I see,” he said. I kept waiting for him to offer some ill-advised solution, but he only listened to me intently.

The flight attendant came back with two cans of tomato juice and two small bottles of vodka. As I reached over to grab the can, I couldn’t help but notice how sexy Mark was. It’s probably best that I didn’t allow anything to happen last night. My life is complicated enough right now. Why did his eyes have to be so blue? It was like they were magnets drawing me toward them.

“As you may have ascertained from what happened earlier, there is no money in my checking account. My uncle has taken it all.”

“How can he do that?”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, apparently since he cosigned for it, and I never took him off of the account, he is legally allowed to rob me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s what the bank said, anyway.”

Mark listened to me, shaking his head the whole time. I could tell he was shocked that this could happen.

“And then, I get an email this morning from Stanford saying they’ve revoked my financial aid. On top of that, the organization that awarded me a scholarship has rescinded their offer. No explanation. Just a ‘We’re sorry... have a nice life...’