Ahmed Mir - The prince of Egypt

By Raquel Pagno

Deborah Gianluppi has just been fired from one of the largest construction companies in the country. Seeing her dreams crumble, along with the sustainable condominium building she had designed, and embarrassed by the professional failure before the Italian mob looking big shot Dr. Victor Hugo, there’s no alternative for her but to accept an unwonted proposal of a gentleman that wants to escape the war in Egypt. 

    Without speaking the Portuguese language very well nor having a great understanding of Brazilian culture, the mysterious Ahmed Mir needs a permanent visa to remain in Brazil. The quickest solution, and the only viable one, is to find a Brazilian woman who will accept to be the wife of a complete stranger and endure the bad mood of his friend and faithful companion Aban. In a surprising and hilarious way, destiny gets them both together with a common goal: find love and true happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Jun 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386195313

Book preview

Ahmed Mir - The Prince of Egypt

Raquel Pagno

Summary:

Deborah Gianluppi has just been fired from one of the largest construction companies in the country. Seeing her dreams crumble, along with the sustainable condominium building she had designed, and embarrassed by the professional failure before the Italian mob looking big shot Dr. Victor Hugo, there’s no alternative for her but to accept an unwonted proposal of a gentleman that wants to escape the war in Egypt.

Without speaking the Portuguese language very well nor having a great understanding of Brazilian culture, the mysterious Ahmed Mir needs a permanent visa to remain in Brazil. The quickest solution, and the only viable one, is to find a Brazilian woman who will accept to be the wife of a complete stranger and endure the bad mood of his friend and faithful companion Aban. In a surprising and hilarious way, destiny gets them both together with a common goal: find love and true happiness.

Chapter 1 - Friday

It was a sunny Friday.

Friday always seemed like a good day. It’s the last work day of a week, it’s beer day, it’s Saturday eve, hence, a day one can go to bed late without having to worry about waking up early the next day. It’s on Fridays that people have fun, meet their friends to take their minds off of work. The so waited last working day of the week. It’s dating day, it’s a day to stay home watching a movie alone, or it’s a day to get drunk, to forget or to celebrate. I could be here forever listing all the benefits of Fridays. If they brought me good memories. It used to, some time ago, but...

... what I didn’t know, was that it was exactly on a Friday that my life started to crumble.

I’m Deborah Gianluppi, the civil engineer Deborah Gianluppi. Or just a little civil engineer recently graduated, as everyone scornfully referred to me at the company. The diminutive in the expression that names my profession is not because I’m too young, it’s because of my lack of experience. If civil engineers have the habit of comparing their resumes, what can I do? I’ve graduated only a year and a half ago and I’m thirty years old. That’s right: THIRTY! An old maid.

It took me a while to be able to make my professional dream come true, but I was able to start my career with honours. Best student in class, the best end of course project and a job at one of the largest construction companies in the country, which I got through a dozens of recommendations and having the privilege to skip the junior engineer step to go straight to constructor team coordinator. I had everything to be successful, at least till the brilliant sustainable construction system, that I was able to convince the board of directors to implant at the company, started to crumble. Now, can you guess which day of the week that happened? That’s right.

On a Friday, when I was gathering my stuff to leave the company and go out to a have a beer with my colleagues, Mister Joaquim, foreman, enters my office, cold sweating, with his eyes popped open and his clothes covered in green-greyish dust that made my blood cold just by looking at it. I don’t even need to say what three kinds of shiver ran through my spine, and that lovely feeling that something really bad had just happened, and it would change my life. Feminine intuition, one of those that never fails.

The big boss had already left, thank God. I told him, but Mister Joaquim gesticulated and called the boss’ name, without being able to get the words out, he was stunned by his own stuttering in such a way he couldn’t be understood. Actually, I didn’t really want to understand him, I just wanted some kind of magic to happen that made Mister Joaquim disappear from in front me taking his stutter with him. But there is no magic and I knew I was already a big girl to still believe in those things. Hope is the last one to die.

I waited hopefully to solve the problem in a pass of magic, to make all go away, it didn’t take more than a few minutes, and I dealt with the situation. Maybe that would be my chance to show some professional maturity? If I dealt with the problem, whichever it was, I could end up having a promotion! For a second my nervousness disappeared and my chest burst in expectation. But all good things don’t last long, and my excitement only lasted till Mister Joaquim calmed himself down and was able to spit it out what was disturbing him.

I asked him to sit down, did everything I could to calm him, from serving him a glass of water, then tea, then coffee. Meanwhile, time was passing us by, making the adrenaline level drop in my blood little by little till it was almost normal. A few minutes later, way calmer and not stuttering anymore, Mister Joaquim explained to me what had happened. It was the worst thing I could have found out in my life! I found out that the ecologically correct popular homes, implemented by the company - through my brilliant groundbreaking sustainable invention - was going down the drain, building by building.

My legs were shaking. Mister Joaquim could only be joking, however, through his paleness, the sweat on his forehead and his trembling hands it really didn’t look like he was joking. I glanced the calendar, just to be sure it was not April Fools’. No, it was February third. The year had barely started and I was already desperate. Something told me it wasn’t going to be a good year for me. I had conducted every possible test and was completely sure that my sand, cement and plastic bottle dust bricks were resistant enough. Unless... Shit! It occurred to me that before convincing my boss to use the new material in the ecological condominium, I could have, maybe, forgot a little detail, almost insignificant: no real practical test had been made with the new material. All my calculations indicated the demanded resistance, so I didn’t think that the final test was so important and ended up using the bricks in my project just by the estimated graphs. It had to work, in five years I had learned to make all the right calculations. Or had I?

I abandoned the foreman right there at the office where the senior engineers gathered to talk to the constructor workers, and went straight to the construction site. With my heart and an Our Lady of Aparecida rosary in my hands, praying so Mister Joaquim would not be able to find anyone else and not be well enough to call the big boss, Dr. Victor Hugo, with his fat ass, his white haired head and his arrogance. A powerful man, with a thundering voice, his steps could make the entire Earth tremble, his eyes were like cold ice daggers in his enemies chest. Alright, I may be exaggerating a little, but he scared me. Actually, he scared everybody.

After a few minutes that seemed like hours, I got to the construction site. I opened the hoarding gate slowly and in the middle of the process, I closed my eyes and said a little prayer so that, when I opened them again, everything was in place and maybe the team would be wearing party hats and blowing noise makers, everybody would yell: SURPRISE! Then, I opened my eyes and... silence.

The tragedy was evident. The tension in the air had infected all the workers. It was a sinister sight. I was facing one of the buildings, stunned by the size of the cracks on the walls, that now scintillated with a greenish tinge from the plastic bottles. It was a beautiful sunlight effect, but that would not be enough to save my neck from the guillotine that Dr. Victor Hugo would put me under. Damned be the moment I invented those plastic bottle bricks.

From a distance, I saw the boss’ black Mercedes Benz turning the corner. I thought about locking the padlock at the hoarding gate, I thought about running away, or throwing a homemade bomb at the buildings and lying about being a terrorist attack or, even better, throw a bomb on the boss’ car and prevent him to arrive at the destination (and blame it on the competition). The only problem was that I hadn’t had brought a homemade bomb nor did I know how to make one, that was truly tragic.

As a last desperate resource, I tried to place a few pieces of the bricks back in the cracks to make them smaller, but when I noticed that wouldn’t be enough, I leaned against the biggest crack on the wall, with my hands behind my back, my head down staring straight to the ground, like a child that has done something really stupid.

My life flashed before my eyes when Dr. Victor Hugo stepped out of his car, supporting himself on an ivory cane, and shot daggers at me with his eyes. Without even realising, I, who was never big or imposing, started to curve down my shoulders, as if I was shrinking, shrinking, and was going to disappear completely. Instead of his eyelids I thought I saw money signs, but it was just a trick of light. Rich people always seemed like that to me. It’s a little weird!

My heart seemed to want to jump out of my chest. My legs were trembling so much that I thought I was going to crumble down at any moment. I knew I was completely lost. Good bye post graduation, good bye financed apartment, good bye to the possibility of getting another job in the civil engineering area. The boss was someone who had a lot of influence, and he would most certainly not sign a good reference letter to me. What would my life be like? The outlook was of almost zero, I was completely and most definitely ruined.

Dr. Victor Hugo didn’t say a word. He circled the construction site, attentive to the damage. Then, he raised his right hand and with a movement of his finger a bulldozer started to knock down what hadn’t yet fallen. We watched the spectacle for a few minutes and in the middle of all noise Dr. Victor Hugo said two words I was only able to understand through lip reading: Human Resources. He took from his Italian suit pocket a pair of golden sunglasses - I could have bet that they were actually gold coated - and put them on, then he got in the back seat of his shinning Mercedes. He looked like a modern version of the Godfather.

I remained there for some time still, thinking about the project and trying to understand where I had failed. And I was imaging my work colleagues’ reaction, specially the engineers that were responsible for other teams, and the ones that didn’t have a team to coordinate, always hovering me and the others like a bunch of vultures ready to devour our carcasses. And now, for their amusement, they would have a fresh carcass to delight themselves with.

Fernando Aurelio Albuquerque. I could have bet anything that that would be the name of my replacement. Apparently, the miserable arrogant pervert pimply nerd, was the next in line to climb the cooperative ladder, from junior engineer to coordinator engineer. It would be a huge leap in his career, his salary would triple. I wanted to be happy for him, but he didn’t deserve it. And after all, that was not the appropriate moment for me to be happy for anyone else.

What will become of me? I said to myself, but the under-foreman, the second in command after Mister Joaquim, tried to comfort me the best way he could. There wasn’t much to be said, I didn’t blame him.

In the end, I had analysed every spreadsheet and couldn’t find anything abnormal in them. I would have to check my calculation software programs, that was the only possible explanation left: something went wrong with one of the calculation programs. I would have to check it later, right now my brain was frying trying to find a way to get by without income, and there was no way I could focus in fixing the software programs. Besides, that wasn’t my area and I depended on others, it meant that I had to share my failed with someone else, I didn’t feel ready for that. Maybe I would never be.

The sun started to set when I decided to abandon everything and go home. There was nothing I could do over there, everything was undoubtedly lost, every building was knocked down. There was nothing to see. But I did see, among the rubble, Fernando Aurelio Albuquerque’s retained metallic smile. I wasn’t near it, just close enough to contemplate the scorning smile and the eyes that expressed I told you that it wasn’t a good idea to put a woman in charge of the construction of a building!. And, yes, that sexist scrap of a person had said that. I ignored him, but I felt even worst, I felt like a total incompetent.

And I was, wasn’t I? Even though I didn’t want to accept it. My pride was hurt. It hurt a lot!

Chapter 2 - After the disaster

I went home crushed.

Right at the entrance I noticed a pile of papers I had left on the table, bills I had placed there the previous day. I held and looked at them attentively, each and everyone of them and their numbers suddenly seemed too high. I made some mental calculations and came to the conclusion that my savings with the unemployment check (also known as the desperation check) weren’t going to be enough to cover the month bills, I was only working at the company for the past year, being three months of trial experience. I sighed deeply and threw the papers back at the tinted glass table, brand new, that I was still paying for.

I went to the kitchen and took from the also brand new wine cellar, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, Chilean one, my favourite. I was saving that bottle for a special occasion, like a promotion. Now it wouldn’t make any sense to deprive myself from that Gods’ nectar for even another minute. Would it be true the idea of drinking to forget something? Well, I was going to find out.

I filled a glass with wine and went back to the dining room, that was conjoined by the huge impotent tinted glass table, between the kitchen and living room. I drank half of the wine glass in one swig, barely tasting it. Remorsefully, I went back to the kitchen and this time I brought the bottle back with me. After reviewing the bills, and giving up on having any fantastic idea about a bank robbery, I placed the envelopes back on the other side of the table, far away from me, in case they decided to bite me.

There, on the other extremity of the table, was my notebook meticulously positioned in front a high back padded chair (that I also had not finished paying it for yet, like almost every other piece of furniture). I grabbed it, opened it, watching the apple starting to glow. I decided to go online, before they could cut off my internet access for lack of payment. Like the phone bill, and the electricity and water would soon follow.

I had just started financing that damn apartment, in that damn building where I always wanted to live. I thought I was never going to able to afford it, and I got a vacant unit with payment instalments that fit my budget, it was like a surprise from destiny. I didn’t act on impulse, I waited till the trial period was over, to have a sure job, before getting into debt. Everything was perfectly well. I almost had the life I asked God for, if it wasn’t for the the bills I had to pay, but poor people had to do that if they wanted to go up in life, right?

Okay, maybe my philosophy was a little flawed. I should have listed to my grandmother, who thought I should live with the basics and save as much money as possible... Well, grandma, you were right. If I had listened to your advice, I wouldn’t be in ruins right now, about I lose everything I had built.

Built. The simple mention of the word made my mind return to the scene at the construction site. I would never forget the look on Dr. Victor Hugo’s face while his buildings were being knocked down by three bulldozers. I was afraid of never being able to sleep again in my life, just having nightmares about Dr. Victor Hugo’s ugly frowning face.

I pulled my laptop closer. It had been a few days since I last had got on any social network. I thought I could find a friend to talk online, maybe that would ease my despair. I had no intentions of sharing the disaster with my family. I knew how much my father would be disappointed when he found out about everything. It was enough how I had let myself down right now.

I turned the computer on and sat down. There weren’t any e-mails for me to reply in the three personal accounts I had. Actually, I didn’t have many friends even to send jokes or chain e-mails to. The stores, ah, they would never forget to send me their advertisement e-mails to fill my inbox and give me false hope to try to sieve through some decent message, I thought about what had happened in the last year and came to the conclusion that I had been too busy at the company to have a moment off and have some kind of pleasurable time with my old friends. I was always a loner, never had a best friend.

Boyfriend... it had been a few years since I had one of those. Suddenly I realised that I had lost precious moments of my life, I sacrificed them in the name of study, the will to have a career, and now everything was down the drain and the five years I had spend studying weren’t going to be worth a thing. It was rock bottom, I had no doubt about it.

I tried to log in on my Facebook account. It had been so long since I had last done that that I didn’t even remember my password. I had to go through a bunch of verifying steps before finally getting through it. I almost gave it up, but it was my last desperate hope to try to find someone to whom I could talk. Security code, cellphone number, e-mail confirmation, and finally I saw a picture of me from college. I stared at myself. I was older now. I suddenly felt the weight of my age pushing down my eye lids, but I didn’t give in to sleep, I plowed through.

There were two messages. One from a cosmetics seller offering me their miraculous products capable of smoothing the wrinkles and making the eyelashes and eyebrows grow fuller in two weeks! I felt tempted to taking a look at the spam, but I held back. The other message was from an old colleague, who I couldn’t really remember, complaining about how long it had been since I last talked to her.

Well, that was a strong candidate to hear my sorrows and being my virtual shoulder to cry on. I clicked on her name, Gabriela Muniz. The little chat window popped open and I thanked God she was online.

Hello! How are you? I typed on the screen. In less than twenty seconds an answer came back.

Sorry, I think I must have mistaken you with a friend of mine. My bad.

And there it went my virtual shoulder. That’s why I didn’t recognised her.

I went on a search through my list of friends and, no, there was not a single person to whom I could talk. I didn’t even know most of those people, I couldn’t simply open my life like that, out of the blue, to a bunch of weird strangers. Or could I? These are moderns times, after all, and I had no idea if this was a habit people had acquired lately.

Then, my eyes went to the friends request little area. There were 52 requests. Wow! I think that must have been my record. Half a smile appeared on my burgundy wine lips. I was never selective with my virtual friends, but I never talked to strangers. They were just there, with no intentions or pretences. But now after the disaster and half a bottle of red wine, what difference would it make?

I clicked and another window popped open. I saw the names in hope of seeing someone I knew, but the majority of the friends’ requests were either without a shirt or wearing baseball hats and looking like silly boys with their pants down by their knees. I must have done something really bad in a previous life to deserve this kind of punishment.

Yep, times had changed a lot. I felt like an elder at 30. From the 52 requests, I picked out 15 people to be my new virtual friends. Some quite peculiar, like a woman that only had pictures of her back, a man wearing a cowboy hat and another that by the name seemed to be an Arab.

That one got my attention the most. What the hell an Arab would want with someone so far away? Would he speak my language? Or maybe he was just looking for a comforting shoulder to cry on like I was? Anyway, as soon as I accepted his friendship request a little window popped open on the right corner of my screen where I read the words:

Welcome.

Welcome, I answered back, half thanking that someone was online, half intrigued because he was a strange person, actually, such a different person.

You pretty, he wrote right after. He used you instead of u, like people normally did on online conversations, I deduced that he really didn’t speak my language properly. I thanked and waited. After a few minutes and when I had got to two thirds of the sweet sauvignon wine bottle I heard the alert signal.

You marry me? Yes or no?

I laughed