Mya Aljazeera: Part 2

Dedicated to my friend: NA...
...who I've known since back in the day...

So we made our way across the clubs of Nicosia and then got a taxi ride to Limassol where we went to Breeze at the last moment as Mya knew the manager or someone. Or everyone.
So there we were in our table when a boy whose jeans were so baggy they were practically down to his ankles and was wearing a 70’s puck rock t-shirt (that was so dirty it needed to be washed at least twice) came up to Mya to ask her a question (although I have to question how he got into the club looking like that).
‘Yo Maha, what’s up? What’s up?’ he said to Mya, obviously stoned. Mya in response blew out her cigarette smoke, inhaled another drag and proceeded to speak, but not without taking another sip of wine (medium white).
‘Fine- how are you?’ she said coolly.
‘Okay. I got some questions to ask you Mia.’
‘It’s Mya.’
‘Yes, that’s what I said, Mona. So- I bought this weed from this guy- Sanders? You know him?’ Mya didn’t but as that would show that she was not living up to her reputation she did know him ‘I mean Flanders- not the one off the Simpsons- a real Flanders, you know him?’ Mya didn’t and was thankful that she didn’t. ‘So he sold me some weed. And it was shit. Actually it wasn’t real weed it was grass or stock cubes or something.’ Mya blew a puff of smoke above his head and nodded as if she understood and cared. ‘So you know you do law and shit…’
‘I’m a lawyer’ she said in a low voice that could still be heard over the wailing music.
‘Yeah, well cool… well, I was wondering if I could take him to court- or if you can? I’ll pay you.’ He shook his head as if to correct himself and added ‘I mean I’ll pay you in weed- like if you want’. Mya finally looked up and answered:
‘So let me get this straight’ she began in her authoritative tone ‘you want me to take your drug dealer to court because he sold you fake weed? Am I correct?’
Apparently she was. The stoned guy nodded vigorously.
‘First of all stoner. No. I won’t help you. Secondly, I don’t want to. Thirdly I don’t think such a case will stand in court, and fourthly, change that disgusting t-shirt, it stinks and it isn’t in style. I think the fashion police should come and arrest you and then maybe we would have a case, if you plead insanity for wearing such trash.’
The stoned guy looked at her as if hurt and then bent over double, laughing. Mya’s phone suddenly rang. She took it out of her Prada bag and looked at the tiny mobile screen. ‘Urg! It’s my stalker again’ she said nonchalantly, she got up and walked out of the room to take the call. All you could hear for the next five minutes were screams and Arabic swear words thrown in for good measure coming from the next room.