Nasser was the easiest of the bunch to spot, less because of his unremarkable short stature and his new suit so much as the way he moved, holding a glass of champagne in the air and dancing like he was an extra in Fiddler on the Roof. He was with a woman who Kaveh assumed was his girlfriend of the month; she looked to be about thirty, voluptuous, bouncy, and probably Persian. Possibly Armenian. Either way, Nasser’s mother was probably thrilled.

“Jendeh!” Kaveh yelled as a beat was about to drop.

Nasser turned to greet him, as did his other cousin, Ramin the Promoted One (as well as his girlfriend of the month), and to his surprise (and slight dismay), his younger sister, Leila, and her husband, Eli, who was dressed like he’d only just gotten off work—which, given that his family’s jewelry store was only a couple of blocks away, was probably exactly the case.

All eyes fell on Cora in an unspoken Who is that? Surely, this could not be the same girl from the Photograph, not that helpless, bedraggled thing. This looked like a background extra in a Kanye West video. He felt her contract under their scrutiny, and felt a little guilty; problem with “looking the part” for clubbing in Beverly Hills was it did kind of make one look like an escort.

“Jendehhhh!” Nasser yelled over some Black Eyed Peas, unhooking the velvet rope for them, and within seconds they were beset by cousins, cousins’ girlfriends, cousins’ friends, cousins’ coworkers, and one sister who did not look thrilled.

“This is Cora Sabino?” asked Nasser, glass of champagne still in the air. Nasser had been about twelve years old when he made it to the U.S., so unlike Kaveh and his siblings, his English had a slight Persian accent.

“Nice to meet you,” said Cora, offering a weak handshake, which Nasser took before kissing her on both cheeks. Then it was his brother-in-law Eli’s turn, and then his sister Leila’s turn, and on and on the introductions went. Cora took the cheek-kissing in uncomfortable stride. Just like in Borat.

Leila forced a smile, her attention focused on Kaveh. It wasn’t that he was dismayed at having to hang out with his sister so much as the fact that she, too, was a proxy in his mother’s machinations to give him shit for being so “busy” (as if he were just mired in some?? random??? assignment????). Leila informed him that he was bordering on getting disinherited, or at least getting kicked out of the Yorba Linda house, unless he came over for lunch tomorrow.

“Beh man goft een.” She nodded to Cora. “Dokhdararoh beeyar bah khodet.”