So that’s how it’s going to be, he thought. Vicarious passive-aggressive demands to bring “that girl” to lunch tomorrow. Rude. Kaveh’s eyes darted between his cousins, his sister, and then to Cora, wondering how his mother had known to insist he bring his extremely new, extremely young girlfriend. He hadn’t told anyone about their relationship, not even Paris.

Ramin, still in his twenties, was far too cool to dance in the VIP section (he at least had the good grace to go onto the main floor for that) and excused himself and his girlfriend to hit up the bar and the main dance floor. Before they left Nasser’s VIP area, Ramin paused to say something to Cora, grasping her by the shoulder and whispering something in her ear. He then gave a curt smile to both of them and went on his way.

“What did he say?” asked Kaveh.

“He said, ‘I think you’re incredibly brave.’” She smiled in slight disbelief. “I assume he means for wearing this outfit in public.”

Nasser, who was both pushing forty and had never known shame, had no such compunction and was perfectly content to stay in the VIP section he had paid for. “That’s Snoop Dogg,” he whisper-yelled, gesturing to the adjacent VIP area. Indeed, there was a man who looked an awful lot like Snoop Dogg at the center of a massive entourage. “Snoop Saggy Sag.”

Cora humored Nasser by looking impressed, while Kaveh began the task of what he knew would be the explaining of many, many jokes (“Sag means ‘dog.’ Geddit?”). The DJ slid from the Nelly Furtado / Timbaland joint “Promiscuous” to “Low,” the overplayed Flo Rida song. Pas de points, DJ, Kaveh thought. Nasser, however, was thrilled. “Ey, Flo Rida, the rida of flows!” He put his champagne down, pulled Girlfriend of the Month next to him, and resumed his Tevye dancing. “Let’s see what you’ve got!” he said, looking at Cora.

Cora looked at Kaveh, alarmed. “You heard him,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her in the same direction Ramin had gone.

“What?”

“I probably should have warned you, but you’re going to have to dance. If you don’t, you will be forced to.”

She smiled weakly, clearly thinking he was joking. “Why?”

“Persian edict. Resistance is futile. You have to dance.”

Her smile faded as she realized he was serious. “They’ll force me to?”

“Well, we all will. It’s a thing.”

“I’ve . . . never danced before, to be honest. At least, not in a club like this.”

“Well, you’re about to.”

“You know this isn’t really my scene.”

“It isn’t my scene, either! You’ve seen what’s on my iPod! Come on, let’s go embarrass ourselves.”