by Shaila Patel
“Nothing.” I pushed her hand away. “Just hormones. I told you I’m tired.”
“Then go upstairs if you’re bleeding—”
“God! I’m not having my period right now. I’m just PMSing.” I sniffed, threw down the serving spoon I was washing, and escaped upstairs.
I called Sujata as soon as I got upstairs and cried to her for over an hour. I only had the heart to tell her about Sejal and how she looked like me. If I told her about the mysterious secret and five more Indian look-alikes, she would’ve told me to drop him like a bad samosa. I didn’t want to hear that kind of advice right now. Apparently, I was more desperate to cling to him than I thought.
Yup. Dangle a hot guy in front of me and my logic goes out the door.
The pain in my chest was back, but worse than before. It felt like the rubber band popped back even harder, as if Liam were farther away from me. Maybe he left for Charlotte. I cuddled into my window seat, falling asleep with my hand on the glass as if I could touch him. I awoke in the same position several hours later, shivering.
I opened my eyes Sunday morning, flew to my window, and touched the glass. What was Liam doing? At least I’d be busy with distractions today. I had Bharatanatyam practice first thing at the temple and then another practice with the drill team after lunch.
Drill team practice was more productive today than Saturday morning’s session had been. We created a small teaser routine we could do at Caitlyn and Bailey’s annual back-to-school party this Friday night, and I was glad I could join them to perform. The only reason I’d get to go this year was because it was the same night as Shiney’s date at Salvio’s. I’d have to ask Jack, but I didn’t think he’d mind leaving his chaperoning job to take me to the party. It would be a perfect excuse. Shiney wouldn’t have to lie for me, I’d already have a ride, and Mom wouldn’t be suspicious if both Jack and Shiney picked me up.
After practice, Bailey came over, wiping her face with a towel. “So is Liam coming to the party?”
“I’m, uh, not sure. It’s kind of weird between us right now.”
“Uh-oh. What happened?” Caitlyn asked.
I pulled the twins to the corner of their country club’s aerobics room and told them about everything except the secret. They, at least, wouldn’t order me to forget about him like my over-protective cousin Sujata would have.
Bailey sat on the floor and looked like she’d lost her favorite pair of shoes. “It’s just not fair. How are you supposed to know if he really likes you for you?”
Justin must have overheard the story while he was putting away the music. “Easy. You’ll know by how hard he’s working to keep you. A guy’ll pull out all the stops for the girl he’s into. Trust me.” He smiled at Caitlyn.
“Yeah, but it’s still kind of strange,” Bailey said.
He shrugged. “So he likes exotic girls. What’s wrong with that?”
Caitlyn and Bailey burst into laughter, and I felt my cheeks warm. Why were brown girls always described as exotic? But then again, Jack had once called a hot, white girl angelic. I supposed it went both ways.
We agreed to brush up on the routine again during lunch on Tuesday and Thursday. We’d use the auditorium stage and then freshen up in the locker rooms afterward. It meant I’d have to skip two lunches with Liam, assuming he still wanted to eat with us. Maybe it would be for the best if he didn’t.
I woke up Monday morning with a sigh. Liam’s rooftop was empty. Had I really expected any different? Shiney had called last night to invite me over to study today—since it was Labor Day and I’d be home alone. Mom always worked the “American” holidays to help stranded travelers with reroutes and such. She said we needed the money. I’d already done my homework and studied, but I’d do it again to keep from obsessing over Liam.
From the dining room where I was eating breakfast, I heard the news show Mom was watching on TV. She sat on the sankheda loveseat sipping her chai. At random sounds outside, she’d pull back the sheer curtains at the window to investigate, like some nosy neighbor. The sunshine and stillness outside could only mean it would be another hot and humid day.
“Just for studying with Shiney, right? Nothing else?” Mom asked, after I’d told her about Shiney’s invitation.
“Yes, and Jack. We have a biology test we have to study for.” She knew Jack and Shiney were a package deal, and since I didn’t mention him too much, it was easy for her to consider Jack as an innocuous threat to my virginity.
“But with Shiney, right?”
“Yeah, of course. Her parents will be there too.” I forced another bite of my toast.
“Don’t forget to take some sweets to her mother.”
She went to the kitchen, got out a red cardboard box of Indian confections from the fridge, and put it on the table for me. Our parents were always playing the obligation game. Last time, Shiney’s mom had sent me home with South Indian fish curry because I’d brought over fresh mangoes from Mom.
She stood, staring out the dining room window, fingering the handle of her mug for some time before she spoke again.
“Have you looked at the medical school programs?”
Not again. “No.”
“When are you going to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe this Christmas.” When it’s too late to apply.
“If you are not going to do it, then I mean it, okay? You will need to get married, and Premlataben is ready for you to meet Tejas.”
I tried to push away a tornado of dread, anger, and helplessness.
“If he wants to marry you,” she said. “Then you can go to school after marriage. If not, you have to be in the medical school.”
You promised Dad to take care of Mom. Angry tears clouded my vision. Forrest Gump had it right. Life was like a box of chocolates. Except for me, life was about as fair as a box with only one flavor—one I hated.
Jack and Shiney came to pick me up at nine. Shiney was a bundle of energy as usual. We both sat in the back seat, where she filled me in on her latest Matthew story. We analyzed her latest conversation with him, then chatted for a bit about what she was going to wear. She narrowed her eyes at one point, figuring out something was wrong with me, but glanced at Jack and didn’t say anything. I gave her a tight smile.
Once I’d made pleasantries with Mrs. Thomas and gave her the box of sweets, Shiney dragged me into her bedroom.
“Okay, out with it. What’s wrong?” She plopped down on her bed, a white, four-poster draped with yards of different shades of purple scarves and covered with dozens of pillows in similar hues. It was almost like she was going for the innocent harem look.
“Everything.” I sat at the foot of the bed, leaned against one of the posts, and opened up the floodgates. The whole story came out—including Liam’s excuse of having a secret.
“Of all the things for him to ask me to ignore, Shiney. I mean, come on. How am I supposed to forget he actually searches for girls like me—for a reason that’s some huge secret? It screams FBI Most Wanted, doesn’t it?”
Maybe I had watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds.
“Wow, Laxshmi.” The pity in her voice was obvious. I squeezed one of her teddy bears, waiting for her to agree with me. “Did you believe his kiss, at least?”
My heart shoved aside my mind, jumping up and down like a yippy puppy asking for a treat. My lips began to tingle, and I groaned out loud, making Shiney laugh.
“God, I want so badly to believe his kiss—to believe him. He was so happy after the first one.” I buried my face in my hands. “It’s just hormones and wishful thinking, Shiney.”
“Laxshmi, you know I’m on your side, right?”
“Spit it out.”
“Don’t pass up something out of fear. What if all those girls had been white, and he was just playing the field?”
I stopped sniveling and stared at her. If that were true, I would’ve been more obsessed with how inexperienced I was compared to
him. Great. More to worry about now. “Point taken.”
As much sense as she made, I couldn’t let go of the fear I’d be number seven. But at the same time, a rightness settled around me when I thought of Liam, which made me forget why I was so upset in the first place. It reminded me how I’d gradually forgotten what Daddy had looked like before he’d died. Any images of him I conjured up now were from old photographs. No matter the memory—of Dad, or how hurt I’d felt about Liam—I couldn’t stop it from fading.
“Exactly,” she said, as if she were a detective solving a case. “Maybe Justin’s right.” She threw one of her purple pillows at me.
“How can both be right? Liam can’t like exotic girls, and then not like them when he dates them.”
“Maybe he dreamed about you and has been searching for you ever since. Wouldn’t that be romantic?” She sighed and fell back into her pillows. “O maybee,” she started in a French accent. “He cannot find hiz favoreet wizout try-eeng all ze chocolat in ze box. Oui?”
Either because it was really funny or I needed a different release than crying, I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
When I finally caught my breath and wiped away my laugh-tears, I swept some pillows out of the way to hug her. “I’m so afraid of being hurt. What if—?”
“No!” Shiney said, nudging my shoulders. “No more what ifs. Just stop thinking about it. Take a few days to get your head straight. Once you’re not emotional, the right answer will come to you. You’ll either trust him or you won’t.” She shrugged. “Just remember, bigger risks mean bigger rewards.”
Easier said than done.
“The way he looks at you … ” Shiney sighed. “If you want my opinion, he’s not some sick criminal.”
Said the lamb about the lion.
After lunch, we dropped Shiney off at their church for a barbecue fundraiser. Jack drove up to my house and told me to wait so he could help me with my books.
He parked on the street, and we got out. I leaned back in for my books.
“Geez, Laxshmi, would you hold up? I said I’d help you.”
“I got them. Don’t worry.”
“Hey, Liam. What’s up?” Jack called out after he’d closed his door.
Liam? I jerked up and slammed the back of my head into the doorframe. “Ow!”
The books went flying out of my hands, and stars exploded in front of me. Jack came around and held my shoulders to steady me.
“Damn, girl. You’re such a klutz. Let me get these.” He knelt down to gather my books.
I was fighting back tears and looked toward Liam’s house. He wasn’t there. Was I just hearing things now?
I knelt and shoved Jack’s arms away, clenching my teeth. “Just leave it, Jack.”
“Fine. I won’t help.” He stepped away and crossed his arms.
I stood with my books and swayed a bit. “Where’s—?” I couldn’t even say Liam’s name.
“Where’s what?”
“Never mind. My books. They’re all here. Sorry, Jack. My head … ”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached for my head, but I pulled away.
“I’m sure. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
I walked up to my porch, blinking back tears again. Was I going crazy? I hadn’t slept well, I’d been crying off and on like a baby, and now I was hearing things.
I turned around to make sure Jack was gone and let myself collapse onto the front steps, my books scattered around me. Wrapping my arms around my shins, I leaned my forehead against my knees and let my heartache take over.
CHAPTER 23
Liam
Lucky consumed my thoughts the entire three-hour drive to Charlotte. Images of her tear-soaked lashes and the memory of her hurt tore through me. I had to get her to forgive me. Being close to her physically was the only way her neural pathways would change enough to lead to her breakthrough. Then I could tell her about our world.
But would she trust me until then? What if I had let her believe I’d cared about all the other targets? Maybe she’d not have thought me a callous arse. Or some sociopath, as she’d said. I let out a slow breath. I couldn’t have lied to her like that.
Please let me find a way to reach her.
When I pulled up at midnight, the streets around the Ritz-Carlton in uptown Charlotte swarmed with bar hoppers and tourists. I handed my car keys and a tip to the valet and dragged myself through the front doors, garment and duffel bags slung over my shoulder. Rich wood and polished stone greeted me in the lobby. Posh was a good word for it. The air smelled like fresh flowers, and the surfaces gleamed in the soft lighting.
Echoes of my footsteps followed me as I strolled to the front desk to get my room key. The desk clerk was saying something about their services, but I ignored him. All these hotels were the same. With Lucky feeling the way she did, I’d not be “enjoying the amenities.”
I headed toward the lift, this time with echoes of Lucky’s words in my head. “I don’t know what to believe, Liam. I don’t trust you.” She was curious about the secret though, and I prayed it’d be enough to help her overlook my strange past … for now.
I found the room in our suite without Da’s stuff and tossed down my bags. The drapes on the floor-to-ceiling window had been pulled back, revealing a stunning nighttime view with lights outlining the high-rises. The dark window reflected the entire room, including me, standing there alone. Even with the hazy reflection, my eyes looked bloodshot, and bags sat under them from barely sleeping all week. I rested my forearm against the window and surveyed the cityscape. I wished Lucky could see it. My lips tingled at the memory of kissing her.
What would she think of us—our abilities, our culture, my family’s money? I’d be willing to wager she’d not care much about the money, but the culture would probably fascinate her. Yeah, she’d adapt well enough.
But what if she never wanted to see me again? I rubbed at the stubble on my jaw and stared at my reflection. I couldn’t let that happen.
It was late, so I rang Da on his mobile to find where he was keeping himself. He’d found an Irish pub called Rí Rá one street over. He asked me to join him for a jar or two, but I reminded him they wouldn’t serve me in the States since I wasn’t twenty-one. Besides, I wasn’t up for the company.
“Suit yourself,” Da said. “I’ll be up to the room shortly.”
“How did your initial meeting go with Gagliardi and the Elder?”
“It was just a short welcome. They wanted to rest after their flight. We’ll be having an official meeting at brunch come the morrow.”
“Ah, savage that is. Night then.”
I tossed my mobile on the bed and wondered what might be found in the minibar. With enough rum or whiskey, I’d be able to sleep through the night. I hadn’t slept well since I’d met Lucky. Was she suffering too? I needed the rest, but Granddad Whelan’s words rang in my ear. “Always drink when you’re happy, me boy, never when you’re sad.”
So what else might be helping me sleep? I dialed the front desk. “Yes, hello? Would it be too late to have a massage therapist sent up? Oh, and I’ll be needing a shirt pressed by morning too.”
Hours later, Da stumbled into the suite, humming loudly as he found his bed. I sat on the floor against the window and wondered if Lucky was sleeping. When she took me back—if she took me back—I’d have to get her a mobile her mum couldn’t control.
I took out my own. For what had to be the hundredth time, I stared at the pictures I’d snapped of Lucky today at lunch. She’d tried covering her face when she’d seen me, but even still, I captured her smile. Her ability to project through a photograph amazed me. With each shot, her happiness washed over me, but it was still a pale comparison to having the original with me. If only she hadn’t seen the bloody yearbooks.
I thunked my head against the window and stared out into the night. A few hours later, I woke, grabbed the pillows from the floor, cracked my neck, and climbed int
o bed, dreaming of Lucky.
Da was getting ready when Housekeeping brought me back the Armani shirt and jacket I’d packed, hoping to impress. I started the coffeemaker and jumped into the shower. I hadn’t been planning on looking sharp at first, but when the reality of the situation had hit me—that I had a soul mate to protect—I’d wanted to look confident and intimidating.
Dominating this meeting couldn’t have been more important. From what Mum had implied, Gagliardi and I were evenly matched when it came to empathic ability. He was no looker, or so she’d said, but he was cunning. I’d do whatever I needed to protect Lucky from these old farts, who’d not hesitate to leave our lives in flitters for their own political gain.
During my summers at home, Ciarán and I would’ve been talking trash with the lads who could be found in the local and in the Dublin clubs. We’d learned to handle most situations with a little Whelan charm, giving us the upper hand in any pissing match with the local loudmouths. It was a tactic that had let us come out on top more often than not. I’d use some of that today.
If I could get every waitress in the restaurant downstairs drooling over me, Gagliardi would be sensing that and not much else. Along with my royal title, that emotional tactic might add the extra bit I’d need to be holding my own.
But was he one to be so easily manipulated?
When I came out of my room, I smelled more than coffee brewing. Da had breakfast spread out on the dining table. He wore a school bus yellow T-shirt and a tweed blazer, ratty enough to be from the seventies, no doubt.
“What the hell are you wearing?” I asked, pouring myself some coffee. “Were you hammered when you packed?”
“Morning to you, son. Don’t be telling your mum. It’s part of the plan. As far as those couple of tools care, I’m a professor more than half off my nut.” He stood and bowed. The man was already theatrical. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to see him as a headcase. He waved a hand at me. “And what’s with what you’re wearing? Cuff links and shoes shined like you’re part of the Guard now?”