Unraveled (Jersey Girls Book 1)

by Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled it to her lap. “Nandita, I am serious. This arrangement was made a long time ago. Her parents will be furious if she follows your example. She has no big brother to rescue her, and I can’t help her, because I am too busy rescuing you.”

  Nandita folded her arms and glared at Satish. “Why is it that you assume everyone needs to be rescued? Worse, why do you assume that you are the only one who can do the rescuing? Jaya can take care of herself, you know, and for your information, I have not spoken to her about you until a few weeks ago—and thank God that I did!”

  He turned and put his hands on the wheel to push his body back into the seat. He’d had enough of emotion. He had avoided feeling too much for the majority of his life, but this past year had tested his ability to stay calm, cool, and collected. His love for Claire threatened to drown him sometimes, and he couldn’t seem to get his head above it. The frustration, anger, and love he felt for his sister had distracted him from his work, and paired with his tremendous sense of obligation, created great upheaval in his life.

  The one place he didn’t expect to feel emotion was with his intended, Jaya. He felt affection for her as a friend of Nandita’s, and she was no doubt a beautiful girl, but he knew he couldn’t love her. She was everything that a good Indian wife should be: respectful, hard-working, and kind, but she wasn’t a person he would have been drawn to naturally. She had no expectations of anything in her life, beyond family and India. He had respect for her feelings, but he knew that real love would not be possible for the two of them. He had accepted that. If he was honest with himself, after the emotional turmoil he had experienced in the past year, there were moments in which a chaste, affectionate marriage seemed kind of a relief.

  Nandita wasn’t finished talking, though. Was she ever finished talking? “I asked her to be honest with me, for our friendship’s sake. She was honest, Satish. It’s not that she doesn’t like you personally, but she doesn’t want to marry. Her mother is ill, and as the only daughter, her father would be lost without her. They all want to get out of the arrangement. Our father told her father that you would not come back to India, and she doesn’t want to live in America. She’s frightened and upset at the thought of leaving her parents. She told her father that she wanted to stay with them and not marry, but her father said he had made a commitment and our father would shame him if he did not honor it. She wants to be released from her obligation to you. It’s all here.” Nandita shoved the paper under Satish’s tight grip of the steering wheel. “She wrote that for you,” Nandita said.

  Satish gathered the paper into his tight grip, crumpling it against the steering wheel. “Why are you doing this, Nandita? Why are you getting involved? I worked everything out with Father. You were happy, he was accepting, and I believed that Jaya was happy. What am I supposed do with information, disappoint father again?”

  She leaned forward, put her arms around Satish’s stiff body, and lowered her head to his shoulder. He could smell jasmine in her glossy, black hair as it tumbled across his arms. “Why are you doing this, big brother? Why are you spending your entire life trying to rescue people and make them happy? This life is yours—it belongs to you. Don’t you see that not everyone wants to be rescued? No matter what you do for others, you will never make them happy. How about you make choices based on your happiness and not on your sense of obligation? I am going to say something that a daughter should not say, Satish, but you need to hear it: Father does not deserve your respect or obligation. He has treated you badly your entire life. He sent you away when you needed family the most. He made you fund our sister’s dowries. He has squandered the money you sent to support us on crazy business ideas and bribes and corruption.” Nandita lifted her head and removed Satish’s hands from the steering wheel to hold them in her own. “You owe him nothing, Satish, and you can rescue Jaya by setting her free. Don’t do it because she asked you to, but because you know she will not make you happy. You can make a choice for yourself just this once.”

  Satish looked at his sister and wondered how she had grown up so quickly. She was right, and she had put words to the fears and questions that had been nibbling at him for the last few months. His father had manipulated him for years, and he needed to change things now. He nodded at Nandita as he smoothed the crumpled letter against his thigh.

  “You are a smart girl. I should have listened to you more when you would write me those obnoxious letters.” He lifted his head and smiled at her as she giggled and wiped the tears from her face.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re listening, now,“ Nandita said. “Come, I have something to show you.”

  45

  Claire

  Claire draped the gorgeous antique fabric over the dress form. She had draped and tucked and pinned this form about five times and she still wasn’t happy with the result.

  “I don’t know why you don’t just drape it on me, Claire,” Sally called from a stool at the back counter. “You know you want to surprise me with a wedding dress made of that heaven—that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it, while trying to double bluff me with this client story? It’s really mine, right?” She dug her spoon into the carton of Ben and Jerry’s and lifted more ice cream to her mouth.

  “There’s no chance you’d fit in it if you keep stuffing your face like that,” called Maureen from the front of the store. She was arranging prosecco glasses on a huge, crisp, white tablecloth that stretched along the exposed brick wall.

  “Ooh, listen to you, Miss Maureen!” Sally cracked up. “I think I preferred you when you were mousy! I will have you know that this particular pint is in celebration of my amazing skill and networking expertise. Tonight is going to be the toast of the town! The Hoboken ladies won’t stop talking about it for years.” She put on a bad English accent and said, “Remember that wonderful soiree that darling Sally pulled together for us the night that the world discovered Claire? Everyone in the world is dying to meet her now, and we were there when it all started. What would we have done without Sally’s incredible taste and sophistication back then? Our days would have been bereft—truly bereft.”

  Claire made a final tuck on the form and stepped back, laughing. “Well, this global superstar is not off to a very good start,” she said. “My first client has already canceled.”

  “Not canceled,“ Maureen said, pulling the finished dress form to the center of the room, directly under the chandelier. “She postponed. Thank goodness she did, or we wouldn’t have this amazing centerpiece for this evening. Knowing you, you’d already have it half cut up, by now.”

  “No way,“ Claire said, “I’m not bringing scissors anywhere near that fabric until I have a perfect muslin replica. I’m too scared of it!”

  Sally stood and moved around the counter to dump her empty ice cream carton in the garbage. Claire ran her hands through her perfectly blow-dried hair and looked around. The shop looked gorgeous. The back counter was covered with a collection of antique China plates of all different patterns filled with fancy canapés and crustless cucumber sandwiches. The food looked frivolous and pretentious, but Sally had assured her that spending tons of money on food that wouldn’t satisfy the appetite of a fussy five-year-old is what her prospective clients would expect. Now Claire understood the pre-party pint of ice cream. She reached for a cucumber sandwich and Sally slapped her hand.

  “There’s a reason the plate is arranged that way, you know. It’s a carefully crafted first impression. Remove that sandwich and you’ll ruin the whole effect.”

  Claire sighed. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through tonight. Sally was so smooth and confident, and even Maureen seemed to be looking forward to the upcoming mingling and small talk. Claire, however, had a pinch in her rib cage that she couldn’t shake. She took a few deep breaths as she heard a gaggle of high voices punctuated by nasally laughter. The door opened and a waft of perfume flooded in, as though she had just entered a Vegas casino. She straightened her black, lace cockt
ail dress—the perfect LBD, according to Sally—and put on her best toothy smile.

  Sally gave her a thumbs-up and Maureen was already moving toward the group in her brightest “Scarf by Claire,” her biggest smile, and a tray of bubbling prosecco.

  “It will be fine,” Claire whispered to herself. “Stop being silly—it will all be fine.”

  Her final thought before she was dragged into the party was, I wish Satish was here.

  46

  Claire

  Everything was going better than planned. Claire was pulled around the party by perfectly-manicured, bejeweled fingers, and just when she thought she may be able to remember a name with a face, she was pulled in a new direction. There was no doubt that the party was a hit.

  It seemed that Maureen had hidden more than one of her talents: she was the master of flattery. She moved around the room, keeping prosecco glasses full and complimenting another piece of designer clothing or pair of Jimmy Choo’s. She remembered every single name after a single introduction—a skill that made Claire green with jealously. The runway photos were going to come in handy when Claire made Maureen create a name book for her after the party—she had some memorization work to do.

  The Hoboken ladies were beyond thrilled with Claire’s stock—even before the fashion show had started—that they were calling out to Sally, who was holding a small, red velvet-bound order book with rapidly-filling pages. She couldn’t believe the reception, and she kept looking at her best friend with tears in her eyes. She mouthed “thank you” so many times that Sally rolled her eyes and shooed her with her hand.

  Sally raised her hand to her glass and tapped her engagement ring against it. The sound echoed through the clusters of conversations and everyone turned toward her. “I just want to say thank you all for coming to Claire’s tonight. I’m going to cede the floor to Claire in just a few minutes, so she can give you some inspired words about her current collection. I’m sure we can all agree that it’s divine. Before that, however, I would like to explain to you how our little fashion show will work. First of all, please give a little wave to George and Lacey.” Sally waved her arm with a dramatic flourish toward the back of the store. The red velvet curtain parted to show two spa chairs and the aforementioned George, who bowed theatrically, and Lacey, who waved a fistful of make-up brushes in the air. “George is the fabulousness who will be playing with your hair this evening, and Lacey is the finest make-up artist outside of LA. We can't do full makeovers tonight, due to time constraints, but you will have the chance to consult with them about your look tonight, as well as any other pressing beauty questions you would like to have answered by the experts.”

  The ladies clapped with enthusiastic excitement and a voice yelled out, “What’s the best hair style for a killer sex life?” The laughter was raucous, and Claire subtly raised her eyebrows in Maureen’s direction. Maybe she needed to slow down on the prosecco.

  “First things first,” Sally pointed to a table against the opposite wall piled with fluffy, white robes. “Let’s get comfortable, shall we? On this table, you will find a “Claire’s” robe with your name on it. You can all take turns in our dressing room,” she pointed to the large dressing room in the corner, “to change into your robes in preparation for the runway show. I will be closing the window blinds to protect our naked legs from nosy passersby.“ There was more laughter. “We will then send you in pairs to hair and makeup, and then Maureen will help you pop into your custom-fitted garment. When we are all ready, it will be runway time! Claire will give you information about each garment as it comes down the runway.”

  Sally pointed to the raised, red-carpeted runway that ran straight down to the front of the store. Tod had only finished the installation about thirty minutes before the party; it had involved a lot of cursing and grunting.

  “With that said, I am going to close the blinds and hand you over to the lovely, brilliant, and talented Claire!” The room erupted with applause, which increased in volume as Sally jumped up and sashayed her way down the makeshift runway toward the front of the store. She swung her hips and shoulders theatrically, and when she reached the large, street-facing window, she thrust out her hip, preparing for a dramatic turn.

  Claire laughed loudly along with the crowd. How could she have ever been nervous about this evening? She vowed to be more optimistic and less stressed the next time they did something like this. She moved her fingers to her lips, ready to blow Sally a kiss, when her best friend pivoted back in her direction.

  Sally’s face was white, her eyes panicked. She frantically mouthed something to Claire and rushed toward the front door, all traces of relaxation and fun gone. Claire stood, confused. She assumed she was about to close the blinds, but why was she in such a rush?

  Just before Sally got her hand onto the heavy lock of the store, her real objective, the door, swung open.

  47

  Claire

  Nick tumbled through the front door.

  Claire watched in horror as the ladies scattered with cries of dismay and clasping of necklaces. He was so drunk that he must have walked the Hoboken mile of Washington Street and stopped at every single bar along the way—that or he was on drugs. He stumbled over the runway and collapsed in front of the prosecco table, bumping it with his elbow as he fell. The table shuddered and glasses toppled. The noise of shattering glass was punctuated by the shrieks of the Hoboken ladies. Prosecco poured from the edge of the table and into Nick’s eyes; he swiped it off, swearing loudly.

  Sally ignored everything and made her way rapidly to the back of the store, straight to her phone. Claire was still panicking, though. Nick was here, right now. How long would it take before the police arrived?

  He pulled himself to his feet, knocking down even more glasses, and staggered upright. He looked across the room at Claire and Maureen, and his face turned red with hate and anger. “There you are, bitch,” he snarled in their direction. “I see you are hanging with my favorite little slut!” He looked terrible. The jacket of his blue suit was crumpled and opened to a stained, pink shirt, which strained at the buttons over his ample stomach. His hair had grown out of the neat, slick, vain style that he’d kept in the office and looked as though he hadn’t brushed it in weeks. His face was red with anger, but underneath, his skin looked pocked and sallow. The bags under his eyes hinted at days, or weeks, without proper rest.

  Claire backed up toward the rear counter as the Hoboken women moved toward the front door. For the first time this evening, they were completely silent as they grasped at each other’s hands and arms and clustered together. They were inching toward the front door, trying not to draw Nick’s attention.

  “I thought that was you I saw you through the window,” Nick said. “I never thought I would see you again, but here you are, you lying, money-grabbing bitch.” He took a few fast steps toward Claire. Her back was at the counter and there was nowhere for her to go, but he suddenly stopped.

  “Do you know what she did?” He flung his arms around in wide circles, bringing the Hoboken ladies into his tirade. They continued their shuffle toward the front door. “Don’t go anywhere, ladies,” he slurred, stumbling again and grabbing the dress form to keep himself upright. “Don’t go. I have something to shay, and you should all hear it—you should all hear what this girl did to me.”

  The store was completely silent. Nick took another step toward Claire, and she frantically looked around for Sally or Maureen, but could see neither. She was rooted to the spot in fear. Nick was far from sober, and who knew what he was capable of? She tried to open her mouth to tell him to leave, but was surprised to find she had no voice. She was terrified.

  “This woman made me lose my wife and family. This woman made me lose my job, my livelihood. My wife took the kids and all my money, and no one will give me an interview. What am I supposed to do? You can’t just go around ruining people’s lives, bitch! Someone needs to teach you a lesson.”

  Nick lunged toward her and grabbed he
r by the throat. As he pushed her hard against the counter, flashes of the elevator rail popped into her mind. She brought up her hands and pulled against the increasing pressure, but she couldn’t make his grip budge. She could still breathe, but for how long?

  “Leave her alone, you bastard!” This must have been a dream. Maureen appeared, standing on the counter above her head, and launched herself toward Nick. Her hands grabbed his shoulders while her feet were still in the air, but at that moment, he released Claire and raised his right arm. It whacked into Maureen mid-flight, and she sailed through the air and hit the floor hard. She lay there, stunned, and Claire suppressed a whimper as Nick raised his hand to her throat once again.

  Nick brought his face just a few inches from Claire’s and he spat while he continued his angry rant. “Thought you were too good for me, did you? Too good for me, but not too good to sleep your way around Telco, you opportunistic slut.”

  Claire started to see stars and her hearing wavered. Was this really happening? Was she about to die?

  Sally appeared and started fruitlessly pushing Nick, trying to get him off of her best friend. She was screaming, “You’d better get out of here, asshole! The cops are on their way!”

  The store was fading. All Claire could see was a wash of white in front of her eyes, and she was desperate for oxygen. Was he really crazy enough to kill her? Scenes started to rush through her head like a film: Satish on a beach in the dark, his hand in hers; Satish sitting at his desk, his eyes sparking with laughter as she handed him a coffee; Satish lowering his lips to hers in a hot, pulsing club in Brazil—the most exciting moment of her life.

  Suddenly, an angry cry and a giant thud pierced her consciousness, along with the sweet release of pressure on her throat. The white began to fade away, and as her vision cleared, she could make out Nick lying on the floor, being held down by a very tall man. She reached her hands up to rub at the bruises forming on her throat, and the tall man turned toward her: Satish.