Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  “Fair enough. He’s certainly that. But he’s not a bad person.”

  “If you say so. Kirin looks lovely, doesn’t he?”

  My ex was dancing with Jyoti. “They both do.”

  “I thought you coming together might mean you’d reconsidered the break up.”

  “No, Mum. It’s years ago now.”

  “Shame. He’s from such a good family.”

  “Yes, Mum.” I regretted my polite impulse. These conversations had a certain inevitability about them.

  I could hardly shed her after one dance, so I gritted my teeth and took her for another whirl around the floor. But as I passed Jyoti, she pointed, and I turned to see Kirin walking towards a temporarily partnerless Shardul. Kirin bowed and held out his hand, while I held my breath.

  “Javen? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Mum.” I turned her so she couldn’t see. Shardul, scowling, took Kirin’s hand like he thought it was contagious, and Kirin took him out onto the floor. Jyoti grinned at me. My ex needed his head read, honestly.

  I irritated my mother by my inattention, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Shardul and Kirin together. Both so handsome and desirable, Kirin, dark and sleek, Shardul a bright ornament, blazing with life and energy. I wasn’t the only one avidly watching them. Shardul had drawn a lot of attention that evening, and now he had all that upon him and more. Kirin smiled the whole time as if he really enjoyed himself. Shardul revealed nothing in his expression except studied concentration, his movements graceful, precise, perfect. A dance to prove a point, not to woo. The second the music ended, he let Kirin go, bowed, and moved off the floor.

  My mother squeezed my arm to get my attention. “I think that’s enough, Javen. Your father wants me.”

  I let her go. “Oh, of course. I should say hello.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  Dad wasn’t pleased to see me, and didn’t bother to hide the fact. “Javen, are you enjoying the evening?” The same tone he’d used in my childhood to demand a confession of some heinous prank or other.

  “Yes, very much. I should introduce you to my friends.”

  “No need. I’ve had reports all evening about them. Did you bring them along in costume to make a point?”

  “No, Dad. That’s indigenous formal dress. Why shouldn’t they wear it?”

  “They’re not all wearing it.”

  “Next time I’ll make sure they are,” I said with more sarcasm than was polite.

  “Are you here to make a scene or are you working on our situation?”

  “Oh, I always turn up at your functions to make trouble, didn’t you know?” I knew better than to rise to Dad’s bait, but could he not pretend to be pleasant?

  “Good evening, Governor Ythen.”

  I turned, startled. What did Shardul want? He smiled and jerked his head slightly, and I remembered my manners. “Ah, Dad, this is my friend, Shardul Hema Rishabh. One of our top lawyers.”

  “So I hear. You’re clearly enjoying yourself, Sri Rishabh.”

  Shardul bowed a little. “Indeed I am, sir, and honoured by the invitation. I’ve never been invited to one of your balls before. Perhaps you don’t like lawyers?”

  Dad’s personal lawyer was standing less than a metre away, and Shardul damn well knew it. Dad coughed. “Ah, no. An oversight, I think. Always glad to have our legal community represented at such events. Did you want to talk to me about something?”

  “Only to thank you, sir, and to ask your son to dance. I believe you owe me one, Javen?”

  Dad’s eyebrows hit his hairline as I nodded. “Yes, I do. Excuse me, Dad, but I did promise. Shardul, I hope you dance as well as my mother.”

  Shardul bowed to her. “I could never dance like she does. Coming?”

  He led me with ridiculous formality onto the dance floor, just as a slow, rather romantic number started. “I thought I was asking you to dance,” I said.

  “You will, but you needed rescuing.”

  “Thanks. You’ve made quite a reputation for yourself tonight.”

  “Yes. All part of my plan.”

  “A charm offensive?” I found it hard to concentrate on the conversation with Shardul’s lean half-bare body pressed against mine. Bastard. “Difficult to believe.”

  “Believe what you want. It also gave me a chance to look at wrists and ask, in a general way, about recent acquisitions of bracelets and so on. Unfortunately, with no luck.”

  “I appreciate the effort. You didn’t ask my mother to dance.”

  He arched a graceful red eyebrow at me. “I’m not that big a hypocrite, Javen.”

  “But you accepted Kirin’s invitation.”

  “Yes. Nice of him to honour the poor little ethnic, wasn’t it?”

  “He’s been dancing with Vik most of the night. He’s not doing that as a favour.”

  “Whatever you say.” He spun me slowly, and handed me the lead, smooth as oiled glass.

  “Where the hell did you learn to dance like this?”

  “I’m a fast learner.”

  “Are you saying that you learned to dance in the three days’ warning you had of this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying.”

  He grinned. “Yes. Note, you asked me if I was claiming it, not if it was true.”

  “Prat. So why do you dance so well?”

  “I learned at University. I was in the dance society. Why, aren’t we allowed to?”

  “I don’t know. Are you allowed to run like hell when all the jealous husbands have to listen to their wives mooning over you?”

  “I have long legs and an intense survival instinct. You dance adequately.”

  “Oh, thank you. I suppose you prefer Kirin.”

  He spun me around again, and drew me in close. “No,” he breathed.

  If I’d had just a smidgeon more to drink, and a smidgeon less sense of self-preservation, I’d have kissed him then. He was daring me to, but I wouldn’t kiss him on a dare. “You looked good together.”

  “I look good with anyone.”

  “You do.” I moved back a little, and twirled him. “Change any hearts and minds tonight?”

  “Doubt it. But desensitisation is a wonderful tool, and think how relieved people will be when I turn up next year in proper Kelon clothes like an obedient native.”

  “I wouldn’t like that.”

  “I’ll give your opinion all the consideration it deserves, Sri Ythen.”

  “You do—”

  Vik’s voice on my earpiece interrupted me. “Boss, we found it.”

  “Good work. Don’t do anything until I find you. Where are you?”

  “At the buffet.”

  “And my mother?”

  “Talking to your father near the musicians.”

  “Okay. Stay where you are.” I focused on Shardul again. “Found it.”

  “Fine. But I wish to finish this dance.”

  “By all means, your lordship.”

  He spun me around the dance floor with the flair of a professional, and if I imagined his slow burning gaze meant anything other than he wanted to look the part, then that was my problem. I refused to listen to the treacherous information my empathy fed me. How much was simple wish fulfilment, how much the truth? With Shardul, making assumptions was a very dangerous thing.

  When the music finished, he bowed. “I suppose I’ll have to wait for the other dance.”

  I returned the bow. “Regrettably, yes. We need to get to the buffet. Try to resist the temptation to charm any more women.”

  He took my arm as we walked through the massed guests, as if we had come to the ball on a date. Even though I knew it was part of whatever mind game he was playing with these people, the gesture both confused and pleased me, though I knew him too well to read too much into it.

  Vik was stuffing his face with pastries. I pinched one off his plate. “Where?”

  He didn’t turn. “By the statue of the man with the bow and arrow. Jyoti and Kirin
are watching. Woman in a green and yellow saree. She’s wearing the bracelet the right way around but both Jyoti and I saw it and know it’s the one.”

  “Great.” I ate the pastry unhurriedly. “Right, I need to speak to my mother. Shardul, would you and Vik keep her under surveillance? If she leaves, I’ll need a description for Mum.”

  Shardul nodded and I headed over to where my parents were chatting, near the now resting musicians. My mother scowled at me. “Finished making a display of yourself, Javen?”

  “He’s a very good dancer. Mum, I need to speak you in private, now. Dad? Can you excuse us?”

  “Shouldn’t I come with you?”

  “Not if you don’t want everyone in the room to know something’s up.”

  “This way, Javen,” Mum said, leading me towards the main residence.

  She took me into the library. “We’ve found the bracelet,” I said.

  “Where? Oh, that’s wonderful! But who—”

  I held up my hand. “Wait. It’s complicated, and the person with it is likely to be completely unaware of its history. I believe Timin Veringe arranged the bracelet to be stolen from your office, so he could resell it, probably for a higher price. There’s a woman here wearing it. I need you to identify her, and then we decide how to approach her.”

  “Timin? But why? He has such a good reputation.”

  “Not among the indigenous, he doesn’t. I don’t have time to discuss it, but you must make sure you don’t talk about this to anyone before we move. Now, come with me, and I’ll lead you past the woman in question. Don’t talk to her or stare. She’s wearing a green and yellow saree. Ready?”

  My mother’s arm was rigid with the tension I sensed in her, but to a casual observer, no one would see anything other than her usual pleasant expression. I took her past Jyoti and Kirin, who made no move to indicate the woman, but as they neatly bracketed her, there was no need for them to do that. My mother stiffened slightly as we walked past, but said nothing. I walked her back to the buffet.

  “Harinakshi Narl,” she said in a whisper. “She’s a friend. How could she steal—”

  “She almost certainly didn’t. Let’s make our way back to the library. I’ll need you to summon Dad too, I think.”

  My father stomped into the library five minutes later. “Javen, you really have been a damn nuisance this evening.”

  “Rajan, he found the bracelet.”

  His sour expression became delighted. “Really? Where is it?”

  “On Harinakshi Narl’s wrist,” Mum said.

  “What?”

  I waved him to a chair. “Dad, sit down, will you? This needs cool heads and a delicate touch.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  An hour later, I dropped off two tiddly and jubilant assistants at their homes, and a smug and rather high ex-boyfriend back at his house. “We must do that again,” Kirin said as he hugged me extravagantly.

  I unwound his arms from around my neck, and kissed his cheek. “Yeah, we must. Sleep well.”

  Then to drop Jyoti back to her home, and finally Shardul, who’d said nothing for the entire journey. As the taxi pulled up at his office, above which he lived, I said a little hesitantly because I knew I was imposing, “I’d like to talk to you about this. When do you have time?”

  He paused, his hand on the door lock. “Now?”

  “Here? In your apartment?”

  “Office.”

  I sent the party taxi on its way, slightly disappointed not to be invited into Shardul’s private residence, but not really expecting that I would be. He’d made that clear from the start and the only surprise was that he had patience for more of my company tonight.

  “Chai?” he asked.

  “Yes, please. My mother doesn’t believe in serving it on formal occasions.”

  “Her loss. I won’t be long.” He went out to where I assumed the staff kitchen lay.

  I slumped into a chair, exhausted but pleased. Not only had the plan worked, my staff and friends had had a good time, and some pains in the arse had had their noses tweaked. A good night’s work by anyone’s reckoning.

  And I’d danced with Shardul. A very good night’s work.

  He returned with two mugs of chai. I jerked upright as he set it down on the desk in front of me. I must have been dozing off. “Perhaps it’s too late for this,” he said.

  “No, it’s fine. I appreciate you taking the time, actually. Not just now...this evening.”

  “I forced myself on you.”

  “Don’t I wish.” He rolled his eyes. “You helped a good deal. And you gave my friends a wonderful time.” I lifted my mug in salute. “Thank you.”

  “It was an honour.”

  “Even dancing with Kirin?”

  His upper lip curled a little in disdain. “It wasn’t a hardship. I’ve done more distasteful acts. Tell me about the bracelet.”

  “Mum will invite Shrimati Narl to the residence for chai and chat. It’ll have to be done very carefully. Both she and her husband are powerful people, and the slightest hint they’re being accused of theft will cause a stink.”

  “They are thieves...only not in the way your mother thinks.”

  “Yes, well, I won’t argue.”

  “Will you approach Veringe?”

  “What would you advise?”

  He sipped his chai, his eyes thoughtful. “Tricky. On one hand, he can hardly have an explanation as to how the same bracelet was sold twice—assuming he’s the vendor the second time around, which we don’t know. On the other, there’s no direct proof he stole the item from the residence, so he could say the bracelet came back from Kelon in apparently legitimate ways, and disproving that could be difficult. Prosecuting him would undoubtedly involve your parents in scandal and might easily not result in a conviction, then he could turn around and sue you for defamation on top of it.”

  “So we need to find out how he got it out of the residence, and tie it back to him.”

  “Suborning a security guard is the most likely answer.”

  “I know,” I said, rubbing my face with tiredness and exasperation. “But a guard can’t have done it.”

  “You interviewed them all?”

  “All but two. One’s on vacation, the other broke his foot and is home on sick leave. I don’t have permission to talk to them outside work. But the others are clean, I’m sure of it. Anyway, the tagging system means none of them could have done it.”

  “That’s what TransPlanet said about their packets. There will be a way. You just need to figure it out.”

  “I still think the purchaser on Kelon is in on this. His behaviour stinks of guilt.”

  “Agreed,” he said, to my surprise. “But unless Veringe admits that, you’ll never prove it.”

  “If he is, and Veringe’s arrested, the guy will back off.”

  “Yes. He’s on shaky ground legally, claiming collateral damages, whatever that incompetent advising your father says. I think he’s trying it on, personally, even if he’s not colluding with Veringe.”

  “I’ll pass that on to my father without the personal remarks, if I may.”

  “No, don’t. Just suggest he seeks a second opinion. He hates me enough without inflaming the situation. I turned his little function into a freak show, I heard him say as I passed.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think that at all.”

  Shardul smiled. “If you did, I’d never have gone with you. I do need his support though if we’re to get licensing legislation passed. Representative Gopan’s prepared to propose it as an emergency motion, but we need support from the council of governors.”

  “So that’s what you were doing tonight. Sweet-talking the wives to convince the husbands.”

  He bowed his head. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Will it work?”

  “Who knows, but I had to try. A little loss of dignity is nothing. I dare say the media will have fun. My images was taken at least thirty times tonight, and so was Jyoti’s.”

 
“Is that good?”

  “Have to see. An indigenous man getting into the news for relatively benign reasons is rare enough.”

  I drained my mug of chai, and yawned. “Wow, it’s one in the morning. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “Fortunately, no. But I should let you go home.”

  We stood. For a second or two, it felt eerily like that awkward moment after a first date, when you don’t know if you should offer to stay because you’re not sure if the guy wants to have sex or not. I could have sworn Shardul was feeling something along those lines too but it was probably just projection. I didn’t dare think otherwise.

  He held his hand out, and stupidly I went to take it. “Your mug, Javen?”

  “Oh. Oh! Sorry. I really need to get some sleep.”

  “I could call you a taxi but there’s a rank ten minutes walk away which would be faster. I could take you down there?”

  I waved him away. “Nah. I’m fine. Thanks. Need to wake up so I can sleep properly. Talk to you...whenever. When I hear from Mum.”

  “Good night, Javen. Sleep well.”

  He’d never said that to me before. Never been around at bedtime, I supposed. I grinned, mumbled a farewell and headed off.

  The cool night air woke me up nicely, and by the time I got to the taxi rank, I was a little more sober and alert and less inclined to foolish notions about tight-arsed Nihani lawyers. But the memory of Shardul holding me as we danced still lingered, bright and warm, and whatever happened over this wretched bracelet, the evening would not have been a waste, just because of that.

  ~~~~~~~~

  “Wakey, wakey, brother of mine.”

  I squinted at the clock by the bed. Seven. My brother was a sadist. “Piss off, Yashi.”

  “Such language. Maybe I can persuade you by reading a little from this morning’s news report. ‘Governor’s son shows off new banis lover at his father’s ball.’ Last night, the cream of Hegal society was agog at Governor’s Ythen’s son, Javen, using the occasion to show off his new relationship with indigenous lawyer and activist, Shardul Rishabh. When asked about the liaison, Governor Ythen said—”

  “Give me that!” I grabbed for his reader.

  Yashi held it out of my reach. “No, he said ‘He had no comment at this time, and his son’s affairs were a private matter.’ Sri Rishabh could not be reached for comment as we went to press.”