Surprised, he grabbed his shirt and held it in front of him. “Emma, what are you doing? This is the men’s bathroom!”
She cleared her throat. “Uh . . . I didn’t know where you were, and my badge doesn’t work here. I tried it. I thought you left me.”
He rolled his eyes and threw his shirt on. Impossible. “I’m coming. You were taking forever.”
“I didn’t want to meet Jas and any other potential coworkers looking like I was subjected to twenty-four hours of air travel.”
“But you were subjected to twenty-four hours of air travel.” Why were they having this conversation in the doorway of the men’s bathroom? “Go. Shut the door.” He gestured toward the hall. Thankfully no one had seen them, or the rumor mill would be going wild. Why was Rishi in the bathroom with Emma? He could already hear the stories getting out of control.
“You shouldn’t open the door to the guys’ bathroom, by the way,” he said as he badged them into the office.
“Well, it’s not like I normally do, but you left me a little stuck out there.”
Twenty feet in front of them, Jas was coming out of his office. “Jas!” Rishi called.
Jas pivoted. “Hey! There are my world travelers. My project lead and lead developer here at last.”
Emma grabbed Jas’s hand in a severe handshake that looked like she was going to yank his arm off. “Jas, it’s so nice to meet you in person. Finally!”
Jas stepped back, and his eyes lit up in surprise at Rishi, as if they were mutually amused by this creature who was invading their space, running over Rishi, and sucking up to his boss. “I don’t want to keep you too long, but I have your keys to your corporate housing.”
“Hi, Jas.” Rishi waved. Maybe he’d remember that he was standing there, too, and not merely the shadow of Emma, Jas’s new star employee.
“Rishi, welcome back!” He shook his hand like they were old friends. Old friends who sometimes betrayed each other.
Jas looked back at Emma. “While you’re here, let’s meet the team. Then tomorrow we can have a normal day.” He ushered them toward the cube farm. “I think they’re all huddled over here.”
Rishi saw Kaushik, Preeti, and Manuj, other app developers he knew from around the office, and gave them a small half wave as they all turned around when they heard the three of them coming.
“Team, meet Emma,” Jas announced. “She’s our new project lead for the literacy app. And you know Rishi.”
“Hi, everyone. So excited to start working with you.” Emma squeezed her hands together in front of her, clearly used to being the darling of the office. “We’re going to make this app so awesome.”
“I’m going to get a coffee,” Rishi said. He didn’t need to witness the horror show that was his new team finding Emma oh so amusing.
He exhaled and marched outside to the coffee station on the balcony. He made his coffee and decided to drink it out there, for a moment of peace, away from the reminder of what he’d be dealing with for the next year.
The door opened and Emma emerged, her hair blowing in all different directions from the vacuum-like effect of the air-conditioning. It was like one of those horror movies where the seductress monster emerged, wild and sexy, hair blowing in the wind as she traced her fingers up an unsuspecting dork’s chest, right before she bit his head off. Except with Emma, she was trying to eat his soul with one of her glares.
What was he doing to deserve that? Nothing, just leaning against the balcony with his coffee, minding his own business. Her head pivoted to the coffee machine. She walked over to it and silently made a cup. Then she brought it over and stood directly in front of him, a blank look on her face.
They were the only two people on the balcony, except for a guy at the other end, completely absorbed in his laptop. If she decided to throw him over the rail, no one would be his witness.
“Rishi, are we cool? We need to be cool. We’re partners, remember?”
“Partners?” The blasphemous word came out louder and more ridiculous than he’d expected. The guy at the end stopped typing and even looked up. He thought he had gotten over the turn of events that had led him back to Bangalore, but then the anger resurfaced. Jas treating her like she was the star pupil. The team he should be leading, nodding and smiling at her like she deserved her place as their collective lead, instead of him. They didn’t know how she’d run to her manager and begged for the job after Rishi had told her. “Does one partner usually steal the other partner’s job?”
She threw her hands up in the air, like she was the exasperated one. “I did not steal your job. We’ve been through this! And I want to make something clear . . .” She leaned forward, and the scent of citrus and flowers leaped toward him, trying to weave a web of perfumed confusion in his head via his nostrils. He resisted physically brushing off his shirt, afraid somehow that she would entwine herself with him and get in his head, her presence taunting him all day long about what could have been. “I love my work and this company and this product, and you need to get on board. I can’t be worried all the time that you’re out to get me. Like your stupid little immature taunts.” Her voice was like urgent nails sliding along glass.
All his mounting irritation burst out in a laugh. “Me immature?” Emma was like an annoying fire ant stuck in his room that he couldn’t get rid of. She might look small and cute, but then she kept biting and biting, her sting a motherfucker.
But she stuck her finger up, telling him to wait. It was mere centimeters from his lips. He could reach out and lick it if he wanted.
No, bite it.
“What about that stupid shit that you were saying to try and scare me? Cobras or whatever—it’s not going to work. I’m here for the year. No little snake is going to freak me out.”
She leaned back, her eyes steady on him. And then, apparently feeling proud of herself, she took a sip of her coffee, waiting for him to admit she was right.
Maybe she was a little right. Maybe he had been immature, but she had, too, Miss Queen of the Doughnuts. And he’d deserved the position as team lead. But Emma thought she deserved it too. They were both going to be working side by side for the next year. Essentially joined at the hip, surely, as Emma developed faulty code and Rishi corrected her tiny disasters. He’d just have to get over it. Possibly admit they were a little too similar in their perspectives to keep this up for months, or they’d never get anything done. He finished up his coffee and crumpled up the cup in his fist.
He should have told her what he thought. That he was a mature professional who was above those comments, and above her petty pastry thievery. Reassure her that they could work together and make the app successful. Or, he could just clear his throat and say . . .
“Emma, it’s actually quite a big snake.”
He stalked off toward the door, not sure if she’d follow him after that. A burning in his chest propelled him, a tightness that made him swallow hard. That was not dignified. It was not mature. It was the kind of thing that could get him an HR violation.
Would he regret what he’d just said? Maybe. But as he neared the door and saw Emma’s reflection in the glass, her mouth still open, absolutely speechless, it was all worth it.
CHAPTER 13
This was not how Emma had imagined her start in India. In her head, she had seen marigold garlands, splashes of fuchsia and turquoise. A buffet of curries and pakoras. The saffron-hued sweets she’d only seen pictures of. Her new team, passionate and clinging to the potential of technology, would be united in the cause to fight illiteracy. And everything would be done up in a wildly vibrant Technicolor musical number. Clearly she’d watched one too many movies to prepare for her trip.
She walked down to the parking garage with Jas, who gave instructions to the company driver on how to go to her home.
As Emma settled into the back seat, she closed her eyes and groaned, trying to piece together the sandstorm that had blown over her in the past few hours. Like Rishi . . . all she could do was gr
oan.
The driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Everything all right, madam?”
“Yes, sorry. It’s nothing,” she said. But it was something. On the plane ride over, she’d imagined kicking things off with her team after a full night of sleep, not spending the day fighting with the one person she should be collaborating with the most—her lead developer. She could envision him whispering doubts about her capabilities to the rest of the team as she rode home in the car.
She just needed them all to give her a chance, and she hoped it wasn’t too late.
The car turned down a road and stopped in front of a brick house painted white with terra-cotta shingles. The garden and home were gated shut. Roses and bougainvillea sprouted up from behind the five-foot-high wall. A spiral staircase led to a second floor outside. This house was a thousand times nicer than her run-down apartment in Seattle.
The driver brought her luggage inside, and Emma followed. She stepped inside and thanked him, maybe a little too much, because it looked like he wanted to run away. Who could blame him for wanting to escape the tired, jet-lagged, sallow, groaning woman in the back seat? She surveyed her new home while her feet chilled on the cool tile. The creamy swirls in the flooring looked like marble.
She knew she should wait to sleep for just a few more hours to avoid waking up at two in the morning, ready for the day. It was almost a twelve-hour time difference. But the burgundy cushions on the sofa called to her like sirens of jet lag. Just lie down for a minute, Emma. Don’t we look comfy? But she needed to unpack, connect to the Wi-Fi, and get acquainted with her home.
She unzipped her suitcase, and there, lying on top, was her new book. She pulled it out and rolled her eyes. The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana. She thumbed through the beginning and found the inscription on the first page.
Emma, have a great trip and know I’ll miss you like crazy. But I hope that you find some use for this while you’re there. I recommend starting with Congress of the Cow.
XO
Jordana
Congress of the Cow? She flipped through the pages. A book on sexual positions wasn’t at the top of her reading list. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how a cow was involved. She zipped it back in the pocket of the suitcase, only because she couldn’t bear to throw a book away. It had already caused her more embarrassment than she needed on her first day in India. Or really, for the year.
She frowned as she looked at the contents of her suitcase—a suit she was now certain she would never wear after visiting the office, button-up blouses for interviews that had each been worn once, and some linen pants she’d bought just for the trip. Everyone was so casual, just like at the Seattle office. She already missed the collection of vintage dresses and boots she had amassed over the years, the clothes that had formed her into quite the visual juxtaposition from her grubby neighbors in the Dev Lab. Maybe she could enlist her new coworkers to go shopping with her.
With her clothes put away, she walked into the kitchen to get some water. She flung open the fridge and kitchen cupboards, where she found bottled water, coffee, milk, sugar, rice, and a few prepackaged Indian meals. Tears sprang to her eyes at the generosity of it all—the beautiful home, the stocked fridge, a bed made and ready for her, and towels in the bathroom.
Suddenly, the whole day didn’t seem so awful. Really, there was just one unbalanced variable in her equation for happiness and success here: x = Rishi. But she was going to be here a year, and she hadn’t come halfway around the world to fail. She’d show the rest of the team she was a lovely person, absolutely delightful, and that she’d been asked to come for good reason.
Two could play at this game. If Rishi thought he could mess with her, then she could mess with him right back.
En garde, Rishi Iyengar!
Emma’s sleep came in fits and starts. After passing out on her bed, still dressed, at 6:00 p.m., she woke up at 11:00 p.m.
Emma, it’s actually quite a big snake.
Her eyes flew open in the dark, a ripple of irritation sliding down her abdomen. Ugh. If she could just sleep and put it behind her.
Then at 2:00 a.m., there was Rishi again in her thoughts, shooting darts in her eyes as he said “partners” to her like it was a curse when she’d tried to bring them together. She’d looked away from his eyes and settled on the tendons in his forearms straining against his skin. Proof of his heart racing. Maybe it would explode if she pissed him off enough. She turned on her side and tried to bury her face in the pillows.
At 5:00 a.m. she decided to give up. It was like he was haunting her in her jet-lagged sleep. She couldn’t let him nag at her anymore. It was his problem anyway. He reminded her of someone from her old team—a guy who liked to mansplain basic code to her or shush her in meetings when she interjected something. She was done with it.
She threw off the covers and got out of bed.
Something about Rishi fueled a fire in her that she couldn’t extinguish. She’d felt bad about what had happened, but he wouldn’t put the past in the past. A simmering rage was taking the place of the guilt. It had her fantasizing about doing imperceptible, torturous things to him. Spreading that “grow anywhere” grass seed on his desk. Finding itching powder (was that a real thing?) and, somehow, subtly sprinkling it on his clothes. Putting salt in his coffee instead of sugar. She looked down at her hand, clenched in a fist. How could one person prick her like a thousand needles, irritating every pore?
It was 6:00 p.m. Pacific time and the perfect time to tell Jordana her gift had turned into more of a curse.
Hi, just wanted to tell you I got your little gift. Rishi actually saw it fall out of my suitcase. He’s definitely amused that his new coworker packs sex guides as reading material.
OMG. Amused or intrigued? Maybe he’ll ask if you want a partner to practice with.
Emma paused before responding, with Rishi materializing in her mind’s eye: hovering over her as she picked up the book, biting his full bottom lip to keep from laughing, his shaggy hair hanging over one concrete eye. He’d crossed his arms in front of him, making the curves of his biceps apparent, and the indentation of his pecs through his shirt formed a deep line down the center of his chest.
A line that would be perfect for tracing with a sharp object. Like a shiv. A dinner knife. A freshly sharpened pencil.
Not possible.
I thought you’d just set it on your coffee table. Not advertise with it LOL
Of course Jordana would think in those terms. Not about what would happen if someone came over and saw the Kama Sutra lying as the pièce de résistance on her coffee table.
Got to get ready for work. Miss you!
Emma put her phone down, and a shiver subtly shook her again as she thought of how embarrassed she’d been yesterday. If there were a scoreboard for their interactions, it would say Rishi 2, Emma 0.
Somehow, some way, the score needed to be evened, if not tipped in her favor.
Emma walked with Jas toward the cafeteria for breakfast. He spoke as fast as a bullet train, and she clung onto every dip in intonation as he talked about the general process of moving desktop software into an app.
The scent of the cafeteria wafted down the hall and filled her nose, which had a direct line of communication with her stomach.
They entered the cafeteria, and Emma stared down the line of food she didn’t recognize. Jordana had been right. They kept all the good stuff here. This breakfast spread was like a buffet of secrets. So many times she’d eaten Indian food, yet all this was unfamiliar. Even the smells were different. An orange-hued stew, a milky-looking soup, something that looked like couscous, and small, fluffy white pancakes.
“This looks exciting!”
Jas smiled at her, and she followed him, mirroring his food selections. “You like South Indian breakfast?” he asked, picking up two of the fluffy-looking clouds.
“I don’t know. I hope so.” Emma laughed and followed him to one of the tables. She had no idea how to eat what she�
��d just put on her plate, but her powers of observation had never let her down. Well, until recently.
Jas broke off a piece of the white fluffy cloud and dipped it into some soup. “I thought you would have gone for the cereal.”
“Cereal?” Emma followed Jas’s nod and saw containers of cornflakes and milk, then turned around to face the enigma on her plate. “Oh no. I would much rather eat an authentic Indian breakfast.”
Emma leaned over her plate and inhaled the aromas of cayenne and turmeric and cumin that wafted up toward her. “It smells good.” An intense flavor profile for breakfast.
She broke off a piece of the spongy white circle and dipped it into the red-hued stew, as she’d watched Jas do. A symphony of flavors burst on her tongue—tart tamarind, savory onions, acidic tomatoes—and ended with a blast of heat. Emma drank half her glass of water, and her tongue was still burned raw. It was like she’d asked the waiter at her favorite Indian place in Seattle for a ten-star meal.
“What is that?” she asked Jas, pointing to the bowl on her plate.
“Sambar. It is a kind of lentil stew. The idli is made from rice. Is the sambar spicy?”
“My tongue is on fire.” A parade of chili flakes marched on her tongue, celebrating the capture of their newest victim. She was excited at discovering the authentic flavor profile she was searching for, but also trying to hide the pain.
“Let me get you some chutney.” Jas jogged off to the line and brought back a small dish. “It’s made from coconut. It will soothe the burn.”
Emma dipped the idli into the chutney, and the coolness of the coconut coated her tongue like a creamy poultice. It was so fresh, like sweet cream and water and a coconut flavor that was beyond anything shredded that came in a bag.
“This is amazing. I need to get used to the heat index on the food here, I think.”
“We grow up eating this way, so we’re used to it. That’s why most foreigners who visit opt for the cereal or pasta or whatever we’re serving that’s not spicy.”
The Marriage Code: A Novel Page 10