by Alisha Rai
She nodded. “I liked your soap.”
“You watched it?”
“I’d watch it occasionally, yes, over the past year. I don’t speak Hindi, so I had to hunt down subtitled episodes.”
He rested his arms on the table. The candlelight on the table reflected against his eyeglasses. “What did you think?”
“They were entertaining. I don’t know how you kept a straight face for some of those story lines.”
He angled his face, and within a blink, he became Raj, his character, complete with haughty sniff. “I think my evil twin trapping me in a cave for two months so he can take over my life is quite serious actually.”
She chuckled.
He dropped the act and his eyes warmed. “You look lovely tonight, by the way.”
His voice was low and intimate and it sent goose bumps across her arms. “Thanks.” Mentally, she slapped herself. What was she doing here, chatting with him like everything was fine? Those goose bumps were far too unnerving. Enough small talk. “Can we . . . can we talk about the incident?”
Dev nodded, but paused while their drinks arrived. He twirled the stem of the wineglass between his fingers. “I don’t quite know how to say this, Jia, except to note that I am deeply sorry. I have never contacted you, not from my social media, not via text.”
“You already said that.” And it hurt just as much, hearing it now, as it had then. “So who was it?”
“I believe . . . my brother and my cousin may have worked in concert to send the messages.”
Who knew it was possible to choke on air? She inhaled so sharply her lungs contracted and she started coughing. It took her a second to get over her fit.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she wheezed. “I’m sorry, did you say . . . your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have another brother who is alive?”
“No.”
That was a tasteless way to remind him of his brother’s death, Jia, her inner mom scolded. “I mean . . . what?”
“There is some strong evidence my brother may have contacted you, a year ago, before he passed away. My cousin has his phone. I believe he started messaging you a couple months ago when you reached out again.”
She cradled her head in her hands. “This is some bananas level stuff.”
“I am aware.”
“And your cousin confessed all this to you?”
“Not in so many words, but I could read between the lines. He won’t answer my calls now.”
“What did I do to make them hate me?”
Dev’s fingers tightened around his glass. “I don’t think they hate you. I think it was a prank aimed at me. You simply were the vehicle for the prank.”
“Oh cool. That makes me feel great.” She jabbed her finger against her chest. “I’m the one who got hurt here.”
“I agree. I’m sorry you were placed in the middle of this.”
His immediate apology doused some of her ire. Some of it, not all of it. “What kind of messed-up family do you have?”
Dev’s sigh was so weary, she might have felt bad for him if she hadn’t been very much caught up in this. He replied, “A more messed-up one than I previously imagined.”
“How old is your cousin? Is he a child?”
“Only in maturity. He’s thirty.”
She racked her memory. Why hadn’t she cared more about Bollywood movies? “It’s . . . Arjun. Right?”
“Correct. You’ve seen his movies?”
“No, I don’t care for college sex romps.”
His laugh was strained. “I shall make sure to remember that phrase when I speak with him next. It will make him extremely angry.”
Thank God she hadn’t said anything particularly intimate or sexy in those texts. Blech. “This was a terrible thing to do.”
“I agree.” Dev’s tone hardened. “I will figure out some way to ensure Arjun never does something like this again. He will not get out of this without consequence. In the meantime, Ms. Ahmed . . .” He reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out a check and a pen. He leaned forward, placed it on the coffee table, and wrote on it. He slid it over to her, across the table. “Please take this as a token of my family’s regrets.”
Jia looked at the zeroes, and a deep, inescapable anger flared to life in her belly. The heroine is aghast, that the villain’s cousin thinks she can be bought off. “This is in dollars?”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back. She was actually pretty proud of herself. A year ago, she would have jumped on him and ripped his hair out by the roots for this insulting offer. “What are the conditions on this check?”
“No conditions.”
“So I can take this money, deposit the check, and then go tell a tabloid about what your brother and cousin did to me?”
He blinked. “I trust you’ll be discreet about this.”
So it was hush money. “I want a million.”
His fingers rested lightly on the check. “Dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible. I do not have that kind of money. I barely have— This is all I can afford right now.”
She scoffed. A part of her was really loving this cold rage. It was a nice change from her usual flailing anger. “Your family is obscenely wealthy.”
“I no longer share in my family’s wealth. Everything I own is from my own sources.”
She might have found that admirable, if it weren’t for the fact that he wouldn’t have any of those sources without his family name to begin with. “Too bad. Everyone has their price, and a million is mine.”
“A million is an outrageous sum for—”
“For hush money?”
“It is not anything as sordid as that. The money is merely my way of apologizing on behalf of my family,” he said coolly.
“And in return I don’t do anything, like, say . . . leak the texts, right?”
“If that was my concern, I wouldn’t need money for that. Leaking the texts would hurt you as well.”
Her temper fired hotter, partially because he was right. If any of this ever came to light, she’d get made fun of mercilessly. It took a second for the internet to turn against someone. Not to mention how her family would react when they found out she’d been catfished. Shamed and cowed, the heroine returns to her family’s home, because she cannot be trusted to be on her own. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s not.” He leaned forward and spoke, and every calm word only made her madder. “I am trying to be as nice as possible. Please accept the gesture.”
Be reasonable, Jia.
Stop being so emotional.
Why do you cry so much? It’s not rational.
Don’t be hasty, Jia.
It hurt her a little to do this, given what she knew of her declining revenue, but Jia picked up the check and ripped it in two, and then two again and then again. “I don’t want your bribe.”
“It’s not a bribe.” He stared at the confetti she’d made. “Do you know how long I had to hunt for a paper check in my moving boxes? Everything is electronic now.”
“Thanks for hunting. To be honest, I never thought I’d get to rip up a check in indignation in this day and age.”
Dev closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jia . . .”
Do not get all flutter tummied over your damn name. “I think I should leave.”
“Please,” he said, his voice low. “I understand how much this must have hurt. Please, let me make it up to you somehow. What can I do for you?”
She shook her head and shoved her chair back. “There’s nothing you can do that can make up for this.”
His eyes darkened. “I can’t accept that. I must make amends. I—” A small commotion near the front of the bar caught their attention, along with that of others in the bar.
“What’s going on?” He craned his neck to look around her.
“It’s paparazz
i. Someone superfamous must be coming or going.” A few people around them were hastily donning their jackets, eager to capitalize on the free publicity outside.
Internet-famous celebrities didn’t appeal to most paps, but for once she didn’t want any attention. She waved the waiter over. “Is there a back way out of here?” Jia asked the waiter.
“Yes, of course,” the man said calmly, used to sneaking people out.
“Wait for me, please,” Dev said.
Jia cursed the innate politeness that froze her feet at Dev’s request. Dev was a bigger fish than her for sure, and as annoyed as she was at him—and his family—he’d personally done nothing to her to justify throwing him to the publicity wolves.
Dev handed over his credit card, and the waiter pulled out a handheld machine and swiped it right there, while she texted Gerald where to pick her up.
She and Dev followed the waiter through the kitchen and to a back door. “Goes into the side alley,” the waiter said.
“Got it, thanks,” Jia murmured. The cooler air hit her face as they stepped out.
“What is that smell?”
Jia sniffed. “Pot,” she said curtly. She’d gotten used to the scent of it here.
“Oh.”
“It’s legal, don’t sound so scandalized.”
“I’m not scandalized.” He was silent as they walked through the alleyway. “Jia—”
They stepped out onto the sidewalk. “I don’t want to hear anything—” She gasped when he placed his hand on her arm, whirled her around, and stepped in front of her. The smooth move crowded her back against the building. His arm slipped between her and the brick, though it didn’t touch her. His other hand came to rest on the wall next to her face, locking her in the cage of his body. If she took a step back, she’d hit his strong arm. If she took a step forward, she’d hit his strong chest.
“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered furiously. Or she tried to sound furious. Yes, it was definitely fury that had sent her heartbeat racing and her breath into her throat.
His chest moved quicker, like maybe his heart was racing too. His forehead almost rested against hers. “I’m sorry to startle you. Give it one moment,” he said softly. “There’s a man running up the street. He has a camera. He’ll be past us in a second. You seemed eager to avoid the press, I’m trying to keep him from seeing you.”
Oh. If she listened carefully, over the pulse in her ears, she could make out a pounding on the pavement coming from the other direction. “I see.”
His head dipped low, silky black strands of hair falling into his eyes. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can create a distraction, and you can run.”
“No. It’s fine.”
His hand fisted on the wall next to her head, and her breathing grew deeper, to match his. With the way his body was positioned, it probably did look like they were just a couple kissing or intimately embracing. Only they knew they weren’t touching at all.
Except for where their breath intermingled. He smelled so good. Expensive and woodsy. Like a fancy forest.
The cage grew warm, and so did she.
She moved slightly. Not to force a touch! That would be wrong. As wrong as the little tingles that raced over her skin. They stood there like that for a few seconds, or maybe minutes, she didn’t know, until Dev risked a glance to the side. “I think they’re gone.”
Who? “Oh. Good.”
His breath puffed against her skin. “Do you have a ride home?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “He’ll pick me up on Almont. What about you?”
“I’ll call a car. I don’t care if I get photographed by myself.”
She nodded, unable to think clearly. He smelled so good, expensive and soothing. “Okay.” Her phone vibrated. Gerald. “My ride’s here.”
He looked around more carefully, his dark eyebrows meeting over his eyes. Big and protective. Like a sexy bodyguard.
No! Her body wasn’t being anything-ed by this famous virtual stranger, let alone guarded. “Coast seems clear.”
He took a large step back, and she immediately had to bury the yearning she felt for his warmth. They stared at each other for a moment. It wasn’t often that she felt shy. “Okay. Goodbye.” That’s right. It was a goodbye, not a see you later.
He nodded, but didn’t say the word back to her. “I wish there was something I could do to make this all up to you.”
“I don’t think there is.” Which was too bad.
His lips turned down. “Please let me know if you change your mind.”
Jia turned on her heel and walked away, the back of her neck hot. She tried to resist glancing over her shoulder, she really did. But when she reached the road where Gerald had pulled up, she couldn’t restrain herself.
Dev stood right where she’d left him. He raised a hand, and she did the same, then got into her car. The door closing was a metaphor for his exit from her life.
That’s what she’d tell herself.
“Is everything okay?” Gerald asked.
“Yup.” Her voice sounded higher than normal, though. Everything was cool. She’d been catfished as some kind of family prank, and the man whose face they’d used had tried to buy her silence and then she’d smelled him and it had made her tummy drop. A totally normal night.
She covered her hot face with her hands. Should have taken the check. Then she might have gotten something out of this whole debacle.
Chapter Eight
JIA SIPPED her latte and pretended not to stare at the girl dancing on the other side of the pool. She knew of her, Harley, a teenager who had moved into an apartment in the building a few months ago. Jia tried not to be the fuddy-duddy grandma who wondered where the kid’s parents were, but seriously, the girl was definitely under eighteen, where were her parents?
Off enjoying the girl’s money, most likely, in their new Hollywood Hills home. Word on the street was that Harley gained about a hundred thousand followers a day on her platform of choice and easily made five or six figures on a fifteen-second post.
Don’t be bitter. You cannot compare success.
Jia returned to the legal pad she’d balanced on her knees, filled with scribbled ideas for new content. She couldn’t dance, she was shit at lip-synching, and her expertise was in long-form original videos, not fifteen-second clips borrowing someone else’s music. She doodled a heart in the corner. Maybe at twenty-nine, she was a grandma.
Harley finished her dance and downed a water bottle before packing up her ring light and tripod. Their eyes met across the pool, and Jia tried to pretend she was still working and not spying on the girl.
It must not have worked, because the lithe brunette crossed the distance, her gear in tow. Her face was flushed. “Hey!”
Jia glanced over her shoulder, but Harley was definitely talking to her. “Hi.”
“What did you think?”
“Of your dance? It was great. I wish I could do that.”
“Oh please. You have actual talent.” Harley dropped into the chaise next to her. “I’m a big fan. I’ve been watching you since middle school.”
Grandma. She tried not to grimace. “Aw. Thank you. I’m a fan of yours as well. You’re a great dancer.”
“I know we’re not supposed to be filming at the pool, but I figured if no one was here, the management wouldn’t know.”
“I won’t tell.” Jia had filmed in her share of no-trespassing places in her day. When the light was right, it was right.
“I didn’t know you lived here.” A sweet smile lit up Harley’s face. “I just moved in.”
“By yourself?” Jia couldn’t help but ask.
The girl’s smile dimmed. “Yeah. My parents gave permission. It’s better this way.”
Jia made a mental note to check in on Harley from time to time. “It’s good to do what’s best for us,” Jia said gently. “And no, I don’t live here, I rent it as a set, basically.”
“Oh. If you’re ever around at night, let me know.
I’d love to have a movie night or something. I haven’t met many people here yet.”
Jia wasn’t usually here in the evenings, but she could make an exception for a new young friend who might otherwise easily fall into a more predatory crowd. “Absolutely. Here, take my number.”
“Cool,” Harley enthused, after she’d entered Jia’s number into her phone. “I’d love to talk to you about doing a collaboration or something.”
Hundreds of thousands of new followers a day.
Jia smiled and swallowed her envy. “I’d like that. I can’t dance.” She had zero rhythm, much to her family’s amusement.
“That’s cool, we can come up with something else, sometimes I do nondancing videos. Maybe you could give me, like, makeup tips or something.”
“Your makeup is already fantastic.” A touch of mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss, plus what looked like a BB cream.
“That’s because my parents made me learn how to do it on my own when I was thirteen. They said my skin was so bad I wouldn’t get an acting gig if I couldn’t hide it.”
Jia blinked. Sometimes she wished she’d had more involved parents when it came to her career, but not if they’d be involved like that. “Oh. Um.”
A beeping noise filled the air, and Harley looked around. “What’s that?”
“Just my timer.” Jia tapped the plastic box on the table. “I get distracted by my phone, so I put it away while I’m working.”
Harley clutched her phone to her chest. “My nightmare, not having my phone.”
“It used to be mine, until I realized how hard it was to focus on work with it in my hand.”
Harley looked at her blankly, and Jia realized the younger woman wasn’t there yet, the point where content creation felt like an uphill climb because she’d used up all her best ideas. Hopefully she never experienced it. She was probably pulling in way more income than Jia had after a year of working in entertainment. “Anyway, it means I should head up for lunch.”
Harley tucked her pin-straight hair behind her ear. “I’ll be in touch!”
“Looking forward to it.”
They said their goodbyes and Jia gathered up her stuff to head to her staged apartment.
Her lunch consisted of a sandwich she’d slapped together at the crack of dawn this morning. She’d gotten up extra early so she could beat traffic. And avoid Katrina, whom she’d have to tell about Dev.