The Singles Table, page 28
“No.” Jay was barely aware of the word coming out of his mouth. All he could feel was the chill of the blood in his veins, the slow pumping of a battered heart, and the soul-destroying crush of defeat. If Zara had wanted to send a message that it was truly over between them, she couldn’t have done a better job.
“Yes,” Lucia said. “Cruz & Lovitt.”
After the call ended, Elias leaned forward, his face creased in disbelief. “Zara’s representing Bob? Against us?”
“She knows what this lawsuit will do to our chances of getting our funding.” Bile rose in Jay’s throat, the sense of betrayal almost overwhelming. “I pushed too hard and she ran. I never imagined she would do something like this.”
Elias stood, rubbing his temples with one hand. “What did you do to piss her off so bad?”
“I told her I loved her.” He still loved her. Even though his heart was hurting, that was never going to change.
“Those aren’t the kinds of words that make people turn around and stab you in the back,” Elias said. “There’s got to be more.”
“Her job is on the line.” His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “She needs clients and entertainment law was her dream. It’s why I introduced her to Bob and why I was going to take her to Moskovitz’s birthday party. What haven’t we sacrificed for this dream?”
“We haven’t thrown anyone we cared about under the bus,” Elias retorted. “I just can’t believe it. Zara wears her feelings on her sleeve. It’s all out there for everyone to see. She’s not the kind of person to pull an underhanded move like this.”
“Why are you defending her?” Jay snapped. “You hardly know her.”
“Because you do know her, and you know something isn’t right. I can see it in your face. I can hear it in your voice. Send her a message or call her. Find out what’s going on. I’m sure it isn’t what it seems.”
Jay grabbed his phone and sent Zara a quick text asking her to call. He studied the screen and then showed it to Elias. “No delivery notification. I’ve been blocked.”
“Maybe she’s not staring at her phone,” Elias said. “Try her office.”
Jay called her office and the receptionist informed him that she’d been instructed not to put through any of his calls. “It’s over,” he said to Elias, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Everything is over. The international expansion. The dream . . .”
And Zara. He’d pushed too hard and she was never coming back.
* * *
• • •
“You’re staring at that seating plan like you want to destroy it.” Dressed in an elegant green and gold salwar suit, Parvati leaned against the wall outside the dance hall where Avi and Soroya’s sangeet was about to begin.
“Jay was supposed to be at my table but someone crossed out his name.” She tapped the handwritten scribble. “I don’t know how I feel about it. On one hand, it would have been awkward if he knew about the lawsuit. How would I have let him know I accepted the case solely to save him from an unscrupulous firm that wouldn’t care enough to make sure they were suing the right company? On the other hand, what if he hadn’t found out and he wanted to talk? I could hardly ignore him if we were sitting at the same table. And we do need to clear the air.”
“Why are you worrying about it?” Parvati grabbed her and pulled her into a small alcove just as a group of aunties paraded by. “He’s not going to be at your table. In fact, I don’t see his name on any of the singles tables, so maybe he isn’t coming.”
Zara’s breath caught in her throat. “What if he’s at a couples table, Parv? What if I hurt him so badly that he decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore, and he found someone new? Oh my God! What if I have to see him with another woman? And then what if they hit the dance floor and he has incredible moves and it’s all because of me? I’ll be kicking myself for taking his love and throwing it in his face because I’m such a coward.” She staggered back to the nearest wall. “I can’t handle it. I can’t be here if he’s with someone else. It might even be too late. His mother wouldn’t see me at the hospital the last time I went to visit. I think she knows what I did to her son.”
“Get a grip.” Exasperation showed on Parvati’s face. “You’d better go to your table. I have to find Faroz and get to ours. He said he has to keep a low profile at big events because people from his past might try to kill him. I think he’s been hiding in the restroom.”
“ ‘Ours’ ?” Zara checked the seating list. “We’re not at the same table?”
“I decided at the last minute to bring Faroz as a plus-one, so I’m at the couples table tonight.”
Zara sucked in a breath, her stomach twisting in a knot. “But we’re singles. We don’t belong at the couples table, Parv. You can’t do this to me. You can’t leave me alone.”
“You won’t be alone.” Parvati’s voice dropped to a soothing tone. “You can always come over and talk to me and see what it’s like on the other side. I’m sitting two tables away. This isn’t the reception. No one is really here for the food. We’ll be at the table an hour at most and then we’ll be dancing the night away.”
“Beta! Look who is here!”
Zara’s punishment for not moving fast enough to her table was Bushra Auntie and a skinny dude with a thin mustache and thick glasses who didn’t look a day over eighteen.
“Bajaj is my cousin’s husband’s brother’s uncle’s boy here from New York. Thirty-two and already the CEO of a successful juice company.” Bushra clapped her hands in excitement. “They have all juices: mango, apple, orange, pineapple, grape, carrot, cucumber, beet, cantaloupe, celery, cherry, clam, spinach, strawberry—”
“I’ve got it, Auntie-ji.”
“. . . wheatgrass, watercress, vegetable, plum, lychee, turnip, guava, tomato, and prune—I do like a nice glass of prune juice in the morning. Keeps things regular.”
Zara cringed inside. Unlike most of her family who delighted in having long-winded discussions about body ailments, Zara liked to keep her personal troubles to herself. “That’s . . . um . . . good to know.”
“It’s our best seller,” Bajaj said. “We don’t dilute it. One glass is the equivalent of eating thirty pitted prunes. You see immediate results.”
Was it possible to be a worse salesman? Zara didn’t think so. “Not something I’ve ever really wanted to try, but I’ll make a note of that for middle age.”
“Take this.” He handed her his card, white with a picture of two wrinkled prunes in the background. “If you’re ever in New York and need juice, just give me a call.”
“Thank you.” She tucked the card into her purse. “That’s very kind. I do get thirsty from all that pollution.”
“I’ve got some free juice samples in my car . . .” He smoothed his mustache and gave her an exaggerated wink. “Maybe we could sample them later.” He said sample with a little roll of his shoulders and a shake of his oversize head.
Where was Parvati? Was the dude seriously trying to get it on with her in front of her aunt by luring her to his car with free juice? Parvati would have been in hysterics by now.
“Gosh. Thanks. I’m actually all juiced out for the day. And I’m . . . with someone.” At least she would be if she could get the damn lawsuit out of the way and then find a way to fix things with Jay.
She would fix things. She was smart and capable and a damn good catch and she still had Lin-Manuel Miranda’s name on her arm. If that wasn’t lucky, she didn’t know what else was.
* * *
• • •
Pickings were slim at the singles table. A barely legal cousin of the bride who claimed to be a famous influencer. Avi’s work friend who was sweaty from his golf game and hungover as hell. A divorced aunt and a widowed uncle who had clearly been put together in the hopes that they’d keep each other entertained. Kamal on her right. A woman who looked like she’d walked off the set of an A-list film. And a dude in an expensive suit who looked incredibly bored.
After introducing themselves, they all sat in silence.
Kamal nudged Zara with his elbow. “Say something,” he whispered. “Getting the conversation going is your thing.”
“I’m not up for it today.” She drained her third—or was it her fourth?—gin and tonic and looked around for a waiter to open the bottles of wine on the table. If it took any longer, she was going to crack them open with her teeth. Jay wasn’t here and it was entirely her fault. He’d given her a gift, and she’d thrown it in his face. She needed a little something to numb the pain.
“Don’t worry.” Kamal patted her hand. “I’ll handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“So . . .” Kamal raised his voice loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “Here we are at the singles table. They’re probably expecting us all to hook up. Am I right? Who wants to get down and nasty? Pick someone and get it on.”
“What are you doing?” Zara hissed under her breath. “You sound like you’re doing bad stand-up comedy in a dive bar.”
“I’m doing your job to help you out.” Kamal smiled warmly. “I’ll keep us all entertained so you can wallow in your self-pity. I heard you broke up with your boyfriend.”
“I didn’t have a . . .” The response was almost automatic but she caught herself again. She’d been afraid to say it, just as she’d been afraid to admit she’d fallen in love. “It’s a temporary break. We have some things to work through.”
“Did anyone go to a wedding in a cold place and jump into a lake naked and then not be able to have sex because the guy was too cold?” Kamal looked around expectantly and held up Zara’s hand. “Only Zara?”
With a groan, Zara dropped her forehead to the table. “Please stop,” she whispered under her breath. “I appreciate what you’re doing but . . .”
“Zara!” Lakshmi Auntie hurried over to her chair with Bushra and Mehar Aunties behind her. “I saw a three-eyed crow!”
Bushra caught Zara’s gaze and held up her hand, making the motion of bringing a bottle to her lips.
“She hasn’t been drinking, Bushra,” Mehar spat out. “Really. That’s very unkind. She was watching Game of Thrones.”
“I don’t need to watch TV,” Lakshmi protested. “My visions keep me entertained, and one them was of a crow with three eyes. It’s a portent of doom.”
“These are my aunts,” Zara said to the fascinated table guests. “Don’t mind them. Maybe Kamal can tell my story about shooting a dude in the ass at a bachelor party and watching him try to sit through the wedding dinner without wincing, and how I felt good about it because the dude was so officious and arrogant, but I didn’t know at the time that he would turn out to be the best thing in my life and I threw it away because I’m a hot mess who is afraid of commitment.”
“Is it your story or my story?” Kamal asked, frowning. “Maybe I should tell more about the skinny-dipping.”
“And maybe Lakshmi can tell us more about doom,” Bushra said dryly. “Whose doom are we talking about here? My doom? Zara’s doom? Or are you just sharing helpings of doom all around?”
“Crow means flight,” Lakshmi said to Zara. “Three eyes is—”
“Doom.” Bushra shook her head. “Doom for everyone. This crow really is a downer.”
“Lakshmi reads tea leaves, palms, faces, and horoscopes for a small fee,” Mehar advised everyone at the table. “If anyone is interested, we’ll be in the lobby after dinner. She also does weddings, henna parties, and bar mitzvahs.”
“When did you start pimping out Lakshmi Auntie?” Zara asked Mehar. “I thought she only did that kind of stuff for family.”
“She wanted to share her gifts,” Mehar said. “I thought why not make money at the same time? You wouldn’t believe how many people hear the doom speech and are motivated to turn their lives around.”
“Sure. I get it.” She heaved a sigh. “Who doesn’t need a little doom in their life?”
“Are you single?” the uncle at the table asked Lakshmi.
“She’s a gifted astrologer and life coach,” an indignant Mehar sniffed. “And she makes soaps. She didn’t come here looking for a good time.”
“Yes, I did.” Lakshmi smiled at the man. “I’m single. Do you like kumquats?”
Mehar and Bushra shared a glance. They were used to having their pick of eligible wedding bachelors of a certain age. Zara didn’t think they’d ever lost out to quiet Lakshmi, who had always seemed content to watch the world go by.
“Save me a dance.” The uncle pointed at her and then the dance floor while making a clicking sound with his tongue.
“Even Lakshmi Auntie can find a man,” Bushra mumbled as she turned away to follow her sisters.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Zara called out. “She probably saw it coming.”
“This red wine reminds me of the story of how Cronus castrated Uranus—how is that possible? Ha ha ha—and threw his man parts into the sea, making lots of blood.” Kamal was on a roll. “How about that red foam?”
“What god did I offend to be made to suffer through this?” she whispered to the man in the suit seated beside her.
He lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Welcome to the singles table. It looks like you’re here to stay.”
• 28 •
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Jay settled his mother on the couch in her living room.
“It’s just a few breaks and bruises, and Rick will be here with me. I have lots of friends, Jay. They’re doing a dinner train. We’ll have more than enough to eat.”
“Rick isn’t in much better shape.”
“We’ll look after each other,” she assured him. “You won’t have to worry when you’re away.”
Jay adjusted her pillows. “I’m still not sure if I’m going. We reported the possibility of a lawsuit to our investors, and they’ve put off the board approval meeting until we find out if it’s going ahead or not.”
Part of him was relieved at the delay. It meant more time with the psychologist at the VA clinic, more time to work through his pain, more time to learn to accept the things he could not change and more time to evaluate his priorities. Zara had taught him that there was so much more to life than sitting behind a desk. He would never have imagined a world of vulva fruits, zombie parties, pirate musicals, footballs in courtrooms, celebrity galas, and role play without her. He would never have been tempted to dance in a Mexican restaurant or seduce a woman in his office. He never would have laughed as much, smiled as much, or felt as connected with someone as he had with her. Now that his life was just about work again, he realized how empty it had been.
Jay’s mother settled back in her chair. “I still can’t believe Zara would take a case against you. She came to the hospital every day I was there. I didn’t know what I would say to her after you told me about the lawsuit, so I asked the nurse to tell her I was tired, but that just felt wrong. I know that girl in my heart, Jay. You have to talk to her.”
“She won’t take my calls or answer my messages. There isn’t anything I can do.”
“You could have gone to the sangeet last night.”
He balked at the admonition in her tone. “Who would have brought you home?” He’d called Avi to let him know he wouldn’t be able to make it because he had to look after his mom, but the truth was he couldn’t face Zara. He’d never opened himself up the way he had with her, never imagined he would be so spectacularly shot down, or that she would turn around and make absolutely sure they couldn’t be together. He’d given her space, but she hadn’t come back, and their time apart had simply heightened his desire. He loved her. And only if she couldn’t love him back would he be able to let her go.
“Jay,” Rick called out. “Where’s the remote? I started watching The Great British Baking Show when I was in the hospital and I wanna see the end of season two. The British are so fucking polite. Cakes fall, cookies burn, and barely a whimper. They smile on the outside, but inside you know they’re shitting themselves. I want to see one of them break. A swear word or a shout. Maybe slam a spoon on the counter. Real drama. And while you’re up, can you bring me some of those pastry things with the cream in them that Zara brought to the hospital? There’s a couple of them left.”
“She brought them every day,” his mother said when Jay’s jaw tightened. “And every day, all she talked about was you.”
* * *
• • •
Zara teetered on the windowsill when Faroz and Tony walked into her office, startling her. With one hand on the flimsy curtain rod and the other on her phone, she was precariously positioned. One wrong step and she would tumble to the ground.
“I told you she was one of us,” Faroz said.
Tony nodded. “I knew it when she came to the interview with only one shoe.”
“I got stuck in a grate.” Zara stretched, trying to get her phone as high as possible. “How about some help here?”
“You seem to be handling it all just fine,” Tony said. “What exactly are you doing?”
“I’m trying to take a picture of the crash test dummy lying on the floor in the corner.” She pointed to the dummy they used in personal injury cases to show how a body moved or didn’t move on impact. He had a sculpted head with two black button eyes and a movable torso and joints. Janice had dressed him in a low-cut pole bitch shirt and a pair of tiny jean shorts.
“Might I suggest a change of vantage point to someplace more secure?” Tony suggested. “Not that I want to interfere with your creative process but I don’t think our insurance covers injuries that result from deliberately putting yourself in danger because you have a kinky crash test dummy fetish.”
