Sugar, Spice, and Can't Play Nice, page 11
“The hell if I know what you’re doing,” Akash said, raising his hands up in the air.
“The hell if you know what any woman is doing,” said Sonam.
“This is so far-fetched,” Akash said. He shook his head, tiring Payal with his disbelieving expression.
“This is desperation,” Payal said firmly. “It is a Hail Mary.”
“You’re not Catholic,” Akash said.
“Then it’s a hai Bhagwan, but whatever it is, I need it to work,” she snapped.
Even as she said the words, uncertainty plagued her, eating away at her conscience.
“How are your parents, Kiran?” Sonam seemed to read Payal’s expression before deciding a subject change was the way to go.
“They hung out with Kirti again last weekend,” Kiran said, a fond smile crossing her face.
“I cannot believe you went all the way to India, found your estranged sister, talked said long-lost sister into a reunion, pulled it off at a hospital, and then managed to save your relationship at the same time,” Payal said.
“Well, when you say it like that…suddenly, your comment about your far-fetched life seems to apply to me too,” Kiran pointed out.
“It was quite the Bollywood movie. But you’d sacrificed so much. It was time for mending bridges,” Akash said.
“I’d do anything for my family,” Kiran said quietly. “And for Nash.”
“You’re your best when they’re their best,” Sonam said.
Payal didn’t respond. The discussion had hit closer than her best friends realized. Sacrifice, family, and doing what it took to bring the disparate elements of her life together…Payal admired Kiran for taking the plunge and doing whatever it took to get to an end result, even if her parents had been douchey on their way to reconciliation.
Inspiration was everywhere, she’d tell herself when she was designing. But maybe it existed for everything.
* * *
AYAAN
Ayaan stretched out on the long side of his black, L-shaped couch. Though he was a social creature, he loved the occasional night in, spent in his little apartment. It was his quiet oasis.
Except when Kai and Dharm were also there, grilling him about his so-called date with Payal.
“I don’t understand why you’re still so damn grouchy about the whole thing,” Kai said.
“You wanted a second chance and you got one better. Both of you, by some act of God, agreed to get engaged and now you have ten whole months to make a good impression,” Dharm said. “I fail to see the problem.”
“Well, maybe she didn’t make a good impression on me,” Ayaan said.
“If she was actually forgettable, you wouldn’t be sitting here thinking about her,” Dharm said.
“I’m annoyed it didn’t go smoothly.”
“You mean that she didn’t fall into your arms, forgive you instantly, and then have sex with you?” Kai asked.
Ayaan glared at him. “Shut up. No.”
“Okay, jokes aside…how did it go?” Kai asked.
“Well, she showed up late.”
“Yes. Definitely worthy of the guillotine,” Dharm said.
“You know how I hate that.”
“Did you ask her why?”
“No…” Ayaan felt a touch of heat in his cheeks, as though he was being chastised by Arun.
“That may have been a good move. You never know if it was a one-off.” Dharm shrugged. “We show up late to dinner all the time. It’s practically the Indian way…and the New York way because of trains. And, I don’t know, an occasional human flaw to have a problem that sets you back on time.”
“Then she took me to a vegan place.”
Kai and Dharm gazed at him expectantly. “And?”
“And she said she’d eaten so much in London, she wanted to be a little healthier for a day or two to recover.”
“Smart move. I eat so many samosas every time I go home, I always come back feeling as though I’ve gained a pouch.” Kai patted his stomach.
Ayaan rolled his eyes. Kai went to the gym every morning at five, and he was entirely too vain to let himself develop anything that didn’t resemble a six-pack.
“I figured she’d ask where I wanted to go or ask about cuisine or pick something universally liked, even if it was boring.”
“You’re really looking for this to fail, aren’t you?” Kai asked incredulously.
“What? No—”
“You put more genuine effort into choosing your shoes in the morning…or, I don’t know, taking the right picture of our dinner to put it on Instagram,” Dharm said.
“I feel bad for her,” Kai said.
“Why?”
“Because she has to put up with you nitpicking at her. For the love of God, you acted like a big man taking charge of your life when you said yes—you literally got all the things you wanted—and now you’re going to sabotage it for the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s true and you know it.” Dharm cut him off. “Own your choices. You’re being ridiculous.”
Ayaan was incensed. Though he knew Dharm and Kai were always willing to call him out on his childish behavior, he was restless at the accusations they’d leveled at him. He wasn’t being ridiculous. Could they really blame him for having cold feet at the idea of getting engaged to a virtual stranger, even if it was for his own interests?
Was it wrong to be afraid of something, even if a piece of you wanted it?
When the boys had left, he stewed about it, irritably picking up takeout boxes and shoving them into a garbage bag. Once he’d taken it down the hall and thrown it down the trash chute, he came back to his now-silent living room and threw himself back into his comfortable spot on the couch.
Still aggravated and wanting to rewind to a week ago, before any of this had happened, he picked up his phone and opened a text.
Hey, he typed to Neha—whose name he had changed back from “Girlfriend” as he stormed back to his place from Payal’s—and sent it before he could think twice.
He waited for a second, anticipating that regret at the impulsive choice would catch up with him.
But his tolerance for impulsivity must have increased after telling his parents yes to Payal, because he didn’t feel anything. Instead, righteous anger boiled over.
This wasn’t his fault.
Between his family igniting both ambition and anger in him, his aggressive move for CMO, the expectations of his parents and his brother, and now, the way he was forced to make Payal a part of his life, he was flying blind, scrambling to make a move without being able to come up with a plan.
As though the universe had heard his innermost thoughts about chaos, his phone vibrated in his hand.
Neha: Hey…I’m in Italy for vacay for the next week, but let’s get together when I come home. Maybe we can fix this.
Ayaan nearly got a hard-on thinking about the reunion they’d have…and he knew Neha had the same reconciliation in mind. Sex was the Band-Aid in their relationship, the fix-all for a moment gone wrong.
Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the way to handle any discontent happening now.
I don’t care, he told himself. For tonight, I can distract myself, and I’ll figure it out tomorrow.
With those final thoughts and a sliver of hope about the coming days, he fell asleep.
Chapter Eleven
PAYAL
NINE MONTHS UNTIL THE FASHION SHOW AND ENGAGEMENT
Payal shot up from the couch where she’d dozed off and stared at the fire alarm, wondering why it wasn’t blinking to alert her of any danger, before she realized the sound was coming from her phone.
Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes with the heel of one hand, she picked it up off the coffee table and answered, knowing that the only person who would call this early on a Saturday was Ma.
“Hello, Payal. How are you?” Ma’s crisp voice floated through the line.
“A bit tired. I must have dozed off while sketching.” She fought a yawn. “How are you?”
“We’re all fine. I wanted to talk to you about this upcoming weekend. Is there any way you and Ayaan can fly back for a three-day break?”
“Sorry, what?”
“We’d like the families to meet formally, now that you both have agreed to the engagement.”
“This seems somewhat rushed, don’t you think?” Payal tried not to panic at meeting the Malhotras, with the added pressure of Ayaan in the room as she was put on parade like a show pony.
Ma seemed to have other ideas. “No, I think we need to get to know one another. At any rate, this merger will need to be discussed, but it’s important that we thaw any ice as soon-to-be relatives to ensure that this process goes smoothly on all fronts.”
“I can speak with Ayaan…”
“Good. Let me know by tonight. We’ll need you to arrive on Friday night so we can schedule a Saturday dinner.”
Ma hung up without so much as a goodbye.
Payal groaned, tossing her phone on the couch. She dropped her head on her chest. Sleep had rapidly run away from her in the short minutes that this conversation had distracted her.
It sounded naive, but Payal hadn’t thought this far ahead. In all the plans of faking affection, going on dates for show, and pretending to adore Ayaan, she hadn’t factored in that she would have to meet his family for real and pull the veil over their eyes so soon.
She’d barely gotten to know him and what she’d learned wasn’t endearing.
They’d have to call each other fiancé.
But she couldn’t see a way out. Perhaps she had to speak with him. They could even team up against this development and push it off for a few more weeks, until they’d settled into this routine and it didn’t feel so foreign.
She waited a few hours until a reasonable time—10:00 a.m. was reasonable, right?—before calling Ayaan.
“Payal, this is a pleasant surprise,” he greeted her.
“Hey…”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Our parents are having dinner on Saturday night and would like us to fly back and attend.”
Silence.
“Are you kidding?” Ayaan asked, sounding gobsmacked.
She was relieved to hear her own disbelief echoed in his response.
“Evidently, because of the merger, they’d like to accelerate the meeting-the-parents element of this courtship,” Payal said.
“Accelerated is right. Zero to two hundred, our families are, aren’t they? We’ve had dinner once.”
“I could say I have an investor meeting that can’t be moved,” Payal suggested, hoping he’d agree.
“They’ll only push for the next weekend after that,” Ayaan replied.
She knew he was right.
There was no escape.
“I’ll book the tickets,” Ayaan filled in for her. “We can take a red-eye on Friday night.”
That was how they wound up booked on a JetBlue flight, sitting across the aisle from one another in first class.
Ayaan and Payal hadn’t arrived at the airport together. Payal had delayed leaving her apartment until the last possible second despite knowing that Ayaan would judge her for being the last person on the plane.
But Ayaan had arrived even later than her. Perhaps he’d had as many doubts as she did about flying into a crisis.
“Hey,” he said, breathing heavily and shoving his bag into the overhead bin.
“Long day?” Payal asked in surprise. “Aren’t you usually a stickler for time? I would have imagined you to be at the gate hours ahead of departure.”
“I try,” he said shortly. “But work got in the way.”
They sat awkwardly as the plane began pulling away from the gate, and Payal had never seen anyone as intent on watching the flight attendants demonstrate safety practices. She had a feeling he didn’t want to talk about what was on his mind, and she didn’t probe.
After all, she was carrying her own baggage—both literally and figuratively—tonight.
“Excuse me, ma’am, may I have a whiskey on the rocks, please?” Payal asked the passing flight attendant.
“It’s a bit early in the flight, don’t you think? Aw, hell—you know what, I’ll have one too.” Ayaan shrugged. “How was your week?”
“It was good,” Payal said.
It had, in fact, not been good.
Two weeks ago, she had received an email confirming that she had netted a meeting with Manish Menon, an investor in fashion who had supported some of the biggest South Asian designers coming up.
On Monday, she’d been ready, born for her moment to shine.
Payal had ensured every stitch of her samples was perfect, that her materials were impeccable, that her designs were cutting edge, that the sketches for her future work were detailed, colorful, fluid, and drawn with enough vision that anyone who saw them would know she was a woman with a mission.
She’d spent hours putting together a presentation with her sales, comparative figures against other designers, photos of the actresses at Cannes who she had styled, and breakdowns of her financial spend and income projected over the next few years.
She’d fretted all week about the impending response, though she was certain she had nailed it.
And just as she’d climbed into the Uber to arrive at the airport, convinced she’d hear next week and that something must have come up on Manish’s end, she’d received an email.
Payal,
Your designs are perfection and your talent is undeniable. You’re early in your career, however, and I need to see you receive positive reviews at industry events in order to feel confident about where my money is going. It’s a no from me for now…but a possibility for the future, particularly after your next few showings.
Payal was playing the words in her mind, dragged down by each one as they flashed before her eyes, and she recalled the sinking feeling in her stomach as it repeated itself now. Ayaan’s voice broke through her saddened reverie.
“You should tell your face that,” Ayaan replied, echoing her words from dinner. “Are you okay?”
Though his legs were stretched in front of him and he leaned on an elbow as though he didn’t care about a thing in the world, his eyes were intently focused on her face, awaiting an answer.
“I had a setback with the line,” Payal said. “I’ll be fine.”
“What was it?”
She paused. “Do you want to know?”
He nodded, not looking elsewhere. “I do.”
Payal explained how much she’d prepared, how she’d envisioned a yes and amped herself up for one but hadn’t gotten it. “It feels like a huge failure.”
Ayaan had leaned toward her as she spoke, his head in the line of fire for anyone walking up the aisle. “I don’t think you can view it as a failure…or, as I suspect you do, a reflection of who you are.”
“Why?” Payal asked, curious now at his seemingly fresh interest in her.
“He never shut the door on you. He took the time to write a note, and based on what you and my family have told me, you’re set for a show soon. Which means he’s keeping an eye on you to see what you come up with. This isn’t a no. It’s full of potential. And even if it is a no, fashion is subjective. Unknown designers need one hit to give them a boost. They need the right marketing or the lightning strike of success to become a household name. You’re doing all the right things. Your storm is brewing. Momentum is building. The strike simply hasn’t happened yet. Did you mention that Veer is interested in you? We may not be acquiring your brand now—just your family’s—but the leverage exists.”
Her gaze, which had fallen to her hands, snapped back up. “No…I didn’t.”
She knew, deep down, that was her biggest mistake. She didn’t present the outside interest in her brand. Admitting any connection to Veer made it all the more real…and she wasn’t ready for that.
“That’s a selling point, you know. For as awkward as this impending engagement feels right now, it credits your marketability for investors to know other companies love you too.”
Payal knew he was right. His pep talk was certainly empowering, a surprising shot of energy coming from an even more unexpected source. But she wanted to mope. She wanted to have a cry, to feel the pressures of the last weeks, and to sit miserably with them.
It wasn’t logical, but then again, life wasn’t.
“Thanks,” she replied.
“What, that’s it? I thought the pep talk was pretty good.”
“What, do you want a cookie?” Payal snapped.
Hurt crossed his face as he recoiled a little, but his recovery was so quick, Payal didn’t have a moment to feel sorry for her overreaction.
“Fine,” he said quietly.
He put his headphones on and turned his head to the screen in front of him, and Payal felt a jab of guilt at the way she’d treated him for being kind. He’d offered a moment of connection, and she’d whipped him with the very olive branch he’d extended.
“Ayaan,” she said.
But he didn’t turn his head.
Payal reclined her chair and folded her legs underneath her, letting her head collapse against the back of her seat.
What felt like minutes later, she was awoken by a sensation on her forehead, her neck, and her chest like a fly kept landing on various parts of her body. She swatted her hand around her face without opening her eyes, but the persistent light hits against her forehead finally pushed her to open her eyes.
When she looked down, annoyance burned under her skin.
“Are you throwing peanuts at me?” she hissed across the aisle.
“Well, if you’re going to set the example of being a toddler, what’s stopping me from doing the same?” Ayaan growled back.
“Behave!”
“Then quit being a pampered princess.”
“You stop being an entitled prick.”
