Chapter 26
THE KITCHEN OF the Lions’ café has become as familiar to Simran as her own bedroom, her constant presence marked by the mess.
Papers strewn over the desk, scattered pens, a tea mug perched on the cryptography textbook she brought from the library.
A calculator discarded in the middle of her work—working with her pen is infinitely more satisfying than pressing buttons.
Nothing made that clearer than yesterday.
The Aces’ message was so simple. Move inventory from under playplace to blue semi outside. The euphoria she got cracking it was incredible. She already wants to re-create it.
Which is why she suggested to Nick earlier today that she could help the Lions in other ways.
For example, she’d noticed the dealers that frequented the café for product didn’t really plan their routes.
This seemed terribly inefficient. Google Maps, after all, didn’t factor in roads highly frequented by police cruisers, or Silver Ace territory that had to be avoided.
How much gasoline was wasted overcorrecting each time?
How long did their customers wait? After Simran explained how linear algebra could help map the travel routes that would allow them to meet their product demand, given limitations on labour, vehicle storage space, and time, while minimizing fueling costs, Nick held up a hand, said “Shut up,” and—surprisingly—entrusted her with several more of the books.
Zohra came to help upon Simran’s request, too.
The Lions’ operations would require insider knowledge to streamline. And that was what they did. For hours.
Now it’s late afternoon. Simran opens her laptop—which apparently she’s allowed to have suddenly, because nobody’s stopping her.
No one took her phone either. Not that she’s planning anything sneaky.
She just wants to run some calculations through her math program.
Zohra left an hour ago, but Simran can’t quit yet.
Her phone buzzes. Simran tears her gaze from her computer to look. It’s TJ. Where are you? I came by your house, but no one answered. Are your parents around?
Her parents. That’s one thing that happened today she doesn’t want to dwell on.
She flips her phone over. She’ll talk to TJ later.
She’s too tired—and wired—for it right now.
The adrenaline from last night kept her up, eagerly awaiting updates from Nick.
And then early in the morning, it hit the news.
It was surreal, watching a plan she had masterminded unfolding on TV. There were sirens. Yellow tape. White sheets, but that part didn’t really register. She was so entranced she almost didn’t hear the sound from upstairs...
With effort, Simran focuses back on the numbers. People mill in and out, some even greeting her. She has become a permanent fixture. Trusted. Especially after last night.
But then, there’s a scuffle outside the kitchen doors.
“You’re not allowed in here,” a voice says just beyond them.
“And you think that’ll stop me why?”
Simran drops her pen. Rajan.
“She’s working.”
“So what? She royalty or something? Let me in.”
Simran sighs. It was only a matter of time before he saw the news and figured it out.
“Let him in,” she calls, and after a pause, the kitchen door swings open and Rajan stalks in, scowling.
He’s in a navy hoodie, his cap on backward.
Simran’s eyes fixate on that detail. Somehow it seems a sign of his mood.
“Bad day?” she asks, but he interrupts.
“You’ve officially lost it.”
His voice is heated. Simran closes her laptop. She needs all her focus for this conversation. But, Rajan’s next words are unexpected.
“Did you forget Hillway today?”
Her heart drops. She flips her phone back over to see the notifications she ignored the first time. Two calls from Paul. Of course; there was a booth at a community fair they were helping with. She herself organized the opportunity for the volunteers months ago. How could she have forgotten?
She mentally adds Paul to the list of people she has to beg forgiveness from. “I—I’m sorry. Did they assign you someone different?”
“Yeah, and he was a dickhead. Never mind that.” Rajan turns to close the kitchen door, but one of the Lions holds it open pointedly. Rajan glares. “I’m gonna have a little chat with your bookkeeper. Stay out of it.”
“It’s okay,” Simran adds.
The door finally shuts. Rajan turns to her. “They your personal bodyguards now?” He prowls right up to her desk, shoving aside papers and ledgers; several fall to the floor.
Not this again. “Rajan, I need those—”
He plants his hands on the now-clear desk. “You could’ve kept your mouth shut, just kept doing the fucking bookkeeping, which was all they asked of you. But you had to go and give them the keys to paradise. Why?”
With the tenor of his voice, the sound of something barely restrained, her heart rate quickens. She leans back to put more space between their faces. “To work off your debt. As you know.”
“Yeah? Is that right, Simran Sahiba?” It’s the first time in a long while that the nickname sounds mocking.
“Then tell me something. Did you ask Nick about it after you pulled this stunt? Because with all the drugs they took from the Aces, you must’ve paid off my debts times a million. Did he say we were home free? Did he?”
Simran blinks. Because she hadn’t asked Nick. It hadn’t even occurred to her at the time, for some reason. She reaches for her phone. “I’ll talk to him now.”
“Don’t bother.” Rajan almost sounds regretful.
“What you did, higher-ups are gonna notice. You made yourself too valuable. Doing our books, cracking Aces’ books, now whatever the fuck this is.
” He sweeps his hand over the mess of ledgers and paper on the floor.
“I was so close, you know. So close to getting us both out.”
Simran stares. “What?”
“I found someone to replace you. An accountant.”
“Replace me?”
She regrets how her voice sounds, because Rajan gives her a sharp look. Then he laughs. “You know what I think? This is fucked up, but I think it’s true. You ready?”
“Rajan—”
“I think you liked doing it. Telling Nick you had a big prize for him. Got a little thrill, did you?”
Heat rises to her face. She busies herself picking up the books Rajan knocked off the table. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He keeps going. “This isn’t about me and my debt anymore. Nah, this is about you now.”
“It’s not—”
“I think you knew what the consequences would be. You knew you were painting a target on your back from both Lions and Aces. But all you cared about was cracking that code. Because whenever there’s a problem in front of you, you need to solve it. If you can’t, it drives you nuts. Just like—”
She straightens to look him in the eye. “Don’t.”
“—your mom’s cancer,” he goes on, and her hand tightens around the ledger she’s holding, because okay, he went there.
“So you go looking for something else you can solve. And if you can solve it, you can’t leave it alone.
You need everyone to know you can do it.
” He laughs again, softly. “It’s about your pride.
Maybe you really are one of us, after all. ”
Her grip on the ledger becomes painful. “What’s the point of this conversation, Rajan?”
“To confirm how batshit you are, but also, to come up with a plan.” He runs a hand over his jaw. “We have to convince Nick this was a fluke. Or that someone else figured it out, not you.”
“Nick wouldn’t buy that. And besides, the deal hasn’t changed. I’m here until July’s end—he knows that. It’ll be fine.” Her phone rings. She fumbles for it.
Rajan rolls his eyes and pushes off the desk to the other side of the kitchen. “If it’s Nick, I want to talk to him.”
It’s not Nick, of course. Simran’s hand trembles slightly as she brings it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Nikka putt.” Her father’s worried voice makes her tense. “I was looking for you. Where’d you go?”
She clutches the phone. “I’m at TJ’s. Is everything okay with—” She cuts herself off because Rajan has whipped around, his eyebrows raised at her blatant lie.
Simran ducks her head as her father says, “The doctors said she has a blood infection. It’s probably from the surgery, and probably the reason she...” He trails off, but he doesn’t have to say more. After all, Simran was there.
This morning. She’d pulled herself away from the TV when she heard the thump. Took the stairs two at a time. And there her mother was: lying on the floor next to her bed.
For a moment, Simran’s world fell apart.
Then she stirred awake, and the ambulance came.
The doctors took over. Once Simran had answered all their questions, she left without telling her father.
She couldn’t handle it anymore. She came here, where she wouldn’t have to think any longer about what her first thought was upon seeing her mother’s body on the floor.
Her father goes on. “They say she needs antibiotics. And she’s very dehydrated.” Simran closes her eyes. She should’ve known that. She was throwing up. Acting strangely. Of course it wasn’t normal. Why’d she let her mother convince her otherwise?
Because you didn’t want to deal with it that day.
“Are you coming back?” her father asks hesitantly. “I was going to head home, but if you want to visit...”
The idea of sitting at her mom’s bedside while she gets pumped with drugs, a scenario Simran could’ve prevented the day before, is too much. “Maybe tomorrow. Bye.” She ends the call before her voice can waver. Robotically, she sinks back into her chair.
Rajan’s voice breaks through her mental haze. “What happened? Is it your mom?”
Simran can’t answer. She just wants this all to be over. She wants her parents back, not these needy echoes of them. It’s a selfish thought, but she can’t take it back or stop herself thinking it, and the frustration inside her builds and builds with nowhere to go—
Rajan takes her hand.