Chapter 34
IT TAKES SOME convincing, but eventually, Nick says he’ll attempt to fulfill her “death wish.” His wording, not hers.
After securing a promise that he’ll get in touch, and making it clear she won’t do any bookkeeping until she meets Manny, Simran heads home.
She doesn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. Clearly, this could take a while.
So the following day, when her parents ask if she wants to go to the mall to buy new glasses, she happily accepts. She’s in a boutique inspecting frames similar to her old ones when she hears her name called behind her.
She turns to find Chandani making a beeline into the store. And she’s not alone—TJ’s with her.
There’s nowhere to run. Simran stands there helplessly as Chandani drags TJ in. “There’s my favourite nerd!”
TJ does a double take. Simran feels self-conscious about her old glasses once again.
Chandani doesn’t notice. “What’re you doing here?”
“Getting new glasses.” Simran jabs her thumb behind her. “With my parents.”
That’s a hint that she’s busy, but Chandani only waves to her parents. TJ does the same. “Oh, good. I wasn’t going to say anything, but the glasses you’re wearing right now are godawful, worse than those other ones. What happened to them, anyway?”
“I fell.”
“Thank god. I mean, not for the banged-up face. But sometimes things happen for a reason.” Chandani nudges TJ. “We can find her way nicer glasses, right?”
TJ looks anywhere but at Simran. Simran’s unsure what to do. They haven’t seen each other since the hospital, and that feels like eons ago.
Chandani looks between them. “Oh, for god’s sake. Do you bitches have some kind of drama going on? Without telling me?” She sounds more upset that she was left out of it than that there was drama in the first place.
At that moment, Simran’s father returns with a pair of rectangular frames. “What about these?”
They’re not Simran’s type, but she reaches to try them on anyway. Chandani bats her hand away before she can. “No, Uncle ji. Let’s keep looking, though.” She smiles brightly. Simran’s father, looking bemused, drifts away again. Chandani glances back at TJ. “Well?”
TJ examines her sharp nails. “Nothing’s going on.” Her voice is flat. Simran struggles to remember what exactly she said to TJ. She’s burned so many bridges lately, it’s hard to keep track.
“If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.” Chandani rolls her eyes. “I’m going to find better frames for you, Simran. We clearly can’t depend on Uncle ji to solve this crisis.” She disappears. Leaving Simran and TJ alone.
Simran peeks up from the price tag she’s pretending to examine, only to find TJ mirroring her. They both quickly look away. This is ridiculous. If Simran’s plan works...she’ll be out of the Lions soon. It’ll be over, and didn’t she say she was going to repair those bridges when it was?
Simran sets down the frames just as TJ starts walking away. “TJ, wait.” TJ stills. “Neetu’s hosting a backyard party tonight. Do you want to come?”
TJ faces her. “What?”
Simran’s confidence falters. “Her family is hosting Gurjeevan’s—”
“I heard you. But you told me to leave you alone.”
Simran winces internally. “I’m sorry about what I said. That...” Wasn’t me. Except it was. She is this person now.
TJ doesn’t wait for her to finish anyway. “I don’t understand you. For months, you’ve avoided me, now you’re inviting me to a party? Why? You just need someone to go with?”
Simran’s mouth goes dry. “That’s not—”
Chandani returns at that moment. “I’ve got the perfect frames. Jassa won’t be able to keep his hands off.” She cackles, shoving them into Simran’s hands.
TJ makes a disinterested noise and turns for the exit. “I’m going to Sephora.”
Simran watches her leave. Chandani rolls her eyes. “Bitch. Anyway, Simran, these will look amazing on you.”
Feeling defeated, Simran puts them on and lets Chandani snap pictures. They’re dark green with golden accents, the circular shape complementing her “angled face,” whatever that means. Simran gets them, mostly to get Chandani off her back.
Once Chandani leaves, Simran’s mom comes up to her. “So is TJ coming to the party?”
Her return from being a ghost is kind of jarring. What else did she hear? “No.”
“Then her mom won’t either.” She sounds relieved. Simran knows the feeling—fewer lies to prepare. Maybe it’s for the best, then. But her heart still feels heavy.
Simran’s phone rings. Private number.
“Who’s that?” her mom asks.
“Hillway. Just a second.” She walks into the mall corridor, where it’s crowded and busy. “Hello?”
“Manny will meet you tonight at five,” Nick says without preamble.
Simran stops. The party’s tonight. “So soon?”
“What can I say. Your little strike pissed him off good.”
“But tonight doesn’t work.” She can’t miss the party, she promised Neetu.
“Manny will meet you tonight or he’ll never meet you,” Nick replies. “You know where. Five, or never.” He hangs up.
Her parents approach. “Everything okay?” her father asks. Simran pockets her phone.
“Paul needs my help with something at five. It’ll be quick,” she adds, determined. “I’ll meet you at the party, Mom. Okay?”
This shouldn’t take long. It can’t.
At five twenty, Simran rolls through the gates of Manny’s mansion. She hadn’t anticipated packing her suit would take so long. It’s a burnt-orange number with silver detailing, currently tucked into the back seat. For now, she’s in her usual jeans and T-shirt, a thin jacket on top.
Nick and Zohra are waiting. They don’t waste time when she gets out of her truck, setting for the entrance. The party is, once again, ongoing. The heavy bass sets a different tone, though.
“You’re late,” Nick says curtly when Simran catches up.
“Does that surprise you?”
“No. Which is why, when Manny said five thirty, I told you five.”
Very tricky of him. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing. You have to be careful.”
“Manny’s been known to have people killed on the spot,” Zohra adds. “One moment he’s laughing, next thing you hear a bang, and his bodyguard just shot the guy who made him laugh.”
Simran pushes her glasses up. “Well, good thing I’m not very funny then.”
Nick halts at the doors. “You’re not taking this seriously. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”
Simran swallows to work moisture into her mouth. “I don’t have any other choice.”
Nick shakes his head and opens the door. He and Zohra aren’t smiling, aren’t smoking or eating Popsicles, aren’t their usual playful mocking selves. They’re anxious. In a strange twist, Simran is the most relaxed one here.
They ascend the staircase and turn down a corridor Simran didn’t notice last time. Finally, they stop at a doorway obscured by a beaded curtain. The smoke is thicker here. Tinkling laughter comes from inside.
“This is where we leave you. Last chance,” Nick says. “Tell me you change your mind. You don’t have to do this.”
He’s right. But if she pulls it off...
Simran squares her shoulders. “My friend’s party is in thirty minutes. Don’t let me miss it.”
Without waiting for an answer, she pushes through the curtain.
Immediately, two Lions in all black close in to pat her down. Once they’re satisfied, they shove her forward. It’s a large sitting room, and at the center is a sprawling leather couch.
Simran wasn’t sure what she expected of Manny Khullar.
But her first thought is that he’s dangerously handsome.
The edges of his closely shorn beard are razor-sharp.
His hair is gelled, short at the sides and long on top.
He’s in the kind of well-fitting, simple shirt that somehow screams money.
He lounges behind a coffee table set with glittering ornaments and crystal trays of pills and powder.
A blond white woman is curled up against his side in a thin bathrobe, her eyes half lidded.
Simran’s eyes drift to the small, nondescript book in Manny’s lap. He sets it down when she stops in front of them. Piercing gold eyes fall on her. Then he smiles.
“Simran Kaur Aujla. The refreshments are for you. Please, help yourself.” He gestures to the array of drugs like they’re a cheese platter. Several rings flash on his fingers.
Simran doesn’t move. “You know why I’m here.”
“I insist you treat yourself before we talk shop.”
“I’m fine.”
He drops his hand. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”
Nick hadn’t warned her about this. Simran glances at the tray. “If you find my services valuable,” she says, carefully, “why would you want me to take anything that will compromise my ability to think?”
He laughs. “No one told me you were funny, Simran.”
Simran remembers Zohra’s words all too vividly. “I’m not trying to be.”
“That’s the best part. But I have to say, the funniest thing you’ve done so far is this little strike.
” He swirls his glass. “You want better compensation, I respect that. So I’ll make this easy for you—you study math at UBCO, right?
We’ll pay your tuition. Hell, we’ll pay for you to become an accountant, and any other degree you want.
Full-ride scholarship from the Lion’s Share. How’s that sound?”
Incredible. But Simran knows better. “How would I know you could keep that promise? The Lions couldn’t even organize well enough to defend a café.” His eyes flash, but she keeps going. “You can’t guarantee my safety. I paid the debts I was paying. I want out.”
She can’t explain it, but the air in the room changes near the end of her speech. The woman at Manny’s side rises, tightening the sash at her waist before padding out. The men behind Simran shift on their feet. And Manny...
“You know what I hate more than people who get cold feet?” His voice becomes silky. “People who think they’re better than all this. Low-level, green Lions who don’t understand how this works.”
“I’m not—”
“I know everything about you,” Manny continues.
“I have eyes at the mill where your father works. I know your mother’s favourite walking route.
I’m glad the cancer’s gone, by the way. I’ve also looked into your cousin, although admittedly I don’t know why she looked so angry with you today at the mall.
And all your musician friends, too...I haven’t touched any of them, so maybe you think I’m bluffing. ”
Simran tries not to show how shaken she is.
He steeples his fingers. “Thing is, accidents happen. I have some buddies in construction who told me about one just the other day. Some young guy fell off a roof. He walked it off, though. Lucky.” His eyes become brighter. “Next time, he might break his neck.”
Rajan. He’s got to be talking about Rajan. That dislocated shoulder of his...Manny’s doing. A show of his power.
When she doesn’t respond, Manny reclines, now looking bored.
“Let me be clear. I was offering compensation to be nice. But I see I have to drop that shit and remind you of your place. You’re a teenage girl who worked with the lowest shitheads of the Lions for a couple months.
If you decide to be cute and stop working, you become a liability.
So convince me right now, Simran, that you’re not a liability.
Convince me you’re not going to walk, or do something else stupid, like talk to cops.
” Something cold presses against the back of Simran’s head.
She doesn’t have to look to know one of the guards has his gun on her.
“Convince me, because the only reason I allowed this ridiculous meeting was so I could personally watch a bullet go into your brain.”
Simran’s throat closes. Several seconds pass.
She forces herself to breathe. Manny didn’t offer compensation earlier for nothing. And even now, him wanting to see her dead personally tells her something very interesting indeed. She is valuable...but also dangerous. He would rather not kill her, but only if he knows she can be controlled.
Her eyes flicker over the table, and the items on it. A decision settles into her chest. There was never going to be a way out, after all.
Only a way through.
She points at the lines of powder and makes the biggest gamble of her life. “I’ll take my refreshments now.”