Chapter 35
SIMRAN IS HAVING a fantastic time when Nick and Zohra come by later.
Seriously, fantastic. She’s kneeling by the coffee table, paper spread everywhere, the books on the table shoved to the side. She’s so busy writing that she only vaguely notes two pairs of shoes stopping next to her.
Nick taps her shoulder.
“It’s time to go.” His voice is low, urgent.
She glances up. Nick and Zohra both look worried for some reason.
Manny’s just around the corner, having set her up with supplies.
He gave her a green crayon instead of the pen she asked for, which was odd, especially because everyone laughed when she took it eagerly.
But she could still work with it. Why are they so concerned?
“I have to write this down. Before I forget.” It’s so exciting, her heart races. She almost feels dizzy. Her brain, it’s working in whole new dimensions.
Nick glances at the page. “And what, exactly, are you writing?”
“An idea to encrypt the Lions’ ledgers,” she says eagerly. She starts explaining it. It makes perfect sense; hard to decode, but if you’re a Lion, it’s easy. It’s brilliant. It’s the perfect cipher. She’ll call it the Simran cipher. She’ll—
“You’re not making a lick of sense right now,” Zohra interrupts. Behind her, bricks from the fireplace come out of the wall and morph into spheres. “You realize that, right?”
Simran frowns and drops her hands, which she’d been using to illustrate her points.
Of course Nick and Zohra don’t understand.
Manny and his friends didn’t either. They let her talk for a while, but they didn’t listen, really.
Everyone thinks she’s just high. Which, fine, yes, but that doesn’t mean she lost her brain.
In fact, her neurons are firing better than ever.
Nick turns to Zohra. “Go distract Manny for a sec.” He yanks Simran up. “Let’s go.”
Simran resists. “I need my jacket.” That was important for some reason. She doesn’t remember why anymore.
Nick lets her put it on. She feels her pockets to make sure she has everything, then reaches for her papers. “I need these, too.”
“Fine. We’ll bring your little masterpiece. But only so you can see how hard you were tripping later.”
He drags her forward. She stumbles, but Nick doesn’t slow down, which is rather annoying. She was having a great time until he showed up.
A soft laugh comes from around the corner.
Zohra. Simran hears Manny’s rumbling voice in response.
She cranes her head to see what’s happening, but Nick pulls her back.
He tows her down the stairs, and when she pitches forward, he swings her into his arms. She spreads her hands out and makes airplane sounds.
Nick sighs. She laughs, and then can’t stop laughing. She laughs so hard she gets a stitch.
“Nick, you’re funny, you know that?” She wipes tears as they finally reach the main level.
Instead of going to the front door, Nick veers left, down another set of stairs.
Then a service entrance, a set of metal double doors.
“Why’d you join the Lions when you could’ve become a comedian? ” She laughs again.
“That’s right. I’m a comedian, Manny’s house is the circus, and he made you the clown.” Nick comes to a stop and sets Simran down on the floor, against a cabinet. They appear to be in an abandoned kitchen. He rummages under the sink. Her curiosity grows.
“How did you end up with the Lions?” she asks. “Are you like Rajan?”
“No, I’m not like Rajan.” Nick snorts. “My family is loaded and they all love me. I’m their only son who can do no wrong. I’m not like the rest of you. I don’t have a sob story. I was just bored.”
She stares at his back. “Is that why you set Rajan up to fall off a roof? Because you were bored?”
“This again? I didn’t set him up. Did he say that?”
“No, Manny did.”
Nick stills. “Shit.” He says it through his teeth, like he’s realizing something at long last. “His PO...And that hammer...”
Simran has no clue what he’s talking about. She’s watching the patterns on the ceiling swirl when Zohra enters. Nick, now holding a large bucket, faces her. “Well?”
Zohra looks somewhat resigned, finger-combing her hair. “He saw you take her. He was mellow about it. Said he’d had his fun.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Nick’s voice is dark. “This is getting out of hand, Z. Manny’s doing stuff without telling me now.” He lugs his bucket to the sink. “Simran, take off your jacket.”
Simran hugs it closer. “No.”
“Suit yourself.”
While Simran’s trying to figure out what he means, Zohra squats and tilts Simran’s face up. “What’d you take?”
“She smells like weed,” Nick says from the sink. “And I saw pills. What were they?”
“Not sure,” Simran admits.
“At least G,” Zohra says. “You know Manny loves G.”
“It can’t just be G. Not with the way she’s acting.” Nick sighs as he shakes ice into his bucket. “Rajan will use my head for swing practice if he finds out about this.”
Simran hiccups. “Ooh, I’d like to see that.”
Zohra’s head comes up sharply. So does Nick’s.
“Jesus,” he says. “It really is always the quiet ones.”
That’s even funnier. She giggles as Zohra wipes her nose with a towel.
The imagery gets to her because everything about Rajan does.
Who is she kidding? She’s attracted to him.
So much, that sometimes if he looks at her just right her heart will flip like he kissed her.
And god, the kissing. If they hadn’t been interrupted that night, she would’ve—
She only realizes she’s talking out loud because Zohra interrupts. “Wait, you two kissed?”
She sounds curious, not jealous. Simran nods. Zohra breaks into a grin.
“Get it, girl! Well? How was it?”
Simran fans herself. Zohra laughs.
“Sounds about right.” Her smile becomes catlike. She beckons Simran closer. “If you really want him wrapped around your finger, he likes when you—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Nick says, finally coming back with the water.
“Nooo,” Simran cries. “Zohra, what were you going to say?”
Nick cuts her off before she can reply. “Stop encouraging this. She’s gonna be so embarrassed later.”
Zohra puts her hands on her hips. “I’m not trying to humiliate her. I’m just helping a girl out.”
“Fucking spare me, Z.” Then he dumps the bucket of water unceremoniously over Simran’s head.
Simran shrieks. The icy water is a shock, drenching her hair and shoulders, and the cold seeps through her rain jacket. “What was that for?”
“You need to get sober. Fast.” Nick drops the bucket. “You’re the one who said you had a party to get to, remember? ‘Don’t let me miss it’?”
Oh. Right. Simran rubs her eyes. The buzz remains, temporarily relegated to background noise. “How long was I...?”
“Over an hour,” Nick says shortly. “We thought Manny killed you.”
She glances at the clock. It’s seven. Oh no. “I have to go.” She can’t let Neetu down. Not again. She staggers to her feet. The floor spins.
Nick doesn’t move to help when she collides with the cabinet. “If this party was so important, why’d you get high with Manny Khullar? What the hell were you thinking?”
A laugh escapes her without her meaning to, and then another. What was she thinking?
Simran forces her giggles back with difficulty. “I had to prove my loyalty.”
“The only thing you proved was that you’d be his bitch.”
Simran doesn’t respond. She pats herself down. Her shoulders are wet thanks to Nick’s ice water, but it didn’t reach her phone inside her jacket. She drops her hands and heads for the door, steadier this time.
Zohra blocks the doorway. “You’re going to a party like that? Have you even looked in a mirror?”
The idea hadn’t occurred to her. “My salwar kameez is in my truck. I’ll change.”
“Say ‘baby hippopotamus’ without slurring and we’ll let you go,” Nick challenges. Simran narrows her eyes.
“Baby hippopotamus.”
She’s quite proud of herself, really, but Nick sighs. Glances at Zohra, who shrugs.
“I mean, it’s borderline?”
Nick takes his bucket and tosses more water at Simran’s face.
“Stop it!” she sputters, annoyed now.
“That’s better.” Nick drops the bucket. “Give it one hour, then go.”
“But I’ll be so late—”
“If you go now, it’ll be obvious you’re tripping.”
She dislikes how much sense he’s making. “One hour. Then I’m going.”
“Okay.” Nick crosses his arms. “But for the record, it’s a bad idea.”
Sadly, Simran realizes upon arrival at Neetu’s house that Nick was right.
The backyard party is in full swing; several of Neetu’s and Gurjeevan’s cousins flit around with mehndi-adorned hands.
A seating arrangement underneath a white tent is bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, cloth-draped tables covered with catered food.
It’s a warm, humid evening, and the house’s screen door is slightly ajar.
Inside, several aunties are on the couch having chah while little kids chase each other around.
Simran pauses at the side of the house to check her reflection in her phone screen.
Zohra rebraided her hair after she put on her salwar kameez.
But her nose still looks red, the blacks of her eyes too big.
At least her heart has calmed somewhat, and she no longer has the urge to laugh at everything.
She clicks to her phone’s photo gallery.
After Manny got bored with her, and before Nick and Zohra arrived, Simran spent every moment of her time alone with the ledger on the table, photographing each page.
It was just like Zohra said: Manny does drugs and counts his money at the same time.
It makes sense that he would keep his ledgers close. All she had to do was get close, too.