Chapter 2
EARLIER
Her phone lit up. Reyana grabbed it off the bathroom counter and quickly scanned the message. Her heart pitter-pattered with optimism, masking the inevitable disappointment she knew hung right underneath.
Sameer:
Sorry, Hon, tonight’s a no-go. My assistant added a last-minute call to my calendar.
It’s an important Hong Kong client. You know how it goes …
I’ll probably be here pulling an all-nighter, working on contract revisions, blah, blah, blah.
Do me a favor, will you? Reserve that hot-ass costume you’ve been bragging about, just for me.
I’ll swing by your place later. I should be done around midnight.
Which means you’re off the hook for attending yet another one of my work events ??. You’re welcome. I know how much Finance Bros bore you. Be ready to strip for me later, Hon, because we’re going to do everything but boring later. -S
She stared at the message, a myriad of emotions running through her.
Off the hook? She was already here at his company’s Halloween party, having arrived only moments ago, a little earlier than the time they’d scheduled.
Of course, he didn’t know that. She’d wanted to surprise him by hitting up the DJ to play their favorite song so they could dance together.
The night was special, and she’d even mentioned the date to Sameer; it was exactly one year since they’d first met.
Reyana looked at her reflection in the mirror as she slipped off the ornate silver and purple mask from around her head. She flung it onto the counter, her huff loud in the empty bathroom.
The revelry was loud on the other side of the door, as the Marie-Antoinette-themed masquerade was already in full swing. At least some people were having a good time, she thought.
Had Sameer really said that Finance Bros were boring? She’d never encountered a dull one in her life, especially the ones he worked with at Deutsche Bank; only ego-maniacs with a knack for partying hard into the night and still clocking into the office by eight in the morning.
She huffed again loudly, making an irritated growl in the back of her throat.
How had she let herself get here? She, Reyana Sharma—renegade second daughter, social misfit (especially in the South Asian community she’d grown up in), go-getter of dreams her parents could never understand, and considered to have bigger balls than any of the Indian boys she’d known since she could walk—was waiting by the phone … for a man.
“This is bullshit. Like, why am I letting a dick dictate my social schedule?” she asked her reflection out loud. The question was left hanging just as she heard the unmistakably long, whistling snort of someone “powdering their nose” from one of the last stalls.
Great. She could add humiliation to her list of unforgettable moments that night, right after dejection.
“Because,” a silky voice with an unidentifiable accent called out from the stall, “good dick is so hard to come by!”
Reyana curiously peered in that direction, waiting for the person who held that opinion to reveal themselves, as she considered the validity of that point.
She held no complaints about raving-and-ready-to-go Sameer, even when he behaved dickishly at times.
Maybe there was some truth to that statement.
When the person didn’t immediately emerge, she turned her attention back to the hurtful and embarrassed conundrum of being stood up by her boyfriend.
It was their first anniversary, for Christ’s sake.
She’d thought they would celebrate starting at the fancy Halloween party that he said he had to attend and then ending with a romantic night back at her place.
She’d even laid out roses, chocolate-covered strawberries, and candles in her bedroom with edible wax.
Had she gone to the good wine section of the liquor store that she always thought was too good for her?
Yes, and even splurged on a bottle of red that cost over her usual limit of twenty-five bucks.
Despite the last few weeks of feeling dejected because she thought things seemed to be fizzling out between them, she’d gone all out because she wanted to make it work.
It was the first time in her adult life that she felt like she was in a grown-up relationship.
Though she’d made her life in New York City, one filled with zest, energy, and tons of great people, it still didn’t make up for the less-than-stellar love life she’d experienced.
Sameer was the first guy she’d been with who surpassed the dreaded six-month itch. That had to count for something.
The spark between them had been obvious the moment she met him last Diwali.
He’d actually been set up with her sister, but thankfully, there was no interest there.
The heat between them was visible to anyone watching their playful banter.
It was an attraction she couldn’t shake, even though he was what she initially thought of as the typical “boring Finance Bro” and kind of a mama’s boy (aka: so not her type).
But somehow it worked. The attraction grew in more ways than one when she shockingly learned he loved Manga and graphic novels almost as much as she did, though he kept that hidden from pretty much everyone but her.
But now, having been stood up once again, she wondered if he was playing her.
Was being a no-show five times in the last three weeks something to be concerned about when the guy was also shooting for a big work promotion?
He had excuses with receipts, and she wanted to believe him.
However, the entire scenario was beginning to look and feel cringeworthy, especially for her, the creator and main host of a major Desi American podcast that catered to advising on love and life in the diaspora.
How could she, the one being asked to answer the hard relationship questions, be on the receiving end of red-flagged nonsense?
Admittedly, their all-weekend benders of movie binges punctuated by good sex and delicious takeout had vanished, especially with the new private equity client he’d boastfully taken on.
Lately, it was more like after-hours quickies, where he’d collapse on top of her, still inside her, and then roll over, snoring before she had a chance to even ask about his day.
And then he’d be up and gone in the mornings before she barely stirred.
The fact that this party—this oh so important hoopla that signified Sameer’s step up the corporate ladder—had come upon their first anniversary seemed like a sign to Reyana.
She wanted to make a big deal out of it.
Along with the romantic setup back at her place, she went all out with their costumes.
She’d carefully selected them to match—not in a cutesy way, but in a we’re-with-each-other kind of way.
She messengered his over to his apartment yesterday so that he would have it in time.
But now, it seemed all of that extra energy was for nothing.
The last stall door banged loudly against the wall, bringing Reyana back to the bathroom as the person from before finally exited the cubicle.
A tall, attractive woman with long, thick, messy auburn hair came clattering out in sexy slingbacks and a turquoise corseted mini-dress, wiping her nose with the back of a hand in a quick swipe.
She looked like a wrung-out Princess Ariel from The Little Mermaid.
“I didn’t know anyone else was in here,” the redhead said, approaching the sinks.
She put a little vial into her purse and adjusted the corset of her costume by hooking a finger into the already low neckline and wiggling it lower.
If she did it one more time, Reyana was pretty sure she’d be X-rated Princess Ariel.
“But when you said that sad thing about a man, I had to give you my opinion. Women need to support women, and sometimes we have to do things for good sex. Nothing’s worse than being in a drought.
We owe it to our physical and mental health. ”
Reyana looked at her curiously, not sure whether any of this woman’s version of women supporting women made sense, seeing as she advised accepting a man and his bad habits simply because good dick was hard to come by.
But, considering the city’s dating cesspool lately, Reyana could see where she was coming from.
Fine white powder clung to the woman’s perfectly pert nose, and Reyana stood fixated on that momentarily.
“Did you want some?” the woman asked, noticing Reyana’s stare.
She shook her head. “No. But you have some,” she tapped her own nose, “right here.”
“Oh, God, thanks. You’re a doll,” the other woman said, swiping the fine granules away before sniffing again loudly. “See, women supporting women.”
Reyana smiled, amused. She looked through her own little clutch for something to occupy herself as she contemplated staying or leaving the party. She pulled out her lip gloss.
The other woman continued. “I’m meeting a guy here, too, by the way, and he’s so late. This,” she waved at her nose, “takes the edge off, in case he doesn’t show. Anyway, I wouldn’t survive otherwise, you know? But I don’t need to be judged for my nasty little habit. I mean, we all do it, right?”
Reyana did not ‘do it,’ but she wasn’t going to judge someone she’d just met and had no idea what her life outside this over-the-top party was like.
She applied her gloss before remarking drily, “Honestly, you’re in pretty good company out there. Overindulgence is the vibe.”
She’d been to plenty of Sameer’s work events to know that alcohol flowed easily and in abundance, as did illegals in the form of pills, powders, and gummies.
People really didn’t try to hide it at all.
It was a buffet of excess, and anyone could find whatever fix they fancied if they knew the right hook-up.