Chapter Twelve #2
in high school.” It had been different for Avi, who had been two years behind him and more classically handsome and charming.
He’d just been Avi’s too-quiet, too-big, scarred older brother.
“Huh. Your hometown was full of weirdos.”
Krish rubbed his finger over his lip. He’d think she was buttering him up, but she sounded more annoyed than complimentary.
He looked away, to give himself a minute, and noticed the pub with its open sign flashing in the window. “Are you hungry? There’s a pub right over there.” He didn’t want to sit in the car with Sejal
alone, not fresh off her calling him beautiful. Or go home and have his parents and Sejal interact any more than necessary.
Especially after Sejal’s impertinent and far too accurate guess about his mother’s former work.
He and Avi had had secrecy drilled into them since birth. He didn’t even fully know everything his mom had done when she’d
been in the business. He doubted Patrick did, either.
But Sejal had casually pulled the veil back from his mother’s carefully constructed cover.
A part of him—the part that was still stuck in bed with her—had admired Sejal’s observational skills and enjoyed watching her befuddle his mother.
Nothing much shook Aarthi or her convictions.
Like her certainty about her younger son’s guilt, for example.
She hesitated, like she was also thinking about what awaited them at home. “Sounds good,” she said. “Yeah, I could eat.”
Much like the rest of the town, the pub and restaurant, full of dark paneling and barrels as décor, leaned into the old West
aesthetic. “Quaint,” Sejal said as they approached the bar.
A petite, white-haired bartender walked toward them, and Krish took his cap off out of politeness. The woman greeted them.
“You must be one of Anna’s sons. Kris?”
He didn’t look at Sejal, who had definitely caught on that the bartender wasn’t using his or his mom’s real names. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you the one who went to Harvard?”
Now he definitely didn’t look at Sejal. Damn it, Mom. Either his mom had lost her edge when it came to secrecy or she’d felt really safe confiding one of her greatest joys in this
stranger. His mom hadn’t loved the field he went into, but she did adore having an Ivy League grad in her family. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How’s your mother doing?” The bartender’s tag said her name was Suzy.
“Doing well, thanks.”
Suzy’s curious gaze drifted over him to Sejal, who smiled. “Hello, there.”
“Hi. I’m Seema, his girlfriend.”
“And what a pretty little thing you are, too. Are you two enjoying your visit?”
“We are, yes.”
Suzy looked between them. “I’m sure Anna’s delighted to have you visiting. We were just talking a couple days ago about hoping
to be grandmothers someday. Oh, but you two would have adorable babies.”
Sejal leaned forward. “I think so, too, but Kris and I disagree on how many. I say six, he wants to stop at four.”
Krish’s smile was pained. “I don’t think Ms. Suzy wants to hear about our family planning, dear—”
“My son Dana recently had his fifth. You’ll never regret having more children,” Suzy said in a singsong tone.
Are you sure about that?
“Congrats to you,” said Sejal, her fake hair swinging. “Twins run in my family, so maybe I can sneak a few more in there.”
Shudder. Krish had never really craved kids, but if he imagined being a father, it was to one single kid. Only children seemed
blessed. For one, they didn’t have to go save their little brothers from, say, the mob.
“Ooh, what a delight that would be. And what is it you do, Seema?” Suzy slipped in the question sweetly, but with no less
interrogation in her voice than his mother, a trained interrogator, had displayed. “Did you also—”
Krish cut in before Sejal could answer . . . or more importantly, before Suzy could out his actual profession, if his mom
had told her that, too. “She’s in sales. Could we see a menu, Ms. Suzy?”
The woman clucked and handed them two plastic menus. “So sorry, I’m a chatterbox.”
Krish skimmed it quickly. “I’ll have a Coke, a burger and fries, and whatever salad you might have in stock.”
“Double that for me,” Sejal said.
Krish tipped his head. “If you don’t mind, we’ll wait over near the TV.”
Suzy took the menus back gracefully, recognizing the end of the conversation. She quickly poured them two sodas from behind
the bar. “Thank you for supporting the place,” she said. “In the offseason, things can get lean around here.”
“Offseason?” Sejal asked.
“Oh, we have a ton of tourists in the spring and summer. Lots of good hiking around here, and we have a wonderful film festival.”
“That’s cool.”
Krish made a vague interested noise but shepherded Sejal away from the bar. Her elbow was very soft in his palm, and the second
he had that thought, he dropped his hand like she was on fire.
“Harvard, eh?” she asked, sotto voce.
He dipped his head. “You do have good instincts.”
Her laugh was low and throaty, and it surprised him so much he slowed down. She stopped laughing. “What?”
“I don’t hear you laugh much is all.”
They stopped next to a high-top table in the corner. A big-screen television hung above them, playing ESPN at medium volume
to the mostly empty pub. “There hasn’t been much to laugh at, has there?” she pointed out.
Truer words had never been spoken. He didn’t feel like he’d had a good laugh since his brother had disappeared. Though he’d
come close to smiling a few times with Sejal, oddly enough.
“So Harvard was better than your hometown?”
“Much better. And not nearly as elitist as you think.”
She put her thumb and forefinger together. “But definitely a little elitist.”
He hid his smile. “Okay. Yes. Occasionally. But at least it was a big city. And I was anonymous.” He still hadn’t been considered beautiful, but at least he hadn’t stuck out like a sore thumb, and it had been amazing.
“I definitely know all about seeking anonymity,” Sejal said. “Was it me, or did that lady call you Kris?”
“My mom must have given her that name. I went by Kris in high school. Krishna was too difficult for them to pronounce. In
college, someone started calling me Krish, and that stuck.” He preferred that nickname, only because he did actually love
his name.
“No one calls you Avi?”
Why would someone use my brother’s—oh. Mentally, he slapped himself. “Ah, no. I always preferred my middle name, even if it was more difficult.”
“It’s not that difficult, people just get lazy.” Sejal made a disgusted sound. “I had to go by Sam in high school.”
“Hopefully our six kids will have an easier time of things.”
She gave another startled laugh, and he found himself stretching toward it like a flower toward the sun.
“Hey. You’re kind of funny, Krish.”
Before he could answer, she shrugged her coat off. He struggled, hard, to keep his eyes on her face. That damn dress clung
to her so enticingly. “I’m sorry about this morning,” she said.
Oh no. He did not want to discuss this morning. Especially not in public, especially where an older lady who knew his mom
might hear. “I told you, no need to be sorry. It’s not the first time I’ve gone to bed without, uh—”
She lifted an eyebrow slowly and held up her hand, cutting off his faucet of words. “I was talking about your mom.”
Under the cover of the table, he wiped his palm on his jeans and told himself it was condensation from his Coke. “Oh. Right.”
“She seemed annoyed I asked about her job.”
She was annoyed. “Why did you do that?”
Sejal lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Because I’m a rascal.”
This time he laughed, and she smiled in return. “Why did you think I did it? The best defense is a good offense. She was asking
me too many questions, and at some point I would have slipped and messed up the lie. The lie you asked me to play along with,
I should add.”
Fair enough. “It wasn’t very good playing along. I very much doubt she believes you’re really in ‘sales.’” He put the word
in air quotes.
“Well, I very much doubt she’s a florist. Was I right? Is she also in the FBI?”
“No,” he answered truthfully.
She narrowed her gaze at him. “I’m not asking the right question, am I?”
No, she wasn’t. “It’s not important. Or pertinent to our dealings with each other.”
“Mmm, I’ll be the judge of that. Seems fairly important, knowing what my warden’s parents are up to.”
He glanced around them again, but even the guy at the bar had left, and there was no sign of Suzy. No one could hear their
conversation.
Sejal extended her hand in front of her. In her palm lay a fresh pack of cards, still sealed, which she must have bought at
the general store. Did she pick up new decks like other people picked up cigarettes? “How about we play for some information?”
He snorted. “I don’t trust you.” Her eyes flickered, and he wondered if he’d hurt her again. “That is, you’re too good at
sleight of hand.”
“I wouldn’t cheat.” She slid the cards to him. “But to be on the safe side, you pick the game and handle the cards.”
Judging by the edge in her voice on the word cheat, he had pricked her. Damn it. Clumsy. Bull in a china shop.
He shouldn’t care if he hurt her feelings, but he did. So he slit the plastic around the cards. “Do you know a game called
Chance?”
“No.”
“It’s a simple matching game, one my mom taught us when we were kids.” He shuffled the deck, dealt them each four cards, then
placed four cards in the middle face up. “Match the cards in your hand to what’s spread here to make tricks. You can also
add cards, so a three and a four can take a seven. Discard a card if nothing matches, but then it’s fair game for me. The
person with the most tricks when all the cards are gone wins.”
“Easy rules. We need some stakes.”
“What do you have in mind?” Because he knew what he had in mind, but playing Strip Chance here would definitely scandalize
Suzy.
“For each hand I beat you at, you answer a question. In depth, in detail.” Though she wasn’t doing magic, she still held the