CHAPTER 43
C HAPTER 43
C urtis woke to a silent house. He had showered and collapsed in the home’s fourth bedroom because he didn’t have the strength to drive back to the hotel. In the bathroom, he found a pair of drawstring shorts and a T-shirt bearing the Coca-Cola symbol and Arabic script. Jiyan. The shorts were too baggy and the T-shirt too tight. But at least they were clean.
He padded into the living room and discovered a Canali tux, along with dress shirt and tie and cuff links and shirt studs and shoes and socks, all laid out on the living-room sofa. He told the empty room, “I completely forgot about the gala.”
The Nespresso was charged, and there was milk in a pitcher. A large bowl held fresh salad. A neighboring plate held sliced avocado and a selection of antipasto. There was dressing, a fresh-baked sourdough loaf, butter, cheese, honey, and marmalade. Trays, plates, silverware. The works.
He made himself a coffee and plate and carried it out to the rear deck. The afternoon was utterly still, the heat so fierce Curtis felt it in his bones. Even the ever-present flies were gone, defeated by the stifling temperatures. He ate and listened to the silence. The entire day held its breath. Waiting. Expectant.
Amiya emerged half an hour later. She wore an oversized Vikings T-shirt and gym shorts. Her normally perfect hair was a tousled mess. She tried to shield her eyes from the sunlight, but keeping her hand in place proved too difficult a task. She weaved in an uncertain line over to him, drank from his cup, took a slice of buttered bread, added cheese, started away. Curtis thought she had never looked more beautiful.
Curtis said, “Should we invite Jiyan to tonight’s event?”
She shook her head no, then waved a hand over her head. Later.
“Amiya.” Curtis waited until she reentered shadows and squinted in his general direction. “Thanks for the suit. Is your father coming?”
She took a bite, nodded, and winced at the effort.
“I need to go over, make sure everything’s in place.” He silently added, And decide whether Ajeet should be granted a seat at our table.
But she had already drifted away.