Chapter 22
Jaiman strode around his tiny office at J’s Pub, ignoring the phone vibrating on his desk. Mr. Jha Landlord Calling, it said. The rent was due on the first of each month, and it was past mid-December. Yet he still hadn’t transferred the money to Mr. Jha’s account.
The new year was around the corner, which meant their two-year rent agreement was due for renewal soon, a fact his landlord had reminded him of in a text last night that went unanswered. Jaiman couldn’t afford to lose this place, but he also couldn’t afford to keep it, so what options did he have?
He had money in his name from when Dad had dabbled in the stock market and “gifted” Jaiman some shares on his twenty-first birthday. He could liquidate them and pay all his expenses for the month. The market had crashed recently; his equity was probably halved at this point, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have any other assets in his name. Even the apartment he lived in was in his parents’ names.
Jaiman checked his account and realized he had just enough money in shares to pay this month’s expenses and half of next month’s. All right, he thought. He hadn’t spoken to his stockbroker in a while, but he sent him a quick message and put his phone aside. It rang again, Mr. Jha Landlord Calling showing up once more on the screen.
With a sigh, he took the call. “Hi, Mr. Jha. Sorry, I was caught up with work.”
“You do realize this work you do takes place in a space that I own?” Mr. Jha wasn’t up for small talk, clearly. “Patil, you’re over two weeks behind on the rent. If I don’t receive it in the next two days, I’m not extending our rent agreement in February.”
“Mr. Jha—” Before he could assure him that yes, he’d have the money soon, Mr. Jha hung up.
Jaiman breathed through his mouth, his shoulders starting to shake. He’d take care of his expenses this month, but what of the next, and the next, and all the ones after that? The pub wasn’t profitable, and he didn’t know how to change that. Those social media ads were doing nothing, and he’d given up on building the website now that the trial period had ended.
Maybe he should have studied something more “sensible” in college and gotten an MBA, after all. Maybe he should have listened to Dad, moved to the U.S., worked for his family business…because he clearly wasn’t good enough to make his dream come true.
All he’d managed so far was to chase that dream and keep it just out of arm’s reach. And now it was slipping further and further away.
Jaiman had just reached into his pocket for his handkerchief when a knock sounded on the door. “Jaiman sir—” Manoj walked in without waiting for a response, then stopped in the doorway when he saw him wiping his eyes. “Sorry. I can, uh, come back later—”
“I’m fine,” Jaiman said, smiling weakly. He rummaged in his drawer, then handed Manoj his weekly paycheck. “See you on Friday.”
Manoj nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. “About that. I was hoping…” He walked closer to the desk, and his eyes lingered on the bills marked “past due.” He bit his lip. “I was hoping I could do another shift on Mondays.”
Jaiman rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I have the…capacity…for that. I’m really sorry.”
Manoj opened and closed his mouth, then chuckled. “No, I mean, you don’t have to pay me anything extra. It’s just, I’m hoping to pick up another gig over winter break, and this would be really good exposure for me.”
They stared at each other. Good exposure? J’s Pub never had more than twenty people in the pub on Mondays. Jaiman started to speak, about to say no to Manoj, that this wouldn’t be fair to him, but he paused. If Manoj didn’t have a problem with it, maybe this was the Universe’s way of saying it had Jaiman’s back. “Okay,” he finally said. “And how about we take some of those recordings you make of your set and post them to the pub’s Instagram page? It might help both of us.”
“That’s a great idea, sir! I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Manoj shook his hand eagerly, and just as he was closing the door to the office, Jaiman said, “Thank you.”
Manoj blushed. “Make sure to join us for tomorrow’s set. I’ll be talking about things that shouldn’t be a thing, like billionaires, the friend zone, and—of course—vegetarian biryani.”
“I’ll be there,” Jaiman said. He waited until the door closed behind Manoj to take out his handkerchief again and wipe his tears.
Then he straightened and checked his wristwatch. The speed dating mixer was starting in an hour. It was in Andheri, not too far from him. He returned to the pub, which was just starting to fill up given it was five p.m. on Sunday. Jaiman addressed the evening shift employees and told them he’d be back later than usual, then drove to the mixer.
He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to it. What was he doing, confusing even himself with his intentions? He’d gone on one more date with Kritika in the past week, and after they shared a rather steamy kiss at her doorstep, she asked him if he wanted to come inside. Jaiman had been lonely for a long year—and Kritika was certainly beautiful—but something forced him to turn her down and go home, promising he’d call her.
Jaiman didn’t. Instead, he deleted her number as soon as he got back, officially branding himself as a ghosting asshole. He knew he was still hung up on Jia, but instead of asking her out on a real date, he was now joining her at an event where they would both be seeing other people.
Jaiman slammed his palm against the wheel when he stopped at a traffic signal. But that was the thing—he couldn’t just ask Jia out on a date without it being a whole big deal. What would Devdutt Uncle think? What if he didn’t approve? What if it didn’t work out with Jia and Jaiman lost the one parental figure he still had?
He knew there were so many mixed signals between him and Jia. They were hot for each other one moment, cold the next. And maybe that wasn’t the healthiest dynamic for a relationship, least of all for a relationship with someone you’d known your whole life.
Then again, how would Jaiman know? He was no dating expert.
The mixer was happening at a pub he hadn’t been to before. Jaiman perked up for a second, wondering if hosting events could save J’s Pub. But he’d have to do all the hunting. Unlike Flora, people weren’t desperate to work with him. Let’s not think about this until later, he told himself. He handed his car keys to the valet, took the ticket stub, and headed inside the pub, which had been reserved solely for the event tonight. A server checked his proof of registration, handed him a name tag and comment card, then ushered him over to the rest of the singles, some of whom were already in conversation.
Jaiman’s eyes searched through the crowd for Jia and found her within seconds. She looked breathtaking in a pink cocktail dress, her short hair down in waves, and was seemingly giving Charu a pep talk. Charu wore a floral-print green kurti and was wringing her hands, looking flustered.
“Hey,” Jaiman greeted them.
“I’m so nervous,” Charu whispered to him, her eyes as large as saucers. “Some of these men are so attractive it’s intimidating. What do you think of the women?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t even noticed a single person here besides Jia; how could he when she looked that perfect? He finally swept his gaze over the other women—all of them pretty, but he supposed he’d have to give each of them individualized attention to determine if there was something there beyond attraction.
The host greeted them and explained the basics of speed dating. The women would be seated at different tables, and the men would go over to each table in a rotation. Each couple had seven minutes to talk, either using the list of prompts kept on each table or any topic of their choosing. Once the bell rang, the men would switch tables. “Y’all ready?” the host said, stroking his beard. “Let’s do this!”
Just as Jaiman was about to find his first date for the night, a familiar woman’s voice broke through the soft music playing on thespeakers. “Sorry I’m late!”
His head whipped around, along with everyone else’s, and he gasped. Kritika was there in a yellow polka dot dress, talking to the host in a low voice. Her eyes met Jaiman’s and widened for a brief moment, then she made her way to the final empty table, still looking at him, until a bearded man joined her.
This is going to be one weird night,Jaiman thought as he headed toward the woman at table number one, ginger ale in hand.
Was speed dating as a concept inherently flawed, or was Jia being too quick to judge? She wasn’t sure, but when the next guy left her table at the halfway point of the event, Jia checked the No box for the question Would you want to see this person again? for the fifth time. They weren’t horrible people or anything (except for the fourth man, who’d had a one-sided conversation with her boobs the entire seven minutes), but Jia just didn’t feel the sense of intrigue she’d hoped for. Her eyes kept wandering to Jaiman the whole time, all of whose dates were beautiful. She tried to peek at his comment card, but his stupid muscular frame blocked it from view. Ugh.
At least Charu was having fun. Her prior hesitations seemingly dissolved, she lit up the room with her expressive face and eager voice. Jia caught many men looking her way even during other dates.
“We’ll take a fifteen-minute break now!” The host clapped his hands to get their attention. “Refill your drinks and grab a snack!”
Jia nearly stumbled in her haste to get to the food counter and Charu. “How’s it going?”
Charu giggled. “I think I really hit it off with some of them. The first guy was a bit weirded out by my love for astrology, but the next three were so interested!” She held on to Jia’s hands. “This was a great idea, Jia. Thank you.”
“I’m so happy to hear that!” Jia cheered internally, then grabbed a plate of nachos and salsa and looked around for Jaiman. He stood alone by the bar adjacent to the food counter, the bottle of gingerale lifted to his lips, and his eyes didn’t leave hers for a whole five seconds.
A shiver ran down Jia’s spine, and she broke the staring game, returning to her nachos. Although they already knew each other, they would be speed dating too. She wondered if he had charmed all his dates instantly. Would he say the same things to her that he was telling the other women?
Did she want him to?
She did, she realized, when she sat back down at her table and date number six showed up: Jaiman Patil.
He sat across from her, pushing his chair closer to the table, and their knees touched. Heat snaked up Jia’s chest and between her legs. What the hell? Was Jia already drunk off the watered-down mimosa she’d had four sips of?
Jaiman held out his hand, his eyes twinkling at her name tag. “Hi, I’m Jaiman. And you must be Jia?”
She cocked her head at him. “Are we really doing this?”
He only continued to hold his hand out in response, his lips in a smirk.
“Yes, I’m Jia.” She returned his handshake, deciding to play along. “So what do you do, Jaiman?”
His eyes fell on her half-empty cocktail glass, and he gestured to it. “For starters, I can make you a better drink than that one. I run my own pub.”
“Oh, really?” Jia said, lifting a brow. “What kind of drink?”
Jaiman gave her a quick once-over, his knee now pressing firmly against hers. “Something pink to match your pretty dress. Rosy like your perfume. As potent as your personality.”
Now both of Jia’s eyebrows shot up, her thighs squeezing together. No wonder Jaiman had been with so many women. He sure knew how to turn them on, with mere words too. Even Jia’s vibrator couldn’t do it this well, and she’d bought the best one on the market.
Was he playing a game with her? Why couldn’t he tell her what was on his mind? When would they stop skirting around this—this sizzling chemistry between them?
Jia cleared her throat. “Jaiman, what are you doing?”
He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Finally averting his gaze, he shifted so they no longer touched. “I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I—”
“You’re confusing me.” She licked her lips, and the movement caught his eye. She nudged her head toward the rest of the room. “Is this what you’re doing with all the ladies?”
He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “No, of course not. Only with you. I just—I thought we’d have some fun—”
“Fun,” Jia repeated. Her eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you ever be serious for once?”
“I’m not serious?” His voice was gravelly. “Jesus, Jia. You’re the one who hasn’t been able to see what’s right in front of you. For Charu, I mean. Seven minutes isn’t enough to figure someone out. I’ve been trying to figure you out for a lot longer.”
She gripped the edge of the table with her fingernails, her body taut. “But we’re not trying to date each other, are we? You don’t need to figure me out.”
He leaned closer, his citrusy cologne sweeping over her, as his nostrils flared. “Don’t worry, I gave up on trying a long time ago.”
Wait, what?Jia opened her mouth to ask him what he meant when the buzzer sounded. “All right, gentlemen, time to switch tables!” the host called out.
“Enjoy the rest of your dates.” Jaiman stood up and walked to the next table without another word, leaving Jia confused and flustered and, well, turned on, for the remainder of the event.