Chapter 31
As much as Jia wanted to believe Manoj was young, irresponsible, and lazy (so she’d feel less guilty about making Charu reject him), he was, to his credit, early to their meeting. When she parked her car at Juhu Tara Road, close to the beach, and walked inside Starbucks, she spotted his wild mane of black hair within seconds. He was seated at a table by the counter, sipping cold brew and reading what seemed to be a historical romance novel.
Jia hadn’t pegged him for a reader. She figured he’d be one of those twenty-three-year-olds who scoffed at romance novels because they were “unrealistic.” Way to shatter her early impression of him. She cleared her throat.
“Hey,” he said, his cheeks pink. He tugged on his collar and set the book down. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you come in. This book is just so good.”
Jia laughed, her eyes on the clinch cover so typical of historical romance novels. “Did I catch you in the middle of reading a sex scene?”
Manoj blushed harder. “Maybe,” he admitted, giving a crooked smile. He stood up and gestured toward the counter. “Would you like me to order something for you to drink?”
“No, you don’t have to. I’ll get myself a latte.” Jia sat him down and hurried to the counter. She blinked, trying to drive away the cognitive dissonance she felt as she ordered a hazelnut latte. Manoj seemed polite. And sweet. And respectful—more so than the twenty-three-year-old men she had known at that age. She thought back to Manoj and Charu’s meet-cute, and had to admit it was literally like something out of a romance novel, their interest in each other deepening over time without any effort on Jia’s part. Organic. Natural. Real.
Jia accepted her coffee from the barista and sat across from Manoj, whose half-finished cold brew had left a water ring on the table that he was trying to scrub off with a tissue.
“Jaiman sir hated water rings,” he said without looking up from his task. There was a hint of dejection in his words. “I’m extra careful about coasters no matter where I go, but Starbucks never hasany.”
Jia blew out a heavy breath through her teeth. “Did he tell you he’s moving?”
Manoj crumpled up the tissue and set it aside. “He did. I can’t believe it.”
She nodded. “Me neither. J’s Pub is home, you know? I don’t know when it stopped being home for him.”
“If you can’t afford to call a place home, you move, right?” He rested his elbows on the table, his face thoughtful. “That’s what my mom and I did, my whole life.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Manoj sipped his cold brew, “she had me out of wedlock, fled from Kerala to Mumbai with me after my grandparents disowned her, hoping my dad would take us in. He didn’t.”
Jia’s eyes watered. She couldn’t imagine growing up without Mamma or Papa; at least she’d had a good twenty-one years with her mother before the cancer.
Manoj continued, “And you know how Mumbai landlords are. Every year, when they increased the rent, we had to hunt for a cheaper place.” He chuckled dryly. “I hated moving to a new neighborhood, over and over, but I saw how defeated my mother got when she realized we couldn’t afford the old apartment. So I never complained.”
“I’m so sorry.” She had the strangest urge to envelop this sweet boy in a hug, but she resisted. She didn’t know him that well.
“So yeah, that’s probably how Jaiman feels. I hate that he’s moving so far away, but he’s got his parents there. I don’t blame him for wanting to be closer to them.” His eyes went to her untouched latte. “Are you gonna drink that?”
Jia brought the cup to her lips and took a sip of the room-temperature coffee. “How’s your mom doing now?”
Manoj smiled. “She found a job she loves that she’s been at for the past five years, and we haven’t moved since then. It doesn’t bring in a lot of money, but I have a scholarship for grad school, and my gigs help pay the bills. I mean”—he gulped—“I had my gigs. Now that Jaiman sir has closed down the pub, I have to find something else. I will, though. I won’t ever let my mom lose our home again. I won’t let her settle.”
I won’t let her settle.Jia had once had this very thought about someone else in Manoj’s life. She’d told herself, before this meeting, that she wouldn’t bring up Charu, especially since Manoj was presumably still with the ex he’d gotten back with. Regardless, she blurted out, “I thought Charu was settling when she said she wanted to be with you, so I convinced her not to. I’m so sorry, Manoj.”
His mouth hung open, and he leaned forward in his seat. “Wait, what? You’re the reason Charu rejected me?”
“Yes.” Jia braced herself for an onslaught of insults. Would he throw his cold brew in her face, or storm out of the café, and she’d never get to talk to him about saving J’s Pub?
Instead, he shrugged. “I get it. She’s this amazing, passionate, hardworking woman, and I’m just…me. I don’t have anything to my name apart from my sense of humor. You were just being a good friend, doing what was best for her.”
Jia ran her shaky fingers through her hair. “No. I was being judgmental and presumptuous. I pushed her toward someone who didn’t care for her, instead of someone who thinks she’s incredible. I was a horrible friend.”
Manoj frowned, his body going taut. “Is she okay? Did someone break her heart?”
“She’s fine now. She’s single,” Jia added carefully.
His eye twitched. He picked up the novel he’d set aside. “Did Charu tell you she loves these books? I started reading them because I missed her, and now I’m hooked. I get through, like, two of these romance novels a week.”
Jia hesitated. “Are you still with that girl from your Instagram?”
“No.” Manoj cracked a small, shy smile. “I just needed a distraction, and so did my ex. She’s a great girl. She’s just not—”
“—Charu,” Jia finished for him, grinning broadly. Her ego would take a serious hit when she uttered her next words, but fuck her ego. Charu’s happiness mattered more. “Manoj, you have to ask Charu out again. I don’t care how you do it, as long as it’s not through a song, because that’s so cringey, but she’s amazing, and you’re a darling, and you need to give each other a real chance without me…interfering.”
His face reddened for the second time today. “You think so?”
She reached over and held his hand for a brief second. “I knowso.”
Manoj finally sat back in his seat, wiping his brow. “Then I will. Hey, why did you want to meet, anyway? Just to catch up?”
That was when Jia remembered the real agenda for this meeting. “I wanted to think of a way to stop Jaiman from leaving. A way to save the pub.”
“I may be studying economics, but I’m not a businessman.” Manoj’s shoulders slumped.
“There has to be a way, that place is a community to us.” Jia bit her lip.
“Yeah, it’s only been closed a few days and I already miss performing there, and of course, Jaiman’s drinks. He even made me one of my own: buttered rum, cola, and coconut. Best cocktail I’ve ever had.”
That was when it hit Jia: a way to save the pub, reignite Jaiman’s passion, and stop him from moving to America, all at once. “Manoj, you’re a genius!” She stood up and bent down to hug him tightly, pulling away before he could so much as move a muscle.
“What—”
“Thank you for this,” Jia said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I have to go now, somehow figure this idea out, but please tell Charu how you feel. It’s New Year’s Eve tomorrow, right? Make her your New Year’s kiss. Bye!”
He stood up too, evidently confused, but she ran out of the café into the darkening street, the cogs turning in her brain. She sat in her car, breathing hard, her hands on the steering wheel. All she needed to do now was go home to her laptop, do some research to see if her idea was viable…and muster up the courage to send one final email to TheReMix.
Come on,Jaiman told himself as he stood outside Vodka Vada, ignoring the curious looks of the ma?tre d’. You can do this.
He nodded at this self-affirming thought, mustered up all his courage, and turned to the ma?tre d’s desk. “I’m here for the celebratory dinner hosted by Flora Braganza.”
“Your invitation, please.” The ma?tre d’ held his hand out. Jaiman showed him the email Flora had sent him with the I miss you! Please come? message at the top, and he was allowed inside and to the top floor, where the dinner was being hosted.
He hadn’t stepped inside Vodka Vada since the launch party, so he didn’t know if the redecoration was solely for tonight. Upstairs, twinkling golden fairy lights were twined around the silver baubles that hung from the ceiling; a dance floor was off to the side, whereas the center of the room was sectioned off separately for Flora’s special dinner, with a communal table and twelve ornate, leather-cushioned chairs placed around it.
Slowly, Jaiman made his way to the table. Each seat had a placard with a guest’s name on it. He gulped. He hadn’t RSVP’d yes; would there still be a place for him?
Jaiman had decided to leave when he spotted a seat with his name on it. He sank into the leathery, cushiony chair, letting out a relieved breath. Most of the seats were occupied, and Jaiman spotted a few B-list celebrities there, as well as culinary reporters, who smiled politely at him.
“Jaiman!” Flora stood outside the kitchen. She wore a shimmery silver cocktail dress, her long hair in a loose braid, an unmistakably euphoric grin on her face. “You came!” She ran over to his chair, pulled him up from his seat, and threw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Jaiman patted her back, then looked at her. “I’ve missed you too. And I’m—I’m sorry for avoiding you. Look, if Harish is important to you, then he’s important to me.”
She clasped his hands in hers, her eyes fogging up. “Thank you.” Then she wiped her eyes with her slender fingers and added, “Are you ready for a fantastic meal curated by yours truly, Jaiman Patil?”
“I am,” he said, grinning.
After a delicious five-course South Indian meal that included dishes Jaiman had never even heard of—like gobi kempu bezule (deep-fried cauliflower tossed in a spicy yogurt sauce), chepa vepudu (fried basa fish), and kozhi tharakkal (semi-dry chicken coated with ground cashews and spices in a tomato base)—he sat back, one hand on his stomach, contentedly full.
Jaiman was prouder of Flora than he had ever been. Because if she could whip up recipes that fit Harish’s menu so perfectly, there was no doubt in his mind that she deserved every ounce of the success she had earned.
He had also, quite dejectedly, accepted that beer went very well with South Indian food.
When Flora and Harish were done shaking hands with the guests and posing for the cameras, they both came over to Jaiman as the real party started, and all the celebrities headed to the dance floor. Harish thumped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for being here. It meant a lot to Fairy.”
Jaiman tried not to throw up. “That’s your nickname for her?”
“I think it’s cute,” Flora muttered, not meeting his gaze. Her face was flushed.
“Listen,” Harish said, putting a hand on Jaiman’s forearm, “I noticed J’s Pub has been shut for a few days. Are you okay?”
Jaiman gulped. So they didn’t know, at least not for sure. “No. I’m moving to San Francisco to join my dad’s business.”
“What?” Flora yelled, punctuating each of her next words with a slap on his shoulder. “How—can—you—just—leave?”
“The pub’s not profitable. You both know it.” Jaiman shifted his weight from foot to foot, suppressing the urge to massage his shoulder. Flora was strong. “This is for the best. And hey, you’re in a serious relationship now. You won’t even miss me.”
“Of course I’ll miss you!” Flora wound her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. She pulled away to ask, “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” Jaiman answered.
“Don’t be,” Harish said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re next door to VV. And you’re Fairy’s best friend.” Harish put his hands in the pockets of his slim-cut trousers. “We should help each other out.”
“I don’t want your money, and besides, my mom already tried.” Jaiman kicked at the floor. “I’ve lost my passion for managing the pub, and I need to move on, from it and other things.”
Harish exhaled and gestured to the dance floor. “At least join us for a dance? We won’t make you feel like a third wheel, promise.”
Jaiman smirked, ignoring the tears clouding his vision as he walked to the dance floor with them. “All right, Chandran. Let’s see your moves.”