Chapter Ten
Ten
Sunny
Bane had the uncanny ability to streamline straight to the raw end of my very last nerve without so much as trying. I hadn’t meant to tell her what to do or how to behave, and sure, perhaps the wording and/or my tone had made it appear so, but she was so quick to jump on my ass about everything. She did it at work all the time. And while she ran a tight subteam, she wasn’t the damn PM to treat me the way she did.
I’d applied, and interviewed, for our recent PM opening and was waiting on edge to hear back. No one had to tell me that Bane had also applied. Everyone knew she had. They wanted her to be PM, which would be great for non-leads, but not great for me. If she treated me this curtly now, how much worse would she be as PM?
She’d been at the company longer. Seniority played a huge part in the consideration process when it came to filling a role where multiple applicants showed strong skills, education, work ethic, effectiveness, and overall likability with teams, managers, and clients. My dev skills were beyond what the company was even paying me for. My presentations were effective and enjoyable. I’d even been given extra responsibilities by moving up to the company’s larger accounts within the first two months.
But was I going to step aside without even trying? Hell no.
At least this wedding, and even dealing with the hotel situation, had left little time to stalk my inbox.
I went over the conversation with Bane. And groaned. I mean, shit. I guess telling her to be nicer wasn’t the right thing.
Even as I walked the long path nursed by generous tree shade to get to the King’s Land lobby, my blood was still simmering on edge of boiling. I couldn’t get that infuriating woman out of my head. Bhanu had become the bane of my existence—Bane was a fitting name for her. Beneath that bubbly exterior was a deep-seated hate for me. I was shocked that she even offered me the villa.
I’d checked my phone for any updates—voicemails, emails, text messages, missed calls—but there was nothing aside from the daunting group chat. In a way, it was nice to be so far from the others. A long walk, sure, but not within the same building. They couldn’t just knock on my door, show up unexpectedly, and the idea that I had a low-key girlfriend, well, it seemed that my friends now gave me extra space.
Shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt allowed the breeze to cool my skin. Several people walked and jogged on the sidewalks, but the paved paths on both sides of the street were wide and extended as far as the eye could see so there were no crowds. Instead, plenty of space to take in the beauty of the island.
My phone rang and I answered on first call, hoping it was the hotel.
It wasn’t.
“Hey, sis,” I said into the phone.
“Hey, bhai! How’s paradise?”
“Hot as Hades.”
Sheila laughed.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, worried.
“Everything’s fine. Just checking in, making sure that you’re actually vacationing instead of remotely working.”
“Sheesh. You think I’m that bad that you have to call?”
“Yes.”
Fine, she was right. “Is Papa okay?”
“Yes.”
Guilt riddled my bones. “I shouldn’t be here when he’s sick.”
“You should. He’s okay right now and we’re here taking care of him.”
“When that’s my responsibility.”
“Eh, spare me your gender norms.”
“As the eldest.”
“And your traditionalist norms. Besides, you’re not really vacationing. It’s your best friend’s wedding, that you committed to nearly a year ago.”
“Doesn’t alleviate my guilt.”
“Stop that.”
But it wasn’t easy to lessen the burden of shame. Traditionally, as the son and the eldest child, I was supposed to take care of my parents. My sisters lived closer and insisted on staying with our parents to help out. While they were counting out Papa’s meds and making dinners so Ma wouldn’t have to, I was in freaking Hawaii.
“When I return, I’ll stay with them until he’s better,” I announced.
“No need. He’s doing fine now.”
“I work remotely. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve stayed over.”
“Sure, but don’t think it’s been too long a time since you’ve seen them. You were just here two weeks ago. Seattle isn’t that far from Olympia. Stop being melodramatic as if you’ve abandoned your parents.”
I nodded, squinting in the sunlight whenever it pierced the canopy.
“Have fun for once!”
I groaned.
“Wait, is that ex of yours there?” Sheila asked, her voice dropping to annoyed.
“Yes.”
“She had the nerve, huh?”
“Let’s not gang up on her.”
“We were never friends, and you know I was always wary of her since that time she dated Yash. I dunno. Something about a person talking about their relationship issues to others is disturbing. Especially outside of their immediate circle. Anyway, she left you and had you believing you weren’t capable of love. How am I supposed to react? You may keep your composure, but I say what’s on my mind. She’s lucky I’m not there.”
“You know how I feel about holding on to resentment. There’s too many other, more important, stresses to worry about. Resentment poisons the heart. Also, what if we got back together? Then what?”
“Then she’d better have changed her tune, first and foremost. And if you’re happy and healthy, then I’m happy for you. But you can do better.”
Could I, though?
We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Knowing that my dad was doing better was a relief, and that my sisters were nearby to help. I should really take over once I returned. Staying with my parents would drive Papa up the wall. He’d insist that he was fine, that we were all overreacting.
But when he’d had to stay for several days in the hospital because of kidney stones or surgery or whatever the case, he was never alone. Someone would stay at his side all day and sleep over every night. We’d take turns. Even if he was coherent and moved around on his own. It didn’t matter. For a few years there, we’d grown accustomed to hospital cafeteria food. We even had “picnics” in the dining area.
Sweat ran down my temples as I wiped the back of my neck. Ahead, the lobby was large with folding doors on either side, fully opened. There was no AC pumping through the open-air corridors here. Just the ocean breeze. And shit, it was sweltering.
The crowds made it hotter. The staff was inundated, even more so than yesterday, with three long lines stacked with annoyed or visibly upset people. The manager who’d tried to assist me was up front, hurrying between four front desk staff talking to customers and typing away on computers and two with their backs to the lines, on the phone.
He finished with a couple, gesturing toward the hall, where many others were waiting slumped against walls, pacing, or taking up every seat possible. Some singles, most couples or families. He looked up as he gulped from his thermos, eyes landing on mine as I stood near the long front desk, beside the lines, trying to figure out if there was a difference and which line I was supposed to get into.
“Ah!” He raised his hand and waved me over.
The manager was at the line closest to me. He was able to sidestep and allow someone else to seamlessly take over.
And here, I thought I’d been sweating. His round face was flushed, pink, and dotted with sweat beads. I hoped whatever he was drinking was ice-cold.
I ignored the scathing looks from those in line and said, “Thanks. You guys are slammed. The system error must’ve really screwed things over.”
“Yeah,” he said, out of breath. Maybe he was helping me to get a breather. Irate vacationers and system glitches were two of the many reasons I could never work in the hospitality industry.
“Is there an update on that suite you said might be available tonight?”
He scrolled through his tablet, swiping away sweat, muttering under his tongue as conversations got louder and phones rang. The staff were unable to keep up, and this was hard to watch. I honestly felt horrible. Had I been lead dev or PM on their reservation website, no such error would’ve happened under my watch. I would’ve seen a bug like this from a mile away. Okay, well not a mile away. Pretty close up and over many hours of test runs, but the point was, I couldn’t imagine this happening on one of my projects. If it did, my entire team and I would be working around the clock to fix this. Surely a worldwide hotel chain as massive as this one had hundreds of people working on their sites. Surely they’d have fixed the problem by now. Woken up their top devs in the middle of the night. Said devs hustling to track and adjust.
But they had not, apparent by the level of raging tourist fumes. Many scrolled through phones or were on calls trying to find something. Tension thickened the air; grumbles were getting harsher.
Some were outright speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is ridiculous. Been waiting in line for twenty minutes. I have reservations. Hawaii needs to get their act together.”
“I’ve been waiting for an hour,” another volleyed, as if out to win a game of who’d been angrier longer. He was with his family along a wall and his teenaged kids seemed severely disinterested.
And there it came. “Let me talk to the manager. I demand a manager. I don’t want to talk to you!”
The manager in front of me side-eyed the customer, who was yelling at a short woman behind the counter, her face red.
“You don’t need to yell,” I told her, my voice rising over the commotion.
She glared at me. “Are you the manager? If not, mind your business.”
“I’m speaking with the manager right now, so you’ll have to wait. No need to yell at staff who are obviously trying their best to fix problems they’re not at fault for.”
She huffed and glared at the manager in front of me. He plastered on a tourism smile, adding, “I’ll be right with you.”
Her hard stare swept back to me. “I was here first. He just walked over to you. I saw that!”
I replied, “Because I’ve been waiting since yesterday. Politely. How long have you been waiting?”
She grumbled her time in minutes. Not an entire-ass day.
I spoke to the staff, who had their heads down trying to find solutions on their computers. “Thank you for your help with this computer glitch that probably occurred on the umbrella website handled by someone on the mainland and had nothing to do with you.”
I’d hate to work in tourism with so many entitled people who expected their vacations to be perfect while being completely unforgiving to staff. I appreciated my behind-the-scenes work even more, no matter the lack of upending excitement.
A younger woman walked through the lobby, parting the crowds with an authoritative presence, her dark hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a sleeveless white blouse, black slacks that ended a few inches above her ankles, and high heels. A woman in charge who immediately took charge, armed with a tablet to her chest and a formidable voice.
“Please don’t yell at my staff, ma’am,” she asserted to the customer. “We are trying our best to resolve the situation main servers created during an already hectic time of the year for the annual Ironman competition. I’d be happy to help you while the manager is helping another valued guest.”
The woman scoffed. “I want the manager.”
“I’m his manager,” she replied.
“Then bring me your manager. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“But you wanted to speak with him?”
“I said bring me your manager! Ugh! This is asinine.”
The woman with the tablet turned stoic and replied in a flat tone, “Here I am. You’re not going to get someone above me unless you go to Oahu or the mainland. I’ll try my best to help, but let me be clear: Please do not yell at me or my staff or you will be escorted off the premises.”
“How dare you.”
“Yes, how dare I. Now, may I offer you some refreshments while we work out your issue, or should I move on to the next valued guest waiting in line?”
“ Valued guest!” She fumbled for the phone to record the manager of managers, who promptly snatched the device and said, “Security it is.”
And the next thing we knew, security was escorting this woman off the property. Everyone else suddenly found the patience they demanded of others. The lines not only quieted but moved faster.
The woman swiftly helped break down the line while the manager and staff cast grateful glances. She looked a bit like Bane, had that commanding presence when she spoke, but more put-together.
“Sir,” the manager said, drawing my attention back to him. “We still don’t have any rooms. I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, feeling worse and worse for what the staff had to endure. “I’m here with others and able to stay with them.”
“Oh, thank goodness. We will call you as soon as we have a cleared room. You’re at the top of my list. And a full refund for the nights you were unable to get, plus complimentary meals and drinks.”
“That’s generous. Thank you. By the way, so I know how much to give my friend. How much is a villa per night?”
“Oh, you mean at our sister Homestead location?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what size?”
“Not sure. It was originally for two siblings.”
“The smallest we have is eighteen hundred a night.”
If I’d been drinking anything, I would’ve spat it out. I ran a hand over the back of my neck. “Shit. That’s, wow, a lot.”
He nodded. “Ocean views, sprawling yard with lanai and privacy, amazing amenities.”
I let out a breath. “Okay. Thanks. Looking forward to that call, though.”
I didn’t think Bane went all out with vacations. I sure as hell didn’t. Maybe we could work out a payment plan?
There was still some time before the group headed to our second excursion for the trip: a coffee farm in Kona. One of the many places that made the expensive-ass coffee we’d drunk this morning, which was admittedly good. On the slopes of lava rock–rich soil, we’d tour through the growing of coffee beans, FAQs, and roast and grind our own small batch. It was something April really wanted to do as part of our wedding party gift. She even had coffee labels made, complete with the couple’s picture and wedding date, to mark the experience.
It wouldn’t hurt to sit outside, in the shade, and enjoy a drink. Anything icy to cool off, but especially water. There were varying levels to this location, the largest building of three in a giant U-shape. Aside from convenience stores, gift and clothing shops, spas and gyms, there were several indoor and outdoor restaurants, bars, and lounges. The one farthest from these angry guest lines was past the gardens, almost to the pool, but not quite reaching the beaches.
I’d just grabbed an icy water and lemonade and wandered around looking for prime seating to catch shade, breeze, and isolation from others, when I spotted April waving me over to a cabana. I lifted my glasses in acknowledgment and walked past the pool, to the side, and wondered how the hell she’d spotted me from this distance.
Her cabana was on a bed of small black lava rocks and chunks of white rocks that might’ve been dead coral, fully covered, somewhat private and quiet, and attended to by spa and eatery staff.
I was betting that Maya and Sejal had sprung for this, since they were also here, appearing from around the corner of the open-sided tentlike cabana, lying face down on massage tables with the ocean shimmering in afternoon light in front of them.
“Come sit with us!” April suggested.
“No. This looks like bridesmaids time.”
“Nonsense! We’re almost done anyway. Have to get ready for the coffee tour soon. Two drinks?” She looked past me. “Is your mystery girlfriend around?”
“Oh!” Maya shouted from her position on the massage table. I had thought she was asleep. “I want to meet her!” She blindly flapped one arm at us, her head turned from us.
This would’ve been an excellent time to tell them the truth. While holding two drinks and explaining: They’re both for me, and that woman who claimed to be my girlfriend? Yeah, just a coworker who was annoyed with Sejal and wanted her to STFU.
The truth would set me free. I wasn’t a liar, had never been good at it. One lie created two, then three, then the next thing I knew, I was caught in a web of lies and had to follow each string to remember what I’d said before. Lying was exhausting when layers and details were involved. And the longer this lie went on, the more humiliating and hurtful it would be when the truth came out.
Besides, the truth would also set me free from Bane. She’d been pretty pissed when I left this morning. Being around Bane was bad enough, but being stuck with an angry Bane was far worse.
“Yeah…where is this mysterious girlfriend?” Sejal asked as she sat up from her massage, her adept scrutiny once again probing.
I’d wanted to end things quietly, although I’d been equally hurt. She didn’t want to go quietly. Even now, she was obviously goading me into a corner, insinuating Bane was a myth, a lie. And sure, Bane was, but Sejal didn’t have to call me out like this in front of everyone. The thing about my ex was that she could be kind and loving and the best person when she was on your side. She wasn’t on my side, though. A broken heart and resentment meant that we could never truly be civil. I wasn’t going to fight back. I never had and never would. We were over. She’d walked away from me, and I’d let her because she was right. I wasn’t what she wanted, no matter how hard I’d tried.
She wanted me to argue. She’d even claimed that my lack of fighting meant I didn’t care. I didn’t understand her logic, but others seemed to agree. If you love someone, you fight to keep them. But…if they loved me, they wouldn’t make me fight. Not like this. Not bickering and public arguments and pitting friends against me.
If Sejal had wanted to move elsewhere, I would’ve moved with her.
If she was having second thoughts about my commitment, I would’ve proven myself to her.
If she thought we didn’t communicate well enough, I would fix the problem.
She wanted me to be more romantic, more doting, more public displays of affection. I tried to do all of those things, as unnatural and foreign to me as they were.
I fought for her in different ways, but she only saw that I didn’t argue with her at the end.
Even now, she glared at me with a sweep of her eyes like she probably had known the truth all along.
“Where’s your girlfriend? Or was that not really her?” she asked.
“Back at the room.” Damn. Hadn’t meant to carry the lie further, especially with such ease. Absolutely not the way I intended my confession to go, but maybe it was best to confess to my friends first, instead of my ex.
“Why haven’t you ever talked about her? Shown her off? Brought her around? Let me see a picture of you two together. Or do you not have one?” Sejal asked casually, as if her intentions weren’t laced with malice to undo my claim. “I wished that was one thing you’d done with me. Or really, another thing. It’s like your girlfriends don’t mean anything or stay on your mind long enough to mention them to others.”
Tension erupted between us in the fastest, hair-splitting second imaginable. If she’d meant to claw into my skin and burrow so deep that I felt her presence eroding me from the inside out, then she’d wildly succeeded.
“Like how you seem to love mentioning me and all my faults to everyone and their auntie?”
“Damn…” Maya muttered.
Sejal spat, “It’s just that I think you’re lying about this whole girlfriend thing.”
“And if I was, why the hell do you care?”
“I’ve only ever tried to better you.”
“Have you, though? Like a pet project?” I asked calmly. “I’m sure April doesn’t want this tension. Please save all that hate for after the wedding.”
April sighed, her shoulders deflating. “Can you guys be nice? Seriously, Sejal. How could you accuse Sunny of making up a girlfriend? You met her, the guys have met her. Besides, Sunny would never lie.”
Oh, damn. April’s glowing review of my morality wasn’t going to make this any easier.
April went on, “We’ll meet her soon.” She looked to me and said, “The guys love her, by the way! I’m so excited to meet her, to hug her, to welcome her into our group!”
She squealed. Her perception of my ethics and her unfiltered excitement over this surprise guest twist put my resolve in a vise.
“What’s got you so pale?” Sejal asked drolly.
“She doesn’t like physical contact with strangers, so I’d chill on the hugs.” Damnit, why was my mouth talking? Hadn’t it gotten the memo from my brain?
“Oh, that’s right!” April touched my arm, which had turned numb by now still holding two icy drinks. I couldn’t feel my hands. “The guys said that. Fist bump, right?”
“If you must touch her, maybe.”
“I’ll be sure to ask first. We all look forward to meeting your new flame,” April added in a singsong voice.
“Oh! Fantastic idea!” she went on with a clap of her hands, which meant her enthusiasm was getting the better of her. I braced for whatever she was about to say. “Bring her to the coffee tour.”
“No.” What excuse did I have? Ah! “She’s spending time with her sister.”
“Oh? Not taking advantage of a romantic getaway? She’s really here for her sister, isn’t she?” Sejal asked slyly.
“Her sister lives here,” I stated. “Her plans included her usual visit here, and the wedding happening at the same time and location is a mere coincidence.”
By now, Maya had finished her massage and sat up, taking a drink. Which reminded me that I should probably drink my own beverages before they turned tepid and unfulfilling, much like this conversation.
“Please bring her,” April insisted.
“Or tell us where your room is so we can see her,” Maya added. “I’m on edge wondering who in the world tamed you.”
“No one tamed anyone,” I assured her.
Before I knew it, the girls had convinced me to bring Bane or suffer their endless inquiries. “I’m sure she’s busy,” I said, desperate to avert.
“Call her right now,” April said, hands on hips, that defiant boss look on her face. “Don’t make the bride ask twice.”
Crap.
“Yeah, Sunny. Call this mystery girlfriend,” Sejal prodded.
April shot her a warning look. “Don’t mind Sejal. She’ll keep it cool, right, Sejal? Because no one wants a stressed-out bride.”
Sejal nodded, turning away. April went to her side, muttering, “ What has gotten into you? You’re not jealous, are you?”
April was trying to mumble, but sound carried differently out here. I caught the question and Sejal’s shocked expression. As if she’d gotten called out in the ugliest way. She couldn’t possibly be jealous.
Jilted? Not likely. Annoyed? Pragmatically so.