Rebel Hard
Page 19
15
The Male Point of View
Nayna went into work on Saturday to clear a few final things before she shut down for summer vacation. It felt strangely quiet after the emotional upheaval of the previous day, so she was glad to pull into her drive around three to see her grandmother and Mr. Hohepa heading off for a walk, Pixie happily nosing about in front of them. Aji wore a blue velour suit with white racing stripes while Mr. Hohepa wore tan slacks and a light blue polo shirt, the hat on his head rakishly perched and his cane a glossy black.
As if the two had coordinated their outfits.
Aji was chattering away animatedly to him, and every so often, he’d laugh a big belly laugh, his light brown skin glowing under the summer sunlight.
“Go, Aji.” Nayna smiled, but it didn’t last long—she spent most of the next two hours avoiding her parents’ attempts to question her about Raj. Going out into the garden to hide out on the swing, she stared up at a sky lit with summer sunshine, missing being held against a big, warm body and kissed with an erotic intensity that said Raj was focused on her and only her.
She shivered, thought about calling him, but no, the ball was strictly in his court now. Her lips quirked at the memory of the baffled look on his face after she’d kissed him last night. The poor baby hadn’t had any idea what he’d done. But the way he’d scowled and said that it was all about listening and being a good husband, that had hit every one of her romance-hungry buttons.
It had also chipped away at her walls.
The idea of a husband who listened and gave her what she needed… it was a seductive one. But could Raj give her freedom in the long term, or would the rules change over time? The idea of feeling trapped, of slowly suffocating all her life… No, Nayna couldn’t, wouldn’t do it. Raj had more than an uphill battle ahead of him—he was also fighting to push up a giant two-ton rock while engaging in that battle.
“Nayna!” her mother called out from the back door. “Come and get ready. We have to go to Pinky’s!”
“Coming!” Nayna called back, glad to have the distraction of the pre-wedding ceremony tonight. She knew her mother and grandmother had been attending wedding festivities throughout the week, including the ceremony where turmeric paste was rubbed all over the bride.
Nayna wondered if sophisticated “mineral water only” Pinky had enjoyed being turned yellow by gleeful aunties and cousins. Grinning, she walked into her bedroom and pulled out a vivid green sari with gold detailing that wasn’t so heavy that she couldn’t put it on by herself. The task of turning meters of fabric into an elegant ensemble was one in which Nayna was yet a novice.
Ísa called mid-wrap, and Nayna ended up confessing that she’d kissed Raj. She simply couldn’t help herself around him. It was a sickness—and no, she didn’t want to be cured. Her heart pounded at the thought of how he’d tasted her with slow deliberation; her skin flushed. Hanging up the call with Ísa before she gave away her current state, she took a couple of minutes to calm down before ensuring her makeup was up to scratch.
She decided to add gold eyeshadow and thicker mascara to jazz things up.
Last was the jewelry. Today she stuck with bangles that matched the gold in her sari as well as dangly gold earrings. At the last minute, she added a gold bindi.
As a single woman of a certain age, she had to go armored.
Yesterday at the Mehras, the assembled aunties had all squeezed her cheeks and told her she was a pretty girl. Then had come the questions about why she wasn’t married. “Youth won’t last forever” was the sage advice, after which they’d complimented her on her career.
Today Madhuri came to her rescue with one particularly insistent auntie who was crossing the line from nosy to hurtful. “I’m so sorry,” Madhuri said sweetly, “but my sari’s coming loose at the back and I need Nayna’s help.”
“You young girls.” A shake of the head. “Don’t you know how to use safety pins? You have to get the big strong ones. Go, go, fix it!”
After leading Nayna out of sight, Madhuri turned and winked at her. Her pale pink sari with white crystals on it was wrapped perfectly around her tall and voluptuous body. Nayna could tie a sari, but she’d need an hour and at least two boxes of safety pins to put on the slippery, heavy creation Madhuri was wearing. And even then she’d be scared she’d step on it and unravel the entire thing.
“Auntie Babita’s such an old bat.” Madhuri rolled her eyes. “Even her face is kinda batty looking, don’t you think?”
Nayna grinned because this was her slightly wicked older sister, and no matter what, Nayna loved her. “Now I’m going to think that every time I talk to her.” She hooked her arm through Madhuri’s. “Thanks for the rescue, Maddie.”
“What are sisters for?” Madhuri nudged her shoulder. “Ma told me about this Raj guy. He sounds hot.”
A sudden, awful lurch in Nayna’s gut. Raj hadn’t met Madhuri, she suddenly realized. She couldn’t help but imagine his reaction when he did. Her sister genuinely looked like a Bollywood movie actress. Fair skinned; shiny, tumbling hair with tousled curls; height enough to match Raj’s; and a lush sensuality that drew men like moths to a flame regardless of her status as a young divorcée.
“He is supremely hot.” Nayna tried not to feel nauseated at her belated realization, at the knowledge that the man who’d called her beautiful had never met the other Sharma daughter. “But why don’t you tell me about your new job?” she said, desperate to get off the painful topic. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk since you started there.”
Madhuri squeezed Nayna’s arm. “Seriously, Ninu, I love it so much.” A glow in her features that made her impossibly more stunning. “I think it’s my thing.”
Nayna nodded and listened and hoped her sister was right. So far Madhuri hadn’t stuck with anything for more than a year. She managed to pay her rent and keep her finances stable only because their parents and Nayna topped her up. Nayna knew Aji gave her the odd monetary gift too. As an accountant, Nayna was well aware they should let Madhuri sink or swim on her own so she’d learn better financial management, but it was highly unlikely Madhuri would do anything but drown.
Her older sister had never been able to handle money.
It felt terribly unfeminist to even think it, but Madhuri had been born with the kind of beauty that usually led to a rich husband who took care of everything. That could still happen; regardless, Nayna would never leave her sister to flounder and drown. “Anyone you liked in the most recent proposals?” she asked.
Madhuri wrinkled up her nose. “Ugh, just flabby oldies. I’m divorced, not desperate.”
“One hundred percent true.” Nayna spotted the food table, set up for self-service—it was casual tonight with only close family and friends in attendance. “You hungry?”
“Starving. Sugar and ghee, here I come.”
Nayna ran into one of Madhuri’s closest friends, Anjali Kumar, over the mango barfis and white pedas. Basically sugar and milk and flavor and deliciousness. “Anj,” she said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Nayna.” Anjali gave her a hug and a smile that was ragged at the edges; her makeup was as flawless as always, but she had dark shadows under her eyes. Hardly surprising when she had an eighteen-month-old and a new baby. “Where’s Maddie?”
The Male Point of View
Nayna went into work on Saturday to clear a few final things before she shut down for summer vacation. It felt strangely quiet after the emotional upheaval of the previous day, so she was glad to pull into her drive around three to see her grandmother and Mr. Hohepa heading off for a walk, Pixie happily nosing about in front of them. Aji wore a blue velour suit with white racing stripes while Mr. Hohepa wore tan slacks and a light blue polo shirt, the hat on his head rakishly perched and his cane a glossy black.
As if the two had coordinated their outfits.
Aji was chattering away animatedly to him, and every so often, he’d laugh a big belly laugh, his light brown skin glowing under the summer sunlight.
“Go, Aji.” Nayna smiled, but it didn’t last long—she spent most of the next two hours avoiding her parents’ attempts to question her about Raj. Going out into the garden to hide out on the swing, she stared up at a sky lit with summer sunshine, missing being held against a big, warm body and kissed with an erotic intensity that said Raj was focused on her and only her.
She shivered, thought about calling him, but no, the ball was strictly in his court now. Her lips quirked at the memory of the baffled look on his face after she’d kissed him last night. The poor baby hadn’t had any idea what he’d done. But the way he’d scowled and said that it was all about listening and being a good husband, that had hit every one of her romance-hungry buttons.
It had also chipped away at her walls.
The idea of a husband who listened and gave her what she needed… it was a seductive one. But could Raj give her freedom in the long term, or would the rules change over time? The idea of feeling trapped, of slowly suffocating all her life… No, Nayna couldn’t, wouldn’t do it. Raj had more than an uphill battle ahead of him—he was also fighting to push up a giant two-ton rock while engaging in that battle.
“Nayna!” her mother called out from the back door. “Come and get ready. We have to go to Pinky’s!”
“Coming!” Nayna called back, glad to have the distraction of the pre-wedding ceremony tonight. She knew her mother and grandmother had been attending wedding festivities throughout the week, including the ceremony where turmeric paste was rubbed all over the bride.
Nayna wondered if sophisticated “mineral water only” Pinky had enjoyed being turned yellow by gleeful aunties and cousins. Grinning, she walked into her bedroom and pulled out a vivid green sari with gold detailing that wasn’t so heavy that she couldn’t put it on by herself. The task of turning meters of fabric into an elegant ensemble was one in which Nayna was yet a novice.
Ísa called mid-wrap, and Nayna ended up confessing that she’d kissed Raj. She simply couldn’t help herself around him. It was a sickness—and no, she didn’t want to be cured. Her heart pounded at the thought of how he’d tasted her with slow deliberation; her skin flushed. Hanging up the call with Ísa before she gave away her current state, she took a couple of minutes to calm down before ensuring her makeup was up to scratch.
She decided to add gold eyeshadow and thicker mascara to jazz things up.
Last was the jewelry. Today she stuck with bangles that matched the gold in her sari as well as dangly gold earrings. At the last minute, she added a gold bindi.
As a single woman of a certain age, she had to go armored.
Yesterday at the Mehras, the assembled aunties had all squeezed her cheeks and told her she was a pretty girl. Then had come the questions about why she wasn’t married. “Youth won’t last forever” was the sage advice, after which they’d complimented her on her career.
Today Madhuri came to her rescue with one particularly insistent auntie who was crossing the line from nosy to hurtful. “I’m so sorry,” Madhuri said sweetly, “but my sari’s coming loose at the back and I need Nayna’s help.”
“You young girls.” A shake of the head. “Don’t you know how to use safety pins? You have to get the big strong ones. Go, go, fix it!”
After leading Nayna out of sight, Madhuri turned and winked at her. Her pale pink sari with white crystals on it was wrapped perfectly around her tall and voluptuous body. Nayna could tie a sari, but she’d need an hour and at least two boxes of safety pins to put on the slippery, heavy creation Madhuri was wearing. And even then she’d be scared she’d step on it and unravel the entire thing.
“Auntie Babita’s such an old bat.” Madhuri rolled her eyes. “Even her face is kinda batty looking, don’t you think?”
Nayna grinned because this was her slightly wicked older sister, and no matter what, Nayna loved her. “Now I’m going to think that every time I talk to her.” She hooked her arm through Madhuri’s. “Thanks for the rescue, Maddie.”
“What are sisters for?” Madhuri nudged her shoulder. “Ma told me about this Raj guy. He sounds hot.”
A sudden, awful lurch in Nayna’s gut. Raj hadn’t met Madhuri, she suddenly realized. She couldn’t help but imagine his reaction when he did. Her sister genuinely looked like a Bollywood movie actress. Fair skinned; shiny, tumbling hair with tousled curls; height enough to match Raj’s; and a lush sensuality that drew men like moths to a flame regardless of her status as a young divorcée.
“He is supremely hot.” Nayna tried not to feel nauseated at her belated realization, at the knowledge that the man who’d called her beautiful had never met the other Sharma daughter. “But why don’t you tell me about your new job?” she said, desperate to get off the painful topic. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk since you started there.”
Madhuri squeezed Nayna’s arm. “Seriously, Ninu, I love it so much.” A glow in her features that made her impossibly more stunning. “I think it’s my thing.”
Nayna nodded and listened and hoped her sister was right. So far Madhuri hadn’t stuck with anything for more than a year. She managed to pay her rent and keep her finances stable only because their parents and Nayna topped her up. Nayna knew Aji gave her the odd monetary gift too. As an accountant, Nayna was well aware they should let Madhuri sink or swim on her own so she’d learn better financial management, but it was highly unlikely Madhuri would do anything but drown.
Her older sister had never been able to handle money.
It felt terribly unfeminist to even think it, but Madhuri had been born with the kind of beauty that usually led to a rich husband who took care of everything. That could still happen; regardless, Nayna would never leave her sister to flounder and drown. “Anyone you liked in the most recent proposals?” she asked.
Madhuri wrinkled up her nose. “Ugh, just flabby oldies. I’m divorced, not desperate.”
“One hundred percent true.” Nayna spotted the food table, set up for self-service—it was casual tonight with only close family and friends in attendance. “You hungry?”
“Starving. Sugar and ghee, here I come.”
Nayna ran into one of Madhuri’s closest friends, Anjali Kumar, over the mango barfis and white pedas. Basically sugar and milk and flavor and deliciousness. “Anj,” she said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Nayna.” Anjali gave her a hug and a smile that was ragged at the edges; her makeup was as flawless as always, but she had dark shadows under her eyes. Hardly surprising when she had an eighteen-month-old and a new baby. “Where’s Maddie?”
