Page 22 of Not Safe for Work
I felt a tiny pang of jealousy at that. Not because Iwantedto go to a random dude’s house party, but because I wanted to be the kind of person who gotinvitedto parties by strangers they met in passing.
‘Is this yours?’ She dangled a pair of six-inch gold stilettos in my direction.
Just looking at them made my feet hurt. ‘Definitely not,’ I said.
‘Huh,’ she responded, regarding the heels closely. ‘I’d forgotten I ever bought these.’
We settled into a familiar silence as she slipped into her shoes and proceeded to check herself out in the handcraftedmirror I’d gotten from Jharokha with my employee discount. The mild buzz of our interaction faded away as I tuned back into the crappiness of my own life. Thoughts of Neil and our last conversation swirled around in my head, making me feel equal parts frustrated and defeated. As if it wasn’t enough that he’d tormented me all week, he’d found a way to ruin my weekend as well. With a sigh, I reached for my phone to look up my founder’s website. If this stupid assignment wasn’t going away, I might as well get started on it, right? Some might say it was better than talking to pigeons.
I paused when I saw a missed call from my brother. And then, a text:
Keshav Bhaiya: Should I book your tix for next month?? Excited to have the gang back together!
Ugh,I groaned, wondering how I was going to get out of this. It wasn’t that I was trying to avoid my brother, per se. It had more to do with thegang. Or more specifically, one of its key members—my ex.
It had been a messy, complicated thing, my breakup with Arjun. We had dated for four years, the last of which I’d spent in Mumbai. The distance had slowly crept in, until it felt like we were just going through the motions, texting each other three times a day without ever having any real conversations. But when I finally admitted that we’d grown apart, it didn’t go over well with my brother. He was convinced I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Sometimes I found myself wondering if he’d been right.
‘Babe, don’t do it.’ I looked up to find Nikita hovering over me.
‘Huh?’
‘You have the exact look of someone who’s about to text their ex.’
My cheeks turned bright red as I stammered, ‘W-what? No, of course not.’
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing like she could see right through my BS. ‘What’s up with you? You’ve been sulking around the house … more so than usual,’ she said.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, but I couldn’t get myself to meet her eye.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, still studying my face. ‘You know what? Get up,’ she ordered. ‘You’re coming with me.’
I opened my mouth to decline her pity-invite, but she held up a hand. ‘I’m not taking no for an answer. This whole bechari-nari-thing …’ she said, waving her hand in circles in front of my face, ‘it’s bumming the hell out of me.’
I could think of a hundred reasons to say no.I don’t like parties. Parties don’t like me. I don’t even know the guy. I don’t even really know you. I have nothing fun to wear. And I have way too much work to do.But the thought of being left alone in this empty 2BHK with only my angry, miserable self for company made my stomach drop. So I sucked in a breath and let myself say something I knew I’d regret.
‘Fine, I’ll come.’
And that’s how I found myself in a suffocatingly tight corset top, drinking cheap rum and coke in the backseat of an autorickshaw. Nikita was sitting—or rather, swaying—beside me, taking giant sips from the plastic bottle she’d packed for the ride.When in doubt, pregame, she’d told me with a wink earlier.
‘I don’t get it,’ she said, having to shout to be heard over the loud music playing in the auto. ‘What’s the big deal? Everyone fluffs up their resume.’
‘This isn’t like lying about being a pro at Microsoft Excel,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I lied about my educational background… some would call that resume fraud, you know?’
It would’ve been easy to blame this sudden urge to confide in someone I barely knew on the alcohol. But the truth was, Nikita was just really easy to talk to. I kept scolding myself for having misjudged her all these months. Yes, she was loud and far too extroverted for my comfort (she was from Delhi, duh), but she was also kind of …nice.
‘Pfft … who cares?’
I ran both hands through my hair in an effort to contain it, but the wind just threw it back in my face. Safe to say that the twenty minutes Nikita had spent curling my dark, shoulder-length hair had been an utter waste of time.
‘My workplace is joy-suckingly corporate. If Neil tells HR, they’d probably fire me.’
‘Well then you’ve got nothing to worry about because he’s not going to tell them.’
The auto slowed down as it began its ascent onto Pali Hill, a green, wealthy neighbourhood in Bandra. Nikita tapped the driver on his shoulder as we approached the Google Maps location on her phone.
‘I don’t know how long I can keep playing at his game,’ I said as we stumbled out of the vehicle. A sprawling bungalow stood in front of us, three storeys high, with tall walls and an iron gate that shook to the beat of the music thumping from inside.
‘Look, babe,’ she said, throwing her head back to gulp down the remaining drink. ‘As I see it, you have two options to make him drop this.’
