Lucky T (12 page)

Ew! There was some kind of white-and-brown spatter gleaming and fresh right on her bag. Carrie followed the girls' line of sight and saw it. A monkey-

-a small , pink- faced monkey--was sitting on a rusted pole that stuck out from the side of the building above--and it was pooping.

"Oh God!"

Carrie turned to flee and slammed right into someone who hadn't been standing there moments before. A tall, solid someone. As Carrie lost her balance and fell, her mind was filled with only one thought:

Here goes my very last shred of dignity. . . .

"Are you all right?"

Wow. That was some voice. Deep, sexy, British. Carrie looked up into the brightest hazel eyes she had ever seen. Apparently the person she had bumped into was a tall, dark-haired, brown-skinned hottie with a way cool accent.

"I'm . . . I'm fine," Carrie said, surprised to find that it took her a moment to process her thoughts. She looked around at the dirty alley floor for a spot to press her hands down, but before she found one, Mr. Gorgeous had offered her his hands.

"Al ow me," he said.

Carrie smiled, her heart fluttering around like a butterfly, and gave him both her arms. He easily hoisted her up and held her hands for a moment longer than was strictly necessary. His black locks were slicked back as if he had just showered and his preppy red polo clung to his shoulders and chest, then hung loosely to his waist. He wore a single, blue braided bracelet on one arm along with a black sports watch. When he slipped his strong, call used hands from hers, brushing her skin, a warm charge sizzled over Carrie's skin and at that moment a crack of lightning flashed overhead.

"I am Deepankhar Sharma," he said, holding out his hand again. "Everyone call s me Dee."

"I'm Carrie," she replied, shaking his hand.

"A monkey pooped on her!" one of the girls announced helpfully, causing the group to burst into laughter again.

Dee's smile blew Carrie away--it was a perfect grin that took over his whole face, dimpling his cheeks and crinkling his eyes at the corners. He was, hands down, the handsomest guy she had ever been in the presence of in her life. And her mouth was hanging open.

"On my backpack," she said, recollecting herself. She pointed behind her and he stood on his toes to check it out. "Bird poop is supposed to be good luck, but I don't know if I can say the same for monkey poop."

Dee chuckled. "Well, it's not too bad," he said. "Let me help you get cleaned up."

Hmmm . . . maybe all animal excrement is good luck, Carrie thought.

"That'd be great," she said. "Thanks."

"Come on." Dee tilted his head toward the end of the alley. "My cousin has a stand near here."

Thunder rumbled overhead as Carrie followed him back to the packed street. None of the ten thousand people walking, sitting, lying, shouting, playing, and working all around her seemed remotely disturbed by the fact that the sky was about to open up above them. At that moment Carrie wasn't all too disturbed herself. She was too busy wondering if she had any food wedged between her teeth or a bad case of rank breath.

If only I had remembered to pack those Oral-B Brushups, she thought.

"So, Carrie, what are you doing in India?" Dee asked as he sauntered down the street. He walked with his shoulders back, his posture perfect, looking comfortable among the chaos, as if he had lived here his entire life. He exuded confidence with every step and Carrie couldn't help but feel light-headed when he'd place his hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the crowd.

"I . . "Do not tell the truth. It'll sound crazy, her mind warned her. "I'm working with Help India."

Dee turned to her, his slightly bushy eyebrows raised. "Real y? That's great," he said. "I'm volunteering as wel , at the Calcutta Children's Shelter."

"Oh?" Carrie said. "Is that like an orphanage?"

"Yes. Exactly," Dee said. "I work there every summer."

This guy was insanely cute, preppy in a J.-Crew-catalog kind of way, chivalrous to victims of guerril a monkey poop attacks, and philanthropic. Could it get any better than this? Was he the long lost prince of some remote island country, set to inherit a fortune?

"This is kind of a long way from home, isn't it? I mean to come every summer," she said.

"How do you mean?" Dee asked.

"Well, you're from England, right?" she asked. "Your accent?"

Dee smiled again, practically putting Carrie in some sort of hypnotic trance. "Actually, I'm from Calcutta. I'm studying in England now, at Cambridge. I'll be going back for my second year in the fall."

"Oh," Carrie said, trying to shake off this weird halo effect that Dee had on her.

"You'll find a lot of us have English accents in this city," Dee said. "We were under English rule for a very long time and there are still a lot of British patriots here."

Carrie flushed. Dee had a brain, too. She might have to get close to that body of his and make sure he wasn't bionic or something.

Another ominous rumble of thunder sounded above. The sky was practically black now.

"So, where did you come from back in the alley?" Carrie asked. "It was like you appeared out of nowhere."

"That's what superheroes do," he said with one of those Colin Farrel half smirks that could make a girl fall down on her knees and beg for mercy. "I come to the rescue of beautiful women all the time."

Beautiful women? Carrie thought with a smile. Ha!

Mr. Gorgeous was flirting with her. "Saving them from monkey poop?" she asked, smiling shyly.

"Precisely," Dee said with a laugh. It was a great laugh. Ful and happy and accompanied by that "take me, I'm yours" smile. "Ah!" he said, looking up.

"Here's Raj."

Precisely. I love it! No American guy would ever use the word precisely, Carrie thought giddily. She loved the way Dee talked, using however instead of but and precisely instead of totally, man. It made him seem so mature and sophisticated--not at all the type of guy who would dump a girl so he could watch basketball with his friends.

Dee stepped up to a small fruit stand on the side of the street. The front looked like a makeshift lemonade kiosk a kid might make in his garage back home. Written across the top placard was a list of fruits and their prices, and the goods were displayed in crates on a slanted shelf in front--everything from bright orange mangoes and deep purple plums to ripe red guavas and hairy-skinned kiwis. Behind the counter stood a tall, broad guy in a wife beater who looked a lot like Dee, only chunkier and with a mustache. He was wiping out a bowl with a white rag.

"Hey, Dee Dee!" He grinned at them as they approached and stretched out his hand.

"Wil you ever stop calling me that?" Dee said, slapping hands with him.

"Nah, I enjoy irritating you too much," Raj replied.

His eyes traveled over to Carrie and his smile widened. "And who's this?" he asked.

"This is Carrie," Dee said, opening a hand toward her. "Carrie, my cousin Rajeesh. Don't pay any attention to him."

"Got it," Carrie said with a laugh.

"Please," Raj said, shaking hands with her. "He's the one you should pay no attention to. What good is he with his college and his volunteering? If there's anything you need while you're here in Calcutta, you come to me. I got my hands in every business there is."

Carrie's smile widened. "Good to know," she said. "But for now, we're just looking for a wet rag."

Raj looked at Dee with confusion.

"Monkey excrement," Dee said. Carrie turned to display her stain.

"Ah," Raj said, nodding knowingly. He looked up at the sky. "Well, Mother Monsoon is about to take care of it for you, but let's see what we can do."

He dipped his rag into a bucket on the counter behind him and handed it to Dee. Carrie turned her back to him so he could go to work on her backpack. She smiled as he rubbed and scraped away, loving the attention and the chivalry. Maybe this was what passed for romance in Calcutta--a guy taking care of your monkey poop situation. "Good as new," Dee said finally, handing the rag back to Raj, who threw it on top of a dirty pile on the floor.

"You guys hungry?" Raj asked. "I got some fresh mango in this morning."

"Sounds great," Carrie said, her stomach grumbling.

"Coming right up." Raj grabbed a few mangoes and turned to his counter to slice them.

"So, what are you doing with Help India?" Dee asked, leaning his side against Raj's stand. A few feet away a man sold steaming hot, spicy-scented meat out of a pot, heaping it into pita-like bread for his customers. Next to him was a newsstand selling everything from bottled water to Popsicles to condoms and breath mints. People bustled around, pausing to make purchases or bargain with the hawkers. As the sky darkened, all the colors around Carrie seemed to fade to gray and brown. The noise seemed to dul her ears as the very air around her thickened.

"We're building houses for needy families," Carrie said, glancing warily at the sky as it rumbled again. "Actually, I'm not building much of anything. Al I did today was injure myself and ruin a whole mess of cement."

Dee snickered and brushed back the bangs of his shiny black hair with his hand. "Not much of a craftswoman, then?"

Al Carrie could think was--Cute . . . boy . . . overload! But she managed to say something normal and not stupid.

"I'm afraid not," she replied. "But maybe I just need a little practice."

"Everything in life takes practice," Dee agreed.

Carrie smiled. Jason probably would've just said something lame like, "Yeah, that sucks." In fact, she had only known Dee for a total of ten minutes and already he was calling to attention every one of Jason's flaws. She began drawing a mental chart that had Dee's pros in one column and Jason's cons in the other. Dee was a conversationalist who was involved with charitable causes. Jason's idea of a stimulating chat was shouting, "I totally just housed you!" when playing NCAA College Basketbal 2K3 on his Xbox. Dee seemed generally interested in Carrie and asked her questions about her life.

Jason's inquisitiveness could be characterized by these two sentences: "What time is it?" and "Do you have any gum?" Dee appeared to be worldly and mature. Jason's primary news source was SportsCenter and he loved scatological humor.

Wow, looks like there's no comparison, Carrie thought.

"Your fruit, miss," Raj said, handing her a paper towel full of ripe mango slices.

"Thank you," Carrie said. She bit into the first piece and closed her eyes as the sweet taste filled her mouth. There was one thing she had to hand to India: The food was amazing.

"Listen, I'd hate to steal away a volunteer, but if you're really that horrendous at building, maybe you should come work with me," Dee suggested, a sly look in his eyes penetrating Carrie to the core. "One of our floor monitors is leaving and I'm looking for a replacement. Are you interested?"

Was she interested? Was he kidding? Working with a hot, sexy, older guy who was totally the anti-Jason instead of working alongside Dor-mean the Wonder Witch and the band of jerky men? Chilling with a bunch of kids instead of toiling away in the sun? No contest.

"Yeah. I'm definitely interested," Carrie said. And maybe I could squeeze in a little cuddle time between playing with the kiddies. And finding my lucky T, of course. Wow, if he can distract me from my mission this easily, he must really be the superhero he says he is.

"Great," Dee said, smiling.

Carrie bit into another piece of mango just as a few big, fat raindrops started to fall. She and Dee huddled under Raj's makeshift metal roof with him and helped him throw a plastic tarp over his fruit. Within seconds the rain had turned from drizzle into full -on downpour. Suddenly Carrie couldn't even see the throngs on the street for all the rain. It slammed into the metal over their heads, making enough noise to drown out a Slipknot concert.

"This should pass quickly," Raj shouted, glancing up. "Not too bad."

"Are you kidding me?" Carrie asked, laughing at the sheer volume.

Dee grinned. "Foreigners."

The three of them backed farther away from the edge of the roof as it quickly sprouted a splashing waterfal .

Steam rose up from the street, creating a thick fog that danced in the rain. Puddles formed almost instantly all around the stand and water splashed up on Carrie's ankles as the huge drops pounded into the little lakes. Carrie had to squeeze up against Dee to stay dry. Beneath his thin shirt she could feel just how solid and strong he really was. Dee smiled down at her and placed his hand on the counter next to her hand. A warm tingle rushed up her bare arm as both their pinky fingers barely touched.

Oh, yeah. She could get used to this.

"It sounds like a wonderful opportunity," Celia said later that evening when asked if she'd be able to do without Carrie's services. It almost seemed as if she were trying to hide her relief.

Carrie, who was dotting on some ant-itch cream she had bought at the newsstand, furrowed her brow as Celia stood up from her cot, where she had been rubbing her ruddy feet. This wasn't exactly the response she had been expecting. Doreen, who was hanging out in her mother's room, sighed audibly and leaned back into the wall.

"Real y?" Carrie said.

"Of course! Working with children?" Celia said. "It sounds just perfect for you!"

"Based on what?" asked Carrie, who had never so much as babysat in her life.

Celia paused, blinked a few times, and then shrugged elaborately. "Based on a gut instinct," she said, clapping Carrie on the shoulder. "Just call your mother and let her know what you're doing. I'll have to meet this boy who recruited you, of course, but as long as that all works out, then . . . Godspeed!"

As Celia left the room, Carrie turned to Dor-mean, who was still working on perfecting the dirty look on her face.

"The workers really don't like you," Doreen offered as an explanation. "They were praying to Vishnu to be delivered from evil all afternoon."

"Oh," Carrie said, mortified. Well, that hardly seemed fair. One little mistake and they were all against her?