The Reluctant Matchmaker (18 page)

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Authors: Shobhan Bantwal

BOOK: The Reluctant Matchmaker
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“I
don't
want to sue anyone. And I
don't
want to discuss it anymore. Case closed.”
“Are you angry with me or something,
yaar?
” He looked genuinely perplexed.
“I'm livid!” I gave Deepak a fuming look and turned my face toward the dance floor. Couples were already getting ready to shake their hips to some hot Caribbean music. Under ordinary circumstances I liked that sort of energetic dancing, but today I didn't want to dance, and honestly couldn't. I didn't want to injure my ankle once again, and I felt no desire to rub my body up against Deepak's.
And all this time he had had no idea that his words had enraged me. What did he think I was going to do? Smile and agree that a lawsuit was a brilliant idea and then dance with him? What a jerk.
Until now I'd thought of him as a not-too-bad sort of guy, a little grating at times, but this evening he had revealed a few other qualities. He was petty, covetous, a bit vicious. I'd seen a distinct gleam of devilish pleasure in his eyes when he'd talked about the lawsuit.
He wanted to use me to get his revenge on two decent men he envied and disliked. How could a man enjoy a good salary and then sit there calmly drinking and eating while dreaming up ways of making his employer's life miserable?
Deepak Iyer was not a nice man. Well, I was sure about one thing. I wasn't going out with him again. He and Gargi Bansal were perfectly suited to each other. Maybe they'd hook up and start their own company someday. Then they could go out and hire folks like themselves.
When our check arrived I insisted on paying for my half of the meal. I didn't want to be obligated to Deepak for anything. When he protested, I merely held up my hand. “This is the twenty-first century, Deepak. We girls do pay our way at times.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a resigned shrug and accepted the cash I handed him. We waited a few more minutes while our waiter processed Deepak's credit card and then brought it back to the table for his signature.
Outside the restaurant, I said a polite good night and got into my car. I was still bristling and didn't want to make the mistake of saying anything more to antagonize Deepak Iyer. Now that I'd had a glimpse of his mean streak, I didn't want to give him a weapon for wreaking future vengeance on me.
I got the unpleasant feeling that I'd already angered him enough to make him a potential enemy.
As I observed Deepak driving away in his black Honda, I picked up my cell phone. It was a little after nine o'clock, and I didn't want to go home yet. The prospect of spending a Saturday night alone or with my parents was depressing, in case they happened to be home. I wondered if Rita and Anoop would mind my company for an hour or so.
My voice must have sounded a little forlorn because Rita said, “What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said with a laugh. “Are you and Anoop still honeymooning or could you spare me an hour? I am at loose ends tonight and thought I'd spend some time with you.”
“Of course we can spare you an hour. Are you in the mood for a movie?”
“Umm ...” A movie didn't appeal at the moment.
“We have a Netflix DVD we haven't seen yet.” Rita must have pitied my plight—a single woman alone on a Saturday night, so desperate as to beg to foist herself upon her honeymooning friends.
“If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just hang out with you for a while and talk.”
“Then come right over. We were just about to open a container of mango-pineapple ice cream.”
“Sounds delicious. Save me a scoop.”
I started the car and headed for Rita's house. I needed a friend tonight. My heart was aching from thinking about Prajay. He was leaving tomorrow. Gone from my life.
Chapter 17
V
isiting with Rita and Anoop was a good decision. The ice cream was sheer heaven. Since I'd eaten very little at the restaurant—no thanks to Deepak Iyer—I ate two helpings.
Rita and Anoop looked like a comfortably married couple already. He was in faded jeans and a T-shirt while Rita wore baggy pajamas.
“I feel bad about encroaching on your Saturday night plans,” I said to them, putting on my contrite face.
“Don't be silly. We love having you here.”
“But it's your honeymoon.”
Anoop smiled and squeezed Rita's shoulder. They were about the same height, so their shoulders were almost on a level. “We can't be honeymooning every minute of the day.”
Rita licked the ice cream off her spoon. “If I eat like this every night, I'm likely to get as fat as a tub, and the honeymoon will be over before I know it.”
“Baby, you can get as fat as you want. I'll love you just the same,” said Anoop, and he smacked a kiss on Rita's head.
I grinned at their silliness. “That's what all men say, and then they change their minds when it really happens.”
Anoop rose to collect the empty bowls. “Then I'll eat more and get fat, too. We'll get fat together.”
Rita nodded approvingly. “That's the spirit, honey.”
“He's such a sweetheart,” I said as we watched him disappear into the kitchen. He was a really nice guy—average height and weight, average looks, superior brain. But he had a big heart.
“He sure is,” sighed Rita. The most blissful expression came over her round face surrounded by masses of naturally curly hair. She had the look of a contented angel sitting on her very own cloud. It was a look that sent a stab of envy right through my belly.
While Anoop loaded the dishwasher, Rita looked at me and lowered her voice. “What's wrong?”
I brushed it off with a shrug. “Nothing's wrong. In fact I was on a date earlier. He turned out to be a jerk, so I got out of it as fast as I could.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No. It's the same guy from work who I went out with the other day.”
“Didn't I tell you not to date FOBs? They have such antiquated views on everything.”
“He's modern enough, but I told him off when he suggested that I bring a lawsuit against my employer.”
“What for?”
“My accident.”
“Oh.” Rita made a face. “Why is it that everyone in the world thinks America is one big courtroom?”
“You have to admit we have a disproportionate number of frivolous lawsuits.”
“I suppose.”
“But I told this guy to get lost. I wouldn't dream of suing nice guys like Prajay and Nishant. They've been good to me. Since my accident Prajay has been exceptionally kind and thoughtful.”
I noticed Rita's interest perk up. “Isn't he Konkani like you?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what else about him interests you?
“That's about it.”
Rita had been my best friend far too long not to see through my nonchalance. “You're interested in him, aren't you?”
It was no use pretending. I took a deep breath. “I am, but—” Just then Anoop returned to the living room and sat down. Although I'd known him for a while now, it would be embarrassing to bare my soul in front of him. I shot to my feet. “I really should be going home.”
Rita gave me a stern look. “Sit down, Meena. I want to hear your story.”
“There is no story. I told you everything.”
Rita glanced at her husband. “Sweetie, would you mind if I talked to Meena for a bit?”
“I'll go watch TV upstairs.” Anoop shot to his feet and headed for the staircase. “ 'Bye, Meena. Nice seeing you again.”
“ 'Bye, Anoop. I'm sorry, but I promise not to keep your wife away from you for too long.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
We watched him climb the stairs. Then Rita turned to me. “Okay, I want to know everything. Something weird is going on with you.”
“You have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
“No, but this is like ... so embarrassing.”
Rita patted the seat next to her on the couch, inviting me to sit beside her. “I even told you about the first time Anoop and I had sex and how badly it went.” She tossed me a self-deprecating smile. “Now
that's
embarrassing.”
Laughing, I went to sit beside her. “But it got better and better, right?” She nodded, and I went back to my story. “It all started the day I collided into Prajay Nayak and fell down. At first I thought he looked scary, with his big nose and six-and-a-half-foot body. But then he carried me in his arms to his office and hovered over me, brought me hazelnut-flavored coffee and ... made me feel pampered.”
“Hmm.” Rita looked impressed.
“By the end of the hour I'd changed my mind about his looks. When he smiled, he looked rather attractive.”
“Then what?”
“He let me fall asleep on the couch in his office after I took some strong painkillers. He carried me again all the way down to the parking lot and to my boss's car. Then he sent me roses the next day.”
“Nice guy.”
“And oh, he even borrowed someone's beat-up Toyota and drove me back and forth to work for several days. He gave up his Corvette to make me comfortable. Isn't that sweet?”
“Extraordinarily sweet. A guy doesn't give up his Corvette for anything—if he can help it.”
“That's what I said. But because of it I was foolish enough to think he was interested in me.”
Rita motioned to me to continue.
“Turns out I was wrong.” The familiar lump was forming in my throat. “He asked me to come secretly to his office one evening after work, so I thought he wanted to ask me for a date. Stupid me—I went prancing into his office with bells on my toes.”
Wide-eyed, Rita stared at me. “What did he say?”
“Wait till you hear this. You'd never guess in a million years. I'm still in shock. Not only did he
not
ask me out, he had a special project for me. He's been unsuccessful in finding the right woman despite dating a parade of women. He wanted me to help him place personal ads in newspapers and with Internet matchmaking services for the perfect woman.”
“What?”
“He wants someone who's six feet tall.”
Rita's mouth fell open. “Holy cow! He asked
you
to help him find her?”
“He wants her to be well-educated, too, and in a nice career, if possible. Looks don't matter, he says. If she just happens to be attractive, well, then it's a plus—according to him.”
Rita wrinkled her nose. “He wants an Amazon in his bed. Yikes!”
“Not only that, he paid me to do it. He said he pays a standard fee to his consultants and since this was sort of ... a personal consultation, he was going to pay me the same.”
“The man's insane. He couldn't find his own woman? He had to hire a pretty young employee to do his dirty work? Especially one who happened to be interested in him?”
I realized Rita hadn't quite grasped my dilemma. “But he didn't know how I felt about him. Besides, he's somewhat like my dad—very analytical and nerdy. In a classy sort of way, though,” I added. “He seemed to think it was perfectly normal to go about looking for a future wife in the same manner one would seek a car or a house, or a mutual fund.”
“And you did as he requested?”
“What choice did I have? When my boss asks me to do a special project for him and pays me to do it, what do I say to him? Shove it? Get lost? Or was I supposed to tell him that I was interested in him and therefore he shouldn't look any further?”
Rita started chewing on her nails like she usually did when she was thinking hard. “I guess not. But then I've never heard of anything so wacky.”
“Neither had I.”
“So you agreed and completed his project?”
I heaved a long sigh. “Yes. But there's more. When dozens and dozens of responses started coming in, he was overwhelmed, and he extended my responsibilities a bit. He said he had no time to look at them, so he wanted me to study them, sort them, and pick the top four or five candidates so he could contact them.”
Rita groaned. “This is getting more and more bizarre. Why didn't he get his secretary to do it?”
“He didn't want anyone to know. Because my expertise is in marketing and PR, and because I'm a fellow Konkani, he thought I was the perfect individual to handle his secret project. I was sworn to secrecy. You're the only person I've confided in.”
“Hmm.” Rita was chewing her coral-painted nails vigorously, ruining her manicure. “I won't tell anyone.”
“Wait till you hear the rest of the story. I sorted through the responses. And you should have seen some of them—outrageous. Female wrestlers, women with thyroid problems, ex-convicts, half the female population of India ... you name it, they were there on that list. So I had quite a job sorting the better ones from the crazies.” I swallowed to keep the threatening tears at bay. “I made a neat little database with seven good candidates and handed it over to him.”
“He never noticed you even once?”
The tears were close to spilling over now, but I was holding on. “Last Saturday he asked me to go to Great Adventure with him and his little nephew and niece. The kids were cute, and I had the best day of my life. Prajay was fun, and we laughed a lot and ... oh God ...”
I sniffled, and Rita silently handed me a box of tissues.
Grabbing a tissue, I dried my eyes. “For a day I pretended we were a family—he and I and our two kids ... you know ... like a pretty picture book.”
“How sweet!” Rita looked like she was about to cry, too. She covered us both with the fleece blanket sitting on the back of the couch—just like we used to do when we watched videos together on weekends when we were teenagers.
“Oh, Rita, I did the most stupid thing in the world.”
“What?” She knew by now of course.
“By Saturday night I had fallen in love with Prajay Nayak. I was a goner. Five-foot me was madly in love with the NBA-PLAYER-TYPE Prajay. Talk about a failure waiting to happen.”
“You poor thing. No wonder you look so miserable.” This time Rita did start to shed tears.
We'd read many of the same romance novels and had the same kind of foolish belief in true love. Fortunately for her, Anoop had come into her life and swept her off her feet. I, on the other hand, had not found anyone. Until now.
And he was the wrong man.
“You don't know the half of it. On Sunday he took me out to dinner at a Thai restaurant.” When Rita nodded, I said, “On the way back, he invited me to go up to his townhouse.”
“What preposterous project did he have for you this time?”
“He wanted me to help him analyze the spreadsheet.”
“Oh puleeez!” Rita blew her nose. “The bastard made you take
his
karma in
your
hands and mold it into shape for him.”
“Exactly.” I realized Rita had described the situation perfectly.
“And you willingly did it, you foolish girl?”
“Not willingly.” My voice was raspy from trying to suppress the tears. “Later on he offered me ice cream and then ... and then he kissed me.”
I heard Rita's sharp intake of breath. “Omigod. How was it?”
This time I burst into noisy tears. “I—I loved it. Prajay's a great kisser. And I wanted more.”
“Then you should have asked for more, honey.” Rita pressed yet another tissue into my hand.
“That's the problem. He backed off and apologized. He said it amounted to sexual harassment on his part because I was an innocent and sweet young employee who he should have treated with respect and that it was wrong of him to take advantage of me.”
Rita blew her nose hard. It sounded like a duck quacking. “He thinks you're a sweet virgin?”
“I told him I wasn't an innocent babe and that I had dated before, but he wouldn't listen. He gave me every reason to put an end to our relationship—or whatever it is we have. He says he's too rough, too tall, too big, too old ... and too damn everything for a woman like me.”
“Oh boy.” Rita shook her head sadly.

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