Ryan rubbed his temple. “OK. But won’t they eventually realize there’s been a theft?”
I shook my head. “They shouldn’t. Pauly’s guy is supposed to doctor the log books. It’s all done by weights, so the assuming he gets the weights right, we’ll be in good shape.” I stuffed down my worry that things would go wrong. The thing that worried me most was pulling this off, having it be discovered and a worker there accused of it. “It will be fine.”
He didn’t look reassured. “Explain.”
“The logs for the raw diamonds should show the weight of the uncut stones. The cut stones are going to lose some weight, which is fine, but the cut stones, the raw stones and shavings/dust weights should all be pretty close in the end. You’ll lose some dust that’s going to skew the weight a little, but the amount of jewels we’ll be taking will skew things more than normal. Pauly’s guy has to cook the weight logs. He won’t be able to do that until he knows what we took. Presuming he’s successful, no one will know. If he’s not successful, they’ll know when we’re boarding our plane back home. The daily check should be fine initially, but if he can’t get in to doctor the earlier logs, the weekly check will cause us problems.”
Ryan blew out, and leaned back. “Alright,” he said. “Thanks for telling me.”
“It’s going to work out just fine,” I assured him, once more.
He shrugged. “So, what do you we do now?”
“Unpack, put on our ruse, and day after tomorrow, we go check out some diamonds.”
Chapter 12 – Lovers
I can’t say that my nerves had been eased by Onyx’s explanation of how it was going to go down. I’d never done something illegal before in my life. Not in the U.S. and certainly not in another country, but for reasons unknown, I felt committed to helping. Well, not necessarily reasons unknown. I had an inkling that it had everything to do with Lily. That maybe if I proved to Lily’s friend that what my sister had seen in me was there, that it wasn’t a figment of her imagination, that I’d somehow be able to prove it to my parents, too. That I could take responsibility and do something right.
Only, was stealing something right? No. It was absolutely wrong, so perhaps I’d failed already. Though I couldn’t help but admit I liked being here with Onyx. She was easy on the eyes, for sure, but she was easy to be around, too. She had a confidence, one that said everything in the world would be alright, even if there was no evidence that it was true. Just being around her, I felt alright, like maybe things would be OK. It had been a long time since I’d felt that. Maybe that was why it was easy for me to ignore everything that was telling me this was a bad idea. The only thing that seemed good about this was getting to spend time with her.
I’d offered to let her have the bedroom and told her I’d sleep in the sitting room on the sofa. She’d agreed, but said I should put my things in the drawers in the bedroom. She wouldn’t want maid service to see my things in the living room. I let her shower first, and when she’d poked her head out, draped in nothing but a towel, I’d tried not to stare, not to wonder what her towel slipped out of her hands. “You can go now,” she’d said. So, I’d gone in and taken a cool shower, trying to take my mind off what it would be like to have her in the shower with me. It was stupid. She was good at what she did. Her ruse was even working on me. I wanted nothing more than to have her look at me that way for real.
The bathroom had two doors, one you could enter from the bedroom and another that led to the sitting room. I went out to the sitting room, and finished dressing in my chinos and a linen shirt. It seemed appropriate to the country and the climate. I was just putting on my sandals when she emerged from the bedroom, looking dazzling.
She’d taken her hair down, so it fell beneath her shoulders, long and sleek. She wore a shirt without sleeves made of a shimmery blue fabric that cut off high, exposing her midriff. The accompanying floor-length skirt that was mostly of similar fabric, but the top and bottom were bordered by a thick line of intricately patterned cloth with pinks and greens in it. Over her shoulder was a wrap or throw of some kind of that same intricate patterned material. The outfit was capped off with dangling jewelry, beautiful thin gold that dangled black pieces of onyx from her ears, and jangly gold bracelets on her arms.
“You look... Indian,” I said, amazed that she had transformed into a local in so short a time.
She chuckled. “I am Indian,” she said, her tone half annoyed, half teasing. “At least half Indian. That’s why I’m part of this mission.” She looked me over in my chinos, sandals and linen shirt and then shrugged. “You look like an American tourist.”
“I am an American tourist,” I shot back with a grin. “That’s why I’m part of this mission.”
“Touché!” She said and walked over to me. “This is what people wear around here, and I thought I’d at least fit in. The skirt’s called a lehenga and the blouse is a choli, and of course,” she said as she lifted the cloth draped over her shoulder, “This is my sari.”
“You look beautiful.”
She blushed and whispered thank you. Then she turned toward the door and said, “We need to go out and be seen. We need to have dinner, and we need to be romantic. Lots of romantic displays of affection. Touching my cheek, holding hand, all that.” She turned and looked back at me. “I know it’s awkward, but we need to look the part and sell it.”
“In case something goes wrong?” I proffered.
She sucked in a breath. “No, to make sure things go right. When we go into that diamond factory in two days, everyone who has seen us — and I guarantee you, they will be looking — needs to think that you are madly in love with me and vice versa. They know you’re scheduled for the tour and they’re going to send a scout out to report on you, to report on your propensities and what you’re willing to buy. They know you’re rich, based on the info Pauly had his inside man give them. But everything about you has to seem like you would do anything to please me. That way, when I get sick, they need to be willing to break protocol and put me in that room, with the hopes of you buying me a bauble to make me feel better. They need to think that getting you to stay means taking care of me. So, we have a show to put on.”
I nodded. Do anything for her. Want just to make her happy. For some reason, it didn’t seem like it would be hard to fake those things.
I walked over to her and held out my hand with a smile. She slipped her fingers inside mine and we left the room, and headed to the lobby. It was a touristy hotel and everyone so far had spoken accented, yet pristine English. We went to the concierge and I leaned forward and asked, “Where’s a great place to take my lovely lady?”
I placed a hand on the small of her back as I spoke to the concierge, and from the corner of my eye, I could see her brilliant smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
He smiled at us, and then he spoke in slightly accented English, “There is a five-star restaurant just two blocks. It’s a lovely walk.”
“That sounds perfect,” I told him, and gifted him with a tip.
“Tell him I sent you,” he said, pointing to his name tag, which read Ketan. “They’ll treat you well.”
Onyx smiled and spoke to him in Hindi. He smiled in surprise and spoke back to her, the two of them carried on a short conversation, and then she turned to me, and said, “Ketan actually says there’s one other place we might try, if you’re up for some adventure.”
Ketan smiled big and said, “Normally, the tourist like the five-star place, but Onyx said you two wanted more local.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted more local, but I smiled as if I did. With that, the two of us left and we walked outside into the hot, crowded streets. To be honest, it wasn’t what I’d expected from India. I was taught it was a third-world country. I guess I expected different architecture, in terms of domed buildings like the Taj mahal and such, in certain places. Yet, I’d expected most of it to be muddy and dirty and crowded. More like Slumdog Millionaires. But, it was actually just a
modern city. One that happened to be populated by brown skinned people who wore different clothes than we did in America. Nothing about it seemed particularly backwards or dirt poor as we walked.
She held my hand and led the way. She blended in perfectly with the locals, and I felt every bit like the tourist, yet I knew I’d be completely fine if I just held tight to her hand. After a few blocks, we spotted a low-slung building made of some type of grotto or stucco, and ducked in. There were several tables on the floor, with just cushions to sit on. It was fairly crowded with locals and when the man saw me and Onyx together, he paused, as if deciding how to approach us. Deciding the rich tourist was the place to go, he smiled at me and spoke in English.
“Table for two?”
I nodded. He waved us to follow him and turned and walked us to a table in the back. Normally, I’d pull out a chair for her, but there were no chairs, just cushions. I motioned for her to sit and once she had, I took the cushion across from her, sitting cross legged. It felt a bit like I was in kindergarten again. It had been a while since I’d sat like this awaiting food.
She scooted her cushion around next to mine and opened the menu she’d been handed wide enough for me to see, too. “Let’s see what looks good,” she said.
I peered down at the menu, but I couldn’t concentrate on it with her this close. All I could focus on was the scent of her perfume, which was Jasmine. She suggested dishes. I had no idea what they were, but I agreed to all of them, and let her place our order. She spoke to him in Hindi and they shared a laugh.
“I feel like a foreigner,” I whispered in her ear.
She nodded. “You are one, but I should stop doing that.” She patted my knee. “I’m sorry. Ever since my father died, I don’t get to use it much. So, sometimes it’s nice to speak, to not feel rusty.”
“Does your brother speak it?”
She nodded. “Yes, but not as well, and he tends to feel self-conscious about it. He understands it better than he speaks it, so he doesn’t like to butcher the words. My mom was in graduate school when I was little, so my father took me everywhere with him. He’d go to the Indian markets and he’d speak only Hindi to me, and I’d speak it back. I can’t say I have all these huge memories of every excursion, but I have a general fond feeling about that time.”
I nodded. It sounded great. “I can say, without question, that my father never dragged me around with him everywhere he went. Though, I’m sure a nanny did.”
She patted my knee. “Well, at least he was out there working hard for you. I know it doesn’t seem like it’s much when you look back on it, but I’m sure he was doing what he thought was best for you.”
I shrugged. The great Richard Harper, I don’t think, ever gave a damn about what was best for anyone but himself. He was happy to spend money to meet our needs: nannies, clothes, toys, food, whatever we said we needed. But I don’t know that he ever cared that if what we said we needed was good for us or not. It was even funny that now, now that he had decided he needed to be the kind of parent who bucked up and taught life lessons, he’d failed at it. In his attempt to make me responsible, he’d ended up sending me off on a diamond heist. At that moment, a waiter set down a glass of wine in front of each of us. It was red. I picked up my glass, sniffed. A mild scent of cherry. I took a sip. “This is good.”
“I thought you’d like it,” she said. “India isn’t known for its wine, but there are a lot of good ones. Lily loved it.”
I took another sip, letting the rich flavor percolate in my mouth. This was so Lily. “I could see that.”
She laughed, and took a sip of her own wine. “So, tell me one good memory about your dad. I mean, I have fondness for that time with my father, and up through about the age of 9, where things went bad, and my parents split up. Every relationship has ups and downs. And I think maybe you’re just seeing the downs more than ups.”
I chuckled and took another sip of the wine. I closed my eyes trying to think, and finally a memory popped into my head. “Lunch,” he said. “Every year on my birthday, my father and I would go out to lunch, just the two of us. Didn’t matter if it was a school day or not. He’d let me stay home or pick me up early, and we went and had lunch at the yacht club he belonged to. It was always good. He’d tell me about business, and even though I didn’t understand half of it, it was nice. It was rare that it was just the two of us, and I loved it.”
She smiled at my tale. “See, that does sound nice.”
“Yeah, 20-some days out of an entire life.” Though, not even that. We hadn’t done it last year, and it seemed doubtful we did it when I was one or two. My first clear recollection of lunch was in kindergarten, and it was the most wonderful thing in my life at that point.
I felt a hand on my back; she was rubbing in gentle circles. “They were still your days,” she said. “Just the two of you. And, you know, you could have them again, more of them, if you wanted. You just have to try.”
I shook my head. “He’s decided I’m irresponsible. I don’t think now is a good time to rekindle that flame.”
She let out another chuckle, one that was genuine and it warmed my insides just through its sound. “You two aren’t old exes. You’re father and son. He needs you, and you need him. You should have lunch with him when we get back. And besides, that’s a commitment that shows responsibility.”
“He wants the kind where I show up to some boring desk job and die a little each day.”
She patted my back, and then dropped her hand. “You can be responsible at something you like, not just something he likes?” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you write?”
My mouth popped open like a fish. I wasn’t sure how she knew that.
As if reading my mind, she said, “You gave Lily a story for her birthday a couple of years ago. She let me read it. It was good. You’ve got talent.”
A swell of pride filled me at the thought of her liking it. She thought I had talent. But then I shook my head. “It’s not a real career. Not the kind my father wants me to have.”
She shrugged, and then looked up across the room. “I think that’s our food,” she said, inclining her head to a man carrying a tray of food. I had no idea what she ordered for us, but the waiter came and set several dishes on our table. They smelled heavenly fragrant. Many seemed to be vegetarian dishes, as I could see no discernable meat in them. Though, I guess this was India. I should have paid closer attention to what she was ordering.
“Your last dish will be out in one moment,” the waiter said, walking away.
Once he was out of earshot, she laughed at me, and said, “You look like you want to cry.”
I scowled. “I do not.”
“Still anti-vegetable?” she asked.
“I’m not anti-vegetable,” I declared, even though it wasn’t true.
“So, when Lily told me that her little brother didn’t eat food that was green, that was an exaggeration?”
“That was years ago,” I told her. “I’ve matured. And besides, did you and Lily spend all your time talking about me?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, we did not. But, amazingly, little recollections are coming to mind now that I’m here with you. Besides, didn’t she ever talk about me?”
I shrugged. “Lily said you were a private person, so she mentioned you sometimes, but not a lot. I get the feeling she thought you didn’t want to be discussed while not there.”
“Discussed, no. Mentioned as part of a story is fine.”
“Like the time you two ate guinea pig in Peru?”
She shivered and started giggling. “It was awful,” she said. “They had a picture of the cute little furry thing on the menu and I was like, no, but Lily was like, we should eat like the locals. I took one bite and I swear, the thing’s ghost cooed in my ear, ‘Don’t eat me.’”
I laughed. That was exactly what Lily had said. “I miss her,” I said, the thought hitting me hard.
She leaned her head on my shoulder and wr
apped an arm around me. “I do, too.”
In that moment, the waiter returned with a hot platter filled with sizzling chunks of meat. “The goat kabobs,” he said, setting them down.
Goat? She lifted her head and looked at me. “You’ll like it,” she said.
“And if the goat ghost whispers in my ear?”
She shook her head. “First of all, if you’ve never had a cow whisper in your ear when you ate a hamburger, I doubt you’ll have that problem with a goat.”
“But goats are cuter than cows,” I reasoned.
She frowned. “Not much,” she countered. “And goats are more popular than beef, anyway. Goat is the most popular meat in the entire world, with people eating every day with no goat ghost whispers. However, if you are bothered by eating goat, you’re welcome to some of the chaat, undhiyu, or aloo puri I’ve ordered.”
I looked at the dishes, which did look interesting, and then at my sizzling goat. “I’ll start with Billy Goat Gruff here, and maybe try one of yours.”
Dinner went remarkably well, and her aloo puri, a tasty potato dish, wasn’t bad. I was glad we’d come here. The waiter brought the check, and I pulled out my credit card to pay. Hopefully the exchange rate wasn’t so bad, and if I just got Pauly’s debt off my back, I could deal with the cost of dinner, even without my parent’s help.
While we waited for the server to return, I took a last sip of the wine. My third glass for the evening. I was feeling the buzz of it, and glad we’d walked.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” she asked.
I nodded. I had. Goat was pretty good, in the end. “Are you sure you don’t want dessert?”
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