I sighed and breathed out. “Though, I admit I’ve had lapses. Like now. But for the most part, I’ve avoided being involved with Pauly or anyone at Club Diamante. Back when I needed money for grad school, I did some work for Pauly. Not heists. But I helped him certify stolen stuff. I even helped a couple of the ladies who work at the club, who wanted to leave the life. Stacie, the waitress you met. I helped her by hooking her up with a friend who went to Harvard Law. He gave her some advice on her law school essay. She got in, and will be starting in the fall.”
“That was good of you.”
I shrugged. It was right to help someone I could, because I was able to. “Anyway, I became a teacher because I wanted to help kids who feel like no one cares about them. Kids who don’t have an Akilah Neel in their corner. Kids who don’t have that example. I wanted to use my knowledge to help people who needed it, not people who wanted to exploit resources so they could get rich. And frankly, a lot of what I’ve learned to do is just about ripping apart our earth so people can grab gems they deem precious. What’s precious are people and hearts and minds. I’m not sure exactly when it hit me. Maybe it was my internship out in California, with the people who seemed so intent on finding their next big pay day or bonus, but something clicked, and I decided I was on the wrong track. While I was good at what I did. Excellent, in fact, it didn’t matter, because what I was doing wasn’t important. So, I signed up for this transition to teaching program and got a job teaching high school science. And it’s grueling and underfunded and the kids can be a handful, but they listen, and what I say matters, in really important ways. And they want guidance. The kids are already excited about the summer program I’m working on to keep their skills up. These are kids who have hated school, who now don’t, who now want to come and learn in the summer, and I think it’s because someone cares. Because I care. So, that’s why I gave up helping some mining company drill for whatever precious metal or gem they hoped to exploit. I didn’t want to be another exploiter, I wanted to be someone who brings good into the world.”
He stared up at me in awe. “That’s a good answer.”
I laughed. “I’m glad you approve. I mean, if you hadn’t, I would have quit teaching and offered my services to this factory tomorrow.”
His face turned sour. “I just meant it made sense to me, the way you phrased it.”
I suppose I shouldn’t have given him crap about it. I changed the subject. “So why are you in marketing for your father’s firm?”
He laughed and stared up at the ceiling. “Because it’s easy. Because he would give me a job and I wouldn’t have to do it.”
That was an honest answer, though somewhat disappointing. I had never quite understood people who didn’t work their hardest at what they were trying to accomplish. My mother always said we had to take pride in our work, to do it to the best, to be brilliant at it. I couldn’t imagine being happy in life if I didn’t give one hundred percent to the things that were important to me. “Why don’t you want to do it?” I asked.
He sat up, looked me in the eye. “Because it’s not me. It’s him. It’s just more of him pushing me into what he wants, and I don’t have the energy to fight him. Because Lily had that spark, and she was the fighter. I’m the one who does what I’m told. Or at least, I don’t fight the things I’m told to do. I’m passive aggressive. I listen dutifully and then ignore every word. It’s easier that way.”
“Is it?” I asked, sincerely wondering. “Is it really easier to just pretend you’re on board so you push your conflict to later. Is it really easier to say you plan to do something, not even meaning it? Is it really easier to ignore a job, than to just give it a try and see if you like it? Why not tell him what you want to do, and see if you can work out a solution together? Or try it his way, if you want. I mean, I don’t understand why you don’t even try at it. It seems like you’d be good at marketing. It’s just telling stories.”
His look in response said he thought I was crazy.
“My friend Tina does marketing,” I said. “And she says it’s just about figuring out the story of your buyer’s needs and then telling them a tale that makes your product their perfect happy ending. If their story is that they weigh too much, then end it with your product helping them shed pounds without even trying. You can tell a good story. Just do it in a different way.”
He shrugged.
“Have you tried doing the work?”
“I’ve tried to not be there. I’ve tried to do everything but be at the place that I told myself I didn’t want to be. But, no, I haven’t tried making a success of it.”
“You should,” I told him. “I think you’d do well if you applied yourself. Look at us now. I mean, you’re taking this seriously, trying to make sure it works.”
“I am.”
“Good,” I said.
“So, tell me one more thing,” he said to me, and his blue eyes narrowed on my face. “Why did you bring me here? Not me, Ryan. But why would you bring your boyfriend here? Why would you schedule us here for a trip, if we were really dating?”
I hadn’t expected that question. I closed my eyes for a moment to think. When I opened them, I had an answer. “Because this is part of who I am. I wasn’t born here, but my father was, and even though our relationship was rocky, I loved him, and this country shaped him. It was part of his roots, and I would just want to show any man I loved how wonderful the place is.”
He nodded.
“Why did you come with me?” I asked. “I mean, what would get the inimitable Ryan Harper to come to India for a vacation.”
He smiled. “That’s easy. Love. When I love someone, I’ll do anything for them.”
“Oh,” I said, looking into his big blue eyes. The way he looked at me, the intensity of it almost made me feel like the words he was saying were for me. I needed to go. I scooted off the bed, leaving my papers, and said, “I need to call Lynx.”
I grabbed my cell phone and left the room. I went out on the balcony and called, but got his answering machine. It was 10 o’clock at night here, which meant it was around 11:30 in the morning back home in New York. I left him a message and then went back inside. Ryan was still on the bed, but he was snoring. I walked over, thinking he was joking with me, but as I got closer, I realized he really was asleep. I sighed. There didn’t seem to be any point in waking him. It was a king-sized bed. I crawled in on the opposite side, and closed my eyes.
Chapter 14 – A Meeting Abandoned
Something woke me and I wasn’t sure what initially, but when I opened my eyes, Ryan was sitting up on the bed, staring down and grinning at me. “You’re awake,” he said.
I sat up and stretched out my arms. “Yeah,” I said, as I could hear the sounds of the streets below filter in. The windows were open, letting in a breeze. It was nice. “How long have you been up.”
“Just a minute,” he said, staring at me. “I hadn’t meant to wake you. I think when I started moving around, it bothered you.”
Probably. I was a light sleeper. I shrugged and said. “I’m fine, and besides we need to get used to local time. I’m terrible with the time difference.”
“Me too.”
I turned to glance at the clock on the night stand. 8:40 am local time. Not bad. I’d set an alarm on my phone for nine. We had to meet Chandran, Pauly’s guy at 9:30. “We should get showered and get out of here,” I told him.
He agreed, and within 20 minutes, we were dressed and on the move. I wore something less flashy today. A long shirt called a kurti, which covered my body loosely. It was beige with a simple pattern of curvy lines on it. Beneath it I wore a pair of light pants. Not too noticeable here. I unbraided my hair, which had made it slightly wavy. I brushed it so it was straight. Not as bone straight as I’d like, but good enough. I didn’t want to stand out here. Indians come in all shades and hues, and being half African-American, I was on the darker side, but not so dark as to be unusual. I’d be seen as a local, as someone who fit right in. Exc
ept for the hair. It was long and tended to stay straight with a relaxer, but it could get kind of frizzy in the humidity.
I threw a thin scarf over my hair. Not an uncommon sight here.
As we left the hotel, Ryan wore khakis again and another linen shirt, asked, “Should I get some local clothes? You blend in so well.”
I shook my head “Nah. You're supposed to look touristy. You do.”
He looked around at the heavy crowds on the street and inclined his head towards one of the men. “I think I’d look pretty good in a jacket like that,” he said, indicating a man in a sherwani, a jacket that went to the knees. Men tended to wear it over a pair of loose pants. Ryan was right. He would look good in a sherwani. In fact, his fit, sexy body would look good in anything he wore. He’d look good in nothing at all, too. I shook my head, trying to banish that thought. We couldn’t go there this trip.
“We can go shopping this afternoon,” I told him. “It’ll be like that montage in Pretty Woman, only with a debonair American trying to look Indian.”
He grinned at me. “Good to know you think I’m debonair.”
I teasingly poked him in the ribs. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He grabbed hold of my hand, and we walked through the crowded streets a few blocks down to an open-air market where all sorts of things were being sold, from clothes to shoes to street food. About the middle of the market was a seating area. Beautiful tiles paved the outdoor pavilion and benches were strategically placed. It was already crowded, and I didn’t think we’d find a spot to sit, when a woman who had been sitting on a bench near us, stood and left. I tugged Ryan to the seat and we plopped down together. We sat in silence people watching for a bit. I glanced at my watch: 9:38. Chandran was late. I tucked a hair behind my ear and bit my lip.
“Rupee for your thoughts,” Ryan cooed in my ear.
I turned to him, and he smiled. “You remember the local currency. Good.”
“I do try to know what I’m spending,” he said. “But, the offer is genuine. Want to tell me what’s on your mind. I know I have some rupees on me.”
I laughed. “I’m good without the rupees, but I was just wondering where...” and I looked up to see an older, thin gentleman walk past us. His hair was graying, and he was wearing what Ryan wanted: a silvery green sherwani and black pants. He carried a satchel over his shoulder, and stopped a few feet away from us. He looked around and then bent over, putting his hands on his thighs and breathing heavily.
I elbowed Ryan. “Offer him your seat,” I whispered.
He looked at the older gentleman, and then stood up. “Sir,” he said. “Would you like a seat?”
The man lifted his head, and looked appreciative, as Ryan stepped a few paces away. The man walked over and took the now empty seat, pulling the bag’s strap off his shoulder and setting it next to him. He leaned forward, cupping his hands in his face, as if fatigued, and then whispered to me, “Everything you need is in the bag.”
I reached toward him, patting his back. “Sir, are you going to be alright,” I said loud enough for my voice to carry. He lifted his head and nodded to me.
That’s when I whispered back. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Chandran sat there a couple of minutes more, pretending to collect himself and then he stood up, smiled and said, “Thank you for your kindness. I just needed to rest.” With that, he walked away.
That was it. I looked up to beckon Ryan back, and noticed he was gone. I looked around the streets, which were filling. I didn’t see him. Just a few more people, and a police officer in uniform. I frowned, tugged the bag over my shoulder, and pulled my phone out of a back pocket. I called him. “Where’d you go?” I asked when he picked up.
“I’m just around the corner,” he said. “Near that bank.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I told him and hung up. Then I walked over and found him sitting on a bench.
“Why’d you leave?” I asked, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt.
He shrugged. “If you’ve got what you need, let’s go back to the hotel.”
I pursed my lips and stared at him a minute. There was more going on here, but I wasn’t going to find out what in the middle of the street. I nodded, and we walked back to the hotel together.
When we arrived back in our room, I immediately confronted him. “What’s going on? Why did you walk off?”
He looked down at the ground. “I saw a police officer, and I got nervous.”
My eyes widened, and I could feel my temperature rise. “Tell me you’re joking,” I pleaded.
He didn’t say anything of the sort. He blew out. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to put some distance between us. If things went bad, I wanted to be able to help, not be in a cell with you.”
I wanted to slap him. No, I wanted to slap him and then go home. I walked away, back to my room and set the bag on the bed. I was trying to figure out how to even respond to his nonsense when I noticed he’d followed me inside.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left. I realize that now.”
“Oh, do you,” I said, turning to face him. “What made you realize that?”
“Your reaction.”
“And if I’d said, oh that’s just fabulous that you abandoned me because you thought the police might catch an old man giving me a bag, you’d have thought what you did was good?”
He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and then started again. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought it was a good idea. I’m sorry,” he said again. “Don’t you see. This is why I am a screw up. This is why my parents don’t trust me. I’m not daring in a way that makes me stick around if I think things are going safe. My daring is all stupid stuff. Frat boy drinking, gambling when I know I shouldn’t. Not this, alright. I panicked. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, incredulous for a moment. I was tired. We’d had a long trip, and I needed to clear my head if this job, this job I wished with every ounce of my body that I hadn’t taken, was going to actually work now. It was too late to back out. But, I so didn’t trust my partner right now.
“I hear what you’re saying, Ryan,” I said to him. “I need some time alone. Can you give me a few minutes?”
He nodded, turned and walked out of the bedroom.
Chapter 15 – Becoming Accomplices
My mother always said, “You can’t change people.” It’s a fundamental rule of nature. You can’t change people. However, you can make them your ally. And if this mission was going to succeed, that was what I was going to have to do with Ryan Harper. This was my mission, and he was just along for the ride. But I was going to need him for it to work, so I decided to start fresh and try to help him take some ownership of this mission.
I opened the door to my bedroom, to find him lying on the couch, a towel over his face. “Ryan,” I called. “Could you come here a minute?”
He plucked the towel from his face, and sat up. I nodded for him to come on, and he did. I walked over to the bed and beckoned him to join me. He sat across from me. “I’m not happy about what you did, but I get it. You’re not used to this. But, for this to work, we have to be partners, alright? I have to be able to trust you, and you have to be able to trust me. Coming here was not my first choice.”
“I know,” he said, his voice soft. “But you have your own reasons for coming.”
“I do,” I told him, honestly. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a sacrifice. And I can’t do this alone. I need your help. So, I’m going to ask you not to bail on me. Stay calm and the plan will work. Can you do that for me?”
He swallowed, and his eyes said he couldn’t, but he nodded and said. “I can do that.”
I smiled, and tried to express a confidence in him I didn’t actually feel. But, based on what he’d said of his parents, his entire life had been people expressing their lack of faith in him, and that hadn’t worked at all. Of
fering faith I didn’t have seemed the best option. “I’ll show you what came in the bag I got today.”
His eyes lit up at that. “Really?”
I nodded, and pulled the bag from the edge of the bed to the center and began pulling out the contents of the bag. The first thing was a little black box. “Lock picking kit,” I told him. I popped the latch on the box and opened it up to see a set of silver tools that were perfect for most manual locks. The issue here was that not all locks would be manual. I pulled a sheet of folded paper. I unfolded it to find a map of the building.
“This is where we’re going,” I told him, as we looked down at the map. The building had three floors. There was diamond processing on the upper levels. “The diamonds start at the top,” I told him. “Everything initially goes up and works its way down to the main level. At the top they’re sorted, with the best diamonds heading immediately to cutting on the second floor. The next best are also set aside for cutting, but they may take more time, so they’re sent in a separate batch. Then, there are the discards which can be used, but it’s going to take the most time to get their value, so they may be sold locally to someone who has time to fool with them, or processed later here. I need to get to this room.” I point to a corner on the map on the third floor.
“During the tour, when I get sick, we’ll be on the second floor, where the cutting is done,” I say, pointing to the map of the second level. On the far corner of the diagram is a room marked GB. “That’s the director’s private office. Chandran’s going to make sure I get put in there to rest. I just need to pick a lock to get to the back room.”
Diamonds & Hearts Page 10
