Karma rolled her eyes at Tara before shifting her gaze toward Shyla. “So, I hear an accent. What do you do, Sheila, something in IT?”
“It’s Shyla, and I’m studying to be a teacher.”
“You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“No.”
“Are you planning to teach in New York?” Steven asked. Shyla smiled, grateful for the sincere question.
“I’m going back to India after I graduate. I’ll be teaching there.”
Tara looked surprised and a bit sad about Shyla’s statement. Karma giggled a high-pitch laugh, but Steven seemed curious. “Why would you go back?”
“She wants to teach the next generation of software gurus, Steven,” Karma said.
“No, I won’t be teaching students who have a future. I’ll be teaching the ones without hope. Probably in a rural area.”
“Wow, you’re like a modern day Sister Teresa,” Karma said. “She was Hindu too, right?”
“And that’s why our schools are failing,” Tara interjected. “It’s Mother Teresa, and by her name, you should be able to decipher that she was a Catholic.”
Shyla found herself getting more nervous. She knew cattiness was a quality in women, but she’d never experienced it like this. Tara must have sensed her unease because she asked Shyla if she wanted to walk around. “Oh don’t go, we’re having fun,” Karma said. “You’re so quiet. I’m surprised because Nick doesn’t usually like the silent type.”
She had no doubt the insinuations Karma was making. The band started up a new tune, one Shyla loved and, if for no other reason than to shift the conversation, she commented on it. “I love this song.”
“Me, too,” Steven said.
“I have an idea. Why don’t the two of you dance together?” Karma suggested.
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” Shyla answered quickly.
“Why not? I have an open mind. I don’t mind lending you my date. After all, you both love this song so much. What’s it called again?”
“Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve,” Steven said. He took the champagne glass from Karma. “I think you should take it easy on these. You’re making her uncomfortable.”
“You’re making everyone uncomfortable,” Tara groaned.
Shyla felt Nick’s presence before his hand clasped her shoulder. “Hi Karma, Steven,” Nick said. “I see you’ve met Shyla.”
“Yeah, she was just telling me how much she loved this song, and I think she should dance with Steven. So, are you guys going or what?”
“Karma, are you actually suggesting my date dance with yours?” Nick asked, his annoyance evident.
“What’s the problem?” The redhead peered at her watch. “Are we in a time machine? Is it a quarter past the millennium or the bicentennial? FYI, women’s suffrage ended a long time ago.”
Shyla craned her neck toward Nick, wanting for a brief moment for him to rescue her. He opened his mouth, but Karma’s shrill voice cut right through whatever he was going to say.
“Oh my God, are you seriously asking him for permission? I had no idea Nick demanded such obedience. No wonder it didn’t work out between us.”
Shyla didn’t acknowledge the other girl. Nick’s face transformed under the light of a glittering chandelier. A vein on the side of his neck pulsed, and his jaw clenched in a way that hurt her teeth in sympathy for his. Shyla snapped her attention back to Karma. In that instant, she saw her, really saw her. A girl, who despite her beauty and accomplishments, lacked self-confidence. Sometimes the sphere of the tongue is sharper than the blade of the knife. Luckily, Shyla was practiced in that weapon.
“I wasn’t asking him for permission,” Shyla said.
Karma tilted her head, a smug smile on her unnaturally generous lips. “Then what’s up with the whole submissive stare you just gave him?”
“I was giving him first right of refusal.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment, the tension at the table flickering like the candle in the centerpiece. Tara laughed first, and Nick followed, putting out any potential flames.
“That’s one option I plan to aggressively exercise,” he said.
Shyla offered the redhead a generous smile. “FYI Karma, women’s suffrage refers to the right to vote. By stating you thought it ended, you, in turn, incorrectly conveyed a woman’s right to vote ended. I don’t think that’s what you meant. Also, the bicentennial in this country happened in 1976, a time when Margaret Thatcher was the prime minister of the UK, Golda Meir ruled Israel, Shirley Chisholm was the first African American woman elected into the house of representative in the US, and only two short years later, Sally Ride was accepted into NASA. There was a woman ruling a country on every continent and one in space. Although, there are still struggles for women, I think we’ve come a long way, but it’s important for a woman to be ladylike as well as independent. I prefer to think of myself as both.”
Karma’s lips curled into a sneer. Tara applauded. Steven bowed his head, hiding a grin. Nick pulled out her chair and led her toward the dance area.
“Have fun, you two,” Tara said.
“Well, if the teacher thing doesn’t work out, you should plan a career in political activism,” Nick said.
“Sometimes I get carried away.”
“I loved it. If you ever need a soapbox, I’ll be happy to carry it for you.”
“She was very mean spirited.”
“You know what they say about Karma, don’t you?” Nick asked, taking her into his arms.
“What?”
“She’s a bitch.”
Shyla laughed, feeling more relaxed again. “What kind of history do you have with her?”
“A very short one. And definitely a lesson I never want to repeat.” He rested his hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer. “I have too many mistakes in my past to count. Sometimes they come back to haunt me. I really wanted you to enjoy tonight. I’m sorry.”
“I am having a good time. Although, I have to admit I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I don’t know. You held your own with her. And you saved me from being a total asshole, which she deserved. Although my ego is a bit bruised, my reputation thanks you.”
“It was my pleasure, but I meant I don’t know what I’m doing with the dancing.”
Her heel scraped against Nick’s shin as if to bludgeon the point.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No,” he said taking a deep breath. “I don’t understand. You had some crazy sexy moves when you danced for me the other night.”
Shyla shrugged, watching her feet. “It’s in my blood to dance Bollywood, but I’ve never slow danced.”
“I’m honored to be your first.”
She tried to follow his steps, moving in sync, but her heel still managed to hit his shin.
“The salesgirl at Saks must hate me because I swear your heels are made of switchblades,” he muttered.
She backed up, cupping her hand to her mouth. “It’s not the shoe. It’s user error. We should stop before you need stitches.”
“We’re going to dance even if it kills me, and it may do just that. Take off your shoes.”
She blinked, replaying his request in her head.
“Trust me.”
She took off her heels and held them by the straps. He placed his hands on her waist. “Put your arms around me and your feet on mine.”
She slid her feet on top of his. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?”
“There’s no way you can dance with me clinging to you like this.”
He kissed her cheek. “Watch me.”
“I feel like a hypocrite.”
“Why?”
“I just gave a speech about women’s independence, and here I am not even standing on my own two feet.”
She expected Nick to laugh, but his expression was serious. “We all need someone to lean on from time to time. It’s my honor to be that person for
you…anytime you need it.”
He spun her around effortlessly to that song and the next two. She finally felt comfortable with the movements and the rhythm they created together. In his arms, all of her fears, big and small, diminished.
Things became much easier afterward. The dinner was extravagant. Nick had even taken the courtesy of requesting a vegetarian meal for her. He whispered in her ear about all the delicious things he wanted to do to her. She found herself either blushing with his flirtations or laughing at Tara’s jokes. Shyla decided she really enjoyed Carrie and Tara’s company. The two women balanced each other. Even Karma settled down, although she alternated between sulking or glaring. The glare became heavier with Nick’s gestures toward Shyla, no matter how small.
“I can’t believe they put us at the same table. Someone here really wanted high drama to put Nick and me in the same place as Karma. Sorry you got caught in the crosshairs, but I can’t believe how well you held your own with her,” Tara said.
“No bother. I’m no stranger to bullies. I’m really happy we had a chance to meet, Tara.”
“Me too, sweetie. Don’t be a stranger. Carrie and I would love to have you and Nick over for dinner one night.”
“I have exams coming up so it might be difficult as far as timing. I’m going back soon, but thank you for the offer.”
Carrie and Tara left after dinner, stating they had to relieve the babysitter. Each woman embraced Shyla.
“There’s someone I have to talk to. Will you excuse me for a second?” Nick asked Shyla.
Shyla nodded. “Of course.” When he shifted his gaze to Karma who was now on the dance floor with Steven, she reassured him. “Nick, mean girls are not exclusive to this country. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t mind being your bodyguard.”
“Funny, I thought I was the one protecting you.”
He took the underside of her wrist and kissed it. “Okay, simmer down, Jason Voorhees. I’ll be back.”
* * * *
Nick made his way to the other end of the room, but Carrie cornered him.
“Hey, you didn’t think I could leave without getting you to spill.”
“Spill what?”
“What’s going on? I thought maybe she was just a date, but after observing you all night, I can see it is much more. She’s lovely, Nick.”
He nodded, looking past Carrie at the girl who owned his heart. “Shyla means a great deal to me.”
“How long has it been going on?”
“Only a few months, but she’s special, Carrie.”
Carrie asked a question Nick wasn’t expecting. “Why is she special to you?”
The answer came easily to him. It rolled off his tongue like a sentimental soliloquy in the rampant pace of runoff sentences, his smile growing bolder with each sentiment. “She’s crazy smart, she makes me laugh, she gets my jokes, and she’s got this uncanny ability to call my bullshit and not care how I’ll react to it. I never realized what a turn-on that is. She doesn’t swear, which I know is a weird thing for me to mention, but it speaks about who she is. It’s an innocence she carries in everything she does. She cares about people. Although, I sometimes think her judgment naturally slopes toward finding the good in others. To be honest, it scares the hell out of me because I just want to protect her. At the same time, she also has an ability to read people, especially me. And there are many more things I could mention, but then you’d have to pay your babysitter overtime. It’s easy for me to see all her wonderful. But what I never expected or accounted for was to see a better me through her.”
Carrie’s mouth gaped. “Wow.”
“Well, you asked. That’s just my random spontaneous thoughts off the cuff.”
Carrie sighed in that way women did when they were happy, but she knew him well. Her curiosity wasn’t easily satisfied. “You didn’t mention how beautiful she is.”
Nick arched his brow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Of course it is. I only bring it up because I find the fact you omitted any physical characteristics very interesting. It’s unlike you.” She did her impression of Dr. Ruth, which Nick always joked sounded more like Sigmund Freud. “What can one decipher from that?”
“Watch it, Carrie. You decided not to pursue psychology remember?”
“Oh, I still read a great many texts on the subject, and by text, I do mean books not messages.”
“You make me sound very shallow.”
“You are very shallow, Nick.” She smiled, patting his chest. “Or maybe I should say you were. Does she know?”
“Know what, Carrie?”
“Holy shit, Dorsey, do you know?”
Nick was quiet a moment, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t say a damn word. “Are we playing charades? What are you saying?”
“You love her.”
Nick shoved his hands in his pocket, not because he was nervous, but he could have kissed Carrie for putting in such succinct language what he had struggled with for weeks. Leave it to a writer to use far too many adjectives when only a verb was required.
“I love her very much.”
“Tara told me she’s leaving after she graduates.”
“Before you intercepted me, I was going to catch Grace Madsen to get some advice.”
“Ah, I gotcha. I hope it works out, Nick. You deserve it.”
“Thank you. Give Maya a kiss for me.”
“Will do,” she said, embracing him.
Nick didn’t know Grace Madsen very well, but the few times they’d met, she’d left an impression on him. The woman secreted personality like sweat. He approached the tall, almost willowy woman dressed in a gown adorned with peacock feathers. Grace, an eccentric intellectual with a charitable pocketbook and a vulgar, unapologetic mouth, waved him over.
“Joseph, would you mind if I had a word with your wife?” Nick asked the distinguished silver-haired man who held her hand.
It was Grace who replied. “My dear Mr. Dorsey, is it chivalry to ask a man for permission to speak to his wife in private, or is it antifeminist?”
He kissed her hand, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Madsen, the answer to your question is far above my pay grade. I promise my intentions are humble and my query is sincere.”
Before William Madsen, Wall Street entrepreneur and financial capitalist, could respond, his wife took the liberty, “Excuse me, darling.”
She offered her arm to Nick.
“Where should we go?”
“Outside, dear boy. I’m dying for a smoke. And I’m a real bitch when I’m nicotine free for more than an hour.”
As they approached the large glass doors, a waiter said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t take the drink with you if you’re going to the patio.”
“Damn, I almost made an escape,” she said, handing her drink to the server. She tsked at him. “I don’t know what’s worst, the fact you deliberately take my libation or that you referred to me as ma’am.”
They stepped out into the crisp but comfortable air.
“You know the best thing about marrying a rich man, Nick?”
“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.”
“You can pretty much say what you think. People will still hate you, but they’ll do it behind your back. And what’s behind me, I have neither the strength or desire to acknowledge.”
“I suppose it is a benefit. Although, your particular brand of honesty is a breath of fresh air, even if your habit is quite the opposite.”
Grace leaned against the banister, her silhouette imitating a fine feathered quill in both the shape and texture of her gown. She tapped a long slim cigarette against her palm. Nick took her gold plated lighter and held it for her.
She took a deep puff. “There are very few young men who balance gallantry with such grace.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Madsen.”
“Call me Grace, dear.” She used her cigarette like a pointing device, gesturing with hand movements, which were somehow very fem
inine despite how grand they were. “I enjoy smoking, especially when I drink, but now it seems I can never do the two at once. It’s a shame really, like having sex without the benefit of foreplay.”
Nick chuckled. “Definitely a tragedy…the example more so than the act.”
She lifted up her cigarette, staring at it. “Funny how something that was once considered social now makes you a social pariah.”
“There are many ways to be a pariah these days. Take it from someone who knows. In fact, I’m in a much lower subgroup of the pariah species than you.”
“I heard. How are you doing, Nick? Off the smack or whatever the kids are calling it these days?”
“Clean and sober.”
“Good for you.”
“I’m sorry to take up your time.”
“Pfft, a man as handsome as yourself seeks an audience with me? It’s time well spent. As a bonus, it’ll increase my stock value as far as Joseph is concerned, so for that alone, I thank you.” She winked as if they were conspirators. “A little intrigue makes for an interesting marriage.”
“I hope he doesn’t misunderstand.”
“Nick, I’m twice your age.”
“You don’t look it.”
She smiled appreciatively. “Thank you. I always hope my merciless fishing expeditions hook a compliment, but one never knows. The truth is Joseph has been jealous of you for years.” Nick scratched his head, waiting for an explanation. Thankfully, Grace didn’t disappoint. “I’ve spent many nights with Max Montero.” She flicked the long line of ash that accumulated on her cigarette. “I find the character extremely…stimulating.”
“I’m glad you enjoy the books.”
“Every girl loves an alpha…at least in short spurts.” Nick had no idea how to reply, and shifted from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. He wasn’t sure if Grace was coming onto him or the character he’d created. His question was simple, but he didn’t want to seem rude by jumping into it. Thankfully, Grace moved on. “So, tell me what I can do for you.”
“Before you married Joseph, you were an immigration attorney correct?”
“In a previous life, but don’t hold it against me.”
Unwanted Girl Page 24
