Louisiana Catch

by Sweta Srivastava Vikram

  - 19 -

  On Monday evening, Rohan and I were scheduled to meet with Manchester Distillery, an alcoholic beverage company, downtown. There was a kerfuffle over the drinks ad. Manchester Distillery was one of the largest sponsors of the cocktail reception for the first night of the conference. They were willing to back food and beverage for all the speakers, nonprofit representatives, and any attendee who had bought the pass to the three-day event. We mentioned them in all our media promotions. Their logo was on the invite and agenda. But one of the largest women’s organizations from California threatened to pull out of the conference because Manchester Distillery had used sexist images and messaging in its latest marketing campaigns.

  Rohan and I were supposed to make everything go away. We were both stressed—there was a lot riding on this meeting. How could we bring people of two extreme viewpoints to meet in the middle? The executive director for the nonprofit had flown down from California, and the senior vice president for corporate social responsibility at Manchester Distillery had reached NYC earlier that morning from London.

  Earlier that afternoon, Rohan had shown me the draft of a one-page story by his freelancer friend, who’d gotten the OK to run the piece in Salon. It was bold—”Dick Move: CEO Michael Hedick Hijacks Women’s Conference.” I had chuckled, but the piece didn’t feel right—it wasn’t quite news. When I looked at Rohan, I saw that he too shared my squeamishness about stirring up a nest of snakes so close to the conference.

  I said to him, “I think I have a better idea,” and called Ms. Roy late. But Ms. Roy picked up and I told her the problem. What was once annoying was now an asset: social-climbing Ms. Roy promised to pull some high-level social strings, and that in a few days, a week tops, she’d make sure that a half-dozen of the conference’s celebs and diplomats would ask some pointed questions over who was in charge of the conference, and express displeasure over participating in an event hijacked by a bully. In other words, her strategy would quietly embarrass Hedick into stepping back. Sure, this was a softer solution, but one that was likely to succeed. More importantly, it would detonate far enough from Rohan and me that Hedick couldn’t blame us for the situation.

  “We are leveraging Ms. Roy to use social pressure, Brady, just as the California organizations pressured the conference over their sponsor.”

  After Rohan high-fived me and left, I picked up my bag and went home. While making myself tea and processing all the escalating tension the week had brought into my life, I picked out my clothes—figured French chic ensemble might be apt for drinks and talks at a Champagne club. I pulled out a one-shoulder, black georgette jumpsuit and held it against my torso in the bedroom mirror. I had picked it up on my friend Maya’s insistence when she and I had traveled to Mauritius together. I figured I’d wear ankle-strap heels and pear-drop earrings. Red nail polish, red lipstick, and a silver clutch would complete the look.

  My laptop was set up in the living room, so I could review our presentation. Even in my office in New Delhi, Ms. Roy always asked me to go over the presentations just a little before we shared them with a sponsor. “Nothing misses your eye,” she would insist. I scrolled through the decks and decided to take a break after a little while.

  * * *

  My head was on the armrest of the sofa in the living room when I heard a ping. It was Tanya from my online therapy group.

  I put more water into the kettle, pulled out some chamomile tea bags, and looked over Tanya’s message.

  “Hi, Ahana. Tanya from London. :)”

  “What a pleasant surprise, Tanya,” I wrote back fervently. “But isn’t it rather late in the night for you?”

  “I’m all right. Not been able to sleep the past few weeks. Downing some wine.”

  “What’s going on?” I pulled my glasses away from my face and wiped them with the corner of my T-shirt.

  “I have a habit of allowing myself to be attracted to liars—men who flirt and are emotionally unavailable. Or they control and manipulate you but make it seem harmless. I hold onto hope that I won’t be falling for any liars. But there you go.”

  “I am so sorry. How did you find out the truth?”

  “Deductive instincts. All our interactions were only over social media or email. He never came to the phone. This guy is charming, intelligent, attractive, and made me laugh when we interacted online.”

  I kept seeing confirmations of my suspicion at every step that the guy was J A Y. While the concept of people becoming intimate, without meeting each other in person or knowing them, was still alien to me, I too had grown emotionally close to Jay without ever speaking or meeting with him. Loss and aches, it brings out a side in us, which we don’t know exists.

  Tanya continued, “But I met him once in NYC. Truly thought there was something there because we liked the same foods, shared similar hobbies, we were both geology nerds exchanging pictures of rocks and shells we found. When he asked for help with his business, I agreed to it blindly. I flew to NYC all the way from Los Angeles just to see him because he made it sound like we had something going on. But in person, he just whined about betrayals and the world being bad and suggested I invest in his business.”

  Yes! It is Jay. My heart both hurt and filled with pride at the same time. I wasn’t crazy in thinking Jay was not who he pretended to be.

  “I wear my heart on my sleeve, Ahana, and after nearly 47 years you’d think I would’ve learned by now. Yet I haven’t. Maybe I am supposed to be the crazy cat lady after all. :)”

  Crazy cat lady? Damn! That’s what Jay called Tanya when I was in Sydney.

  “I am so sorry,” I wrote with sincerity, “such men, they are a special breed.”

  “I never sleep on first dates, but I fell for his crocodile tears and ended up in bed at my friend’s house where I was staying. After he had shoved his tongue down my throat like a horny teenager and fucked me like I was a slut, I lent him $20,000 for his business idea to start a coffee shop. He said he needed to meet with an investor that evening. Later, we were supposed to get dinner. I waited for him at Pershing Square, the restaurant opposite Grand Central Terminal, but he never showed up. When I tried calling him, he didn’t answer the phone.”

  “Did he give a reason?”

  “His apology was half-assed and his excuse was that his landlady was sick and that’s why he had to rush home from the meeting. I tried calling him again and again. I sent him an email explaining my feelings and asking what the afternoon together had meant. He texted me back saying that he got my voicemail and appreciated the time spent with me. I mean, what the fuck?! He seduced me, took my money, and made it sound like we had played volleyball at the beach.”

  I wanted to feel shocked, but at this point, I believed the man was Jay, and I put nothing past him. “What about the money you loaned him?”

  “I was so blindly in love that I gave him a check but asked for no guarantee or any formal paperwork. UGH!! That’s why I am here in London to spend a few weeks with my best friend and start from scratch.”

  My heart was pounding. “What an asshole!!” I typed furiously.

  “Look at you using swear words. :)” Tanya wrote back.

  “Sorry. I can’t believe this guy.”

  “No worries on cursing. :) I actually like you now.”

  “What do you mean?” My suspicion was correct; Jay had made up stories about me too.

  “C’mon, Ahana. You want me to spell everything out?”

  I quickly threw the teabag in the garbage and pulled out some honey from the kitchen cabinet. “Hey, if it helps, I am going to get bloody wasted. :)”

  “You go girl!!!!!!” Tanya wrote back.

  I added a teaspoon of honey to my tea. “I am sorry to pry, but who is this guy, Tanya?” I walked to the dining table. I knew it was Jay. I knew it. But I needed to hear it from Tanya.

  “It’s Jay from our online therapy group.”

  There was a pause.

  My face tightened. I closed the blinds. I didn�
�t want to be seen. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to be surrounded by fear.

  “Tanya, I am sorry for everything you’ve been through. I want to talk more, but I must log off now. Have a big meeting with a sponsor this evening; can we chat a little later? I need to look over the presentation for the evening, shower, and get dressed.”

  More women needed protection from men like Jay. I was going to put every ounce of my energy in the conference—my conference. Plus, I didn’t want Rohan to wait for me.

  “Of course! You know where to find me.” Tanya ended her message with a heart emoji.

  * * *

  Rohan met me in the lobby of Naina’s apartment. I had asked him if he wanted to come up. He’d said, “You never know what kind of traffic we’ll hit. Let’s leave a little early.”

  When I got out of the elevator, I noticed how strikingly handsome he looked in his white fitted shirt, mousse in his hair, designer jeans, loafers, and a Brooks Brothers jacket with a snazzy fit. “Looking good, Mr. Brady.”

  “Look at you, Ms. Paris.” Rohan cleared his throat. “All the guys are going to hit on you tonight. I don’t think we need to do any presentation.”

  “Is it looking vulgar, Brady? My outfit?” I tried to cover my one bare shoulder with a shawl. I couldn’t believe I had come to a point in my friendship with Rohan where I was OK taking wardrobe advice from him.

  He smiled. “You are high-strung.”

  I frowned.

  “But never indecent.”

  “Oh....” I held my clutch tighter as we sat in the black limousine Manchester Distillery had sent for us.

  “Fancy.” I ran my hands over the interior.

  “I know, right?” Rohan followed suit.

  There was champagne chilling right by where we were sitting. The driver pointed us in the direction of chocolates, fruit, and a cheese platter accompanying the champagne. I held the elegant flute glasses. Rohan popped open the bottle and poured champagne into them. “To the conference and your NYC trip!”

  I smiled at him and slowly drank a little—didn’t want to repeat the recent club scene in front of him. I didn’t want to fill the empty spaces that Jay had created inside me with champagne. I tried so hard not to think about my conversation with Tanya. Rohan too drank cautiously. I guess neither of us wanted to get tipsy before our big negotiation.

  “You look breathtakingly beautiful. At a party like tonight, I can only imagine how many men will want your number and want to hook up with you.” His face hardened in concentration. “Be firm….”

  “Eew! I am not that kind of a woman.” I pulled my shawl away to wrap myself completely, but one of my shoulders was bare—the side toward Rohan.

  “I know that.” He turned toward me. Our eyes met. “It’s just that you’ll be drawing every eye in the room tonight.”

  My throat felt parched. “Rohan, why is it you say that I look nice and warn me that others will hit on me, but you don’t say anything nice?” I have no idea why I asked that. I guess, learning the truth about Jay had made me wonder what was it about Rohan that I didn’t know.

  He asked me to hold his glass. He pulled my shawl and wrapped my shoulders in them.

  “Do you want me to hit on you, Ahana?” He ran his fingers on my arm draped in the shawl.

  I shuddered. He tucked the hair behind my left ear.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I spoke weakly as I looked up at him.

  “I know, silly.” Rohan gently touched my hands. He was about to say something when my phone buzzed.

  It was Tanya. “Ahana, I know you’re busy, but can I take ten more minutes of your time? It’s important. You need to hear what I have to tell you.”

  I gulped air.

  I turned to Rohan. “I’m sorry; it’s Tanya from my therapy group. She says it’s urgent.”

  “Of course.” He smiled and looked out the window.

  “Tanya, log out of the therapy chat group. Let’s chat on Messenger. This way Jay can’t tell we’re both online.”

  After a few minutes, Tanya wrote to me, “Jay is playing you like he played me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I recently noticed that he started to leave needy and over-friendly comments on your social media posts. I figured I should warn you that’s how it started with me. Has he met up with you in NYC? Has he made excuses about money being tight and personal failures putting him in depression? Does he call you his best friend and then complete your sentences?”

  I felt angry to my bones, but I faked calmness.

  “Thanks. I don’t know what to say.” What is his final game plan with me? How dangerous is he?

  “This is what he does best, Ahana. Jay looks for his prey online.”

  My head ached dully. Jay caught us all at our lowest—me after Mumma’s death and my divorce and Tanya after her boyfriend Paul’s death.

  “I saw another person fall for him the exact same way I did. And then he broke her heart. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do the same to you.”

  “Do you mean Amanda?” Wow, Jay moved on at least three of us from the therapy group.

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “He told me that Amanda used him and walked away when he needed her.”

  “Son of a bitch! Amanda was willing to invest $45,000 in his business. Amanda is obsessed with When Harry Met Sally. Jay quoted from it all the time to move into that trustworthy space of ‘I get you.’”

  J. D. Salinger. Is that what Jay did with me? It seemed Jay created a fake sense of familiarity and intimacy by claiming he liked the same stuff as Tanya, Amanda, and me. It felt good, admitting my suspicions.

  I continued to read Tanya’s message. “Amanda is in her early twenties, so she uses less discretion in her relationships and what she shares on social media. He is hanging on to the salacious pictures she sent him of herself and is blackmailing her.”

  I pressed the veins popping on the side of my forehead and stretched my neck. Rohan smiled at me but didn’t say anything.

  “I had no idea. Have you told the moderator of our therapy group?”

  “No, I haven’t. I am too embarrassed. And Amanda is hooked in and messed up. Please don’t utter a word to our moderator. I want to forget and move on. But you better watch out, Ahana.”

  “Why me?” I checked the lock on my car door.

  “Jay is a sociopath. It was easier with us because we fell for his fake romance. But since you have no romantic feelings toward him, he has to come up with better ways to make you vulnerable.”

  “But—”

  Tanya didn’t let me finish. “Given that you live in a different country and will be in the US for a defined period, he has to up his game. Stay safe and strong, Ahana.”

  “I will. Thank you, Tanya.”

  All my doubts and hunches about Jay had come true. He didn’t even belong in the online therapy group. I had to let Naina’s mentor know or file a lawsuit or get someone to slap the shit out of Jay. Ugh. I ran my hands over my face. But I needed more proof to make a case or take any action against Jay.

  Rohan touched my shoulders to make sure I was OK. I looked at him and my fears turned to strength. My anger morphed into resolution. No man was ever going to hurt me, again. I made up my mind; I would do whatever it took to find out the truth about Jay. I was better than the woman Jay thought I was.

  I was still agitated when we reached Manchester Distillery. I went into the women’s restroom and meditated for five minutes. This was a last-minute confusion we were hurrying to solve before Naina and Josh’s engagement. Tonight is extremely important. Concentrate, Ahana. Jay doesn’t get to ruin it.

  I focused on abdominal breathing, which lowered my heart rate and calmed my mind. I took a deep breath and joined Rohan.

  The meeting involved ego-petting, promising, showing different viewpoints, and mollycoddling. Rohan was good at keeping people happy and bringing up tactful objection. Everyone listened to him. We all came to an agreement th
at Manchester Distillery would not run its new ads until the conference was over. This way, it didn’t have to waste all the money and time that had gone into creating the new ad and marketing campaign. And the women’s organization from California wouldn’t interfere with the alcohol company’s campaigns once the event was over.

  Many pointed to Rohan as “The man of the hour.” Rohan shone the spotlight on me instead and introduced me as “The reason we were all in the room together.” Everyone raised their glasses. Alcohol poured, but I barely drank.

  On the way out, Rohan whispered softly, “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” I gave him a big smile. I rested my head on his shoulders as we waited for our car. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “A resolution to the sponsorship kerfuffle tonight means that we can go to Naina’s engagement party with a clear conscience!”

  Rohan put his arms around my shoulder and leaned into me.

  - 20 -

  The morning after the meeting and cocktail reception at Manchester Distillery’s downtown location, I left for New Orleans to attend Naina’s engagement. I figured I’d reach NOLA a day or two early and help Naina and Masi with the last-minute arrangements.

  Naina, Masi, Josh, Mausa, and twelve other cousins were at the airport to receive me with dhol—a large, barrel-shaped, cylindrical, two-headed Indian drum and garlands. For a minute, I felt like I had been transported to New Delhi. Naina lifted me up. “And now that my sister is here, the celebrations truly begin.”

  It was nice being in NOLA with everyone. Eating. Chatting. Listening to family gossip. Trying out Indian clothes. The arrangement was fantastic. Even though most of the family was staying at either the Hilton or Hyatt in downtown New Orleans, Naina insisted I stay with her.

  I missed Mumma—but so did Naina and Masi. Mumma was the organizer and strength of the family. She would have comforted Masi, thrown away her cigarettes, pampered Naina and Josh, gone over the expenses with Mausa, helped me plan my outfit for the engagement ceremony, and politely handled Mausa’s traditional family visiting from Punjab. Everyone loved Mumma, for she did a lot of ordinary things with extraordinary affection. I pointed at the sky, “Mumma is looking at all of us and disapproving of your smoking, Masi.” Naina smiled and Masi cupped my face in her palms.