Shardul blinked. “You....blackmailed your own father.”
“Yes. I threatened to release my report into this case to the media if he refused. So, do I suck?”
“I’m lost for words.”
“Okay.” I sipped some water. Somehow I expected to feel better than this. “I was trying to make amends.”
“I thought you were. This is why I helped you. I wanted to see what you would do.”
“You were testing me. I thought you trusted me.”
“I do...as much as I do any Kelon. More than most,” he added. “But I didn’t expect this. Won’t this destroy your relationship with them?”
“Hope not, but probably yes.”
I picked up my glass again but my hand shook and I spilled some water. Shardul took the glass from me and set it down. “I never expected you to do this. Would never have asked it.”
“I know. I did it because it needed doing, not because of anything you pressured me to do.”
He smiled a little. “Damn, and I was really hoping to go to the Governor’s Ball next year.”
“I think it’s safe to say I won’t get an invitation again.”
“But you owe me a dance, Javen.”
“Sorry.”
“Can’t eat your sorrow.”
“What the hell do you want me to do?” The man at the next table frowned at me. I must have spoken too loudly.
“I’ll think of something.” Shardul touched my hand. “Relax. I’m pleased. Shocked, but pleased. You’ve made a difference. More of a difference than I could have ever dreamed of.”
“So long as it’s worth it.”
“It is for me, for my people. You’ve paid a heavy price, though.”
I shrugged. “What kind of relationship is based on bigotry and denial?”
“A damaged and dangerous one. I will pray that the Spirit moves them to understand why you needed to do this.”
“I told them straight, but they think you’ve turned me to the dark side.”
His lips twitched. “Well, I’m extremely good at perverting good Kelon boys, as you know.”
“Yeah, but you don’t follow through,” I said, attempting a leer.
“Not today, Javen.”
The waiter set our food before us. “Does that imply you might another day?” I asked.
“The interpretation can be whatever you want.”
But he smiled, and I smiled back, this time for real. I might have lost my parents’ goodwill, at least for a while, but I still had a family, and friends, and Shardul, in the limited way he granted me his company. A man could count himself lucky to have even one of those three. I knew myself to be more than lucky.
Javen and the Pretty Boy
“Sainted reason, I knew there was a reason I don’t like crowds and concerts.” I poked my finger in my ear, though the problem was in my brain and empathy, not the roar of noise from hundreds of excited people, many of them women and all apparently determined to talk at once.
“You get used to it,” Jyoti said. “Try and focus on one of us. Try Shardul. He’s always calming.” Her smirk and Chandana’s chuckle made her a liar. Shardul wrinkled his nose in disgust at the exact time I did, which only made the girls laugh more.
“You talked me into this,” I said to him.
“You agreed, so stop whining. Besides, you should be honoured to have tickets for such an event. They’ve been sold out for three weeks.”
“Thanks, I’d almost forgotten since the last time you pointed that out oh, ten minutes ago? You’re a fan boy.”
“I am not,” he said, straightening up and glaring. “I’m certainly no boy.”
Jyoti glanced at his crotch, and Chandana went off into peals of giggles. Shardul shared a look with me as if to say “Women.”
“This better be damn good, that’s all I can say,” I said, wiggling the finger in my ear. The press of emotions, albeit happy and untroubled, was the worst I’d yet experienced since my empathy kicked in. I wasn’t one for concerts or music in concentrated doses, and I hadn’t been to the theatre in ages. I didn’t think I’d repeat this outing anytime soon even if the fabulous Tushar was everything he was claimed to be.
I hadn’t even heard of Tushar before Jyoti turned up at my office waving free tickets and babbling excitedly about the new indigenous sensation who even had the chuma begging to hear him sing. Vik hadn’t been interested, but Prachi had wanted to go, begging me to go with her. I agreed reluctantly, only to have her come down with a nasty cold. That left me with a spare ticket to a concert I hadn’t even wanted to go to, so in the interest of spreading misery around, I offered my pair to Shardul. Unfortunately, Shardul was delighted to have them—but insisted I go as his companion, because he said I needed to experience more Nihani culture. So here I was, the po-faced Kelon with three over-enthusiastic indigenous friends, trying to get through the evening without booze or mayhem. I didn’t even know why live concerts existed any more, since the sound was better on a home system and you could go to the toilet without having to ask twenty strangers to let you out.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” Shardul said. “Stop poking your ear. It’s vulgar and it doesn’t help.”
“Who are you, my mother? He plays that thing, the tambura. Sounds like a dying kolija.”
“It does not,” he said indignantly. “It’s a very ancient instrument with important historic connections and the use of it respects our traditions and our religion.”
“If I wanted to hear atonal droning, I’d go to a Deist church. I don’t care how well he sings. If he plays that, it’s going to sound like a prolonged fart.”
“Javen, didn’t you watch that vid?” Jyoti asked. “You know, ‘Dreams of Earth’?”
“No. Should I?”
“Everyone’s listening to it. It’s the song that made him big!”
I felt old and cranky. “I’m not one for modern music. Just popular stuff.”
“If it’s twenty years old. But that’s all right,” Shardul added sweetly, “I’m sure Tushar can move even someone with your stultified cultural appreciation. “
“Fan boy,” I mouthed at him, and he poked me in the thigh.
The hall lights dimmed at this point. On the stage, a single spotlight appeared, and into the pool of light walked a slim, bare-chested young man, his arms adorned with bangles, and his ears with long glittering ornaments. The audience fell completely silent. The figure on stage stared out at us, looking around as if searching for a friend. Then he opened his mouth to sing.
Two hours later, I and everyone else in the hall were on our feet applauding madly even though our hands were sore from repeated ovations. I’d never seen anything like it. The kid sang. He danced. He told jokes. He played the tambur and somehow made that doleful instrument sound seductive. He turned cartwheels while a troupe of dancers whirled around him. And all the while, the music rolled on and on, mostly catchy, sometimes sad and wistful, but all of it designed to tap into the emotional soul of the listener, and connect to them.
Tushar did three encores, and finally pleaded with us to let him go. “Leave some for tomorrow!” he said, and the crowd roared with laughter as he skipped off behind the curtains.
“Wasn’t he fabulous?” Chandana yelled over the whistles, foot stomping and applause seeking vainly to bring Tushar back on stage. She grabbed my and Jyoti’s hand. “Come with me. He said we could go backstage and meet him after.”
“Are you sure?” I thought Chandana’s cousin had probably only meant to be polite, since there must have been dozens of people who wanted to talk to the star of the show. But Jyoti and Shardul were already forcing their way through the crowd, and with Chandana still firmly gripping my hand, I could only follow them.
To my surprise, the guards backstage expected Chandana, and ushered us like royalty through cramped corridors through to a larger area. Half-open doors showed musicians and some of the back-up dancers changing into street clothes. The guards led us to a closed doo
r and knocked. “Sri Tushar? Your cousin is here.”
The door swung open. “Chandana!” Tushar lunged for her and dragged her inside. “Darling, it’s been so long since I saw you.” They hugged and whispered in Nihani, while an amused Jyoti watched, and Shardul and I pretended to be very cool and relaxed in the presence of a half-naked and incredibly beautiful youth.
Even sweaty and with half his makeup removed, Tushar still sparkled with energy and loveliness. Once he set Chandana free, she introduced us, and he insisted on hugging us all, though he seemed puzzled by my presence. “Are you one of our people, Sri Javen?”
“No, just a friend. And a fan of yours now,” I said, while Shardul grinned. “Amazing show, simply wonderful.”
He took my hand. “Why thank you, Javen. That means a lot coming from someone outside our community.”
I smiled, but had to quickly hide my surprise at realising I couldn’t sense him. Was something wrong with my empathy? “You seem to have a lot of Kelon admirers, judging by the audience.”
“Our first ever crossover success.”
I turned to look at the newcomer, a tall, broad Kelon man radiating pride and possessiveness. He held out his hand. “Lalitchandra Ursemin, sir. I’m Tushar’s manager.”
“Javen Ythen. Nice to meet you.”
“Ythen? Like the governor?”
“Yeah.” I willed Shardul not to explain. “How did you two connect?”
“I stopped to have lunch in the town where he lived, and he was performing for the patrons at the restaurant.”
“My parents own it,” Tushar explained, smiling winsomely at me. “Lalit said he thought a lot of people would love to hear me sing, so we recorded a song. And he was right.”
“I adore ‘Dreams of Earth’,” Jyoti said. “It makes me sad and happy and somehow...I don’t know, more me.”
“Thank you, Jyoti.” Tushar gave her a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling with obvious delight. I still couldn’t feel a damn thing from him. Creepy. “How do you all know each other then?”
“Uh...I met Javen through work.”
“As did I,” Shardul said, throwing me in it, the bastard.
“So what do you do, Javen?”
“I’m a private investigator.” I could have kicked Shardul. I hated bringing my job up in social situations.
“Really? Wow. Is that exciting? Where do you work? Do you have a gun?”
I grinned. He was like a little kid, although with a body that could make an ascetic give up his vows. “Not exciting at all, but yes, I have a gun. Not now.”
“Javen used to be a police officer,” Shardul offered.
“Spirit save me. Really?” The smile dimmed as Tushar stepped back a little. Perhaps a bad experience with the force, I thought.
“But he’s not like most Kelon police,” Shardul added. “After all, he’s here.”
“True.” Tushar blessed me with that smile again. “You must be a very brave person, Javen.”
“Oh, he is,” Shardul said. I turned around and glared at him to shut up. He smiled innocently. Bastard.
“I’ve never met an investigator before. Are there many of you?”
“In Hegal, yes. Mostly we work on divorces and insurance claims,” I said and when I heard the intake of breath from my lawyer friend, I made a rude gesture at him behind my back. “Here, have my card. Drop in if you like. I can tell you more. You want to talk to Chandana now, surely.”
His manager took the card. “Tushar’s always happy to meet his fans and family.”
“That’s right. So many people want to hear my music. I still have trouble believing it’s happening and it makes me so happy!” He spun around in a graceful movement, his arms twining over his head, while Chandana clapped in delight, and I admired the way the tight silk of his pants showed off the exquisite globes of his arse.
“It makes us happy to see one of our own so successful.” Shardul moved forward and gave a little bow. “Such a pleasure to see our traditions honoured.”
“Tradition is what makes us. But I want my music to be heard by everyone. Is that wrong, Shardul?”
“No.” Shardul smiled as he rarely did, sweet and openly. “A gift such as yours should be shared.”
“Thank you.” Tushar took Shardul’s hands. “I’ve heard of you. Everyone’s heard of you. I’m so flattered you came to my concert. I wish I was smart enough to be a lawyer and help people but...I’m just a singer.”
Shardul blushed. If only I could have taken a photo to prove he could. “No. Not ‘just’. A great talent.”
“Agreed,” I said. “You’re as good a singer as Shardul is a lawyer. That’s saying something.”
“Then that makes me happy too.” The kid’s smile could run the lights of a small town.
Sri Ursemin coughed. “Tushar, you should probably let these good people go. You need to rest.”
“Lalit, I don’t mind.”
“No, he’s right,” Shardul said, taking my arm. “An honour to meet you, Tushar, and I wish you great success. We all do, yes?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I can’t see how you won’t be a hit.”
The cool night air came as a shock after the overheated concert hall, but had no effect on my companions’ high spirits. “He’s lovely,” Jyoti said. “When’s his next concert?”
“Sold out,” Chandana said. “But I can get tickets for another one, I think. Javen, would you like to go again?”
“I’d love to but the crowd’s a bit much. My brother and his wife would adore it though, if you can get tickets.”
“I will. And Shardul will come again.” She nudged him with her hip, and he made a face. “Bring your aunt.”
“Perhaps. Thank you very much for this evening. A pleasure all round. I must say good night to you all now though.”
Shardul’s place was close by, so we waved him off and walked to my auto. “Jyoti, did you notice something odd about Tushar?”
“The lack of emotional resonance? Yes. I assume he’s a null.”
“A what?”
“A null. I’ve never met one before but I’ve heard about them since I was a child. A null is someone an empath can’t sense. They’re very rare.”
“Oh. I thought there was something wrong with me.”
She grinned. “No, you’re fine. Shall we go now?”
I’d have liked to have learned more, but it was late. I could always ask Shardul, or Roshni-ji. I suppose I hoped my empathy had been playing up, because that might have meant it could wear out—or off. No such luck.
I dropped the two of them off at Jyoti’s house, and drove home. In the shower, I imagined what it would be like to have my hands on Tushar’s slimly muscled body, to cup that pretty arse, and to taste those finely shaped lips. I gripped my cock in a soapy hand, and thrust into the grip, as if it was Tushar’s tight body I was fucking, with his dancer’s muscles pulling me in.
The water washed away my seed, and with it, the tantalising images. Lots of people would be jacking off to Tushar tonight, probably—men and women both. He wasn’t my type—more Kirin’s, really—but Tushar’s artless sexuality had dented even Shardul’s tight emotional control. I wondered if my lawyer friend was giving himself a little relief of his own—and my cock hardened a little at the idea. Great. Just what I needed—two hot and unattainable Nihani guys to lust after.
What I really needed was someone who wanted me back, and who didn’t care about my empathy. Easier said than done.
~~~~~~~~
“How was the show?”
I yawned and took the mug of chai Tara handed me. “Great. Really great. If you can get tickets, you and Yashi should go. And the boys too.”
“Really?”
“Seriously. Something for everyone. Haven’t had that much fun in ages.”
Yashi walked in from the living room with the twins hanging off him. “Sounds like something you should do again, Javen.”
“I will, if I get the chance. Jyoti’s girlfrien
d introduced us to Tushar after the show. He’s charming. Very talented.”
“I hear his shows are um...a little overheated,” Tara said.
“Not in the content. Tushar is...very sweet,” I finished discreetly, conscious of two boys with keen minds and almost photographic memories for adult slip-ups, listening to every word. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I can make you some toast.”
“I can do it.”
“Run and play outside, boys,” Yashi said. “But don’t go too far. We’re going to the beach in an hour.”
Harshul punched the air. “Yay!”
I put my hands over my ears against rapturous cheering. “Too early,” I complained as the boys thundered out of the room.
“You’d never cope with kids,” Yashi said fondly. “Uh, but Tara and I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I squinted at my smiling sister-in-law. “Something’s up. Something...good. You’re pregnant.”
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “How...Yashi told you?”
“Nope. I guessed. It’s true?” I went over and hugged her. “Oh, that’s terrific. Do you know what it is? More twins?”
“Sanity, what are you wishing on us, brother?” Yashi said with a mock shudder. “She’s a girl. Tara’s only two months along, so don’t say anything to Mum and Dad.”
“Not very likely,” I reminded him. He made a face as he remembered my parents weren’t speaking to me. “So you’ll need my room. I’ll start looking for a place this weekend.”
“No,” Tara said, looking at Yashi. “Javen, no, we don’t want you to move out.”
“Come on, Tara. It’s a big house, but this was always a temporary thing, and I’ve imposed long enough. No, I’d always told myself if you had another kid, I’d go, if not sooner. My savings are healthy, and you’ll have enough to worry about without me under your feet. But your regular babysitter is at your service,” I said, bowing.
“Thanks,” Yashi said, though he still frowned. “There’s no hurry. Even once she’s born, she can sleep in our room for a couple of months, easily.”
Different Senses Page 27
