I deemed a wig and moustache sufficient disguise to deter the press if any reporters were hanging about the theatre, but there weren’t any I could see. Not that this meant there weren’t any, so I kept up the changed walk and other slight alterations in my manner until I was safe inside and being taken to Tushar’s dressing room to wait for the end of the show.
The ubiquitous mirrors reflected my disguised features, which I found mildly disturbing. I avoided them, looking at the clutter on the table instead. Among the pots of makeup and feathers, a discarded pass for one of the media recording studios, and a letter inviting Tushar to visit a certain well-known cloth merchant’s store in Haeve Street. I shook my head at the idea of Sri Gerjan, scourge of loitering Nihani youth, inviting another of that race to help him promote his wares. I’d wager it was the first time Sri Gerjan had ever asked any indigenous individual across his store’s threshold. I wondered if Tushar would accept, and which other Kelon merchants would set aside their prejudices to earn more dolar.
Tushar burst through the door, but stopped dead. “Javen? What are you wearing?”
“My costume,” I said, getting to my feet.
He put a hand on his hip to assess me, making his dozens of bracelets and beads jangle merrily. “Hmmm. A moustache. Never kissed a man with a moustache before. Can I?”
He didn’t wait for me to say yes. He rushed over, grabbed me in a surprisingly strong hug, and kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in a year. I had to bend a little to help him out, and feeling mischievous, picked him up so he was at my level. He squeaked a little, but my antics didn’t make him break contact with my mouth for a nanosecond.
Ursemin cleared his throat at the door, so I put Tushar down. He pouted. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Manners, brat.” I touched my upper lip. “Now look what you’ve done.”
“Inferior glue,” he said, utterly unabashed. “Want me to fix it?”
I ripped the thing off and stuffed it in my pocket. “Nah. Itches.”
“I think you’re better without it. Though a real one would tickle, don’t you think?”
I shifted to ease the strain down below, and Ursemin made another throat-clearing sound. “Tushar, we should hurry. Javen has things he wants to talk to us about.”
“I am hurrying.”
Tushar started to strip off all his bangles and chains, dropping them onto display stands. I helped him out of his glittering waistcoat, which won me a flutter of his fake eyelashes. A white bandage covered his wound. “I thought you had synthaskin over it now.”
“I do. Um....”
“After all the fuss about the attack, I thought people would be expecting some visible sign of his injury,” Ursemin said. “And it meant Tushar not dancing wouldn’t upset people.”
“Ah. More costume,” I said.
“Yes. I really am injured. You know that.”
“Of course.” I kissed the back of his neck in apology and he smiled at me in the mirror, pausing as he wiped makeup off his face. “Take your time. Bad news can wait.”
“Bad news? Oh no. Tell us now. Get it over and done with.”
Ursemin’s reflection nodded at me over the top of Tushar’s head. “Okay. It’s straightforward enough. Sri Benay’s out on bail, and it looks as if he may not be our attacker after all.”
Tushar went very still. Ursemin blasted me with worry. “But they found a knife,” he said.
“Yes, but no fingerprints. It might have been planted, so the police will investigate further.” I’d never mentioned my empathy to either of them. Given Tushar’s special state, I’d hoped not to. Refreshing not to have it taint this relationship, at least. “You shouldn’t worry unduly. You already know the threat didn’t disappear with his arrest. I understand the indigenous community are mounting surveillance where you might be vulnerable, and so long as you take sensible precautions, particular here at the theatre, you’ll be fine.”
Tushar shivered. “But there’s a man out there who wants me dead.”
“Maybe just scared.” I stroked his neck and he leaned into the caress. “It didn’t sound to me like a serious attempt to kill or even harm you. More like a warning off.”
“But from what? Performing?”
“Probably. With the shows finishing soon, hopefully that will be all the attacker wanted. The thing is, you just do what you can, take reasonable precautions, or you’ll make your life a misery.”
“But I keep thinking about it.”
“Natural for now. We’ll just have to distract you,” and he laughed as I ran my hand down his back.
“Come on, Tushar. Let’s get you out of here. I feel happier when you’re at my house,” Ursemin said. “No one will attack you with those reporters around.”
“True. They serve some purpose. Such nuisances though.”
He peeled off his fake eyelashes and the stuck on sparkles, then gave his face another wipe. “There. A shower at home and I’m all clean.”
He leapt up from his chair and planted another kiss on me, before snuggling against me and making it clear my arms were for putting around him now. I obliged.
“Let’s go,” Ursemin said. “The auto is under cover so we should be able to get you inside without trouble, Javen, but you’ll have to lie low until we’re in the garage at the house.”
“I’ve done worse. Do you want your letter, Tushar?”
“Letter?”
“That invitation.” I pointed.
“Oh, that.” Tushar passed it to his manager. “Lalit deals with those things. I don’t know anything about promotion, so I leave it to him and do what he says. He’s very clever, and has so many ideas.”
Ursemin gave a little bow. “Kind of you, Tushar, but I can only promote good products.”
“And I’m the best.” Tushar wriggled enticingly against me.
I grinned against his braids. “You sure are.”
Ursemin’s auto was more like an upmarket limousine than a suburban runabout. As I looked at it, he said, “I used to chauffeur my acts around. I had to keep up appearances.”
“I don’t care about that,” Tushar said, climbing in the back. “Javen, there’s room for you to stretch out if you put your head in my lap.”
“Notice the completely innocent and unplanned way he said that,” I noted to Ursemin. He grinned. “Tushar, I should remind you there are public decency laws in Hegal.”
“Yes, and there’s a blanket in the back, isn’t there, Lalit?”
“Completely unplanned,” I muttered as I stepped in. “I am in disguise.”
“But those horrible reporters will make up stories about another man spending the night with me, and then pester you about how unfaithful I am. Come on, lie down. I don’t bite.”
“Liar.”
His smile nearly split his face. I laid my head on his lap, yanking off the stupid wig at the same time. His hands dove immediately into my real hair and scrunched it up. “Ooh, now that’s better.”
I poked him in the thigh. “Molestation can wait.”
“It’s only your hair.” That innocent act really was very convincing.
Ursemin threw the blanket over me, and Tushar tucked it in tidily. Hopefully even someone peering directly into the auto would see no trace of me. Though if Tushar kept fiddling.... “You’re giving me away.”
“Now I’d never do that to you,” he said serenely. My nose was very close to his crotch. “I could always undo....”
His hand crept down but I grabbed it. “Behave, you nuisance.”
“You’re so unkind to me. Lalit, tell him he’s mean.”
“Tushar, behave. Javen’s our guest, not your pet.”
“Can’t he be both?”
I squeezed the hand I had trapped. “Behave, I said.”
“Make me.”
As Ursemin turned on the auto’s motor and pulled out of the parking spot, Tushar undid his safety harness, and wriggled down into the seat well. “What are you doing?” I asked, now just a little ir
ritated.
“Um, see, I think this would be more comfortable.”
I sighed in exasperation, but then realised the brat’s plan was to lie on top of me. “Also against the law, you know. No safety harness.”
“You’re not wearing one,” he breathed against my face. “Now, isn’t this better?”
He had the blanket over us both, and now his legs were entwined in mine. “Don’t you care what Lalit thinks?” I whispered.
“He’s used to me. Are you angry with me, Javen?”
I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight, hoping like hell Ursemin didn’t brake hard or that at least the back seat collision devices were in excellent order. “You’re utterly incorrigible.”
“Oooh, I like that word. We say,” he leaned up to lick my ear and murmur into it, “lilhila fon.”
“Should be your stage name,” I said grumpily but that only made him laugh, and squirm maddeningly against me.
~~~~~~~~
“I don’t even need to ask, do I?” Madan said as I walked in next morning. “That little swagger says it all.”
“Hush.”
“And the smug grin.”
I pointed at him. “Jealous.”
“Not my type, Javen. And my wife is all I need. How did they take the news?”
I shrugged. “About as well as you can expect. I’d be happier if Ursemin would hire guards, but he’s operating on a tiny budget. The concert run finishes in a few days. A lower profile will help.”
He swung his comm screen around. Tushar’s cheeky smile was splashed across it. “No sign of interest flagging so far.”
“No, because Ursemin’s still selling concert tickets and music downloads. Once he stops the promotion, Tushar can fade into the background.”
Madan grunted. I chose to ignore the scepticism I sensed from him. “Did Sushri—?”
My phone went. “Good morning, Shardul,” I said politely. No point in being the one at fault. At least, not first.
“Javen, why didn’t you tell me Benay had been released on bail?”
I sat at my desk. “Because I only heard yesterday and I didn’t think it made any difference to you. How did you hear?”
“I have contacts at the police station, of course. Why has he been released?”
“Because he’s wearing a tracking tag and the assault charge is likely to be dropped for lack of evidence.”
“What? Damn guko Kelon police!”
“Actually, the damn guko Kelon police are doing their job. Besides, Benay didn’t do it. My talent told me.”
“Explain.”
“I spoke to him. He said he didn’t do it. I believe him.” I didn’t feel a need to be forthcoming.
“Just like that.”
“Just like that. Did you want an innocent man to go to prison just because he’s a Kelon?”
A long pause while Shardul ground his teeth. “It leaves Tushar exposed.”
“Yeah. Already explained that to him. His manager can’t afford guards, so if you’re so worried, you guys need to keep an eye on him. I can’t, not all the time.”
“No one expects you to. We can handle it.”
“Maybe, but I have a personal interest in the matter now.”
“Being?”
“Use your imagination, Shardul, and if you’re thinking of ticking me off for violating one of your precious Nihan, I’m telling you now, I’m not in the mood.”
“Spirit forfend I offer you any advice.”
“Not on this, anyway. You’re not a disinterested party.”
A sarcastic laugh came down the phone speaker. “Your sexual antics don’t concern me in the least, and Tushar is an adult. I only called because I need Lalitchandra Ursemin’s personal phone number. If you don’t want to give it to me, I’ll ask someone else.”
“Sure I can give it to you.” I read it out to him. “Anything else I can do for you?”
He hung up without saying another word. I growled at the phone, and looked up to find Madan staring at me. “Problem?” I asked.
“You weren’t very nice to Shardul-ji. He’s connected to our biggest client, and I thought he was a personal friend.”
“He is. But he’s also an interfering sod, and I’m not jumping to his command. He thinks I should stay away from Tushar, and I’m not going to.”
“Fine, fine. But—”
“But?” I snapped.
“Nothing. Forget I spoke. You were asking something before he called?”
Madan, a wiser man than me, knew when to back off and let me figure out for myself when I’d been a dick. But I didn’t call Shardul back to apologise. One, because he despised apologies, and two, I wasn’t sure what I was apologising for, other than being a tad curt. He wasn’t disinterested, though that had never stopped me asking him for advice before. But this was different. This was purely personal, and Tushar being indigenous didn’t make it Shardul’s concern, any more than Shardul deciding, purely hypothetically, to start screwing a Kelon would be my business. I’d wish him all the luck in the world if he did.
Sure you would, Javen. A lot of this delusional stuff going around.
Pissed off or not, Shardul was as good as his word. As I turned up at the theatre, two men I recognised from my work at the Institute discreetly took my picture. I waved and they waved back, so I walked over. “You guys are going to be careful, right? Take the wrong picture of the wrong man, and you could get your heads kicked in.”
“We’re not without resources, Sri Javen,” the older one said. “But mainly we’re here to record and report—and raise the alarm.”
“Cops know what you’re doing?”
“Shardul-ji said he told them.”
Both looked Kelon on account of their mixed heritage. They could easily be mistaken for reporters. “Good. Be careful, okay? You have my number?”
“Shardul-ji gave it to us. Uh, and told us you’d be around.”
“I bet. I’m going back with Sri Tushar to Sri Ursemin’s house.”
“He, uh, told us that too.”
“Oh, did he. Okay. We should be leaving in under an hour in Sri Ursemin’s auto. I’ll be keeping my head down, but I’ll be with him, so you won’t need surveillance at the house.”
“No, but Shardul-ji said you might....”
My empathy filled in the blush the night covered. “Might?”
“Be too busy to keep an eye on things,” the other man said in a rush.
“Talkative, wasn’t he? Do what you like. Uh, but thanks.”
They nodded and I left before Shardul’s instructions could tear away the remained few shreds of my dignity. Big-mouthed lawyer bastard. If I’d done something like that to him....
Oh, to hell with Shardul. I had two big handfuls of loveliness waiting for me inside, and Shardul could go screw himself.
Tushar behaved himself this time, and contented himself with dragging us both to the seat well so he could cuddle me without being seen at the window level. “Tired?” I asked, stroking his face.
“Hmmm, yes. It’s been a long run.”
“A successful one,” Ursemin said from the front.
“Yes, but hard work, even though I love it.”
“What’s next?” I asked.
“Touring, maybe. More recordings and interviews. Lalit will know. I just concentrate on what I’m doing right now. I wish I had time to write more songs. I could write one about you, maybe,” he said, giving me a sly look.
“Yeah? What would it be about?”
He put his mouth near my ear. “About my dark-eyed lover with the beautiful voice and the big—”
“Huh, sounds more like boasting than music.”
He laughed. “Can I help it? I wanted to tell the audience tonight about my wonderful man. Didn't think you’d like that.”
“Not so much ‘like’ as ‘not think it would be wise’. Don’t give people another reason to hate you, sweetheart.”
“Say that again.”
“Sweetheart.�
�
“Oooh.” He rippled with pleasure. “All the way down to my toes, I felt it.”
“Brat.”
“Now that’s not nice. People would hate me for being with you?”
“It’s another excuse. Not that they’re exactly queuing up to sleep with me, but my father’s position....”
“I keep forgetting about that. You’re just Javen.”
“I keep forgetting about it. But I’m not the press, or a racist lunatic. We have to be careful.”
“Why are people so full of hate? Who cares what colour our skin or hair is? We’re all the same underneath.”
“Beats the hell of me, sweetheart. I can’t fathom why anyone would hate you.”
He sighed and nuzzled against me. We sat like that all the way back to Ursemin’s house, and when we arrived, I had to shake him a little to rouse him. “Oh dear. I need a shower to wake me up.”
“I’ll wash your back.”
He fluttered his eyelashes at me. “That’ll certainly wake up parts of me.”
Ursemin opened the auto’s door for us, giving no sign he’d heard any of this. “I’ll heat up the food while you two get cleaned up.” Nothing seemed to shock him. Perhaps he’d seen it all before.
Half an hour later when we emerged flushed and breathless from the shower in Tushar’s flat, Ursemin had the table laid, and a big jug of iced fruit juice waiting for us. “Ordered in again, I’m afraid. Once the concerts are over, I’ll have time to cook.”
Tushar threw himself into a chair and pulling me down beside him. “I can cook too!”
“Yes, you can, but I’d rather you wrote more of your music, which I can’t do, while I fed you, which I can.”
“Yes, Lalit. You always make so much sense.”
“That’s why I’m the manager, Tushar. Javen, have some—”
A shockingly loud crash of glass and splat of splintering wood interrupted him. I was already headed for the ground, dragging Tushar to the floor with me. “Down, down! Everyone, stay down, that’s gun fire!”
Different Senses Page 33
