by Alisha Rai
It had taken Jia about two minutes to slip into a groove here, though. She had so many sisters she hadn’t thought she’d ever want more, but here she was, with two bonuses. Which was why she was dreading disappointing them. Sisterly disappointment was the worst.
She found her roommates in the kitchen, heads bent together at the counter. “Hey,” she said, then stopped when they turned. Whoa. “What’s that?”
Rhiannon raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. She was dressed in jeans and her signature hoodie, bright red today. The clothes were snug on her athletic frame. “Clearly it’s a hologram.”
“Not a hologram, exactly,” Katrina corrected. She hadn’t been a model in a long time, but she was still drop-dead gorgeous with her perfect skin and curves. She was also a shark when it came to pinpointing the next big thing or person to invest in. “Just a new kind of interface I wanted Rhiannon to see.” She made a swiping gesture and images of people started flashing across the transparent blue screen hovering in the air.
Jia walked closer, then around the screen. She could see her roommates through it. “Katrina, are you Iron Man?”
Katrina gave a delicate, tinkling laugh. “I wish. I think we can bring this into the fold and integrate it with Crush.”
Rhiannon folded her arms over her chest. “It’s too flashy. Nothing wrong with good old-fashioned finger-to-screen swiping.”
“Is that old-fashioned now?” Jia had spent too much time lately worrying about what was current and what was old. She walked back around the screen to stand next to her roommates. She stuck her hand into the apparition. “This is like VR without those ugly goggles.”
Katrina pushed a button on the remote in her hand, and the screen disappeared. “I’m telling you, we need to innovate. Before one of our competitors does.”
Rhiannon sneered, ostensibly at Crush’s competitors. “I don’t need tricks to beat them.”
“They can’t hurt.”
“They can if we shell out tons of money for an upgrade that bombs. More focus on keeping people in love and happy and safe, less on tech.”
Katrina shrugged, but there was a determined gleam in her eye that told Jia she wasn’t done. Katrina was soft in the heart, not in her instincts.
“We’ll see. Come on, let’s eat breakfast so you can get a move on to work.” Katrina pressed her palm on Jia’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hungry? I made eggs and toast.”
Jia leaned into the touch. Katrina was empathetic enough to understand when someone loved being touched. “I’d like that, thank you.”
Rhiannon tugged on Jia’s sweatshirt hood as they gathered plates and flatware. At first glance, she didn’t seem as squishy as Katrina, but Jia had come to realize she was possibly even more in tune with people around her. “Did you tie-dye this yourself?”
“Yup. Saw a thing online. You use bleach—”
Rhiannon held up a hand. “Please, I watched enough of those videos when I was working from home. Don’t need any more tutorials or hacks from the youths.”
“The youths are geniuses.” Jia bumped the drawer closed with her hip. It had been the right decision, getting breakfast. Her spirits were rising just being here with her friends. “I like any generation that’s, like, bleach, but make it fashion.”
Rhiannon snorted as they sat down. Katrina served them eggs and hash browns. Jia helped herself to a perfectly toasted piece of bread. She’d tried to take over cooking breakfasts in the beginning, partially because she’d been so grateful that these women had given her a home away from home, but Katrina loved making them food and had firmly declined her assistance. Which was good—Jia’s food wouldn’t taste nearly so good.
“FYI, I’m staying with Samson this week,” Rhiannon told them. Samson, Rhiannon’s gentle giant boyfriend, lived in Los Angeles. “We have a fancy gala he’s making me go to.” She sneered, though her words had been tender.
“You’re a nonprofit director’s girlfriend now. Get used to galas.” Katrina waved her knife at her friend, and the sunlight flashed off the diamond ring on her finger. It wasn’t an engagement ring, she’d informed them both a few months ago. Simply a gift from her boyfriend.
Jia was privately skeptical, but she was willing to let her friend come to grips with the fact that Jas may have sneakily put a ring on it.
“I’m Samson’s partner. Girlfriend sounds like we’re in high school. Partner is responsible sounding enough to stop people from asking when we’re getting married.” Rhiannon made a face, like the word married had left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I like galas,” Jia contributed. “Any excuse to dress up. You should wear that lime-green dress.”
“Is it too much?”
“Nope.” Rhiannon’s skin was a dark brown, darker than Jia’s, and the color would pop, while the sleeveless silhouette would bare her toned arms. “Put your hair up, do a light makeup.”
Rhiannon touched her curls. She’d cut her hair recently, and they barely brushed her shoulders. “I’ll think about it. Lakshmi will do my makeup, so I’m not worried about that.”
Now Jia resisted the urge to sneer. There was no love lost between her and Rhiannon’s assistant.
The woman had assumed Jia was frivolous and silly on sight. That wasn’t uncommon. People didn’t respect influencers nearly as much as they respected med students. Jia had responded as she always did to disdain, with an airheaded affectation guaranteed to annoy even more. “Sounds good.”
“How was the party you went to last night, Jia?” Katrina asked.
Jia took a sip of orange juice, mostly to clear the sudden lump in her throat. “Fine.”
“Uh-oh.” Rhiannon glanced up from her plate, a sharp look in her eyes. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I got a goody bag.”
Katrina perked up. She liked the goody reveals too. “Ooh. Have you gone through it yet? Any new brands?”
“No, I didn’t get a chance.” Jia took another bite, though she didn’t much want to eat any longer. “Something happened, and it upset me.”
Rhiannon stilled. “Something or someone?”
“Someone.”
Her roommate’s dark eyes narrowed. “A man?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to take care of him?”
It was funny, Rhiannon sounded vaguely like she was threatening to put a hit on someone.
“Like, I can kill them,” Rhiannon explained.
Or not so vaguely. Jia huffed out a soft laugh. “No need for an assassin. It was a stupid thing.” She let the back of the chair mold to her spine.
“What happened?” Katrina asked.
Jia hadn’t really rehearsed what she was going to say, which was probably why she went with “I think I may have been catfished by someone pretending to be a famous Indian actor.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Rhiannon spoke. “I feel like we need something harder than orange juice for this conversation.”
Jia didn’t drink, but she couldn’t disagree. “Do you . . . do you guys remember that guy I was talking to like a year ago?”
Katrina and Rhiannon exchanged a look. “Yes,” Katrina said gently. “You said you stopped talking to him after the holidays.”
“I did. There was so much going on then, in the world, and with my family.” She had two parents, three sisters, and two brothers-in-law who were doctors, and times had been tough in the medical field around then. “I got tired of us being so far apart, and him not wanting to chat on video, and it started to feel like a lot of his messages were rehearsed. I told him we could maybe talk in the future, when we were in the same place in the world.”
“Sounds like you were listening well to your instincts.”
She had been, damn it. If only she’d continued to do so. “Except for a message when his brother died, I cut off contact.” He hadn’t responded to that, but she hadn’t expected him to. “A couple of months ago, though, when I was sick, I reached out again.”
Rhiannon le
t out a breath, and Jia tried not to cringe. Her friend was clearly disappointed in her. She didn’t blame Rhi. Jia soldiered through. Best to explain what a fool she was all at once. “I was in bed for so long, and I was bored, and it was like he gave me company? Especially at night, because of the time zones. He was awake across the world when everyone here was asleep.” Don’t justify your silliness.
Rhiannon put down her fork. “Oh honey.”
Jia hated the sympathy in her friend’s voice. She lowered her gaze to her plate. So much dismay and disappointment in those two words. “I was excited, because he said he was filming a show here soon. I thought we’d finally meet, but once he got to town, he kept putting off seeing me.”
“Oh honey.”
“I know.” Jia shook her head. “Looking back now, I can see it’s all from the catfisher’s handbook. I think that’s why I just decided to go to him. It didn’t take much to get invited to his cast party.” Jia dejectedly cut off a piece of potato. “I walked right up to him, and he pretended not to recognize me.”
Rhiannon drained her orange juice like it was something stronger. “Girl—”
“Please don’t tell me you told me so.” Jia’s voice was sharper than she’d intended. Rhiannon deserved to be disappointed in her, but she’d spent her whole life with people who were perpetually poised to say exactly those words, and it was exhausting.
“I would never,” Rhiannon declared, surprising her. “I understand why you did what you did.”
“You do?”
“Of course.” Katrina’s gaze was soft and understanding. “You were sick! Worried and lonely. It’s no surprise he snuck in under your guard. People who do this stuff, they know how to target vulnerable people.”
“I’m sorry it turned out like this,” Rhiannon added.
Jia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you for not gloating.”
Katrina nodded. “We’d never gloat, love. We are very sorry.”
Some of the weight fell off Jia’s shoulders at their instant kindness. Still, she tried to absolve herself. “Before we moved to the texting app, the first messages came from his official account. He said he was shy, that’s why he didn’t want to video chat. He was so nice to me, said such beautiful things when I was sick and alone. I was so convinced that he was legit.”
“Eight people have access to Crush’s account,” Rhiannon said quietly. “If this guy is famous at all, he has assistants who have access to his social media, even if it looks like he’s the only one posting. Hell, someone may have even hacked him solely to catfish a bunch of girls.”
Jia took a shaky breath. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Whether he pretended not to know me or whether he was someone else all along.” Foolishness on her part either way.
“Has he—or whoever he is—messaged you today?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t checked my phone today.”
Rhiannon pressed her fingers to her lips. “You must really be upset.”
“I am.”
Rhiannon pulled out her own phone. “You want to give me his name? I won’t kill him. I can maybe dig around a little.”
“Or you can not dig at all.” Katrina reached across the table and held Jia’s hand. “I think you should let this go. Delete his number and his messages, block him everywhere.”
“You’re saying this?” Rhiannon snorted. “You’re the queen of closure.”
Katrina rubbed her thumb over Jia’s. “I’m the queen of solid mental health. And as you said, there are two possibilities here. Either you were talking to someone who was using a famous man’s face, or that famous man led you on for over a year for God knows what reason and then pretended he didn’t know you last night. Neither of those things will be helped by ever seeing him or talking to him again.”
Something cracked in Jia, like a boat set loose from a dock. It was . . . loss? That was so silly. She’d never had anything to begin with, in either of those scenarios. “I feel so dumb.”
“Naïve, not dumb.”
Jia cocked her head at Rhiannon. “That’s not much better.”
Rhiannon waved her hand. “We were all naïve at one time. You haven’t had much experience with dating or love. With experience comes cynicism.”
Katrina shifted. “Not necessarily cynicism. With experience comes experience. No one has a perfect track record. Life is about making mistakes.”
“It was cynicism for me,” Rhiannon said flatly. “I do run a dating app, after all. You wouldn’t believe the trash we deal with.”
A thump came from under the table, and Katrina gave Rhiannon a warning look. “We also have tons of success stories, and lovely users, though. Jia, you’re going to find a sweet guy who spoils you, and you’re going to walk right into love, and it’s not going to feel hard, you know?”
Jia nodded, tears burning her eyes. She let them fall now, because she didn’t mind if these two saw them.
Rhiannon cleared her throat. “I have to ask, did you text this person any nudes? If so, I know a guy who—”
“No!”
“Don’t sound so scandalized.” Rhiannon shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a nude here or there.”
“I know. I’m not judging anyone. I didn’t send any nudes.” Jia’s face was turning red. She might talk to her audience rather frankly about adult matters, but it was different when she was the subject of those matters. “We never even discussed sex.”
“And you didn’t send any money or anything?” Katrina asked.
Jia shook her head.
“If you’re trying to figure out what this person got out of this, Katrina, don’t bother. Catfishers make no sense,” Rhiannon remarked. “There are sickos out there. Who knows.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Katrina murmured. “In any case, and I cannot stress this enough, love, don’t text him. This is your first big hurt, yes? Don’t drag it out any more than you have to.”
“I’m going to be hurt more than this?” Jia’s voice rose to a squeak.
Katrina winced, and Jia didn’t know if it was because of her words, or Rhiannon’s obvious return kick under the table. “Uh, of course not. I was—”
“Stop hitting each other. I get it.” Jia did her best to give them her brightest, best smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to call him. In fact, the first thing I’m going to do before work is erase his messages from my phone.”
Rhiannon patted her back. “Atta girl. Are you sure you don’t want me to . . . ?” She sliced her finger over her throat.
Jia smiled despite her blue mood. “Nah. We are going to banish this man from all our memories. He’s never going to be a part of my life again.”
And for a moment there, surrounded by sunshine and girl power, Jia actually believed those words might be true.
Chapter Four
“OKAY, LET’S take a look at today’s mask. It’s a blueberry acai concoction, and it’s meant to be particularly good for acne and oily skin. I used to have a ton of acne when I was in my teens, but once I started a regular skin care regimen, it cleared right up.” Jia’s laugh tinkled through Dev’s speakers. In this video, she was in a blindingly white bathroom, perched on a small stool. Her hair was wrapped up simply, and she wore an oversize pajama shirt. Her face was shiny and clean. “Just kidding. I lucked out when my sister went into dermatology and I got buried in samples. Ten steps can’t cure everything, some of us need prescription intervention. I’ll link to some of those videos below.”
She spread the blue mud over her forehead, her expression focused, as she continued to patter about cleanser and serum and exfoliation. This was a series she called Unmasked Masks, where she tried out a new face mask and answered viewer questions. Dev knew it was a regular feature, because he’d been watching far too many of her videos over the last fourteen hours or so. In fact, the only time he hadn’t been watching one of her videos was when he was sleeping or on his way to the set or getting in costume. It was research! That was all. Unti
l his super-assistant John got back to him on what her deal was.
He glanced around the bustling set. He was sitting at one of the makeup stations, waiting by himself. He’d done nothing but wait on set so far.
It was a far cry from his previous job. Twenty-five hundred episodes in over ten years meant he’d always been constantly filming something. When he hadn’t been filming, he’d been writing or talking to the director or speaking with the other actors.
This is different.
It was. Their first season, an eighteen-episode run, and he was one of six lead characters. Not to mention, this was their first real week of work. He shouldn’t compare.
Anyway, it meant more time for Jia.
“I was trying to figure out which question to answer during this video, and I’ll be honest, I got stalled on one. It started with you shouldn’t. Like, I don’t even remember what the rest of the comment was, it started with those words, and I got so . . . annoyed. And I think it’s because I’m so sick of strangers on the internet telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, you know?”
Dev cupped his chin in his hand. This, he did know. The only time the public had left him alone was during his childhood in Dubai. As soon as he’d become Vivek and Shweta’s grandson, his privacy had vanished. It was one of the many reasons he stayed off the internet.
Jia squinted as she carefully drew the blue mask over the bridge of her elegant nose, and down to her upper lip. “I get it. When you make your life public, you open yourself up to criticism. But I feel like sometimes I get so much more of it than anyone else, and it’s not fair. You shouldn’t wear that, you shouldn’t go there, you shouldn’t be so vain, you shouldn’t talk like that.”
Dev frowned. What rude creatures dared to say such things? He would fight them.
A tiny matching scowl emerged on her blue forehead. She looked like an indignant, cute Smurf. “Who made user89384 the police, I ask you? No one. I decide what I do and how I do it. Not you, user89384. Okay, the instructions say the mask should be on for ten minutes.” She adjusted a timer next to her. “The other kind of question I get asked a lot starts with should I, and that also worries me. Honestly, I don’t need anyone’s approval or opinion, and in return, I don’t want to force my approval on anyone else. That’s so much pressure on me. What if I tell you the wrong thing! Everyone should be able to do whatever they want with their bodies and their lives.” She wrinkled her nose, the mud creasing. “I think this mask is making my skin dry out, ew. I don’t think I’m a fan, but let’s wash—”
