by Varsha Dixit
Kabir ignored her and addressed the pervert. “Why aren’t you at the back? The models are hungry. Amee just texted me. Where is the food?”
“I’ll get on it right away!” The man scurried away.
Kabir turned and saw Aisha who was still staring at him. “Who are you?”
“No one!” Aisha bit her lower lip. “I mean catering. I’m from catering.”
“If you are done then leave. Don’t loiter.” With a sharp turn, he disappeared in the hallway—the one with empty, unoccupied rooms.
Douchebag!
Uncaring of the instructions, Aisha trotted behind the ’muffin top’ who had gone into the arched doorway in front of her. She passed a man cave with pool tables, a video game console, plush recliner chairs, a card table and several other paraphernalia men could forgo sex for.
Next, she passed a dining room replete with black and white art on the wall and a table to feed a dozen. At the other end of the dining table was a glass door leading to a backyard bathed yellow with hidden lighting. Glancing to make sure no one was following her, Aisha quietly opened the door and stepped outside.
An impeccably landscaped backyard with a pool greeted her. Aisha could hear the ocean behind the gray stone boundary wall at the end of the lawns. She saw female forms lounging on the chaise across the pool.
The models! Kia!
Aisha had barely taken a few steps when a voice stopped her.
“Where do you think you are going?” It was the pervert. He stepped in front of her. Aisha stepped back.
“Don’t try this funny business with me. I will take you down in seconds.” Aisha threatened, turning all her five-feet-four-inches of fury on him. She threateningly closed in on him.
Briefly, his eyes glittered as if he was ready for the fight but then he backed off. “Get out or I will cancel your company’s order.”
Shit! Aisha rued. She would hate to cost anyone their jobs. “Fine.” She spun around and hurried back in the house. It’s too busy right now. I’ll come back here later in the night. The backyard wall is easy to scale.
Aisha hurried out of the front doors. Her eyes fell on the seal on the floor at the entrance. It was a bright red maple inside a golden sphere. I have seen this before! Where?
Back in the hotel, Aisha spoke with Rustom and Veena, responded to a few emails, and chatted with her Dad who reiterated his advice about giving Kiara space. Around 10:30 pm, Aisha once again stepped out of her room.
As she waited in the valet area outside the hotel lobby, a familiar face chanced upon her—the concierge who had drawn her the map to the villa.
“You are heading out at this time, Madam? And alone?” He inquired, his tone nasal. “Where to?”
Aisha pursed her mouth. None of your damn business!
“Be careful, Madam. Panaji is not safe at this time of the year. Too much crime, murders . . . of girls!” The concierge lowered his voice for effect. “Especially the ones who go about alone.”
“Too much talking also!” Aisha snapped, trying to ignore his garlic-rich breath that skimmed her face.
The concierge ducked his head and muttered. “Hope that the murderer who kills women doesn’t see you!”
“Whatever.” Aisha quelled her unease and glanced away.
In minutes, the cab she had ordered came. Using the tissues, Aisha opened the cab door and got in. She spotted the concierge leaning on the valet stand. His eyes were fixed on Aisha.
His stare gave her the goosebumps.
5 Tuberose.
Chapter 9
The taxi took Aisha to the Donna Paula area but this time she had herself dropped off at the beach that ran behind the villas.
She paid the driver—an old man who had taken his own sweet time to bring her here—pit stops at a petrol pump, a restaurant to pick up dinner, and finally to drop off the food at his house! He had not charged Aisha extra and as she had time to spare, she had okayed all the stops.
I got to see more of Panaji than the typical tourist spots.
“Half an hour and I’ll be back.” Aisha handed him some extra cash.
“Be careful, Madam. The beach might not be safe at this time.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Aisha murmured, getting off.
Gosh, why is everyone out to scare me?
Taking out a slim torch from her bag, Aisha switched it on. The moon slipped in and out behind the clouds. Sweet smells of seaweed and coconut were crisp on the deserted beach. Aisha went down the wide concrete steps to the sand. Her sneakers sank in it and some warm sand trickled in from the side of the canvas shoes. It was warm and grainy yet soft against her skin.
Aisha swept the area around her with the torch.
A few empty stalls stood locked and covered with tarp that was held down by rocks. The chirping of crickets was loud and contrasted with the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach a few meters away from her.
Several tiny flies and bugs started hovering around her torch. “Ugh!” Shaking her hand, Aisha switched it off. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the dark. The moon was a perfect crescent in a sky covered with twinkling stars.
“Wow!” Craning her neck back, Aisha drank in the sky studded with stars. The smog of Mumbai never allowed for such fabulous views.
Sighing, Aisha treaded in the direction of Kriti Villa. She kept glancing around, making sure there were no unpleasant surprises. Life had given enough of those to her and family. The police had never found the killer of her brother and sister-in-law, but they had unearthed a lot about Kiara’s mother, supermodel Zara Kaur.
A junkie and a drug dealer!
Zara had hidden her side business well from her husband of a year, ACP Vishesh Khatri.
After his son’s death, Rakesh Khatri had relocated his family from Cochin to Delhi. The Judge’s career had flourished, and they had been happy for a while but when Aisha was merely fifteen and Kiara four, Aisha’s mother Vidya Khatri had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in the advanced stages.
In less than a year, Vidya Khatri had passed away. Aisha and her family were devastated. They had just stopped functioning.
Then Aisha had seen the bigger picture—her mother had shown it to her in a dream one night. All her family required was a sacrifice, so Aisha made it. The hardest wasn’t a fifteen-year-old raising a four-year-old or bringing a grown-up man out of crippling depression or running a house with zero experience. The hardest was giving up on her dream and ambition—to join the force and become a cop.
It still hurts! Aisha scrubbed her hand over her face.
Something protruding from the ground caused Aisha to stumble. She switched on the light.
It was a shoe—a woman’s shoe, plum in color with silver flowers on the sides.
“Stop littering the beach, people.” Sighing, Aisha bent down, gingerly picking the shoe by its heel. She forgot to use the tissues.
A sharp piercing pain laced Aisha’s head. She went inert and winced, still bent over. Her head felt like it was being pricked on every side by needles simultaneously. Her heart seemed to stop and then take off with such force that Aisha feared it would rip out of her chest. A familiar and awful metallic taste oozed into her mouth that made her want to vomit.
Aisha dropped the shoe.
Stooped, she waited, her eyes tightly clenched. This was not the first time she had experienced such misery and Aisha knew it would not be her last. Side effects of being a strong touch telepath. A strong touch-dead-only telepath!
Aisha took a few deep breaths as the pain slowly ebbed away, leaving her dazed and unsteady. She knew her skin would be ice cold to touch even on a raging hot and humid night like tonight.
Slowly straightening, Aisha gazed at the solitary shoe and her head tilted sympathetically.
I’m so sorry!
Aisha remembered the pinpricks on her brain. They all sounded like the screams of a young female in deep grips of agony. The owner of the footwear had not died a painless death.
What
could have happened to her? Aisha closed her eyes. No, no. I can’t go there. I must stop right now.
Immediately, Aisha started recalling the newspaper headlines from today morning, the address of the hotel she was staying at, the number of streets she had crossed from the hotel to here and other mundane things that she had done today. This was her years old and tested mechanism to stop herself from tapping deeper into the feelings of the dead.
It’s just not a good place to go.
Aisha’s telepathic ability had been dormant until she had touched a dead person—her mother. She had dropped to the floor like a bag of potatoes and stayed there for some time. Aisha had been fifteen at the time. Her father told her later that the doctor had been unable to feel her heartbeats or find a pulse for a few minutes but fortunately, they were able to revive her.
Aisha had woken up to face two facts: she wasn’t normal, and she had just got her periods for the first time, lying on the floor, surrounded by her father and a bunch of doctors.
In those few minutes where the doctors had thought her dead, Aisha had gone so deep in her mother’s dying thoughts that her soul seemed to have deserted her body. She had experienced her mother’s frustration over dying early, her deep-seated anguish and worry over the fate of the family she was leaving behind, and her bone-gnawing yearning to see Kiara grow.
Those few moments gave Aisha clarity—she would do whatever it took to give her mother peace. Kia was the key to that!
A sharp call by a night bird brought Aisha back to the present. Pulling out a mini pack of tissues tucked into her jeans pocket, she picked up the shoe again, this time making sure to keep the tissues between her fingers and the leather. She found a trash bin a few feet away and headed in that direction.
Fortunately, Aisha’s Nani had moved in with them after her mother’s death and she had understood why Aisha’s eyes were haunted and her sudden aversion to touch anything or anyone. Pramila and Aisha were cogeneric souls. Except Pramila was the complete ESP buffet—touch telepath whether dead or alive, psychic, and clairvoyant.
Pramila became instrumental in helping Aisha understand her ability. She had called it Aisha’s gift. The dead could reach her. And like a car door, Aisha’s telepathic senses only opened one way—toward the dead and vice versa.
However, Aisha hated her uniqueness, and after several attempts at trying to convince Aisha to embrace her exceptionality, Pramila had given up. Resigned, she had helped Aisha master abilities to shut down her telepathic tendencies.
Blocked and ‘request denied,’ Aisha’s telepathic abilities only crept up on her on the days she was stressed or tired. However, after so many years of practice, Aisha immediately knew how to shut down her spidery senses.
Reciting as many countries as she could remember under her breath, Aisha dropped the sole shoe inside a foul-smelling bin.
“Very thoughtful of you!” A masculine voice came from the darkness ahead.
Startled, Aisha swung her light in the face of the person and then quickly shut it off. Shit! Kabir, the killer!
Kabir was a dark silhouette framed against the twinkling stars and the silver-tipped clouds. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you. I thought you were . . .” He broke off. “Anyhow, have a good night.” He turned around and went in the direction of his villa.
Chewing her lips, Aisha watched him walk away.
With him out and about, I can’t sneak in the villa. Dammit! Aisha’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Why the hell is he out at this time? What is he planning? I should find out.
She saw Kabir head to the wooden pier that extended over the sea. He treaded with slow, confident strides, seeming to be familiar with the area, his hands tucked in his front pockets.
A wise or a bad idea, only time will tell. Aisha made enough sounds to let Kabir know that she was approaching.
Kabir tossed her a glance over his shoulder. “There is no litter here.”
There is. You.
Aisha gave a contrived laugh. “I was coming to the pier. Do you live here?”
“No.” Kabir moved to the other end of the pier, rebuffing conversation.
Aisha pursued him. “I’m a tourist.”
Kabir’s only response was a grunt that could either mean sod off or sod off.
Aisha stayed quiet. Now what?
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m in Panaji only for a couple of days. I came here in the morning. Because of the models and the hype around the calendar shoot, the beach was very crowded. So, I thought I’ll come now and at least see the famous Donna Paula beach before I leave.”
Silence.
Kabir continued to look out to the sea. The breeze was strong closer to the ocean and it ruffled his hair and the collar of his T-shirt.
Aisha watched him; his stillness was eerie.
“You are a tourist too?” Aisha prodded.
“I’m here for work.” He replied after a few seconds.
“Oh! What do you do?” Aisha moved closer.
“Lie.”
Aisha paused. Now, that’s honest.
“I make people look beautiful and then others use that contrived beauty to sell things. So, as I said, I lie!”
Aisha faked some enthusiasm even though his bluntness surprised her. “You have something to do with the calendar?”
“You are a genius.” Kabir replied, staring at the ocean.
Aisha felt herself color. It did not sound like a compliment. “So, the models are not pretty? All that beauty is a lie?”
“The beautiful can be vain, supercilious, selfish, and narcissist. So, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that beauty can be ugly too.”
Aisha was glad that the night hid her confused face. Is he high?
They both fell quiet, observing a lonesome seagull treading the waves, slowly searching for food.
“Fish and chips and beer would be nice!” Aisha thought out aloud. There was something about being outdoors. It always made her ravenous.
“I wouldn’t mind a beer. How old are you?” Kabir’s voice warmed a bit.
“Old enough.”
“Stay here.” Kabir turned around and jogged past her.
Aisha pressed into the wooden metal railings behind her as he went past her. She got a whiff of his perfume. Citrus mixed with aqua. Aisha watched Kabir’s lean form disappear into the villa through the gate.
Thoughtful, she raised her face to the sky with clouds that seemed white like the tips of swan’s wings. The silver moon coupled with the restless ocean waves evoked a similar restlessness in her.
Kabir came back in a few minutes, holding two beer bottles in his hands. “I have something for you in my shirt pocket. Can you grab it?” He leaned closer to Aisha.
Even though his sudden proximity flustered her, Aisha did not forget to pull out tissues as she took the bottle, freeing his one hand.
Her action made Kabir pause as he watched her. “The bottle isn’t that cold.”
Aisha’s laugh was stunted. “I’m a germaphobe, sorry.”
“Did you use tissues when you grabbed the litter?”
Dang, he is observant! “Pretty sure I did.” Aisha fiddled with the cap of the bottle in her hand.
Kabir pulled out a shiny wrapper from his pocket. “Chocolate. There were no fish or chips.”
“Thank you!” Aisha swallowed and took the chocolate, avoiding his fingers.
Aisha clinked her bottle with his and took a swig. “This is nice!”
“Local beer.” Kabir said sipping his drink.
“Your house is beautiful.”
Kabir kept drinking his beer in silence.
Aisha could not see his expression, but she could feel his gaze on her face. She felt a need to fill the silence.
“So, who is the most beautiful model in this shoot?”
Kabir stilled. “You are the second person to ask me that today. Kiara Khatri.”
Crapshoot!
A massive wave
crashed near the pier, spraying them with a fine mist. Aisha moved to the side, bumping into Kabir. He put a hand on her back to straighten her. His hand was warm, yet Aisha shivered. Aisha shrugged off his touch; Kabir took his leisurely time in moving his hand from her back.
“You probably want to know what she looks like?” His voice came from somewhere above her head.
Ugh, no! Aisha took a quick sip of the beer.
Kabir started describing Kiara in detail from her hair to her face to her body.
Aisha’s anger grew. Abruptly, she turned to move away.
Kabir clamped his fingers around her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m getting late.” Aisha snapped. His fingers quickly heated the skin of her wrist. She tugged, trying to free her hand but he did not let go.
“Are you married?”
“What? No!”
Kabir tugged Aisha close, his grip firm. “Are you jealous of the girl I just described.”
“Never!” Aisha said with conviction.
Kabir lowered his head to bring it closer to her face. Aisha looked up. In the darkness, Kabir loomed over her like some magnetic hero from a historical romance dribble—dark, aloof, and brooding.
With a suddenness Aisha did not anticipate, Kabir brushed his lips against hers. His lips were softer than she could ever imagine lips to be.
Aisha felt her lips quiver even as her heart raced. Rooted to the spot, all she could do was stare at him.
“To strangers!” Kabir whispered, his hot breath grazing her face.
Aisha and Kabir were so close that they could see in each other eyes. Their eyes locked and stayed that way, neither of them blinking. Aisha’s eyes dropped to his lips that were hovering near her mouth and her lips unconsciously parted, glistening and inviting.
Chapter 10
Kabir growled low in his throat. The woman whose features he could barely make out was rousing him intensely. A sane part of him acknowledged that it was the mysterious dark night, the deserted beach, and the sounds of rushing waves that were weaving the magic around them.
