* * *
• • •
Jay pulled out his chair at the singles table and cursed every bhangra band that had ever existed.
If Tarun hadn’t hired a bhangra band for his baraat that morning, Jay would have skipped the boisterous, colorful, music-filled groom’s procession and put in a few hours of work at the office before the ceremony. But Jay’s mother loved the upbeat rhythmic music and there was no way he could make her go to the celebration alone.
If not for that bhangra band Jay wouldn’t have noticed that one of the musicians bore a striking resemblance to Zara. The trim, middle-aged man with thick dark hair and a wide smile had amped up the energy with his dhol beats, banging out a rhythm for the dancers in their matching red and purple outfits. He wouldn’t have asked the man beside him if he knew the drummer. The man wouldn’t have introduced himself as Ajay Singh and they wouldn’t have struck up a conversation. Ajay wouldn’t have mentioned he was a widower and had planned to skip the reception because he felt too old to be seated at the singles table. Jay’s mother wouldn’t have offered him Jay’s seat beside her. And Jay wouldn’t have had to take Ajay’s place with the lonely singles.
It was definitely the band’s fault.
A woman in a frilly pink dress initiated a round of introductions. A distant cousin with a pointed goatee. A college roommate who looked like he’d been at the bar since it opened. Tarun’s colleague from work who had been separated from the rest of her work friends and couldn’t sit still. He shook hands with Kamal before he took his seat. The dude had hunted him down at the bar after the paintball game to apologize for shooting him in the back and had bought Jay a shot of whiskey to make amends.
“Zara must be sitting in one of those seats,” Kamal said, gesturing to the two empty chairs beside Jay. “I saw her name on the list for our table.”
Jay’s heart skipped a curious beat. Leaning to the side, he read the fancy script on the nearest card. Zara. The fates had conspired; whether for or against him was yet to be determined.
Where was she? He searched the banquet hall and spotted her taking pictures of Tarun and Maria in front of the head table. She stood out, even in a room filled with color. It was her spirit, he decided as he watched her dashing back and forth to take pictures from different angles, a sparkle that made her shine.
With her free hand she waved Tarun and Maria into position in front of one of the pillars flanking the table. Tarun took one step back and then another. His back collided with the pillar, knocking the statue out of place. It rocked violently, teetering on one edge before toppling over and hitting the floor with a deafening crash. The statue’s head separated from the body and rolled away with the momentum of the fall.
“I’ll catch it.” Zara’s voice echoed in the stunned silence of the ballroom. Pushing past a frozen Tarun, she chased after the rolling head, her skirt hiked up to expose two long, shapely, tanned legs, silver stilettos pounding across the tile floor.
Jay couldn’t tear his eyes away. This morning, he’d been dreading the evening. Now his heart pounded with the thrill of the chase, and he felt utterly and blissfully alive.
“Got it.” She grabbed the head mid-roll and held it aloft with one hand to the cheers of the crowd.
It should have struck him as odd when she brought it to the table, but he was already expecting the unexpected when it came to Zara.
She introduced herself to their dining companions before placing the head beside Jay’s water glass, its vacant pupil-less eyes staring into his soul.
“You again,” she said without even the hint of a smile. “I shouldn’t have cut my nails this morning.”
“I beg your pardon?” Jay was a logical man. Conversations usually started with a greeting, followed by pleasantries and then the small talk he despised but had to learn in order to function as the CEO of a national business.
“Her aunt believes cutting nails on a Saturday brings bad luck.” Parvati slipped into the seat beside Zara, nodding a brief greeting.
“You don’t mind if I leave Aphrodite’s head there.” Zara’s bracelets jingled softly when she patted the plaster hair. “I don’t want anyone to trip on their way to the buffet.”
“Was that a rhetorical question?” He shuddered under Aphrodite’s sightless gaze. “Yes, I mind. Could you not find someone on staff to take it, or even reattach it to the body?”
“I could put it in your lap. Or would that be too exciting for you?”
Her sharp tone made him bristle. “Is this the part where we talk about how you’re the fun one and I’m the stick-in-the-mud?”
Smirking, she stood. “This is the part where I leave you and Aphrodite to get acquainted, because she isn’t going anywhere until after dinner.”
Before he could respond, Zara was up and hugging a woman at the table beside them. Then she was at the next table, shaking a man’s hand. A few moments later, she was twirling a little girl in a pink party dress, and after that she was talking to a woman in a wheelchair. She rejoined the table, launched into a story about her cat that had everyone in stitches, and followed it with a dissection of her ill-fated singles table dates from the last wedding season.
“Who else is wondering Why me? How did I wind up here when all the cool people are at the couples table? and Why am I such a loser?” Zara raised her hand, her gaze sweeping the table like she was a stand-up comedian onstage. “You don’t have to worry. I enjoy matching people up, and with my track record of success, you won’t be single for long. You’ll also avoid any potentially embarrassing situations like doing the nasty in a supply closet with the supposedly single best man who isn’t single, or kissing the groom’s twin brother who is actually the groom.”
“To be fair,” Parvati interjected, “they were identical twins and she didn’t know I’d taken the other twin home with me.”
“Just be careful what you wish for,” Zara continued. “I wound up playing naked chess in a hotel room with a chess grandmaster because I made the mistake of taking off my clothes and saying, Let’s play. I like chess but after a night of drinking and dancing, Rook to queen’s pawn six wasn’t really the kind of fun I was after.”
And then she was gone in a whirl of laughter, leaving Jay with a mind full of images that were not suitable for a family wedding.
“She’s going to miss the buffet,” Jay pointed out when their table was finally called.
Kamal gazed longingly across the room, where Zara was talking to three aunties in brightly colored saris. “She’ll be back. Just make sure you don’t stand beside her unless you have a change of clothes.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Jay prided himself on never making the same mistake twice. He’d brought an extra suit just in case he had another sartorial disaster.