The Bandit Queens (47)

Geeta cringed. “All over Darshan?”

“No, Geeta! Che! Sonny, obviously.”

“Oh. But what does—”

“I’m getting there. God. There’s a natural build to these things, Geeta. You never could appreciate a good story. So anyway, Darshan has his whole black-widow-cannibalism epiphany, or whatever you wanna call it, and he’s obeying Preity’s every whim. So Preity decides she would very much like to play teen patti herself. Why cards? I dunno. She’s always been a gambling fanatic. Priya can’t bluff to save her life, but Preity could tell you the sky is green and you’d check.”

“What—”

“I’m getting there. God. So the game in Kohra is supposed to be all men, but Darshan does some hera pheri and gets Preity in, and, long story short—”

“Really? This is short?”

Saloni glared. “Long story short: you’ll never believe who’s a regular in the game!”

“Ramesh!”

“What? No. How would that—why would—just no, Geeta. No.” Her disgust dissolved into a grin. “Varun!”

“Who the hell is Varun?” Geeta stopped. “Wait. Our loan officer?”

“The one and only.” Saloni sighed. “He’s quite a handsome young man. He flirts with me from time to time, I’m sure you’ve seen it. Not that I’d ever, you know, but it’s nice to know that I can still—”

“What the bloody hell does any of this have to do with Ramesh?”

“Well, that part doesn’t. It’s just interesting, na? But, so Preity wins some good money—she says she made this cute joke about for once taking money from Varun instead of giving it. Okay, you’re not laughing, but she tells it better than I do. I’ll get her to tell you— Where is she anyway?”

“Saloni, I swear to Ram, this bogus story is longer than Draupadi’s sari.”

“Yes, yes. I said I was getting there. I don’t know why you’re so impatient, it’s not like you have anywhere to be. Where was I? So Preity decides she wants to splurge and spend her winnings on a fountain. Why a fountain? I dunno. They’re far more trouble than they’re worth, which I’ve told Preity a hundred times. If you ask me, she doesn’t even want-want it. She just wants to see him twist. And that’s fair. So Darshan goes along with it because of the whole—”

This time they made the splashing motion in unison, Geeta hurrying Saloni along. “Debacle,” Geeta said. “I got it.”

“And who do they see at the store? Guess!”

For a terrible moment, Geeta thought she and Karem had been caught and her heart whumped against her ribs. The prospect both thrilled and mortified her: it would jostle the village into thinking she was more than a dowdy witch. But vanity aside, the news would further mix her with the dirt. A Muslim man chakkaring with a Hindu woman—the village could punish them for that as well. Then she realized even if anyone had seen them together in Kohra, nothing untoward had happened until Karem’s backyard; she and her seedy secrets were safe. Meanwhile, Saloni was still waiting for her to answer.

“Sonny?” she ventured tentatively.

Saloni blinked. “That’s your guess? Why would I waste time telling you a story about Sonny of all people? You stink at this, Geeta.”

Preity rushed into the kitchen. The thin scarf she’d tossed over both shoulders fell from one. Hands still wet with henna, she raised her arm to try to return it. She failed and Saloni fixed the dupatta, tying the ends behind Preity’s back.

Preity blew on her palms. “Did you ask her yet?”

“Ask me what?”

“I was just about to.”

“Ask me what?”

“I thought you would’ve by now.”

“Arre, yaar, I was just about to.”

“Ask me what!”

“Ramesh,” Saloni said, beaming. “Ramesh was at the store.”

It was absurd, and yet Geeta’s biggest grouse with the story was: “But why was Ramesh buying a fountain?”

Saloni slapped her own forehead. “Who cares? This is your ticket out!”

Preity smiled. “Isn’t it such a relief, Geetaben? You didn’t kill him!”

Geeta squinted at her. “You know I knew that already, right?”

Preity nudged Saloni with her elbow. “What about the other part?”

Saloni exhaled. “Okay, so Preity’s happy to say she saw him and clear your name—”

“Amazing! Thank you. That would solve—”

“However,” Saloni interrupted, “she requires a small favor first.”

“Which is?”

Preity, impatient and flushed, rounded on Geeta. “Help me like you did Farahben. Help me remove my nose ring.”

Geeta choked on air. “What?” she wheezed. “What? You told her?”

Saloni moved her hands defensively. “I had to!”

Preity’s daughter ran to them, one of her braids sagging.

“Careful of Mama’s mehndi, Pihu.”

“Mama, I’m hungry.”

“Ask Arhaan. He always has snacks hidden around.”

Saloni looked around her kitchen, as though a culprit might spring out. “He does?”