Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(41)

“Whatever. Just stay out of our way. We’re the only Asians who are going to win this.”

They stormed away.

“That’s internalized colonialism that’s making you competitive! We Asians are supposed to support each other!” Kareena called after them.

Prem brushed a wavy lock of hair that had come out of her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear. “Rina, honey? I think, technically, we all have internalized colonialism.”

Kareena scrunched up her nose. “Whatever. Let’s win this.” She folded her instructions in half and tucked the pencil in her ponytail in a way that was so efficient and sexy that he had to shift in his seat.

“Thoughts on what to do first?” he asked, praying that she would say something that would cool him off.

“It’s the janitor. We have to figure out how he did it, write down all the clues to get the points, and then find the murder weapon.”

Prem looked at his paper and then back at her. Well, that certainly cooled him off. “What do you mean it’s the janitor? How do you know that so fast?”

She pointed to her notes, confidence written in every line of her body. “He’s the least likely to do it. The instructions use persuasive language along with random cleaning product references. If you trust me on this one, I can lead us to cafeteria coupon victory.”

Prem must’ve looked skeptical because she added, “Tick tock, Dr. Phil.”

He wanted to convince her that they’d be a good team. That meant trusting her. And if she was right, then she was an even more spectacular partner than he’d realized. “You know what? Fuck it. Yeah, lead the way.”

The organizer stood up on one of the benches again, her red hair a beacon in the otherwise gray, black, and chrome room. “And your time starts now!” she shouted.

For the first time since they met, Kareena reached for Prem first, grabbed his hand, looped her tote bag over her shoulders, and ran out the door.

The first clue directed them to a massive room with two-story ceilings, wall-size canvases framed in ornate gold, and the impressionist painters from France.

“We have to find a painting that has a purple aphrodisiac flower in it,” she said.

Prem scanned the room. “There are thirty paintings in here. It looks like half of them have flowers.”

“You take the left side, and I take the right?” she asked.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” They split up and looked for the portrait. Prem was the first to spot it and called Kareena over to read the plaque. The next clue led them to the Egyptian tombs.

“Keep up, Mann,” Prem said when they jogged up to the second floor.

“Shut up,” she mumbled from behind him.

The Met had arranged the giant slabs of rock in the same shape they’d found it, ensuring all the carvings in the slabs were lighted appropriately.

“We have to find the shape of a penis now,” Kareena said.

“Excuse me?”

Kareena drew a symbol that looked like an eight, and an elongated D.

“That’s the smallest damn penis I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled. He turned to her just as she glanced down at his crotch, and away.

“Kareena Mann,” he said, faking scandal.

“What?” she jumped, scampering back.

He didn’t let her get that far, snatching her ponytail to bring her back to his side. She gasped when he tugged gently and brought her close so he could whisper in her ear. “If you want to know, you can just ask.”

Kareena flushed even as she pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me, but you’re the one who didn’t put out when it was time to shine.”

Prem burst out laughing, then leaned in to kiss her on her temple. “I guess we’re stuck with prehistoric dick then. Let’s just find the penis and get out of here.”

It took them ten minutes before they found the carving, which led them to their next clue.

“How did you know about the symbol?” he asked as they hustled to another wing in the museum. “I mean, that was pretty specific.”

“Jeopardy!,” she responded. “My grandmother is obsessed with Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! That’s how she improved her English.”

“Mine too! Watched it until the day she died almost ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Kareena said, pausing to touch his arm.

“Yeah, me too.”

They ended up in the Japanese art atrium where they found the jewelry chest with the same floral design as the French impressionist painter.

They worked together like a well-oiled machine going from clue to clue.

Prem never trusted someone else’s instincts more than his own when it came to achieving a goal, but it was hard not to immediately rely on Rina. Because they were moving so quickly through the museum, an hour and a half flew by, and when they found the last clue, they were sweating.

“Here it is!” Kareena shouted. The second-floor patrons hushed her, but Prem jogged across the room and sidled up next to her to read the inscription on the plaque.

“I’ll be damned. It was the janitor!”

“Told you. Now we just have to make it to the rooftop . . .”

“Not so fast.”

They turned to face the group of teenage bullies standing at the other end of the corridor. They were in a V-shape with the pink-haired jerk right up front. “That final clue is ours, losers.”