The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(44)

Huffing as her feet relaxed, she changed her screen saver, and called Zoya in Lucknow, who picked up on the first ring. Pia was asleep.

Tara checked her watch. Ten thirty. Of course her daughter was in bed. Disappointment weighed her down.

Zoya said the admission forms for the private school for Pia had arrived. The fees were steep, as they had known.

“We should have more money by tomorrow,” Tara said.

“How? You’ve banked the advance.”

“I asked him for more.”

Tara couldn’t tell Zoya about the railway station saga, so she spoke of Shetty’s impossible demands of her as a choreographer, the costumes that didn’t fit, and her trouble with training the inept dancers. All of it true, but given time to dwell on it, Zoya would never believe Shetty paying her extra. To distract her friend, Tara told her about Mithi, and the disappearance of the other girl, Gauri.

“She’s making up stories,” Zoya said. “We all went out with who we liked. When Shetty made the introduction, he took a cut. What bar owner didn’t? I’m sure he still sends girls to clients. He never forced me to go. Nor you, right?”

Tara didn’t care to answer. It would take the conversation into dangerous waters again. The railway station assignments. The dance in the dark in that mysterious house.

“I met Arnav today,” Tara blurted out, regretting the words as soon as she said them.

“What? Where? What did he say? Are you seeing him?”

Before she could answer, the assistant came looking for her. The DJ had changed the music. Thankful for the interruption, Tara said bye, cut the call, and rushed off, handing the assistant her phone.

When she stepped on the stage, swaying to one Bollywood remix after another, Tara let her feet do the talking while her mind wandered to Arnav. She scanned the crowd for him, but he wasn’t there.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


TARA

By the time the night ended, Tara’s mind was like one of Pia’s old windup toys, high on the energy of the evening, ready for more. Her body struggled, about to shut down. She’d been working nonstop for sixteen hours, a whole lot of them spent dancing. Her ankle thrummed when she loosened the elastic bandage to accommodate the swelling.

Once Arnav opened the car door for her, she leaned against the old seat and shut her eyes. She woke up when they reached his place, realizing he’d buckled her in. She leaned on the wall while he unlocked the door, staggering at the threshold. Why was she here? She had a lot to lose if he found out about Pia. He wasn’t married, nor interested in children, but he might decide Pia would be better off with him in a big city like Mumbai. Unable to continue that line of thought, Tara collapsed on the sofa. She put her feet up. Arnav locked the door, switched on a lamp behind her, and said, “Give me a minute.”

A noise woke her. To her consternation, she’d dozed off, her head lolling on a cushion.

A steaming bucket stood next to the sofa.

Years ago, on Saturday nights, after endless hours of dancing at the bar, she came straight to his home, crashing on this very sofa, like today, resting against the cushions. At seventeen, the dance bar routine had been punishing, but today it had felt even harder, especially with her hurting ankle.

“Get up and dip your feet,” Arnav said.

She said, “Too warm,” just as she used to.

“Don’t argue. Dip in your toes first. I’ll fetch the salt.”

The exact words from before, like dialogue from a play they’d rehearsed. From the look in his eyes, he remembered. She could not bear to return his gaze, so she gave in and rolled up her loose jeans to her knees.

“You twisted your ankle? And you were still dancing?” He shoved her hand aside and unrolled the bandage. “It looks painful. How are you even staying upright on this? When did it happen?”

Tara watched the steam rising from the bucket—she didn’t wish to relive the desperate sprint at the railway station. Instead, she dipped her toes till the warmth became bearable, then soothing.

“You can take a job somewhere else. Shetty might have upgraded his bar, but he treats his employees no better.”

Tara let her head fall back. She closed her eyes, and moved her toes in the warm water.

“You’re not talking to me now?”

“Shetty paid me an advance.”

“How much is he paying you?”

“Enough.”

She heard him huff in frustration and stalk off. No help for that.

He returned, a bottle in hand. Two glasses with ice. He poured her a small measure of gin and a large one for himself. She took a sip and let the liquid warm her.

“You still watch movies?” Arnav said.

That made her smile. She had dragged him to so many. These days she was lucky if she caught a late-night show on TV. Between raising Pia and keeping the household going, there simply wasn’t time.

“No,” she said. “You?”

He hated movies. She’d meant it as a taunt, but his belly laugh caught her by surprise. He’d rarely laughed when they were together, but she remembered the rare times he did—the way he crinkled his eyes and threw back his head. That hadn’t changed, either.

“You don’t give up, do you? I’m training a movie . . .” He stopped and rose to refill his glass.