The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(58)
Arnav filled her in on the truck that had deliberately hit him, speeding out of nowhere, despite his attempt to avoid it. Naik asked more questions in order to file a case against an unidentified culprit. Her face remained calm, but the way she clutched her pen spoke otherwise.
“This case might get quite dangerous. You have your family to think of,” Arnav said.
“I’ll be fine, sir.”
“Has your husband applied for other jobs?”
Naik was the family breadwinner after the amputation of her husband’s arm.
“He’s looking, sir. He should find an opening soon.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Naik. You must do what’s best for your career.”
“We’ll catch this killer, sir. And whoever is trying to obstruct this investigation.”
Arnav could only hope his assistant was right. Shinde still hadn’t been in touch.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
TARA
Tara paced the lobby of the hospital wing, waiting for Nandini. Arnav had said similar blue sequins were part of a murder investigation. If Shetty had given her the blue-sequined saree, she couldn’t trust him. But she didn’t care to stay with Nandini, either.
Nandini’s car glided in, large, sleek, and shiny black. She smiled and nodded for Tara to step in.
“We need to talk,” Tara said as she opened the car door.
“Sure, we can speak on the way.”
“I don’t think it’s a great idea to stay at your place.”
“Why not?”
“I shouldn’t drag you into my mess. Arnav says my boss is a dangerous man.”
“All the more reason to avoid hotels,” Nandini said.
“I’ll be safe enough outside his room.”
“If Arnav said your boss poses danger, you can be sure they’ll keep him busy tonight. You look like you need some rest—my place is better than the hospital.”
“But—”
“The police will also have someone watching Arnav.”
Tara couldn’t insist on staying at the hospital without sounding like she wished to lay claim to Arnav. She gave in. “Only for tonight.”
Nandini drove off, handling her car with an ease that irked Tara. Nandini was intelligent, confident, more suited to Arnav than Tara could ever be. Tara now owed her a favor she could never hope to repay. To top it all off, Nandini didn’t know Arnav intended to break up with her. Tara itched to hug this woman, and hurt her.
“Why do you want to help me?”
“What if I told you I’m doing all of this for my job?”
Nandini focused on the traffic, not looking at Tara.
“Your job?”
“I’ve been thinking about it—your life, everything you’ve been through, and Shetty. It would make a fantastic addition to the feature I’m doing on the reopening of bars. I’m a journalist, Tara.”
Tara tried to picture how she appeared to Nandini. Her unkempt clothes, her cheap perfume. The seedy world of Shetty and the Blue Bar. The car radio played Bollywood tunes that echoed in Shetty’s bars, bringing back flashes of her dancing, her reckless stupidity in accepting his assignments.
Tara shook herself out of the memory, thankful the songs had paused for the news, which Nandini listened to, her expression keen.
Arnav’s girlfriend wore little makeup, the fine lines under her eyes visible. Her square jaw, her bright, kind eyes, the capable hands on the steering wheel showed Tara what she could’ve become if she had an education. Practical, useful, successful, a woman who knew what she desired and went for it. This was the sort of woman Tara aspired for Pia to become.
She turned away and watched the filth and glitter of Mumbai pass by through blurry eyes. With Diwali fast approaching, many homes had put up lights on their gates and balconies. The festival of joy, which celebrated the king and hero who had vanquished the demon Ravan on Dussehra, didn’t echo in her heart this time. Each year, she spent it decorating her home, filling her kitchen with sweets. On the evening of the darkest night in the Hindu calendar, she helped Pia light lamps, sparklers, firecrackers. This Diwali, she didn’t know what the future held for her or, more importantly, for Pia.
Tara sucked in a calming breath. It was rude not to respond to Nandini, but she needed to get ahold of herself. She could burst into tears any moment.
“Look, Tara. I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt . . . about you and Avi. The thing is, he’s encouraged me to see other people if I wished. I didn’t because what I had with Arnav was convenient. Both he and I deserve more than that.”
“I’m returning to Lucknow soon.” Tara kept her voice even, her gaze trained on the traffic stop: the streetlights, the office workers scurrying home, the slum dwellers on the streets.
“That’s easy then, right? You can stay with me until then. You’ll be safe. I’ll gain the material for a story. We’ll call it even.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
ARNAV
Arnav limped into his office, jolts of pain at each step. He’d made the doctors discharge him that morning, against medical advice. Good thing Tara remained at Nandini’s place, because he couldn’t imagine either of them letting him get away without a fight.
The constables greeted him and cleared out of his way. When one of them scrambled to offer a hand, Arnav waved him off. His left arm was bandaged and in a sling to support the broken shoulder, but he could use his right hand on a wall for support if he stumbled. His legs were bruised, not broken. He could walk, and he would bloody well do it without help, even if it killed him.