Reena:It’s cold and flu season in Canada, and your African/British immunity is not prepared for hard-ass germs. Also not my fault.
“Excuse me…” Shayne said, voice clipped. “I assume, based on you looking all doe-eyed at those texts, that you’re talking to this British boy toy of yours. Is that who you made the video with?”
“I donothave a boy toy.”
“I saw you leaving his room at six a.m. with your shoes in your hands. Don’t tell me you were there to borrow a cup of sugar.”
Bagpipes sounded again.
Nadim:You calling me a hipster?
Reena:With that tall hipster hair and precision beard, yeah, I am. You, sir, are a hipster.
She heard a snort behind her. She looked up to see Shayne standing there reading her texts over her shoulder. “Sheistexting that British dude. About hishair.”
She put her phone facedown again and glared until Shayne went back to his seat. “Okay, fine. Yes, I made the video with Nadim. But it was a middle-of-the-night, drunken mistake, and it won’t be repeated.”
Shayne had his hand out and was about to say something when Reena shot him down. “And if anyone points out that sounds like most of my relationships, then no more rye bread for either of you.”
Marley tilted her head sympathetically. “So, you did enter then?”
Reena sighed. “We may have. I don’t remember much from the end of the night.”
“Didyou hook up with him?”
“No! Nothing happened! I’d remember that. I bumped into him at the Sparrow and we started drinking. And then drank more at home. And recorded a video of us making potato bhajias together. Perfectly innocent, calorie count notwithstanding. I had no intention of entering the thing.”
“Well, seems either he did without telling you, or you two did some drinking and contesting. You’re finalists, so the drunk video must have worked,” Shayne said. “I would advise you to do the next one sober, though.”
No. There wouldn’t be a next one. She absolutely couldn’t spend her time making cutesy cooking videos for a web contest now. She needed to be job hunting. Her severance wouldn’t last forever. It ran out months before she found a job last time. She couldn’t let that happen to herself again.
“Reena, are you okay?” Marley said, voice laced with concern.
Reena wiped a rogue tear that escaped her left eye. “Yes…No.” She sighed. “Just my cold. And…life is just really heavy. I can’t do this right now. Honestly.”
Shayne smiled warmly. “You can. You deserve this. I’ll do the camera work, and Marley will help you look your best. I know you want that scholarship. You’re doing it.”
The bagpipe melody filled the room again.
“Jesus, Reena, can you change that? Unless there’s a man in a kilt somewhere, the Highland pipes are a bit much,” Shayne said.
Reena checked the phone.
Nadim:I googled hipster for the North American definition. I don’t think you meant it as a compliment.
“Tell him you made the contest,” Shayne said. “We need to all get together and plan the next video.”
“I’m not telling him,” Reena said, turning the ringer off the phone. “Why would he do this with me?”
“Didn’t he already do it with you?” Marley asked.
“No. Well, sort of. He didn’t know we were supposed to be a…you know…a couple. Engaged. I just told him it was supposed to be two people.”
“Of course he’ll do it!” Shayne said. “You spent the entire night with him, and don’t tell me that the only cooking you two were doing was in the kitchen. You’re totally into each other. Drinking together, making midnight snacks. Not to mention he won’t stop texting you! You’re already as good as engaged, according to your parents. He has both the face and the voice for TV. Wouldn’t mind him in a kilt at all.”
Reena tucked her phone between her thigh and the seat. “He did me a one-time favor. That’s it. We’re not into each other.”
Marley and Shayne stared at her. Reena considered turning the ringer on her phone back on so the sound of bagpipes would cut the tension.
