She snorted. “You didn’t ‘get that’ the second you saw Erika?”
“Well, it’s not surprising they’d put a trans contestant opposite me. For drama or whatever.”
“Holy shit.” Vanessa cocked her head, eyes suddenly intense. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“The name Erika doesn’t ring a bell?”
“Should it?”
“I’d think ErikaBhaduriwould.”
“Wait, I… She’s related to Arjun?”
“She’s hissister.” Vanessa gaped at me. “You stupid fucking idiot.”
15
2003
SEASON 1, EPISODES 11/12:
“LuMoJun vs. the World”/“Reunion”
I’d only met Emaan Bhaduri once. Arjun’s bashful baby brother. It was in Los Angeles, right before Christmas in 2003.
GivenEndeavor’s blockbuster ratings, the network scheduled a live Reunion to air immediately after the finale. With my mountain of NDAs, not even my family knew I’d won.
I remember lying on the beach in the Caymans that final summer night, when Arjun proposed a trip to Europe over the holidays to celebrate. First London, then New Year’s in Paris, concluding in Rome. As he rhapsodized about the Galleria Borghese, I couldn’t help but feel like the pieces of my puzzle were magically fitting together.
While packing that last morning, Arjun eyed my worn copy ofThe Mysteries of Pittsburgh. “So why the cracked spine? What makes this the one you can’t shake?”
I began expounding on Chabon’s virtues when he grabbed the novel, like it was already his. “Easy with the spoilers, nerd,” he teased. “What’s your address?”
He scrawled it on the first page beneath where I’d neatly labeled my name, as I always did in books, perpetuating an old habit of my mom’s. “Don’t rip out the page,” I said quickly.
“I’m not an animal, just a thief. You’ll get it back, but I need to see what the fuss is about.” He kissed me discreetly on the lips, and off we went into the real world.
When the show started airing that fall, it became an instant hit. Once I even had to hide behind a dumpster at the mall to avoid a mob of teenage girls, though who knows what they thought a gay guy could provide them. Meanwhile, Hollywood agents inquired about my interest in acting, which felt equally absurd and overwhelming, but Mitch and Jenny were convinced that I was finally back on track.
Imogen and I spoke every couple of days, but Arjun proved impossible to pin down. I knew the time difference would be challenging, yet I was unprepared for my relationship to live solely on my AIM account. He blamed theGone Bollywoodfilming schedule, but Imogen still heard from him plenty, an uncomfortable truth she acknowledged. “Arjun’s family is different than yours,” she reminded me. “The ‘traditional Indian firstborn’ thing? That’s not going away. Be patient.” But hadn’t I already spent most of my life being patient?
When I arrived at the studio lot for December’s Reunion, a packed crowd filled the soundstage to see the winners revealed live. Even though Mitch had a horrible bug right before, he refused to miss the taping. He was chomping at the bit to meet Arjun and Imogen. Except Arjun wasn’t there. “He’s bringing the whole family from Bel-Air,” Mary Peach explained in the green room. “They’re filming simultaneously forGone Bollywood.”
Imogen squeezed my hand. I hadn’t imagined meeting Arjun’s parents that night, and nothing I’d heard made me excited. We were guided to the set, a kitschy fake beach where we all sat on benches made from surfboards. I barely registered Barnes was present; I had no reason to yet. Drew Ecklund, sporting fresh frosted tips, held court while theepisode—titled “LuMoJun vs. the World”—played on giant screens for the studio audience.
Fifteen minutes before the Reunion began, the audience erupted in cheers as the Bhaduris arrived in all their splendor, camera crew in tow. His beard trimmed razor-sharp, Mr. Bhaduri sported a regal purple suit to match Mrs. Bhaduri’s lavish sari. She was dripping in jewels, one hand firmly steering eleven-year-old Emaan, who looked visibly uncomfortable in his constricting red Nehru jacket. They sat in the front row while Arjun bounded onstage. I beamed as he hugged Imogen tight; then he slapped me on the shoulder with a casual “Hey, bud.” The footage of our victory soon blurred to the live feed as Drew Ecklund ululated, “The winners ofEndeavor… Arjun Bhaduri, Imogen Cuthbert, and Luke Griffin!”
During the thunderous applause I reached for Arjun, but he was sprinting to the front row as if on fire, flinging himself into his parents’ embrace. Imogen seamlessly wrapped her arms around me, voice barely audible in my ear. “Fix your face.”
I practically blacked out the rest of the taping, clinging to the large foam check they gave us, the indentations of my fingernails bitterly engraved around the edges. Afterward, Mary Peach guided us backstage to a hallway where the Bhaduris waited. As theEndeavorcameras vanished,Gone Bollywoodseized the baton, the best friends who’d captivated the country now merely minor guest players in the glamorous universe of the Family Bhaduri.
Amid the canned lines and frozen smiles, Emaan dropped a small orange stress ball he was subtly squeezing in his hand. Arjun always described Emaan as anxious and shy, even though he’d been on camera for years by then. His eyes grew massive as the ball bounced across the concrete, a miniature Arjun who appeared so relieved when I returned the ball.
Mrs. Bhaduri’s hand intruded, gold bracelets clinking as she gently intercepted it. “You’re rushing to aid both my children now,” she said, her voice inflected with British gentility, yet the message was clear. She knew who I was. What I was.
“Just happy to help, ma’am,” I replied uneasily.
