“Wow. Where did you go to college?”
Sejal rubbed her nose.Make it up. Sejal didn’t go to college, but of course Seema did.But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single university, though she’d just named one. “Um... I didn’t go.”
Aarthi was silent for a beat. “Interesting. Bring the tea to a boil twice, and then you can strain the chai into mugs.”
To keep herself too busy to talk, Sejal hunted for the mugs and strainer. Was Krishna back yet? Why couldn’t he be the one here, dealing with his mom, while she was the one petting baby goats?
They worked in companionable silence for a while, Sejal studiously watching the chai boil. There was something oddly peaceful about this, making the tea. Like she was participating in a ritual she hadn’t realized existed. A normal ritual that normal people did all over the world, generation after generation. She supposed she could thank Aarthi for teaching her.
Once the chai was done, Sejal clumsily poured the liquid into two mugs, spilling a bit in the process. She handed Aarthi the mug that said “Mrs.” on it and took the one that said “Mr.” for herself. “Your husband really likes coordinating with you, huh?”
Sejal hadn’t realized how hard Aarthi’s expression was until it softened minutely at the mention of her husband. “He does indeed.” Aarthi placed her knife on the butcher block, took a drink, closed her eyes, and sighed. “That hits the spot. Pretty good. See? Easy. Now. Tell me what you really do for a living.”
Sejal raised her eyebrows.
Gone were the relaxed shoulders. Aarthi’s back was straight and her eyes intense. At that exact moment, Sejal realized that Krish’s mother had definitely been interrogating her all this time while teaching her.
She swallowed her odd sense of disappointment that this hadn’t been a normal encounter for Aarthi. At least she could find solace in the satisfaction of knowing that there was no fucking way this lady was a florist. Sejal’s cop-dar remained top tier, even though she’d missed Krish.
You can gloat later. This woman mightactually killyou, judging by the cold look in her eyes.
“Sales.”
“Bullshit.”
Sejal nodded slowly. “Okay. I busk. Bar bets.”
“What’s your act?”
She answered as fast as Aarthi asked, like it was a race. Quick answers were usually the truth, and truths always made lies easier to swallow. “Close-up magic.”
“You are an illusionist, then? That was one thing I hoped Krish was lying about.”
“No, I’m not. Illusionist implies some sort of act or show. I have a few card tricks up my sleeve is all.”
Aarthi narrowed her gaze at her. “Even a magician should have ambition, girl.”
Sejal bristled. “I do have—” Wait, did she have ambition? She wasn’t sure.
“How did you get mixed up in the Ivanovitches?”
“I was young, and Alexei is barely an Ivanovitch.” Though, to be fair, even the youngest, most hapless member of a mafia family had a regrettable amount of power.
Aarthi scoffed. “Alexei has as much money and connections as his brothers, even if his daddy hates him.”
The best defense... Sejal mirrored her pose. She was grateful, actually, that she’d made the chai. Better for Aarthi to have the mug in her hands and not a knife. “Seems like you’ve done some homework.”
“I have. I don’t really know what your game is here, but I know I do not want my son involved. So how much or what do you want?”
Sejal paused. “Are you... offering me money?”
“Will that get you away from my son?”
Don’t threaten me with a good time, Aarthi.
Because that was what was best, yeah? Being paid to get away from an FBI agent who had plainly stated he wanted to use her? She did like money. And money could get her to Vegas and help her get Alexei off their backs.
Yes, that sounded perfect. So why was she hesitating?
