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“It’s very silly,” Nanna informed him. He paused before adding, “But sweet.” Another pause. “And funny.”
To his utter horror, Agastya felt his eyes sting. She’d been reading to his cranky, grumpy father in voices. What had he ever done to deserve her? He’d spent his life working for the greater good but the greatest good, the very best, had just fallen into his lap.
And he’d ruined it. He’d ruined everything.
Thirty-Six
VEDA
“We fly out on the morning flight this Saturday. I don’t care what personal problems you have. You will be at the airport on time.”
This last bit was accompanied by a hard look at Veda. She ignored Guruma’s lecture and continued to remove her anklets, the heavy ghungroos damp with sweat from their practice.
“We travel as a group,” her mentor intoned. “No fancy private jets or anything.”
Veda glanced up at that. “My security flies with me,” she said quietly.
Guruma’s painfully thin eyebrow arched. “Listen girl…”
“It’s not negotiable,” Veda interrupted. “Especially not at this moment.”
To say the scandal had exploded would have been the understatement of the century. Every morning she woke to Agastya and Mamagaru’s tense, stern faces on the news, the press screaming questions at them at every opportunity. Their security had been doubled in lieu of the death threats that were pouring in and the entire family, Veda included, couldn’t breathe without a shadow.
Guruma looked like she wanted to argue but Veda held her gaze, silently challenging her. There was no replacing her so close to performance day so the old bat was on a very shaky wicket here.
“Fine,” Guruma ground out finally. “But this won’t be acceptable next time. No matter what drama your husband creates.”
Her husband…the words had her heart twisting in her chest, but she let none of her inner turmoil show on her face. She’d be damned if she let an outsider, especially this nasty one, see even a glimmer of the shambles that was her private life.
“Did you hear me?” Guruma raised her voice. The other dancers shifted uncomfortably glancing from Veda to their teacher. “This will not be acceptable again, no matter how much money your husband steals to fund your private jets.”
The rubber band of Veda’s patience snapped with an audible crack. Hand clenched around her ghungroo, she rose to her feet. Whatever the other woman saw on her face had her stepping back.
“Do you have proof of that accusation?” she asked, her voice cracking like a whip in the dance hall.
Guruma stared at her, surprise darkening her face.
“Do you?” Veda demanded. “Because if you don’t, I will be taking you to court for slander.” She straightened, her shoulders going back as she faced the bitter, old woman. “And we both know that I can afford better lawyers than you.”
The last dig struck true and Guruma flinched, her lips tightening into a thin line.
“My husband,” Veda said softly. “Has more integrity in his little finger than everyone in this room put together. He did not take that money. If anyone in this dance troupe dares to even infer otherwise, forget actually saying it, I will not dance with them or for them. Good luck finding another dancer to headline this performance in two days.”
A deathly silence filled the room as Guruma stared her down. Veda held her head high, refusing to buckle. Whatever she might feel about Agastya in private and his reasons for marrying her, on this she had no doubt. He would never touch money that he hadn’t rightfully earned. She knew that with every inch of her soul and she’d be damned if she’d sit by and allow anyone to say otherwise in her presence.
After another fraught second, Guruma nodded. “After this,” she said. “We don’t work together.”
Veda inclined her head. “Agreed.”
When Guruma strode from the room, her stiff back disappearing from view at a rapid clip, Veda heaved a sigh of relief. The other dancers milled around, collecting their stuff, darting glances to where Veda stood motionless.
“If you’re starting a dance company of your own, I’d like to join you.” Veda glanced over to where Ricken stood, facing her.
She smiled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence but I don’t yet know what the future has in store for me. When I know, I’ll remember to reach out to you.”
“And me,” Vasundhara, a junior dancer, piped up from the corner. A chorus of “Me too” echoed through the room and had Veda doing her rapid blinking again. She was turning into a regular watering pot these days.
“Thanks guys,” she mumbled, picking up her gear and smiling shyly at them. “Let’s just get through this performance for now, okay?”
