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“I’m not speaking to the press,” she said, glancing around for her security. Param, the man in charge for today, walked forward and inserted himself between them.
“I’m not the press.” The stranger walked around the other dancers and approached her. “I need to speak with you.”
“I don’t speak to strangers.” Veda wiped her sweaty face and proceeded to her room, itching to get the heavy make-up of her face and to get into comfortable clothes.
“I’m not a stranger. I’m a friend of your husband’s.”
“Now I know you’re lying.” She glanced at him over her shoulder.
He frowned. “Why?”
“My husband has no friends.”
He grinned, an appreciative smile lighting up his face. Oh my lord! This man probably had women dropping their panties at the first hint of that smile. He managed to make Harsh look like a troll. Of course, Harsh’s chocolate boy good looks were a complete contrast to this man’s rebel-without-a-cause gorgeousness.
“I’m Virat Jha. Agastya and I went to school together.” He looked at Param and said, “I’m going to reach into my coat pocket for my ID okay? And a picture of Agastya and me together.”
Param looked to Veda for her consent, and she nodded, curiosity getting the better of her. True to his word, Virat pulled out his Aadhar card and his phone, handing both to her. The picture looked to be one of Agastya and him as teenagers.
“Swipe through,” he offered.
She did, getting a glimpse of her husband from puberty to now. He’d done some smiling in his younger days, the smiles getting briefer and then finally disappearing as he aged into the Grinch he now was.
“Call Harsh,” Virat said now. “Verify who I am.”
“Why?” Veda was still staring at a picture of Agastya in basketball shorts. He had played basketball apparently. It should have been distressing how little she knew of her husband and yet, all she felt in that moment was grateful for this glimpse into his life.
“Because it’s very important that I speak to you Mrs. Kodela,” he said gently.
“Veda,” she corrected, handing his phone back to him.
He looked disappointed as he took it from her.
“My phone Param.” Veda held her hand out. A small smile touched Virat’s lips as she dialled Harsh’s number.
“Akka?” Harsha sounded excited to hear from her. But then Harsh always sounded excited with life. She wondered if his enthusiasm ever exhausted him.
“There’s a man here-“ she began.
“Virat,” Harsh interrupted. “Yes. You need to talk to him.”
“Why?”
“He’s Anna’s person.”
Agastya’s fixer. Veda’s gaze went to Virat who was standing there and trying to blend into the background like a lion in a field of mice.
“Does Agastya know about this conversation?” She directed the question at both men, the one on the phone and the one in front of her.
“No,” Harsh said as Virat shook his head.
Veda took another deep breath. This wasn’t anything good then.
“Okay,” she told Virat. “Come with me.”
He followed her deeper into the warren of corridors that led to the room allotted to her. Virat eyed the faded paint, decaying wooden door and the patches of mould.
“Did you bring me here to kill me?” he asked, not crossing the threshold.
