Page 22 of Red Flags and Rishtas
My own to-do list was tackled smoothly, except for one minor roadblock. Stellar Spirit’s team had taken one look at the guest list and singled out the influencer with the most followers, Kiara Gupta (@iamkiki). They insisted on her being one of the guaranteed promoters of our barter deal. I knew better than to promise a particular influencer or celebrity to a brand because there was no way I could be sure I’d be able to deliver on it. There were multiple things that could go wrong – influencers could refuse to endorse a brand for free, even in an editorial setting like ours, or worse, simply not show up. After all, there was no contract holding them responsible. They were just guests, coming to partake in a mutually appreciative social media parade.
But Aadar’s emails, which on the surface were completely respectful, seemed to be taunting me. When I informed him that I couldn’t ensure which influencers posed at their bar, he wrote to me saying, ‘We expect someone of your skill and experiencewill be able to manage a social media celebrity perfectly well.’ And so, like a complete unthinking idiot, I told him I’d manage it perfectly well all right.
We continued to exchange emails as we inched closer to the event but made no reference to the evening we’d spent together at Le Claude, which, honestly, is how I preferred it. That meal had definitely been a grey area in our professional relationship. It was better if his presence was limited to this email chat box. But our days of exchanging virtual niceties were limited.
The night of the event rolled in sooner than I’d imagined. Buried under Ryan’s and my own work, I barely realised where the time went.
‘Is he going to be there tonight?’ asked Vrinda, my date for the night, as she carefully tucked her dress inside the backseat of my father’s car.
‘He who?’ Dad asked, adjusting the rear-view mirror.
‘Nobody,’ I said, throwing her a look.
Oops, she mouthed.
I hadn’t told my parents about my continued interaction with the match they’d found for me, for fear that they would believe it was voluntary, or worse, destiny. They’d been bummed when I’d told them Aadar and I had no interest in each other but had agreed to not set me up with any new men, at least for the time being.
‘You look great, don’t worry,’ V whispered to me after my dad had dropped us off in front of Le Claude.
I’d been buttoning and unbuttoning my suit jacket repeatedly for the past hour, unable to decide which made me look cooler.
‘Did you forget that my mom said I looked like your chauffeur?’ I said, pointing to V’s black mesh gown, which had a plunging neckline. She looked like a celebrity and to be honest, a teeny tiny part of me felt like she had one-upped me at my own event.
She waved me away with apfftand said, ‘I’m the basic bitch at any party. But you,’ she paused to give me a once-over and whistled dramatically, ‘you’re rocking that power suit.’
I scolded myself internally, swallowing any envy I may have felt for my best friend. Linking my arm through hers, I stepped onto the sidewalk.
The launch wasn’t scheduled to begin until 7:00 p.m., which meant it would be at least an hour before the street Le Claude was on started looking crowded. The restaurant had a valet service to make up for the complete lack of parking space in the busy neighbourhood of Defence Colony. I could only hope that it’d be enough.
‘Shall we?’ Vrinda asked, stepping aside as the bouncer held the door open for us.
The alley looked better than I’d hoped. The hanging lanterns awarded it the perfect lighting for a photo booth, and V was determined to try it out.
‘Come on, it’ll be like a prom photo,’ she insisted, dragging me in front of the photographer.
Alex, our editorial photographer, was happy to have his first subjects for the evening.
‘You guys look great,’ he said, then pointed to the small table to our right. ‘Can I interest you in some props?’
‘Ooooooh cute!’ V said as she picked up a tiny, frilled umbrella, ‘I feel like I’m in Pahree.’
‘Your French accent is truly heinous,’ I said with a laugh and crowned my head with a knitted beret.
Our little moment was interrupted by my boss, who looked stunning in an emerald-green evening gown and diamond danglers. I didn’t get to tell her any of that, because she refused to waste a second on customary compliments and jumped straight to talking shop. One of the interns had broken the office iPhone, the DJ was running late, the backup for the DJ wasa no-show and Ryan needed help with something she couldn’t remember.
I stood there waiting to see if there was more, but she gave me a look that screamed ‘chop chop’.
‘Can I help?’ V asked as we walked over to the main area.
I looked around. The space seemed smaller now that a rose gold luxury sedan sat right in the middle of it. But Le Claude’s interiors complemented the personality of the car perfectly, casting a golden glow on and around it.
‘Mmm, why don’t you get yourself a drink? I’ll join you once things kick off,’ I said and showed my friend to the bar after doing a double scan for Aadar and coming up empty.
For a second, I let myself dream about the possibility of him bailing. Then, I was sucked into an intern briefing huddle and had to shove him out of my head. The intern who’d been with us the longest, Rajat, got the enviable job of escorting Kiara Gupta throughout the night. The others were to do what they did best – take boomerangs, slow-mos and fake candid shots of anyone and everyone who mattered.
I floated through the room, supervising my team and interacting with familiar faces from the office. Since this was a branded event, the editorial team was not required to show up. Nevertheless, a few had decided to make an appearance, no doubt to enjoy a night of free food and booze. Hina, the junior copywriter, was one of them. She’d even brought a plus one.
‘Oh my God, I love your suit,’ she said, her voice strangely high-pitched.
