Page 17 of Even If the Sky is Falling
But if Tarek was estranged from his parents, then that made being stuck with him so much easier. She couldn’t exactly hate him for his father’s actions if he wasn’t even speaking to his father anymore. Really, the only thing to dislike the man for was his refusal to stop selling his tikka sauce.
And...they were literally in the middle of a disaster right now, and Maya needed to get through however long it took until the three tones went off. What if she just...ignored the fact that they were rivals? Didn’t think or talk about the sandwich or sauce?
The cat rubbed up against her leg. “Percy’s done,” she said. And at that moment, maybe because she was used to having her own dinner after feeding her cat, Tatcha, Maya’s stomach growled loudly.
Tarek chuckled. “Hungry?”
Maya nodded. “My mom packed me a dinner, but it’s in my van.”
He grinned. “Any chance I could finally try the famous Masala Girls sandwich?”
Maya frowned, not loving the idea of eating the sandwich that was stressing her out so much.
“I have an idea,” Tarek said. “Let’s feed each other. I’ll make you dinner from my truck, and you make me your sandwich.”
Maya was hungry, and she was curious about Curry Junction, so she agreed. Maybe if he tasted how great her sandwich was, it would encourage him to stop selling his.
“This is such an adorable little shop,” he said, while Maya grilled the marinated paneer on her little countertop grill. “I love your logo.”
“Thanks. My sister made it. She’s a graphic designer.”
He nodded, impressed. “So, she’s one of the Masala Girls?”
Maya shook her head. “No, right now it’s just me. My friend Radha helps.”
Tarek frowned. “Why is your name plural then?”
Maya narrowed her eyes. “Um, it’s a play on the Spice Girls?”
“Do people call you Baby Spice?”
“Yes. Creepy old men.”
He laughed. While she split a Portuguese roll, he explored the booth, investigating bags of spices and gleaming stainless masala dabbas.
“These are your dad’s blends, right?”
“Most of them. Some are mine.”
Tarek smiled. “I remember back when our dads used to cook together, your father used to roast and grind spices fresh.”
Maya nodded. She remembered, too. Dad and Tarek’s dad used to make the same dish over and over again until they got it just right. It was weird that the same memory lived in Tarek’s brain. Maybe it was impossible to ignore their connection.
The paneer was perfectly blackened by now, so she slathered the bun with green chutney and her creamy raita sauce, then put two pieces of the cheese on it. She finished with a few pickled onions, fresh cilantro and a little extra tikka sauce. She put the sandwich on a plate in front of Tarek. “Voila. Thebesttikka sandwich in Verona County.”
He laughed. “This looks delicious.”
“Try it,” she said, even though she was weirdly nervous about him tasting it.
He took a bite, licking the chutney when it slid onto his fingers. He had no expression as he chewed, and Maya honestly had no idea what he was thinking.
“So?” she asked.
“You reallyarethe Masala Girl. Don’t share that crown with anyone. This is amazing, Maya.”
“Really?”
“Totally. Your marinade...fresh spices and actual heat! Great choice of bun. And your toppings are perfect.” He looked at her. “I’m impressed. Actually, I’m a little nervous about cooking for you now.”
