Page 127 of Tiger's Curse
I followed him to Nilima’s room, where he opened her closet and pulled out a pair of golden sandals. They were a little big, but I laced them tight and they worked fine. Mr. Kadam offered me his arm.
“Wait just a second. I forgot something.” I ran back to my room and grabbed my dupatta scarf, wrapping it around my shoulders.
He smiled at me and offered his arm again. We walked outside to the front drive where I expected to see the Jeep, but parked there instead was a glossy platinum Rolls-Royce Phantom. He held the door open for me as I sank into a luxurious smoke-gray leather interior.
“Whose car is this?” I asked, rubbing my hand across the polished dashboard.
“Oh, this? This, is my car.” Mr. Kadam beamed with obvious love and pride for his vehicle. “Most cars in India are very small and economical. In fact, only about one percent of the population owns a car. When you compare automobiles of India to American vehicles . . .”
He rattled off several more automobile facts before turning the key while I grinned and sank back in my seat listening with rapt attention.
When he finally started the car, the engine didn’t roar to life, it purred.Very nice.
“Kishan is on his way down, and Ren . . . has opted not to come.”
“I see.”
I should have been glad, but I was surprisingly disappointed. I knew it was better if we didn’t spend time together until this crush, or whatever it was, went away, and he was probably just honoring my wish to not see him, but there was still a part of me that wanted to be with him at least this one last time.
I bit back my emotion and smiled at Mr. Kadam. “That’s okay. We’ll still have fun without him.”
Kishan darted out the door. He wore a lightweight burgundy V-neck sweater over pressed khaki slacks. His hair had been trimmed to a shorter length and was cut in angled, choppy layers that had been styled to give him a dramatic fall-in-your-face Hollywood look. The thin sweater showed off his muscular build. He looked very handsome.
He opened the back door to the car and hopped in. “Sorry I took so long.”
He leaned up between the front seats. “Hey, Kelsey, did you miss—” He whistled. “Wow, Kelsey! You look amazing! I’m going to have to beat the other guys off with a stick!”
I blushed. “Please. You won’t even be able to get near me what with the crowds of women that will be surrounding you.”
He grinned at me and leaned back in his seat. “I’m glad Ren decided to back out. More of you for me that way.”
“Hmm.” I turned around in my seat and buckled the seatbelt.
We pulled up outside a nice restaurant with an outdoor wraparound porch, and Kishan rushed forward to open the door for me. He offered me his arm while smiling at me disarmingly. I laughed and took it, determined to enjoy my evening.
We were seated at a table in the back of the place. The waitress came by, and I took the liberty of selecting cherry colas for me and Kishan. He seemed happy to let me make suggestions of food choices for him.
We had a fun time looking through the menu together. He asked me what my favorite foods were and what he should try. He translated what the menu said, and I offered my opinions. Mr. Kadam ordered some herbal tea and sat quietly, sipping it as he listened to our discussion. After we ordered our food, we sat back and watched couples swaying on the dance floor.
The music was soft and slow, timeless classics, but in a different language. I let melancholy sweep over me and fell quiet. When the food arrived, Kishan dug into it with relish and then happily finished mine when I gave up trying to eat. He seemed fascinated with everything— the people, the language, the music, and especially the food. He asked Mr. Kadam thousands of questions like “How do I pay?” “Where did the money come from?” “How much money do I give the server?”
I listened and smiled, but my thoughts were far away. Once our plates were taken away we sipped refills of our drinks and watched the people around us.
Mr. Kadam cleared his throat. “Miss Kelsey, may I have this dance?”
He stood up and held out his arm. His eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling at me. I looked up at him with my own watery smile and thought about how much I would miss this kind man.
“Of course you may, kind sir.”
He patted my hand on his arm and led me to the dance floor. He was a very good dancer. I’d only danced with high school boys at dances before, and they usually just moved in a circle until the song was over. It was nothing interesting or exciting, but dancing with Mr. Kadam was much more exhilarating. He led me all around the dance floor spinning me in circles that made my skirt fan out. I laughed and enjoyed my time with him. He twirled me out and then brought me back deftly each time. His skill made me feel like I was a good dancer.
When the song was over, we walked back to the table. Mr. Kadam acted as if he was old and winded, but I was actually the one breathing hard. Kishan was thumping the floor impatiently with his foot, and as soon as we returned, he immediately stood up, grabbed my hands, and led me back out to the dance floor.
This time, the song was faster. Kishan seemed to be a quick-study as he carefully watched and copied the moves of the other dancers on the floor. He had good rhythm, but he was trying too hard to look natural. We had a good time, though, and I laughed through the entire song.
The next song was a slow love song, and I started to walk back to our table, but Kishan grabbed my hand and said, “Wait a minute, Kelsey. I want to try this.”
He watched another couple near us for a few seconds; then, he placed my arms around his neck while he encircled my waist with his. He kept his eyes on the other couples for only a few more seconds and then looked at me with a rakish smile.
