Shubman sat on the sofa while Darshan stood nearby, tapping on his tablet, ready to provide information about Ishan.
"He is 26 years old."
"What's his name?" Shubman's question made Darshan look away from the tablet.
"Oh, great. You practically kidnapped him last night, drove him to his house today, and you don't know his name?" Honestly, Darshan didn't expect any better from him.
Shubman glared at him, ignoring the sarcasm, and Darshan refocused on the tablet.
"Ishan, Ishan Kishan." Finally, the boy Shubman found drunk and sitting on the couch in a bar, who caught Shubman's attention at first glance, had a name now and that is 'Ishan'.
"I-S-H-A-N," Shubman said, stretching each syllable, savoring the name on his lips. "I like it."
"Of course you do," Darshan rolled his eyes and continued, "He is a well-known artist."
"Artist? Interesting."
"His father, Mr. Prashant Kishan, is the owner of Kishan Enterprises"
"The one we have done business with, in the past?" Shubman asked.
"Yes. But the information I got indicates that he doesn't have a good relationship with his father." Shubman was listening keenly, of course he was.
"His parents got divorced when he was quite young. Although he was closer to his mother, his father was able to get custody of him. His father wanted him to become the heir of Kishan Enterprises, but Ishan never had any interest in business. Once he turned legal age, he moved out of his father's house and started living on his own. Because his art was quite fantastic, he never lacked opportunities."
Darshan proceeded to share more information about Ishan's career and achievements.
"But there is something missing. It seems like he likes to keep his private life very private because I couldn't get hold of any personal information about him."
"That's enough information for now," Shubman said.
Darshan put down his tablet and sat on the opposite side of the sofa. "Do you know how painstaking it was to get this information out? Huh?"
Ignoring Darshan's whining, Shubman asked, "Where can I find him next?"
"Huh?"
"What is his next engagement?" Shubman queried.
Darshan sighed. He saw this question coming and had already done his research. "He is now in a contract with Malhotra Enterprises. He is doing an art gallery collaboration with them," Darshan said, loosening his tie and thinking that his work for the day was done. "They are throwing a networking party, and he is also invited."
Shubman's eyes darted towards Darshan, and he deadpanned, "Get the invitation to this party."
Darshan thought he misheard Shubman and asked, "Sorry?"
"You heard me," Shubman said nonchalantly.
Darshan sat up straight, looking at shubman with bewildered expression, "what do you mean, 'gEt tHe InviTaTiOn tO ThiS PaRty'" he said mimicking shubman's commanding voice.
Shubman gave him an expression that basically translated into : It means exactly what it means.
"So," Darshan said, holding one hand in the air to make a gesture, "you," he pointed towards Shubman, "want me to get an invitation to this party that Ishan may or may not attend?"
Shubman nodded slightly.
Darshan scoffed laugh, "Haah, so you want me to go bang on their doors and say, 'Hey, I know we don't know each other, but this six-foot weirdo wants an invitation to your networking party. Why? Because he's obsessed with this artist your company is collaborating with.'" He finished, throwing a dirty look at Shubman.
In an amused tone, Shubman spoke, "Why are you such a drama queen, Darsh?"
Darshan sucked in a sharp breath, trying to control himself before he said something unkind. With gritted teeth, he asked, "How are we supposed to get an invitation to that party when we don't have any business with them?" His quota of patience for the day was exhausting rapidly.
Shubman tapped his fingers on the glass table in the middle, contemplating an idea. "Sign some kind of deal with them."
"Huh?" Darshan narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah, we can offer them a tempting deal."
"This party is in two days. Will we be able to get them to sign the deal?" Darshan asked, now serious.
With a smug expression, Shubman replied, "I think I can."
_________
The first thing Ishan did after reaching his home was lock all the doors and windows. He then proceeded to take a long, warm shower, which he really needed given his hangover.
Ishan sat in his living room, sipping his coffee, his mind replaying today's events: finding himself in a completely different place, that tall guy whose name he still didn't know forcing him to drink a hangover remedy, and then driving him home.
And let's not forget the fact that this guy already knew where Ishan lived. He had been following Ishan for a few days. Ishan had felt like someone was watching him but had shrugged off the thought.
It turned out it wasn't just a mere thought but was very real. Someone was following him and had also "kidnapped" him - well, if you could call it that. What Shubman did was far from kidnapping, he just let a drunken, unconscious Ishan stay at his mansion. How kind of him, right?
One more thing was on Ishan's mind: how much he was bothered by the proximity of that tall man. He was not going to think about it, okay? Okay.
Ishan was confused. He didn't know what to do. Should he just let this go? Or inform the police that he was being stalked? But then, would informing the police be enough? Shubman seemed like someone who had power even over the police and other authorities.
Pushing all these thoughts aside, he made his way towards his home studio. There were a few paintings that required more detailing. He wasn't in the mood to paint something new, so he decided to complete those that didn't require much thought.
After a while, when he was done, he set the paintings aside and was about to leave the studio when he noticed a canvas. The easel was turned towards the wall, so he couldn't see what was on it. When he turned the easel, he saw the same pair of eyes he had drawn a few days back. The eyes that he knew more closely now. The eyes he saw this morning. And now, looking at them, Ishan felt a tug at his heart. He noticed that he hadn't done complete justice in drawing them.
Then came a mental slap - why was he thinking of adding more realism to that painting? For God's sake, those eyes belonged to his stalker. Ishan really needed to get a grip on himself.
But then another thought jumped in. No one would know about this. He could add more details to the painting and then just abandon it in the storeroom or somewhere else. But for now, he wanted to indulge in the guilty pleasure of completing that painting of those beautiful eyes.
He took his time adding more nuance to the painting.
When he was done, he stood a few steps back, folding his hands as he analyzed the painting. It was a hyper-realistic painting that covered the breadth of the canvas. And Ishan was satisfied with the end result.
A little smile played on his lips for a brief moment, and then it was gone.
'What the fuck,' his sane self screamed.
~~~
If a reel comes to my feed that is not related to the T20 World Cup win, I am skipping it at the speed of light.
Don't want to come down from this high.
