The Client

chapter 4

I started coughing up the food in my mouth. My mind was reeling.

"Ma'am, are you fine?" The waiter rushed to my side and poured me a glass of water.

Gulping two mouthfuls, I tried to process the information.

"Are you talking about that tall man with the dragon tattoo?"

"Yes, ma'am," he confirmed it, taking the glass back from my hand.

"And he's the vice-captain of the Indian Cricket Team?" my mouth hung with my lips slightly parted and my eyes were as wide as they could stretch.

"Yes. Did you not know?"

"Uh, what, no. Of course I did." I lied, stuffing down another piece of aloo paratha down my throat. I didn't want to look like I'm dumb.

"Thank you, Ma'am, I'll take a leave."

"Please close the door on your way out," I added.

Why did Reena not mention this? He was stinking rich. He wore the Indian jersey too. Damn, I would have looked like an idiot when I was laughing at it. He did say women threw themselves at his feet for fame and money. He urged me to ask him for his name. Probably he had thought I would also throw myself at his feet when I knew who he was. It all clearly made sense now. Though I wasn't really happy about knowing the identity of a client I was going to sleep with for the second time, it didn't make much of a difference.

After pushing the food down into my system, I strolled to the clothing store downstairs to buy something I could wear today considering I didn't have any spare clothes. Thanks to Reena who didn't care to inform me of my extended stay.

The store was perfumed and air-conditioned. I stepped inside, holding my hands out to the petals raining down from the clear ceiling. They were virtual, of course, they were.

In a second I was basked in the attention of the sales staff, "Ma'am, how can I help you?" she offered.

My eyes scanned the place. There were messages and carefully styled images to seduce consumers in those places of the store wherever their eyes may fall. There was everything I wanted and very little I needed. You have a place in this store only if you have the money for it.

"I was just looking for something basic," I said.

"Sure, let me help you," she guided me to an array of tops, tunics, tees, crop tops, pullovers, kimonos, jumpsuits, maxis, minis and more. It was a list that would never end. I pawed over different fabrics and textures.

After an hour of trying out various clothes, I picked out a printed above knee length dress with pink and baby-blue flowers. I would have preferred the big red roses or the orange dahlias: this dress made me look like an expanse of wallpaper. But I wanted something inexpensive. I was just going to be lazing around in the room, I wouldn't need something that would cost my arm.

"I'll take this," I told the woman who was helping me out.

She scanned the clothes and then looked at me, as though I had a bad fashion sense. Probably I did. I don't know.

"Anything else?" She asked.

"No, that should be it."

"Okay." She lead me to the billing.

"Uh, excuse me?" I stopped her.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm with Abhimanyu Raghavan," I said.

"Oh, okay. No problem," she said, packing the clothes for me and offering me my bag.

"Thank you for shopping with us," she flashed her flossed teeth. That's probably as fake as her smile could get.