Chapter Twenty
Zoya hoped Asad would realize she was worth any risk, that she offered happiness rather than gloom, but he was a man, and that particular species could be as dumb as a box of rocks. So, of course he never came to the RV, and by the evening, she was forced to pack her meager belongings.
She prayed he needed more time, even daydreamed about him showing up after she secured a room at the Ratibad Inn"for double the usual rate, since the owner hated her and apparently had a "bitch" fee"but he never did that, either.
In the ensuing days, she left her room only to apply for jobs. Bake n Shake and Farmer's Market "both of which had advertised for help"had turned her down flat.
As the days continued to pass, her savings began to dwindle. She realized she had a choice to make. Stay another week at the inn, without food, before finding a new place to set up camp, or find a new place to set up camp now and eat for a few more weeks. She opted for the latter and finally found a place on Mr. Kapoor's two-hundred-and-fifty-acre ranch.
She had to spend precious money buying a new tent, which sucked because sleeping on the hard nylon floor after basking in the decadence of the RV for so long truly drove home the depths to which she'd fallen from grace. Once again she had to boil pond water to drink and wash with an outdoor hose.
But really, the times she would spot Asad in town with a beautiful woman on his arm, and he would look right through her, those were the times that hurt most. He'd written her out of his life completely. Just. Like. That.
If he could dismiss her so easily, she was better off without him... And yet still she cried herself to sleep every night. And when a cold front blustered in, her tears actually froze on her cheeks. She ended up spending the rest of her earnings on a sleeping bag, a wool coat and flannel socks.
If she wanted to eat again, she'd have to find a job, and fast, but only one other place was hiring. The inn she'd vacated needed another maid. Would Tara, the owner, be willing to give her a chance?
Zoya made the hour-long walk to Main Street, noting multiple signs and posters for the upcoming Ratibad Winter Festival. Soon the entire town would be partying and celebrating with their friends and families. Booths would be erected, each one decorated with some type of theme. Games would be played, food would be sold and devoured. She wondered if Asad would bring a date, maybe even win the stupid woman a stupid stuffed teddy bear.
Tears filled Zoya's eyes.
And, oh, crap! There were Priya and Khushi, out delivering breakfast sandwiches to the locals. Her stomach performed eager, hungry flips, paining her. She hid herself into a shadowed alley.
The girls had been asking about her from everyone but she wasn't ready to talk to them. Maybe they'd curse her, maybe they'd support her. Either way, she was still too raw to deal.
She wished she could pour her emotions into her art, but she'd left her paints behind.
A waft of smoke billowed in her direction and tickled her throat. Coughing, she turned and met the gaze of Vineet, who was in the process of stubbing out his cigarette.
"Zoya Faaruqui," he said with a nod.
"Vineet. Uh, hi." The last time she'd seen him, she'd been a drunken mess. "You're looking well."
He didn't offer the requisite "You, too," even though it would have been polite. And she wasn't hurt by that. Not anymore. Because of Asad, she'd been introduced to true pain. A snub like this? Not even a blip.
Though Vineet had been in town for several weeks, he'd continued to cut his dark hair military-short, and even in the shadows his features appeared chiseled from stone. His shoulders were broad, his chest ripped underneath the tightness of his shirt, and he had several tattoos peeking out from the sleeves.
"Look, I'm glad I ran into you," she said. "I'd like to apologize for my behavior as a kid. You were"are"a beautiful human being, and I had no right to say otherwise." He'd had a problem with acne, but who hadn't back then? "It's not like I'm perfect or have any right to judge. You should see my chest. I have so many scars I make Frankenstein look pretty."
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sure. I'll take a look at your chest."
She sputtered, and a smile teased the corners of his mouth.
"You finally score that Asad guy or what?"
"Yeah, I did, but it didn't do me any good." Did Vineet actually care or was he asking because he'd heard about Khushi's night with Asad? "I didn't steal him from Khushi, if that's what you're implying. They were already over when I met him."
He went still. "What do you mean? Did she date him?"
Oh, crap. No one had told him? "I'm, uh, not going to comment. Khushi is my friend, she's said so a couple of times now, and"" Crap, crap, crap. His expression was only growing darker.
"You'll have to excuse me." He stormed away.
What have I done?
She wanted so badly to call Khushi, but she'd left her phone in the RV, knowing she wouldn't be able to afford the monthly payments. A quick peek revealed that Khushi and Priya were gone. Dang it! She raced to the inn.
Tara, an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair, brown eyes and the lined skin of someone who'd lived a happy life, managed the counter.
She noticed Zoya and scowled, saying into the"
"phone, "Let me call you back after I've taken care of a sudden cockroach problem." She slammed the phone into the receiver. "I thought we'd gotten rid of you."
"I need to borrow your phone. Please."
"Sorry, but it's out of order."
"You were just using it."
"And it just broke."
Zoya shifted from one sandaled foot to the other, frantic, looking for help. But the only other person in sight was Tara's youngest daughter, Jiya, who hadn't stopped flipping the pages of her magazine.
While the youngish Jiya hadn't been a victim of Zoya the Bully, her older sister, Mita, had. Tara had clearly not forgotten all the times Mita had come home sobbing because of something Zoya had said.
Guilt stabbed at her. But dang it, she had paid for her crimes a thousand times over in the past two weeks alone.
"Fine," Zoya said. "If you won't let me use the phone, will you give me a job?"
"A job? For you?"
"I'll work hard and never cause any trouble."
Tara snorted.
"I'll work for less money than anyone else."
Finally. Interest. Smiling with glee, Tara abandoned the counter to walk a circle around Zoya. "Well, well. Look at you, desperate enough to scrub my toilets. Even though you once called this inn, my home, a dump of the lowest order."
Zoya could feel herself caving in, her shoulders slumping, her head bowing. "I was wrong." The place rocked, reminding her of home.
"Well, before I agree to sign you on, you're gonna have to show me you've got what it takes to work here." Delight colored her tone, sending a cold chill down Zoya's spine.
She took heart, however. This was the furthest she'd come in the "interview" process.
"Come on. There are thirty rooms," Tara said, leading her through multiple hallways, portraits of flowers hanging in every direction. They came to an open door, a cleaning cart in front of it. "If I decide to give you a chance, you'll be responsible for every single room, every day. Guest or no guest."
"Momma?" The voice drifted past the door frame.
Zoya tensed as Mita entered her line of sight. A bit on the short side and a little plump, she looked like a child's doll with her dark corkscrew curls and freckled skin. She'd registered on Zoya's radar when she'd aced a test Zoya had failed. For that, I called her hateful names and ensured everyone in school treated her like an outcast.
Mita's gaze landed on Zoya and narrowed. "How dare you show up here. Get out!"
"I'm sorry," she said, a lump growing in her throat. "I'm sorry for everything I did to you when we were teenagers."
"Watch me as I don't believe you. The day you were born, the devil crapped his pants, knowing he'd finally met his greatest competition." Mita focused on her mother. "Why is she here?"
"Zoya came begging for a job," Tara said, her glee escalating. "You, of course, will be her boss, and if she doesn't meet your high standards, you can kick her out."
Mita opened her mouth, closed it with a snap. "Fine."
The two weren't going to give her a chance, were they? No matter how good a job Zoya did, she would be found lacking. Well, no matter. She would suck it up. Maybe she'd earn a few bucks in the process."
"Have fun, you two. Or not." Tara left them to their duties.
"I need to make a call. I'll be quick." Zoya rushed to the phone on the desk.
"Slacking already," Mita said, her anger only intensifying.
Voice mail picked up. "Khushi, it's Zoya. I ran into Vineet and I'm so, so sorry, but I mentioned you'd once dated Asad and he acted like he didn't know, and I'm sorry."
Mita snatched the phone and slammed it into the reciever. "One more infraction like that and you're fired."
"You're right," she said. "Put me to work. I'll do whatever you say."
"Oh, I'll put you to work, all right."
And she did. The girl directed Zoya like a plow horse, harsh words her whip.
By the end of the day, Zoya's pride stung"nothing new there"and her body ached, muscles she hadn't even known she possessed now heavy and shaky.
"You did okay today," Mita said, folding towels and stacking them on the cart for tomorrow.
They were in the laundry room, the air pungent with the scent of cleaners and disinfectants. "I'm not going to fire you."
Shock swept through Zoya, nearly knocking her off her feet. "Really?"
"Is this the part where you ask for preferential treatment?"
"No. Of course not! But...does the job happen to come with free room and board?"
Mita snorted, and Zoya took that as a no way in hell. "We start at six a.m. Don't be late."
"I won't." Zoya hesitated in the doorway. "I meant what I said. I really am sorry for everything I""
"Don't," Mita snapped. "Save your apologies for someone who cares. We were kids. I'm over it."
No. No, she wasn't even close to over it.
Zoya sighed, wondering what kind of life Mita had led. If she was married with kids, involved or single. The gossip train so rarely mentioned her. But now wasn't the time to ask. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Zoya spent the rest of the evening moving her camping gear to a piece of land owned by Ratibad Valley Community Center, as close to the center of town as possible so she could make her early-morning shifts. She did her best not to think about Asad"what he was doing... Who he was doing it with.
In the middle of the night, however, while the locusts sang and the crickets chirped, serenading her as she shivered from cold, she couldn't help but crave his arms around her.
Fought a war, lost"and in turn lost the most important part of my life.
This was her new reality. Working, camping. Wishing Asad were with her, missing him with every fiber of her being, wanting to hate him, wanting to rant and rail at him for not realizing relationships could be a blessing, a gift, then wanting to scream at him for letting her go.
* * *
The next morning, Zoya made it to the inn with fifteen minutes to spare. Her eyes burned; they were dry, probably swollen from her tears and definitely gritty with fatigue. Her hair was a mess, her clothes dirty.
Mita was already in the storeroom. She took one look at Zoya and tossed her a pair of scrubs. "Your uniform."
Good morning to you, too. "Is there a place I can shower first?"
Mita pointed to the right. "The employee bathroom has a stall. And we'll be sure to deduct the hot water from your check."
Of course.
By the time Zoya showered, changed and appointed herself a locker, Mita had the first room halfway cleaned. They worked alongside each other for one hour"two"not a single word spoken.
Finally, as Zoya stuffed a pillow inside a new case, she said, "Are you married?"
"Why? Are you hoping to steal my husband?"
Okay. No small talk. Noted.
Another hour passed. Mita left for lunch. Zoya hadn't brought any food and had no extra cash to buy anything so she just kept working. Her stomach growled, remembering the sandwiches, pies and peppers Priya had once made her.
I miss that girl so bad. Even now, Zoya could hear Priya's musical laugh. Wait. Hear? She peeked her head out of the room to see the petite woman striding down the hallway, carrying what looked to be a delicious dish, Tara keeping pace beside her.
Pride urged her to hide"Can't let her see me like this. But pride was nothing more than a fear of being found lacking, and if her time with Asad had taught her anything, it was the pitfalls of succumbing to fear.
She was done hiding. She had a life to live, and she was going to live it. Priya spotted her and smiled"a genuine smile"and Zoya released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.
"Thank you for walking me to my room, Tara," Priya said.
"It's just one of the many services I offer here at the Ratibad Inn." Smug, Tara added, "Speaking of services, we now offer a new one. Our most elite customers will be allowed to watch Miss Faaruqui clean their room."
Well, well. Even better.
"What an amazing reward package," Priya said. "I'm absolutely going to take you up on it, so, if you'll excuse us." She entered the room and shut the door in Tara's face.
"How did you find me?" Zoya asked.
"I've had my ear to the ground. Yesterday Mr. Kapoor spotted you heading into the inn, so he made sure to have a nice long chat-up with Tara. He found out you'd accepted a job and called me."
"Does Asad know?"
"No. Word hasn't reached him. Yet."
Tara hadn't done much gossiping, then. She was probably as embarrassed by Zoya's presence as she was gleeful. "I'd like to keep it secret as long as possible."
"In a town this size, as long as possible usually only equals an hour, but maybe this will help the showdown sure to come." Priya held out the plastic container. "My famous blueberry pie."
"For me?" Zoya thumped her chest, just to be sure.
"And anyone you'd like to share it with."
She grabbed the pie and hurried to the couch. She removed the lid and the fork taped to the top. "You might want to look away," she said, digging in. The sweetness of berries hit her taste buds, and she closed her eyes to savor.
Priya sat on the coffee table. "Khushi wants you to know Vineet broke things off with her, but you aren't at fault and she's not upset."
Her enjoyment collapsed.
"It's really not your fault," Priya insisted. "He didn't like that she was still in touch with Asad"
"Zoya set what little remained of the pie aside. "Did she cry?"
"No, she rallied. She's got a date with Armaan tonight. But enough about my sister. Asad is miserable, you know."
Hope quickly coincided into despair. "I don't want to talk about him." But...maybe she should. She was still raw, yes, but she needed help.
"I'm not leaving until I know what happened. I came here willing to bribe you. You can't deny you've accepted that bribe, it's smeared all over your face, so start talking or I'm taking that blueberry pie right out of your stomach."
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