[This chapter isn't proof read; advance apologies for errors]
It was a glorious Saturday. The sun was warm, flowers had bloomed, birds were chirping and like a ten year old refusing to do homework, he was skiving off reading a three hundred page report on his engineering division and playing Assassins Creed. He was a morning person and he believed that starting the game early in the morning gave an added advantage of using the fresh mind. He had switched off his phone just so that the game got his complete attention and threatened everyone in home to leave him alone unless he called them specifically. Naani had huffed and puffed; he ignored his sister's puppy dog eyes and felt glorified in his brother-in-law's eyes longing for a game marathon. But it seemed like someone tried to defy him.
He put down the gaming console when the incessant knock on the door drove him batty. He opened the door with a scowl on his face to find…Khushi on the floor picking some files.
"I told everyone not to disturb me today. Didn't anyone tell you?" Arnav whined, hands on hips.
"Okay, this is weird." Khushi said looking at Arnav's legs. Arnav had chosen to wear knee length shorts instead of regular sweats and wore with huge bunny rabbit slippers which Naani gave him as a joke. They were comfy pair and he wore them in the privacy of his bedroom. Had he known the lunatic would make an appearance, he would have worn his signature three piece suit.
"The slippers are awesome, just how I am." He said unnecessarily.
"Oh, not that," she said standing straight but still looking down. "You have nice legs." She said sincerely. "How come I've never seen your legs before?"
Arnav blinked couple of times and sighed.
"What can I say Khushi? My mother advised me to always keep my pants on." He said snidely.
"That's a good piece of advice sir." She said seriously.
"What do you want? I am busy." He took a step forward hoping that she would take a step backward but the girl had found her footing. "Go away." He decided to let her be instead of begging…err…asking her to go.
"I have come here to prep you for tonight's operation sir." She said seriously.
"Am I having a surgery?" He asked, surprised. Did his last doctor's visit advise him on something?
"Are you sick and having some problems?" Khushi asked.
"Am I sick and did doctor tell me about some operation I have to undergo?" He asked confused. It was a miracle he could actually sign his name let alone run a company because right now he thought his IQ was somewhere around fifty.
Khushi had the gall to laugh at him. "Not that kind of operation sir. It's like military one. You have a date tonight."
Arnav sighed and promptly shut the door on her face making her yelp at the suddenness of it.
But when Khushi was in mood to nag him, it was a lost cause. He opened the door ten minutes later after she knocked three hundred and eleven times and called him with sickening endearments. He had lost it when she called him Arnie-Poo.
Khushi was disturbingly comfortable in his room. The way she moved around his room knowing where everything was kept gave him nausea.
'That's not nausea, you stupid moron. That's butterflies in stomach. I set them free for your idiotic heart to realize that it is crushing on the lunatic. I am also making bright red neon sighs just so that you misinterpret as nausea and take copious amount of unnecessary medication…' His hyperactive, overworked cynical subconscious was back online and like always, it chose the most inappropriate time to do so. 'Or I can give a heart attack but nah, too much work for me later.'
"Go away." He sent a glare [yes, one could totally do it by asking conscious to conjure one up and shove it down subconscious throat].
"So, here is the thing, you will need protection tonight." She said in all seriousness.
"I am not carrying condom in my pocket during a date." He said hotly, blush creeping his neck and covering his cheeks. Khushi had turned scarlet and looked at him weirdly.
"Why the hell would you want to carry that?" She all but screeched.
He gaped at her. "To make balloon animals." He replied calmly before yelling, "Why do you think?"
Khushi's eyes widened. "Ewww…." She scrunched up her nose. "I meant protection like security sir. Not that kind of protection." She flailed her arms around her and bounced on her feet.
He suddenly felt ill and wanted to sit down or go back to sleep. Maybe then this humiliating nightmare would end. He was too old for this. Either that or he had grown older the moment this girl walked into his life.
Khushi seemed to have recovered quickly. "Look, the girl you are meeting tonight is your stalker. So you need someone to be there for you when she is going to do something staler-y."
"Is she a fan-stalker or a stalk-stalker?" Arnav asked, weary of these dates already.
"Is there a difference?" Khushi asked all business like with notepad open and pen poised. He couldn't believe she was taking notes.
"Fan-stalker is someone who is my fan and wants to know where I am and what I do all the time. They have few websites based on various factors and they keep updating the info all the time." Arnav explained.
"And this isn't creepy?" Khushi asked.
Arnav shook his head. "It is only 55% creepy because these people are always there hovering wherever I am. They don't have all the details about my day to day agenda because my days are planned by a drunken neurotic unicorn believing weirdo. " Percentages bugged the hell out of Khushi which Arnav realized three days ago as her system ran on abstraction and impulsive creative stories.
"Unicorns are not real sir." Khushi huffed. Arnav raised an eyebrow. "And that's because we aren't living in rainbow land." She poked his chest with the ball point pen. He rolled his eyes.
"The stalk-stalker are basically always there. They follow their target everywhere, send notes and stuff and in the end they either kill their object of affection or kill themselves." Arnav explained. He waited till Khushi finished taking her notes.
"So, which kind of stalker is this girl?" He asked hoping it was a fan. But then again, his bad luck was worst in the universe.
"Definitely the second variety. So I advise you to put up and shut up sir, since I don't want you to die." She replied hopelessly.
"What do you propose?" Arnav asked resigned.
"You will always have me sir. Don't worry. I am, after all, Black Girlfriday." She stood straight and looked at him strangely.
"What the hell is that?"
"It's my secret identity. Promise me you won't disclose it to anyone." She stepped nicely into his personal space and whispered in his ears. His heart went overdrive, slamming in his ribcage and his subconscious brought out three cokes and two buckets of popcorn to his conscious going overdrive and its inability to cope up with her closeness. "Please sir," she whispered again.
"I promise." He rasped. "I promise not to utter this aloud for the sake of my own sanity and be laughed at my early senility or at the risk of being institutionalized." His arms had snaked around her waist and he totally blamed his subconscious for it.
"You can let go of me now sir." She said softly.
"Why?" He was being a moron – a stubborn moron at that.
"Because I have to explain you tonight's operation and how I will be helping you go undercover." Arnav nodded and let her go.
"Do you have tight spandex outfit or something?"
"No."
"Will you be wearing normal but dull clothing?"
"Yes."
"Is this secret identity an extension of your obsession with everything spy related?"
"Yes."
"Is your name inspired by Black Widow?"
"Possibly. My secrets have secrets."
"Did you just quote Tony Stark from The Avengers?"
"You received Blue Ray disc of the movie last week."
"Do you now have Blue Ray player?"
"No. But you do." He sighed at her answer. Obviously she was in his room, watching his movie in his player. Seriously, no one in his house understood the concept of privacy.
"Can we move on with planning for tonight sir? Or shall we continue this slumber party?" She asked full of snark.
"Wait, how do you even know that the girl is a stalker? And why did you even arrange a date with her?" Logic prevailed for…ten seconds.
"She sniffed your neck yesterday in that hotel elevator." Khushi deadpanned.
"You are joking." His hand automatically rubbed back of his neck.
"I am not," she smiled, biting her lip.
"I don't believe you." He was petulant. "I would have known if a woman was sniffing my neck." He shuddered slightly at the thought.
"You were busy fantasizing about the pastry you saw in caf and later you started to irritate me for reminding you that you were a diabetic and that I was totally going to tell on you to your doctor and Naani." Khushi replied grinning.
"How did I not realize that? Are you sure she is a stalk-stalker? Maybe she was one of my fan-stalker who was trying to find out what perfume I was wearing yesterday." He puffed his chest at that. There were three websites dedicated only to his looks. And there were at least half a dozen fan clubs. Not that he Googled his name every day or anything. Just…he knows all this, okay?
"Oh, she is a stalker alright. It took me like…twenty minutes to figure it out." Khushi replied.
"Oh please." Arnav rolled his eyes.
"Alright, it took me two months but still…how could you not know?" Khushi jabbed his chest. "She has been following us for several months and even threatened me four times. Only yesterday it clicked me that she was seriously stalking you and somehow made herself available as your potential bride." Khushi explained. "Actually I am very impressed with her way of operation. She realized that you were too dumb to recognize her stalking skills so she came in the vision of Naani. And Naani would have seen how awesome she is and that's how she ends up in the folder of future Arnav-brides." Arnav was appalled at the admiration in her voice.
"She threatened you four times?" Arnav asked, heart rate picking up. Stalkers were nasty business. Didn't she understand that?
"Oh yeah. I thought it was a silly prank or something." Khushi shrugged.
He gaped at her. How did he not see this?
"That's because you keep ogling at your secretary or some pastry – incidentally both you can't have…hmm…interesting allegory here, but coming back to the point, you were staring at her instead of looking around for women ready to pounce on you. Yeah, just like you are doing right now." The bloody fly on the wall or subconscious if you will, put its two cents in between cokes and bathroom breaks. "But she is right you know? There are potential candidates I have picked up from your peripheral vision and archived them for future purposes. So in future if you for like two minutes don't fantasize about Khushi or a pastry, I can derive some sort of plausible theory."
"Please, shut the f**k up. I am in potential danger. So is Khushi." He childishly argued in his mind. His subconscious cursed and continued to watch this free entertainment.
"Are you okay?" Khushi asked giving him an onceover. "This is an undercover operation sir. I want your head in the game. If we cancel the date, she will know that we are on to her and it will escalate her stalker-iness. So instead, we attack first."
"It sounds like a plot from Wilbur Smith novel." Arnav preened.
"It's actually Tom Clancy. The book is taken from there," she pointed to the wall covered in books.
Of course she had to interfere in his personal space, room, books, DVDs. Whatever.
"What if she tries to attack me first? Will you swoop in, in your secret identity outfit and save me?" He asked raising an eyebrow.
"Of course sir. That's why I am here - to save you from evil girls. Black Girlfriday will totally save you from the stalker girl if she makes one wrong move." Khushi said loudly.
Arnav felt happiness bubble in his chest.
"What will be your plan of action?" Arnav asked his hope blooming. "Use awesome marital arts? Some cool military grade weapon? Super awesome psychological Kung-fu where you will outwit her and bring her to knees? Oh boy, this is so damn exciting," he rubbed his hands together in excitement and his eyes practically shone like a thirteen year old fanboy.
"No sir. I will grab your hand at the right moment and we will make a run for it." She said happily. "Sir, I hope you are getting enough exercise so that I don't have to drag you and you will actually keep up with my speed." She replied, hands on her hips. He wanted to cry.
Somewhere, he heard his subconscious was cackling in laughter like a witch and say, 'you are royally f**ked, you nave idiot.'
For once, he totally agreed with his subconscious.
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