"Okay madam... this is the place."
I peered out of the window at the nondescript four-story building. The street wasn't too well lit, so with my sunglasses on at midnight, I couldn't see much. I took them off and got a better look. Wooden letters above the entrance said SEEMA LODGE. This was indeed the place.
I handed the cabbie a 500 rupee note and picked up my handbag.
"Keep the change." I said.
"One minute madam." the cabbie said just as I was about to open the door. He was staring at the note.
"What happened? Is it not enough?" I asked.
"Madam... maybe it's none of my business but... you have given me a 300 rupee tip. So you're clearly not in need of money. You sound and act like an educated lady from a good family."
I looked at him in confusion. He turned around, an expression of concern and compassion on his wrinkled old face.
"Madam... you're my daughter's age. Why are you going to such a place? I know what sort of things happen here. I can understand someone doing it for money but... "
"You're right. It's none of your business." I said opening the door and stepping out.
He poked his head out the window.
"Are you in some sort of trouble? Can I help in some way? I know people... "
"WILL YOU MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS?"
He was taken aback. I looked at the worried face and felt a surge of appreciation for his decency and kind spirit. It wasn't his fault.
"I am... I am sorry. I shouldn't have yelled." I said. "But please, I have to go."
I turned around and walked up the steps to the entrance. There was a mountain of a man standing at the entrance. Security and bouncer I guessed. He looked at me with a blank expression on his face. I tried to walk past him, but he held out his log like arm.
"Who are you with?"
"Excuse me?"
"Never seen you before. And I wasn't told there'd be a new girl. Are you with Tahir? Sridhar? Giri?"
"I... I don't understand. I am here for a... meeting."
"I know what kind of a meeting you're here for, raand!" he growled. Did he just call me a whore? Well, I suppose that was one perspective to take. But how did he know?
"Listen... I... "
That's when a couple came out through the entrance. A middle aged man with his arm around a woman dressed in a miniskirt and garish make-up. They giggled as they walked past us. The woman gave me an almost territorial look before walking by.
Shit! That's why the cabbie was so worried. Motherfucker Goyal had chosen a whorehouse hotel? I had half a mind to turn around and go home. If only I could.
The guard was still looking at me menacingly. That's when another man came out. He was wearing a cheap looking ill fitting suit. Looked like a hotel manager.
"Oh... you must be the guest of Mr. Sebi?"
"Sebi? Oh... yes yes. Yes. I am."
"Let her through." he said to the guard who moved away.
The hotel lobby was dimly lit and garish. There were half a dozen ladies of the night sitting on various couches and chairs. A couple of men were on their cellphones. Presumably their pimps or customers.
The manager escorted me to the lift.
"Third floor." he said and pushed a button.
I stood there wordlessly. He was scrutinizing my face. Or what little of it was visible. I was wearing my biggest pair of sunglasses, covering half my forehead and my cheeks. And I had a scarf wrapped around my head and neck like a hijaab.
"Have we met before?" he asked.
"No."
"There's something very familiar about you. I know you're not one of the working girls. But... I have seen you somewhere."
"I don't think so."
I had always hated doing those interviews with news channels as the "face" of the company. And appearing on magazine covers. It didn't exactly make me a celebrity but did make me recognizable to people who watched the news regularly. Which this manager fella probably did.
Maybe I should've worn a burqa. Thankfully the lift door opened and I walked in.
"Mr. Sebi is in room 304."
Even through my utter loathing and revulsion for Goyal, I couldn't help but smile at his sense of irony in picking a fake name. Sebi... or rather SEBI. Securities and Exchange Board of India.
-
"You leave me no choice. I have to go to SEBI then." Goyal got up from the chair in my office. This was in the middle of the day a week ago.
"Wait! SIT!" I said in a loud voice. He complied.
"Don't yell at me." he said brusquely. "You can't play boss lady in this situation anymore."
"Come on, Goyal! Be reasonable! I have already agreed to give you the money."
"And I appreciate that you didn't haggle with me about that."
"That's enough money for you and your next few generations to live on. In fact... I will double it!"
"That's very gracious of you, but my original demand stands. You can't negotiate or threaten your way out of this. Maybe you'd like to watch the clip again."
"No, I wouldn't."
But he swiped his phone screen and started that damn video again. From the party.
"You're kidding!" Hirani said.
"I am not. It's almost a done deal." my dad responded, downing what must have been his eighth scotch of the night. "The Germans will be signing the contract on Thursday. We're doing it hush hush in Goa."