Goddess for Hire (17 page)

THE QUICKEST PATH
to parental approval?

Be the living incarnation of a goddess on Earth.

It was that simple.

Who knew?

Ten o'clock and the Puja—a ritual in honor of the gods, or in this case, me—was still going strong. Worshippers still filled the house. I was still wearing my vomit-reeking sari, and Ram still presided over the ceremonial fire in the living room.

Speaking of Ram, I had managed to grab one end of his robe as he scooted past on his way to the bathroom. “So you spilled the beans.” He gave me a confused look. “Beans, you know, lentils?” Still confused. “Forget it. When did you tell my parents about me?”

“Last night your mummy received a phone call. It seems your cousin Seema is expecting twins.”

“She is?” Successful Seema had recently made partner in her law firm. And now she was on the fast track to motherhood.

Ram continued. “I said to your mummy—who cares? So this Seema will be the mother of twins? Bah! Maya is the mother of all creation.” He pulled his robe from my grasp and rushed off.

I guess that explained it.

I turned my attention back to the Puja. I supposed it was going well. Any Puja where the house didn't burn down was deemed a successful one.

I had also learned that the rectangular metal receptacle housing the fire was called a kund. It was not a pan for baking brownies as I had previously assumed.

My dad, whom I'd caught dozing off a couple of times, reached over and patted my shoulder. “Very good, Maya…very good.” He'd said the same thing to me when I'd learned how to ride a bike.

My mom, who was on my other side, kept shooting me smiles, when she wasn't wrinkling her nose.

Well the goddess really needed a shower.

Across the room Mr. Marshall was giving me the thumbs-up sign.

Mrs. Marshall had continued to throw flower petals in my direction at inauspicious moments until Aunt Gayatri had finally taken them away from her. She now sat subdued.

I caught Tahir's eye and he winked. My lips curved in an answering smile. Then I made the mistake of glancing left and making eye contact with his mother. One nostril flared.

Bile rose in my throat.

Tahir and his mother had arrived an hour or so ago. She was wearing fresh clothes and an expression that clearly indicated she was unimpressed by my goddess status. For Tahir's sake, I attempted a weak smile in her direction.

The other nostril flared.

I quickly looked down.

I wondered if anyone had called the press? I hoped not. Even if a call were made, I doubted a reporter would show. They'd liken a Kali Puja in Newport Beach to a Santeria ritual in Placentia. Unless someone performed a human sacrifice, we would not make the front page. Personally, I wouldn't mind a human sacrifice in my honor. I'd even handpick the victim.

Nadia.

She was still looking sulky in her corner. Undoubtedly, she'd tried to leave, but had been prevented by a Mehra. Her secret was safe with me…for now.

“Samir will be coming tomorrow,” my mom whispered.

I hadn't seen my brother since Thanksgiving. “Oh…great.”

She smiled, brushed a strand of hair off my forehead, and turned back to the ceremony.

Ram muttered something in Sanskrit, and my mom picked up a metal bowl filled with clarified butter. Using a spoon, she began dribbling it over the flames.

The fire crackled, and everyone resumed chanting.

Aunt Dimple pulled out a pair of small cymbals and began banging them together.

Give me a break!

It was all I could do not to cover my ears and run for my life.

 

The house was clear.

It was after three in the morning, and I opened all the windows to get the smell of smoke and incense out of the house.

After the Puja ceremony ended, I'd had to sit still and let people come up and touch my feet.

Super creepy.

By the time Mom, Ram, and I climbed up the stairs, I was practically sleepwalking. My dad had sneaked off to bed hours ago.

I opened my bedroom door ready to crash—smelly sari and all—when the sight before me made me gasp.

My room was filled with flowers, gift-wrapped boxes, and tons of cards. I opened one envelope and pulled out three crisp hundred-dollar bills. “What is all this?”

“Baksheesh,” Ram said.

My mom explained. “It is customary for worshippers to bring gifts for the deity.”

I picked up a dainty blue bag with a familiar logo.

Tiffany & Co.

I could get used to this.

I LOVED
my worshippers.

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment they went from being freaks with foot fetishes to my darling devotees, it would have to be when that nice couple from Dana Point bought me a five-thousand-dollar Segway Human Transporter.

Wasn't that sweet?

I was no longer the unemployed goddess. The perfect career had landed in my lap. Since our house had become a veritable revolving door for the deeply religious, I was totally raking it in. In fact, I was toying with the idea of buying stock in an incense company because of the amount we went through every day.

I discovered that the Puja ceremony I'd walked into on Sunday afternoon was special—to welcome the goddess. Normal Kali Pujas started at midnight and stretched until dawn, which was fine with me. I'm not a morning person.

Basically, for the first two hours Ram would preside over the ceremonial fire and lead the room in chanting.

I would sit on a cushion and try to look intensely spiritual, when in reality, I was thinking up ways to spend all the money people were donating.

Afterward, came the hard part. While Ram continued to stoke the sacred flames, I had to recline on a sofa and hold court while my worshippers approached, offering me a gift in one hand and using the other to touch my feet. Either my mom or one of my aunts would be on hand to take the gift.

Tough. But someone's gotta do it.

It wasn't all reclining on the sofa, drinking wine, and eating chocolate. I had to make sacrifices. I couldn't watch any of my soaps because I slept until two, so I was forced to use TiVo. One of my worshippers had given me a lifetime membership.

I was also forced to wear saris on a regular basis. The black silk one I had on today was shot through with Swarovski crystals. And I had changed my ruby nose ring for a sparkling diamond—naturally I needed my jewelry to match. My mom had spread the word that I preferred silver—and possibly platinum—to gold.

Smoothing the black silk over my knees, I was mulling over the idea of registering at Nordstrom—to make gift giving easier—when Aunt Dimple patted my arm.

“Ah, there's Pinky.”

Tahir and his mother were entering the room.

“Pinky?” The dragon's name was Pinky?

Aunt Dimple arranged the cushions behind my back. “Pinky is a common pet name in India.”

Tahir approached the sofa. “Maya, I need to talk to you.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It's about Sanjay.”

“Later, after everyone has had a chance to meet me.”

Tahir looked back to where the long line of worshippers snaked around the room and out the front door. “Can't you take a break? I have some information.” His eyes flashed. “And we need to be alone.”

I'd barely had any time with Tahir since my house had become the Church of Maya. But I had a career now just as he had his. “I want to be with you, too. Why didn't you come earlier?”

“I was at work until eight. I called, but you were with your hairdresser.”

I now had a hairstylist from José Eber come in every evening. It wouldn't do for the goddess not to be well coiffed.

Elegant as usual, Aunt Gayatri, who had come over to switch places with Aunt Dimple, laid a hand on Tahir's arm. “Maya needs to see to her devotees. Why don't you try the halwa?”

Tahir gave me one last look, nodded at Aunt Gayatri, and walked away.

The aunts exchanged places, and it was back to business as usual.

Later, when Aunt Gayatri had gotten up to refresh my glass of wine, I scanned the room for Tahir. I didn't see him, but at the dining table Dimple and Pinky were shoveling halwa into their mouths with fierce concen
tration. Then I spotted Tahir. He was outside on the deck talking to Nadia.

Hmm.

Aunt Gayatri returned with my drink, and the line of worshippers moved forward.

My aunt was accepting a gift certificate to M.A.C. on my behalf when Nadia sauntered in and perched on the corner of the sofa. Her cheeks were flushed a dark crimson, and I was betting someone didn't know how to hold her liquor.

Inexperienced lushes were so annoying.

“Well, well,” she said. “So Goddess Kali waits thousands and thousands of years to resurrect, and when she does, she chooses
you
?” She threw up her hands. “This is one fucked-up Universe we're living in. The human race is doomed.”

“Nadia!” Aunt Gayatri admonished.

I smiled at my aunt. “I'll handle this.” I swung my legs off the sofa, stood, and adjusted my silver belly chain.

Ram met my gaze and shook his head from side to side.

Was he telling me to show restraint?

As if.

Besides, it was about time I put on a show for my worshippers.

Pure shock and awe.

I closed my eyes and called the Goddess Within. I wanted a little wind, not too much, just enough to give everyone a shiver. The breeze blew through the room, causing a collective gasp.

Then I concentrated until all the lights in the house went off one by one.

The better to see my glowing white aura with.

As the halo of light began to emanate from my body, I could hear the soft cries of surprise. Satisfied that I had everyone's full attention, I allowed the lights to come back on.

Everyone was waiting to see what I would do or say next. I opted for the latter.

I cleared my throat and took advantage of the opportunity. “Just to let you all know, Nadia,” I pointed for the benefit of the people who didn't know her, “is not a doctor as she led us all to believe. She is in fact, a nurse. Linda Vista Hospital will verify that.”

All the Mehras in the room faced Nadia with identical stunned expressions.

Eyes welling with tears, Nadia lowered her head and fled from the house.

I resumed my position on the sofa, took a sip of my wine, and called out, “Next.”

AS DAWN BROKE
through a cotton candy sky, I thought about installing one of those digital counters like at McDonald's. Only mine would say: over one million blessed.

The last worshipper had left, and I was heading up to bed when I saw the front door was still open. I went to close it and spotted Tahir sitting on the doorstep. “You're still here?”

He patted the spot next to him, and I sat down. His eyes were tired and his jaw covered in stubble. “I was waiting for you.”

I entwined my arm with his and rested my cheek on his shoulder. “I'm glad.”

“You know, I think you went a tad overboard with Nadia. She was humiliated.”

So much for snuggling.

I moved away. “She had it coming. What about her crack that I had doomed the human race?”

Tahir reached for my hand. “It's not about her. It's
about you. Have you been out patrolling for malevolence lately?”

I pulled my hand back. “I've been busy, okay? The meet and greet is as much a part of my job as fighting evil.”

Tahir gave me a dubious look that roused my ire, and reached inside his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. “I've been doing some research, asking around. I found her.”

“Her?” I took the paper.

 

Indira Bhatia

GBS Syntex

 

“GBS Syntex?” I asked. “How did you find this out?”

He grinned. “Through the Indian grapevine. GBS Syntex is in Tustin. I'll take the day off and go with you. We'll just stroll through the lobby, find out where Indira's office is, barge in there, and you can do your cool wind tunnel–mind control thing.” He glanced at his watch. “She'll be at work in a couple of hours.”

“Well thanks for the info,” I said. “But I really need to get some sleep.”

“We'll catch her in the evening, then, before she gets off work.”

I didn't respond.

“Would you rather go by yourself?” he asked. “I understand. Although I was hoping to see you in action.” He smiled and slid his arm around my waist.

“I'll go when I can, Tahir.”

His grin disappeared. “What's more important? Sitting around and being petted and pampered, or going after the man who has sworn to kill you?”

I shrugged his arm off me and stood up.

“What's wrong with you?” Tahir demanded.

What
was
wrong with me?

“I just want to enjoy being a goddess for a while. I don't want to think about Sanjay or all the evil in the world. I want to bask in the attention, the love, the smiling faces of my parents and my aunts—who for once—aren't trying to fix my life. I want to be with these people—these strangers—who've come from all over just to see me.”

Me.

Maya Mehra.

Gandhi girl.

Tahir slowly rose to his feet. “Maya…I didn't realize…I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you were just trying to help.”

He reached out and gently pulled me into his arms. I closed my eyes and pressed myself against him. He kissed me, and we pulled apart. “Now get a good night's, ah, day's sleep, and I'll call you.”

I smiled. “Okay.”

He smiled back and turned to walk down the drive.

Without thinking I blurted out, “Can you tell your mom to maybe ease up on me a little?”

Tahir stopped, shoulders rigid. “What did you say about Ma?”

Oops.

There was no going back now. “What I mean is, I threw up on her, and that was bad. But I apologized, didn't I? So why does she glare at me like she's a sleeping cobra and I'm the little boy who's been poking her with a stick?”

Well it was a good metaphor.

Tahir slowly turned around. “She's come to every one of your Pujas, hasn't she? Have you ever taken the time to talk to her?”

“Talk to her? I can barely get within ten feet of her. She's drenched herself in Eau de You're Not Good Enough For My Son.”

Tahir took a step forward. “Listen, the reason Ma flew in was because I told her how serious I am about you. I want her to get to know you, like you…”

“Why do you even care what your mom thinks? We love each other. That should be enough.”

Tahir's laugh was abrasive. “Well it's not. That's the difference between India and America. I care what my parents think. I need for them to approve of the woman I love. I need their blessing. Couldn't you try—”

“Try what? Try to be a different person? Your mom obviously wants a typical Indian daughter-in-law who quietly pours tea and doesn't speak her mind. I'm American. Screw that. I'm a goddess.”

Tahir looked at me for a long moment, then turned and walked away.

I tossed my hair. Whatever. I needed my beauty sleep.
Tomorrow night my worshippers would be waiting. I turned to go back inside when—

“Maya?”

My brother Samir was coming up the walkway. He was on the shorter side—like all Mehra men—and had always been quiet and serious. I noticed he'd ditched the glasses, grown his hair, and had a leather satchel slung across his chest. He looked good. Stanford seemed to be agreeing with him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So you're really a goddess.”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Can be.”

“Well, I drove all night, so I'd better get some sleep.”

“Me too.”

Together we entered the house.

It was the longest conversation Samir and I had had in years.