How To Salsa in a Sari
Read How To Salsa in a Sari Online
Authors: Dona Sarkar
HOW TO Salsa IN A SARI
To my mother, for always having a book on her nightstand
and to Manav, my darling husband, for always making sure
I have the same.
First of all, to my wonderful, supportive agent Sha-Shana Crichton. Girl, YOU ROCK! You never lost sight of my work and always, always believed I could do it. You are truly more than an agent, you're my rock in this whirlwind publishing industry and I can't say it enough.
To the whole Harlequin team: Evette, Glenda, Linda and crew. Thanks for this amazing opportunity. You've truly made my dreams come true.
To Nadine Dajani, thank you for giving me this amazing title and teaching me more about lyrical prose and honest characters than I could ever have learned in class or books. Your writing encourages me to reach for more in every single sentence.
Heather Davis, when you read this book, you said, “This is the one.” I never forgot those words and I will never forget how you took me under your wing and made me the confident person I am today. You are truly one of the kindest, most loyal, most beautiful people I have ever met and I am so blessed to have you as my number-one critique partner.
To my Buzz Girls: With a support group like you, who needs anything else. Bee fabulous!
To Janet Lee Carey and Gordon Donnell. Without you two, this book, or Dona Sarkar the writer, wouldn't exist. Thanks for taking the scared girl who walked into class that day in 2003 (who couldn't write a complete sentence) and making her into a published author. You both are the writers I admire most in the world. Thank you for always being there and always being honest.
To all my friends from work, thanks for being with me on this journey. You have no idea how much it meant to me every time you asked, “Is your book out yet? Can we read it yet?” Thank you.
To Krish and Nabhan. We've been together for ten years now and I can't tell you what your friendship means to me. You always told me I would become more than just a EECS graduate and you never stopped believing in me. I love you guys so much.
My family and friends around the world. Thanks for always being there for me and supporting my crazy ideas.
My Seattle posse: Your love and support during these past few years while I've gone from one low to another high has just been incredible. See you at the party!
Mummy and Papa, you took me into your home as your own daughter and brought me up to be what I am today. I was sitting in your living room when the phone rang and you were the first to hug me and tell me, “Of course you could do it!”
Minal and Nisarga. You guys are wonderful, supportive and everything siblings should be and I love you both so much. Enough said.
My mom and dad: You both raised me to be strong, independent and never stop chasing my dreams. You always told me I could do anything I put my mind to and I should know it. You were supportive from day one and I can never say enough how much it means to know I can pick up the phone and call you at any hour of the day.
My sister, Bonnie: Thanks for being my mole in the land of teenagersâ¦and for always being ready to proofread a draft of anything I churn out. You were one of the first to read this book and you told me, “It's good. It's like, REALLY good.” I'll never forget that.
And last, but MOST importantly, my husband, Manav. When I don't feel like writing, you pack me and my laptop into the car and drag me to the coffee shop. When I'm down, you hold me as I cry and when I'm happy, you start the celebrations. You were with me the day I got “the call” and you were the only one not surprised. Thank you for knowing I could do it and convincing me of that fact when I lost faith. You're beyond a best friend or a husband. You are truly the other half of my being and because of you, I live with the most incredible feeling in the world, knowing I have you and Ash, my two precious guys, to come home to every single day.
Life's Tough. Get a Helmet!
“Your
life is going to change forever tonight, so be ready.”
Issa Mazumder stopped in her tracks at her mother's mystifying phrase. “Mom!” she protested. Still clad in Power Puff Girl pajamas, not to mention sans coffee, Issa was in no shape for guessing games. “You are not messing with me right now!”
“I won't say another word. I was going to wait till the weekend, but today seems like a good day. It's a surprise.”
Issa dropped into the chair opposite her mother and prepared her best wide-eyed “look how cute I am” expression. Nothing she loved more than one of Alisha Mazumder's surprises.
Just last month she and Alisha had made an impromptu trip to Manhattan when the Cirque de Soliel had come to the city. They had worked as ushers and seen the show for free from the front row.
“I'll die! I'm not even kidding. Physically die!”
“I'll pick you up here at six. Be ready!” Alisha Mazumder raised an eyebrow over a steaming coconut latte. “I don't think you'll physically die.”
“I can't think of anything else now. How could you do this to me?”
“This is quite the change from the panic-stricken daughter who was totally freaking last night about some exam.” Alisha laughed. “What happened to âOh my God, I'm totally going to fail the World Politics midterm. My life means nothing beyond this exam!'”
“Whatever. I'm never panicked. Steady as a train. See that?” Issa flexed her puny biceps. “And quit changing the subject.”
“Steady like a train wreck.” Alisha grinned. “Talked to Adam finally?”
“Yup.” Issa had to smile. She supposed the subject could turn to Adam. For a few seconds anyway.
Anxious, adorable Adam. Her boyfriend of two years had called at midnight with a panic attack of his own. He needed help. He needed support. More than anythingâ¦he needed her notes.
And if anything could make Issa feel better, it was fixing a problem. She'd drilled the study material into Adam's head and realized that she knew her stuff pretty well in comparison to her first and only love.
“He hadn't studied for the exam at all. His ass was set up to fail,” Issa said as she got up to fill a mug with soy milk and pop it into the microwave. The Mazumder family ritual of spending a half hour every morning discussing school, work, cute boys, etc., over coconut lattes was Issa's favorite part of the day. Often, she felt it was the only time she and her mother could completely and totally be themselves, fuzzy pajamas and bed-head included. Over the years, she'd come to savor these last few minutes of dreamy innocence before the Mazumder girls donned protective shields and journeyed into the perilous world of high school.
“So, if Adam wasn't studying, what was Nerd Boy doing all weekend?” Alisha folded a corner in her
Modern Art and Design
magazine, buffed nails gleaming as she flipped the pages. “Shooting up? Loose women, fast cars?”
“Ha-ha.” Issa made a face. She retrieved the steaming mug of milk from the microwave after the insistent beep. “He was sick, remember? He called me yesterday and told me he was on bed rest all day Friday and Saturday. Do you need to be calling him Nerd Boy all the time?”
“Uh, yeah. Otherwise, why would he date you?” Alisha teased, swirling her coffee cup. “Nerd Girl!”
“Hey!” Issa glanced up from where she was adding coconut syrup and two shots of espresso into her monster-sized latte. “I protest!”
“Mommy, Mommy, I'm going to fail school. Will you still love me? Will you support me if I don't get into any college and have to live in a two-story cardboard box on the driveway?” Alisha mimicked Issa's paranoid ramblings from last night. “I swear, if I'd studied half as much as you do I would have been the mayor by now.”
“You could be a rocket scientist, Mama.” Alisha was an enigma to Issa. An eternally glamorous, bohemian version of Catherine Zeta-Jones, Alisha looked ten years younger than her thirty-six years and was one of the most dynamic people Issa knew. Everyone who met Alisha was in love with her wit, charm and vivacious personality within ten minutes.
“Thanks for your concern, my love.” Alisha stood and shook the cheese Danish crumbs off her tiered blue velvet skirt. “You need a ride to school?”
Issa had to call Adam one last time to make sure he wasn't panicking, but refused to confess that to her mother and risk more teasing. “I'll walk, actually. Clear my head. Make sure I have all the world politics straight.”
“Again, I repeat. Nerd!” Alisha called as she waltzed up the stairs. “Where do you get it from?”
Issa caught sight of Alisha's half-empty mug on the kitchen counter and almost laughed.
A total free spirit. No rules and regulations could keep Alisha in one place for long. While Issa envied Alisha's daydreamy attitude, she knew that one person in the house had to be somewhat responsible.
“I wonder too, Mama,” Issa murmured, smiling as she rinsed out the cup and placed it into the dishwasher. Sometimes she swore her list-making obsession and punctuality existed to compensate for Alisha's short-term memory. Speaking of short-term memory, Alisha had managed to escape without revealing her surprise.
“Damn. She's good. She's really good,” Issa grumbled as she grabbed a notepad off the kitchen counter.
So much to do today,
she thought.
One, drop off article at
Apex.
She wrote for the school newspaper as part of her writing scholarship at the prestigious private school. She worked hard on all her articles for the
Athens Apex
knowing Alisha would never be able to afford to send her to the hoity-toity school without the scholarship.
Last night, Issa had just finished up an investigative article on Thomas Calabran, one of the reclusive oil tycoons in town, three days before the deadline. Even she had to admit the article was one of her better works.
“Hey, your aunt Helen called,” Alisha yelled over the sound of her hair dryer upstairs. “She wants to know if you want to do Kwanzaa in Atlanta again this year. Call her back, would you?”
Strict Aunt Helena. Her father's oldest sister had never approved of the mixed-race marriage of her Indian mother and African-American father. But she loved Issa like her own child and insisted Issa “keep her black flavor ripe.” Issa had celebrated the African holiday during the last week of December with her father's family every year since she was a kid. Despite her father's absentee status, it was the one holiday she looked forward to, just to be able to see her extended family. The black, red and green decorations, the homegrown fruits, beautiful objects of artâ¦she loved it all. The weeklong celebration made her feel like a part of her father's culture. A part she felt like she barely got to experience in the preppy, white-bread Connecticut town they had moved to at the beginning of high school.
“I'll call her, Mom. Please just finish doing your hair. You don't want to frizz.”
“Aye-aye, Capitane.”
Issa smiled and returned to her list.
Two, talk to Professor Kidlinger about the independent-study project.
English was the class she excelled at without trying and her teacher, Ms. Kidlinger, was always telling her she would accomplish great things with her talent for words. Issa had come up with a master plan to ask her teacher if she could do an independent-study project on Jane Austen and her life during the
Pride and Prejudice
era next semester.
Threeâ¦
“Hey!” Alisha called again, snapping Issa out of her list. “Cute-boy-on-the-patio alert!”
Issa's pen hit the counter a second before the knock on the kitchen door. “Are those cheese Danishes I smell?”
Adam.
“Hey!” Issa threw open the door and greeted the smiling junior with a big kiss. “I didn't expect to see you this morning.”
Her Adam. Buttery ribbons of blond hair, eyes that twinkled like Christmas lights and the most innocent smile Issa had ever seen. So he wasn't traditionally gorgeous with his mild sprinkling of acne and too-thin frame, but Issa found him adorable and perfect for her.
Adam's lightly freckled face crinkled even more around the eyes than usual. “Hello, gorgeous.”
Issa's cheeks burned. Adam always claimed she looked like the girl from
Bend It Like Beckham,
but she didn't believe it for a second. Alisha was the great beauty in the family, Issa was just a mess of tangled, murky brown hair and tennis-ball-sized, anxious eyes. Their homecoming pictures had been beautiful, though, his cream complementing her cocoa.
“How're you feeling? Better?” Issa stuffed a Danish into his hand.
“Listen, I need to run to an early morning Science Club meeting, but I wanted to bring you this.” From behind his back appeared a single lavender rose, Issa's favorite. “Thanks so much for helping me last night.”
“You didn't have to.” Issa took the flower and inhaled.
“I did have to,” Adam said, encircling his hands around her back, pulling her head under his chin. Issa breathed in his CK aftershave as she leaned on him.
“Thanks so much, Iz. You're amazing.” He kissed her nose. “Now I really need to go. I'll see you in class.”
“Love you!” Issa called to him as he jogged down the driveway. He held up an arm without turning around.
She smiled and twirled on her bare feet. Adam was happy again. Problem solved.
Â
After the last period of the day, the World Politics exam successfully behind her, Issa left the school newspaper office where her article was safely nesting in the editor's layout box. She sped through the halls, having gotten a text message from Gigi five minutes earlier.
EMERGENCY! I NEED TO SEE YOU! CHEM LAB! NOW!
Issa flew around a corner and skidded on the freshly waxed floor, her Sketchers screeching to a stop.
Latina Barbie and the Skipper twins, combined weight and IQ of 100, stood blocking the hallway.
“Well, well.” Cat Morena, aka Latina Barbie, crossed her arms, a smirk in her slanted green eyes. “If it isn't the affirmative-action case.” She emphasized the word with an extra
S
at the end. She covered her slight Cuban accent with a faux British one. “Off to help Mummy scrub the floors to earn your keep?”
Issa clenched her teeth. Rudeness on a daily basis was expected from Cat, but she was dissing Alisha now, the best art teacher Athens Academy had ever had. How low could Cat really go?
However, Issa kept quiet. She'd learned long ago that Cat
wanted
her to fight back. A cross between a dark-haired Paris Hilton and an even darker poisonous viper, Cat liked nothing better than to put one of her enemies in their place. Issa remembered well the first time she had challenged Cat. The first and last time she'd crossed Cat Morena.
“I got somewhere to be,” Issa muttered, rubbing her toe against the sparkling floor.
“So, what do you want us to do about it, huh,
chica?
”
Issa could see the reflection of Cat and her entourage on the floor as Cat tossed her perfectly highlighted caramel-colored hair and smiled snidely, waiting for some sort of response from Issa.
“No answer? Are you going to run to Mommy and tell her we're being mean to you? Are you going to cry?” Cat's singsong voice could cut sharper than any knife. “Are you wishing we would leave you alone?”
For a moment, Issa felt like she might actually cry. She didn't understand why Cat was so mean. So they'd had a fight over two years ago. She had no idea how Cat could hold a grudge for so long. How a privileged sixteen-year-old girl could be so deliberately cruel to someone was beyond Issa.
“I don't have time for this bullshit right here,” Issa finally snapped, her voice betraying her bravado with a quaver. Damn it. Issa never liked giving Cat the satisfaction of knowing how to get to her. Like a vampire feeding off blood, Cat fed off people's weaknesses.
One of the blond Skipper twins, Jewel Taylor, giggled. “Aw, how cute. She's using her black talk. What's it called, Sunshine?”
“Ebonics! That's what it's called!” The other twin, Sunshine Harris, joined in the giggling.
Issa's cheeks burned. As one of the few biracial students in the school, she made sure to avoid sounding “black” for just this reason. Anything that wasn't “Like, oh my God,” was “black talk” to the masses of rich white folks. Even her schoolteacher father would
never
have stood for Ebonics in his house.
Cat stopped laughing, an unpredictable look in her eyes. “Fine. Go,” she said quietly. “Your day's about a get a whole lot worse,
chica.
”
Shit.
A needle of fear jabbed Issa as she ran through the hallways. Cat hadn't spent as much time torturing her as usual. As Issa well knew, that was never a good thing. She had learned that lesson the first semester of her freshman year.