How To Salsa in a Sari (3 page)

“It's just that—I can't be with you and expect to change my life. It's always going to be the same and—”

“We're over,” Issa stated in a steady voice, even though just saying the words shot a ten-pound stone into the center of her belly. “Who is she? Who is going to help you make over your life?”

“There's no one—”

Yeah, she knew very well who it was. “Cat Morena? You were doing Jell-O shots off of her neck as far as I hear.”

“How did you—”

So it was true. He didn't even try to deny his lying and cheating.

“God, Adam. What the hell are you doing? The Cat Morenas of this world are only going to toy with you, then throw you away. She wants a modeling contract and some millionaire boyfriend to take care of her, not you!”

Adam was silent.

“Say something, you little freak!” Issa practically shrieked. Now everyone was openly staring at them, but she didn't care.

Before he could respond, a hush fell over the hallway as Cat and her cronies made their way through the crowd. When the three of them spotted Issa and Adam, Cat turned her head and whispered something to Sunshine Harris. Then they both giggled while Cat shot Issa an evil smile.

“She's such a bitch. A horrible snake,” Issa muttered, her fear of Cat evaporating. She didn't care anymore if Cat overheard. What did Issa have left to lose now?

Adam glanced away from Issa and toward the girls. He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack and untied one shoelace with his other foot. “Every guy wants her. And she likes me. She appreciates me, and she never tries to one-up me. Not like you.”

Issa felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. That was what this whole thing was about? That was how he got seduced by Cat's charms? Because Cat made him feel
smart?
Cat could make a toadstool feel smart. This was not an accomplishment!

“I thought that was just a joke between us. I was just playin'. I thought all that ‘top two people in class' was just for kicks.”

Issa could feel her old downtown Detroit “don't take crap from anyone” attitude creeping in and she didn't give a damn. When she'd just moved to New Joliet, she'd gotten made fun of for being from “the ghetto” by all the popular girls. All they'd wanted to hear about was gang wars and shootings. No one had cared about the rich African-American heritage Detroit had produced or the incredible automotive industry that was housed in the city. She'd buried her past deep down and become the East Coast brainiac everyone expected her to be and never mentioned her roots again.

“Well, it wasn't fun for me,” Adam said quietly. “I don't want a girlfriend who goes around telling everyone how much smarter she is than me. You may be smart, but that's all you are, Issa. Brains don't make a complete person!”

That did it. The tears started spilling from her eyes. She swiped her cheek with her shoulder. “Oh, my being smart didn't seem to bother you last night when you called crying in desperation!”

Adam didn't say anything. Apparently saving his ass in a moment of crisis wasn't as important as looking hot in a pair of Seven Jeans. Suddenly Issa felt like everything she knew about the world was wrong. Intelligent girls—zero. Slutty girls—ten points. “Forget it, you slimy little jackass. I hope you realize someday how much I appreciated you and how you'll never have that again.”

Issa threw her head back and swept past Cat and her entourage with as much dignity as she could muster. She pretended not to hear their tinkling laughter behind her as she walked steadily into the girls' room. She was proud she'd been able to contain her sobbing until she was safely in the stall.

How could this be happening? They had just celebrated their two-year anniversary last week! The whole world knew they were together and how crazy she was about him. How could she go out in public and tell people that Adam had suddenly stopped loving her?

All Issa wanted was to go home. Hide in her bed until this nightmare ended. But by the sounds of lockers slamming shut and tennis shoes squeaking, she knew the hallways weren't clear yet. No, she couldn't get out of this hell until she was sure everyone was gone.

How would she ever be able to face Adam again with Cat Morena by his side?

Men, Chocolate and Coffee Are All Better Rich

“I'm
fine. Let's just stop talking about it, huh?” Issa, nestled into a mound of hand-embroidered pillows, glowered up at the ceiling. She knew if she met Ishaan's sad puppy eyes, she would burst into tears.

“Iz,” Ishaan said, then reached over and tousled her ripply hair. “Do you want me to beat his ass? You know I will.”

Tempting, but what good would it do? Adam would still be in love with Cat Morena and Issa would still be the laughingstock of the school. Cat had won again. Except this time, Issa didn't understand what she'd done to Cat and what Cat was really after. She refused to believe Cat had suddenly and painfully fallen in love with Adam Mitchell, the boy who in eighth grade was voted Most Likely to Host
Star Trek
Conventions in His Garage.

“Should I take that as a ‘Yes, Ishaan, my hero, please beat up that jackass for me'?” Ishaan asked, his eyes twinkling.

Issa smiled despite the hideousness of the day. He always knew how to make her feel better. “Don't beat his ass.” She sighed. Ishaan played tennis and had a mean left hook. No matter how pissed she was at Adam at the moment, she didn't want him hurt.

“What reason did he give for ending it? And don't tell me he said it was because Cat was hotter than you.”

Issa flinched. Well, pretty much that was exactly what he said. But she was ashamed to admit to Ishaan that her now ex-boyfriend found her to be intelligent yet repulsive to look at.

“He gave me some lame-ass reason about him being a nerd and me holding him back from being cool.” She rolled her eyes as dramatically as she could. “Yeah, that was me all along. Anyway, it doesn't matter.” Issa pushed Ishaan's hand away from her hair. “Let him do what he wants. He weighs ninety-five pounds, let's see if he can ever do anything
but
be a nerd.”

The pink and purple saris Issa had hung on her windows shuddered gently in the breeze. Today, even hiding in the ethnic lair that was her bedroom wasn't comforting to her. The
Om
-printed jasmine candles and prints of the Taj Mahal and Jaipur on the walls weren't taking her away to another world like they usually did.

Let's see how soon Cat dumps him on his ass.
She continued to glare at the ceiling.

After she and her mother had moved into this place, Issa had stood on a ladder, painted the ceiling navy blue and glued on glow-in-the dark moons. She'd thought they were the coolest things in the world and whenever she had friends over, she would turn off the lights to show off her mini solar system. Now they seemed like childish plastic blobs.
She
felt like a childish plastic blob.

“Is there anything I can do? Slash his tires? Get the soccer team together and paint ‘male whore' on his garage door? Wouldn't that be a
Desperate Housewives
moment?”

Issa almost laughed at the thought. Even though Ishaan was one of the more popular members of the senior class and a star on the soccer and tennis teams, he was the most loyal friend she had. And usually she would tease him about his closeted
Desperate Housewives
addiction, but she didn't feel like it today. “There's no reason to do anything. I'm over it. He's a fool. Not spending another moment thinking about him. Okay? No more.”

“You mean that?” To her annoyance, Ishaan sounded amused, and not a least bit convinced.

Issa sighed. Ishaan Banerjee knew her too well. His family was one of two other Indian families in New Joliet and the Banerjees had taken Alisha under their wing and acted as if the Mazumders were blood relatives, despite Issa's half-and-half status.

Alisha's parents and the Banerjees were from the same city of Calcutta in India. Even though Alisha didn't speak Bengali with Issa or her older brother, Amir, plus the fact that she was estranged from her superconservative parents, she still carried her heritage and encouraged her children to do the same.

And ever since Amir had moved to Los Angeles for school, Ishaan had taken it upon himself to look out for Issa as if she were his own little sister. Sometimes it drove her crazy, but today she was happy he'd insisted on coming over and sitting with her.

“Can we change the subject?” Issa asked. “I don't want to waste another moment on this. He deserves everything that's coming to him.”

“Of course,” Ishaan said. “You're completely over him, right?” he repeated. “Never going to think of him again.”

“That's right.”

“Good. Great. How about we—”

“Dumped for Cat Morena!” Issa burst out. “It had to be Cat Morena! The one person I can't stand on this whole earth! Girl thinks baklava comes out of volcanoes. So she drives a Lotus and wears those trashy four-inch-heeled boots that cost more than our mortgage. Is that really so great? You're a guy, Ishaan, do you think she's all that?”

“Uh—”

Issa hurried on, afraid to hear his answer. “And who invites every guy she dates over for a ‘dip' in her dad's hot tub? She's a tramp!”

“But you're over him, remember?”

Issa gritted her teeth and stewed. She was over him. A smart girl like her was never again going to be hung up on some guy. She wasn't a typical moronic teenager and certainly wasn't going to start acting like one now. And if Adam was stupid enough to believe whatever Cat had told him, well, he definitely wasn't the Adam she had loved.

“I don't care what he does,” she said. “I just always thought Adam would be too smart to fall for
those
kinds of girls.” She realized she sounded petty, stupid…and jealous. But she had to let it all out. “Whatever. Let him have his fun. I give him a week before he comes crawling back. Then I'll be the one having fun. Hmm, how many ways can you say, ‘Go to hell'? I'll tell him in other languages. Do we have an international thesaurus up in here?”

“Iz—” Ishaan was interrupted by the Maroon 5 ring tone of Issa's cell phone. She swore she saw a hint of a smile on his lips as he handed over the phone. “Here. I gotta go anyway. Gigi said she'd stop by and see you after cheer practice.”

“Don't laugh at me!” she yelled as Ishaan left the room. “I'm over him. I hate him. If this is him, I'll give him a piece of my mind.”

“It's your mom. She's picking you up for some surprise, remember?” Ishaan paused in her doorway. “Go out and have fun. This day can't get any worse, right?”

 

“This better be a good surprise, Mama,” Issa said, sliding into the passenger side of Alisha's rust-colored Toyota Corolla. “I'm really not in the mood today.”

Alisha tapped the steering wheel in tune to the radio, the silver bangles on her wrists jangling. “I think you'll like this one, oh, favorite daughter.”

Hmph.
Alisha's teasing. Never a care in the world for Alisha. Sometimes Issa swore she was the mother and Alisha the daughter. Times like this it annoyed her. Why couldn't she have a normal mother? One who fed her chicken soup and let her hide under the covers for a week.

“Whatever.” Issa sighed and faced out the passenger-side window.

“Hey, kiddo, are you okay?” Alisha asked, turning Issa's chin toward her. “Have you been crying?”

Issa hesitated. Right now she just wanted to stop thinking about it. If Issa started on the pity party now, Alisha would be furious with Adam. She would threaten to kick his sorry ass. And the surprise would be ruined.

I'll tell her afterward,
Issa decided. “No, I'm fine. Don't want to talk about it right now.”

Alisha still looked concerned. “You sure, babe? We can do this later if you want.”

“No, no. I—never mind. What's this surprise about? Are we going somewhere fancy?” Issa studied Alisha's outfit. She'd changed clothes after work. The starched blue blouse and gray pencil skirt her mother was wearing were a far cry from her usual floor-length skirts and peasant tops. Her normally wavy hair was straightened and pulled neatly back at the nape of her neck. Issa became aware she was in jeans and a ragged hoodie sweatshirt, her shoulder-length curls now in a messy bun. She was
not
dressed for a night out.

“You're dressed up! Are we finally going to see
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?
Mom! I'm not dressed for the theater!”

“Issa, I can assure you with my strongest conviction that we would
not
be going to the theater on a Monday night.” Alisha attempted to start the car. The engine huffed and shut off.

“Well, I never know with you.” Issa was still suspicious. “Remember that time we took a bus to the Hamptons just to sell seashells by the seashore?”

“I was young and you were silly then,” Alisha said, her crescent-shaped lips curving as the engine finally groaned to life.

“It was last year!”

“And wasn't it fun? A good surprise?”

“Yes,” Issa admitted. Any adventure with Alisha at the helm was fun. She was not your usual conservative Indian-American mother. Raised by overly strict parents, she had run away from home, married someone handsome and inappropriate, had Issa and her brother soon after and never really grown up. Alisha had vowed years ago to raise Issa right, in a way her own parents had never done with her.

Issa and Alisha had always shared everything: size 6 clothes, the same hazel eyes, a taste for coconut lattes and sweet tea and secrets. Until today. Issa wondered what all the hush-hush was about. She watched the neighborhoods change from middle class to upper crust as the car whizzed through New Joliet.

Ten minutes later Alisha pulled into a circular driveway topped by a three-story mansion.

“What's this? Did we win the lottery? Is this our new house?”

Alisha laughed. “You'll see.”

Issa had been joking, but Alisha's smile was so happy, for a second she thought it might be possible.

Alisha rang the doorbell with Issa hanging behind a few steps.

“
Buenas tardes,
Alisha.” A formidable salt-and-pepper-haired man, fully suited down to polished loafers, answered the door in a slightly accented voice. “I'm so glad Issa was able to make it.”

Diego.

Alisha had been casually dating the slick, overly polished man for a few months. Thankfully, Issa hadn't had too many run-ins with him.
He
was the surprise? This had to be his house. Alisha normally had fun taste in men, tormented artists who were consumed by their genius or wannabe comedians who considered the world their stage. True, the relationships never lasted more than a month, but Issa knew her mother was just enjoying life. It wasn't as if she was looking for her soul mate. Issa's daddy was still out there somewhere and she knew her mama could never be with anyone else for long.

But this Diego was different. Issa had heard he was rich, but apparently he was superrich. The expensive-looking suits, the fancy corporate-lawyer job, this vulgarly large house. So ridiculous. He looked like a clean-cut Antonio Banderas and sounded like him too. Not Alisha's style at all.

“I'm so glad you came tonight for dinner, Issa.” Diego reached out to take Issa's zipped-up hoodie.

“Oh, yeah,” she muttered, and shoved her fingers into her sweatshirt pockets. She wasn't about to reveal the ribbed Hindu-god-imprinted tank top she wore underneath.

“My young daughter will be joining us tonight. She is most anxious to meet you.” Diego either ignored, or didn't understand, Issa's sullen attitude.

“Wonderful,” Issa said through her teeth. Could this day really get much worse? She didn't know Diego's bratty kid and didn't particularly care to after the horrendous day she'd had.

She surreptitiously checked out the house as Diego hung up Alisha's coat. Wow. White marble everything. Spiral staircase, burgundy carpeting. It was like something out of a design magazine. And all of this for just Diego and his kid? It was a far cry from her and Alisha's run-down town house with mismatched garage-sale furniture.

A small movement caught Issa's eyes and she noticed a girl sauntering down the spiral staircase. A tiny smirk on her lips, the girl made her way to the base of the stairs, her narrow hips creating figure eights as she walked, her silky hair swishing around the waist of her white dress. Not just any girl. Cat Morena.

Issa heard a strange gurgling sound in her throat. Cat Morena was Diego's daughter? It couldn't be! Was she being “punked”?

The wicked smile Cat shot Issa assured her this was no dream. She was real. Deadly real.

“Catalina, meet Issa, Alisha's daughter. I am sure you two have seen each other at school, yes?” Diego kissed his daughter's outstretched hand.

“Of course,
Papi.
Issa and I have some common friends. Adam, right?” Cat said the words so sweetly, Issa almost believed the innocent tone herself. “We were just talking about her last weekend while studying.”