Page 104 of Reasons We Break

Simran stops. The party’s tonight. “So soon?”

“What can I say. Your little strike pissed him off good.”

“But tonight doesn’t work.” She can’t miss the party, shepromisedNeetu.

“Manny will meet you tonight or he’ll never meet you,” Nick replies. “You know where. Five, or never.” He hangs up.

Her parents approach. “Everything okay?” her father asks. Simran pockets her phone.

“Paul needs my help with something at five. It’ll be quick,” she adds, determined. “I’ll meet you at the party, Mom. Okay?”

This shouldn’t take long. It can’t.

At five twenty, Simran rolls through the gates of Manny’s mansion. She hadn’t anticipated packing her suit would take so long. It’s a burnt-orange number with silver detailing, currently tucked into the back seat. For now, she’s in her usual jeans and T-shirt, a thin jacket on top.

Nick and Zohra are waiting. They don’t waste time when she gets out of her truck, setting for the entrance. The party is, once again, ongoing. The heavy bass sets a different tone, though.

“You’re late,” Nick says curtly when Simran catches up.

“Does that surprise you?”

“No. Which is why, when Manny said five thirty, I told you five.”

Very tricky of him. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing. You have to be careful.”

“Manny’s been known to have people killed on the spot,” Zohra adds. “One moment he’s laughing, next thing you hear a bang, and his bodyguard just shot the guy who made him laugh.”

Simran pushes her glasses up. “Well, good thing I’m not very funny then.”

Nick halts at the doors. “You’re not taking this seriously. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

Simran swallows to work moisture into her mouth. “I don’t have any other choice.”

Nick shakes his head and opens the door. He and Zohra aren’t smiling, aren’t smoking or eating Popsicles, aren’t their usual playful mocking selves. They’reanxious. In a strange twist, Simran is the most relaxed one here.

They ascend the staircase and turn down a corridor Simran didn’t notice last time. Finally, they stop at a doorway obscured by a beaded curtain. The smoke is thicker here. Tinkling laughter comes from inside.

“This is where we leave you. Last chance,” Nick says. “Tell me you change your mind. You don’t have to do this.”

He’s right. But if she pulls it off...

Simran squares her shoulders. “My friend’s party is in thirty minutes. Don’t let me miss it.”

Without waiting for an answer, she pushes through the curtain.

Immediately, two Lions in all black close in to pat her down. Once they’re satisfied, they shove her forward. It’s a large sitting room, and at the center is a sprawling leather couch.

Simran wasn’t sure what she expected of Manny Khullar. But her first thought is that he’s dangerously handsome. The edges of his closely shorn beard are razor-sharp. His hair is gelled, short at the sides and long on top. He’s in the kind of well-fitting, simple shirt that somehow screams money. He lounges behind a coffee table set with glittering ornaments and crystal trays of pills and powder. A blond white woman is curled up against his side in a thin bathrobe, her eyes half lidded.

Simran’s eyes drift to the small, nondescript book in Manny’s lap. He sets it down when she stops in front of them. Piercing gold eyes fall on her. Then he smiles.

“Simran Kaur Aujla. The refreshments are for you. Please, help yourself.” He gestures to the array of drugs like they’re a cheese platter. Several rings flash on his fingers.

Simran doesn’t move. “You know why I’m here.”

“I insist you treat yourself before we talk shop.”