Page 126 of Reasons We Break

“Ah.You’rethe Randhawa kid.” He looks him over. “You’re taller than I imagined.”

Rajan can’t decide if that’s a compliment or an insult. Manny goes on.

“You’re running something for Nick? I thought you didn’t work for us anymore.”

“I help the bookkeeper out sometimes.” Rajan tosses the ledger back on the table. Manny instantly relaxes. “She wanted to look at the Ace ledgers.”

“Oh, she’s folded, has she? Good. I thought I’d have to do something drastic.” He circles Rajan. “You know, I swear we’ve met before.”

“We have. When I was fourteen.” Rajan glances at the clock.

“Really.”

“Yeah, at one of your twisted parties. You helped me do my first line of coke. Fuck you for that.”

Manny stares at him. Rajan’s certain very few people talk to him that way and walk out alive. For a second, Rajan thinks he won’t be an exception, but then Manny chuckles and continues circling. “If you want to blame me for your screwups, fine. I’m just here to serve the people.” Although he’s currently behind Rajan, a smile enters his voice. “Take Simran, for instance.”

He pauses here. Deliberate. Rajan doesn’t move a muscle.

Manny reenters his line of vision. “The other day, she was in here whining about her work conditions. She came to her senses eventually. Then we had a nice evening together.” He nods to his crystal tray, clearly enjoying Rajan’s speechlessness. “She’s very different after a few lines. Talkative. Annoying, honestly.”

His voice is sly. Rajan’s hands curl into fists. He remembers a few days ago when Simran showed up at his worksite. Acting so damn weird. Like she was sick...or coming down from something. Butwhy?

Manny, still grinning, picks up his phone, which is vibrating in his pocket. His smug expression fades.“What?”

With effort, Rajan files away the information about Simran for later. Right now, it’s go time.

Manny strides to the window. “On the street? This is too far. Those fuckers—” He starts for the door. Rajan does, too, the guards so distracted by Manny’s newfound distress that they don’t notice Rajan casually shoving ledgers into his baggy hoodie pocket. He walks out with one of the Ace ledgers tucked under his arm, so brazenly that no one looks twice.

Rajan can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing that Zach’s plan goes off without a hitch. The little shootout near Manny’s mansion has the Lions distracted, and Rajan barely receives any attention as he leaves. He gets picked up on the opposite end of the street, just outside the Lions’ cameras, yet again. Once in the van, he tosses the books in Zach’s lap.

Zach sorts through them as the van starts driving. “And where’s our last ledger?”

“There weren’t any more.”

“Well, too bad. Kat’s not off the hook until you get it.”

“What? How is thismyproblem?” Zach’s seemingly fighting a smile. Sick asshole is enjoying the hell out of this. Rajan takes a long breath. “What day is it?”

They tell him. Saturday. He exhales. In a different situation, he might laugh about how, somehow, all roads inevitably lead toher.

But if he pulls this off, it will be the last time he intrudes on her life. “Fine.” He settles into his seat. “There’s one other place I could look.”

SIMRAN HAS Ahard time catching Charlie alone at the reception hall. TJ has latched herself to his elbow, patting down his shirt, picking invisible lint off his arm, and occasionally leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Simran would applaud TJ’s little show, but it’s getting in the way of her plans.

As Simran’s watching, TJ gives Charlie a quick kiss before sending him off with her father, then approaches their table. She sits next to Simran, looking her up and down. “I didsucha good job on you.”

She really did. After TJ finished her makeup, she revealed an embroidered gold anarkali from a garment bag. Fancier than anything Simran has in her closet, and heavier, too. Once TJ had zipped her up, TJ and Kiran ushered her to the mirror. It had broken Simran out of her scheming when she finally saw herself. The anarkali sweeps to her feet, weighed down by layers of fabric and detailing, with equally adorned sleeves ending in gold cuffs. Matching jewelry hangs from her ears and throat, along with a gold tikka from the center part of her hair. Her knee-length hair had taken TJ the longest to style; some of it pinned and other parts loose, a waterfall of texture TJ had created down her back.

Simran knows why TJ went this far. And while it hasn’t exactly cheered her up, it’s certainly been a distraction. “Thank you,” she says, and TJ beams. She pops a pakora in her mouth and looks to the dance floor, where Gurjeevan and Neetu are dancing. Gurjeevan is gorgeous in his off-white achkan. Neetu glows, too, in an emerald lehenga laden with jewels, a genuine blush rising in her skin.

“Gurjeevan looks so good. Maybe I’ll make Charlie wear an achkan at our wedding, too,” TJ muses, then stiffens, sending Simran and Kiran a sharp glance. “Don’t ever tell Charlie I said that.”

“Of course,” Simran says. “Under no circumstances can your boyfriend know you like him.”

TJ kicks her foot. Kiran snickers. And for the first time in a long time, Simran feels almost normal. Then she notices TJ’s dad wandering along the edge of the crowd with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Without Charlie.

Simran stands. “I’m going to get some food.”