Page 82 of Tiger's Voyage

Kishan stood silently staring at me until I began to fidget.

How do guys do this? It’s so nerve-racking.“Well?” I asked impatiently. “Would you like to go out with me or not?”

Kishan took a step closer and touched my cheek. “Yes, I would like to have dinner with you tonight. Would you like to go into town?”

I considered the idea. “Yes. That would probably be the easiest thing to do.”

“And we’ll be alone.”

I nodded. Kishan grinned and told me the name of the restaurant we would meet at. I gave him a shaky smile back and fled the gym. I felt a strong need to escape, to get off the boat, and to be on my own for a while.Maybe a little retail therapy would help, I hoped.

Mr. Kadam agreed to let me borrow the Jeep and head into town on my own as long as I checked in with him every two hours. He gave me some credit cards that read K. H. Khan, the same name as my passport, and reminded me to sign the slips properly. I parked in town, checked my cell phone for a good signal, and started walking.

I went into a clothing store and found a mauve blouse with crystal beads and matching silver sequins. The long sleeves were tight at the top and flowed at the wrist. I bought some silver sandals and hoop earrings to match and found a pair of dark jeans to go with them at the next store. It would be nice to have something new for my date later that night.

I had an enjoyable, mindless afternoon strolling through the markets and shops. Most of the vendors spoke at least a little English. I checked in with Mr. Kadam often so he didn’t send the cavalry out after me and bought myself an iced fruit drink to sip as I walked.

I passed a store that sold beads, a bookstore, a shop with candles and incense, and then strolled a vegetable market and browsed in what looked like a pharmacy. I passed a hair salon and heard the feminine chatter of several women talking and laughing. On a whim, I turned around and headed in the door. A pretty middle-aged woman approached me.

“Hello, miss. Would you like a cut, then?”

“A cut?”

“Or a wash and a style maybe?”

I involuntarily tugged on the tail of my braid where it hung over my shoulder.

“A cut? Yes. Why not?”

She smiled at me and guided me to a chair. I hadn’t cut my hair since high school graduation. Honestly, I didn’t usually give my hair much thought, but suddenly it seemed to be the right thing to do. It was time for a change. The hairdresser brought over a book of hairstyles to look at, but I waved the book away and asked for her opinion instead. She turned my head to several angles and studied the shape of my face very seriously.

“I think I know just the thing. Trust me, and I will make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

After she washed my hair, she handed me a pop-culture magazine. It had only snippets of English, but I liked looking at the pictures of all the Bollywood actors and actresses. Another girl approached with a cart of nail polishes and asked if I’d like my nails done.

“Sure, why not. I have a date tonight so I’ll splurge.”

They asked many questions about the man I would see, and I was able to describe Kishan in great detail. They chattered excitedly and wondered if he had a brother. I snorted and said nothing. Apparently, they were single and still looking for a good match, but so far they’d been unsuccessful. They moaned and said all the good men in the city were already taken. They even remarked that the women outnumbered the men at least two to one and told me I was lucky to find such a nice man for myself.

I nodded and bit my lip.Huh. That explains the flock around Ren,I suppose. Not that it would really matter. He’d have a flock of women nomatter where he went. For all I knew, he was already engaged or, at the veryleast, proposed to by a dozen women.

We chatted most of the afternoon. I selected a mauve-colored nail polish to match my blouse and watched as the manicurist carefully painted my toenails.

I gasped when I first saw several inches of wet hair fall to the floor, but I quickly recovered, reminding myself that it was time for a new me. The stylist blew out my hair and spent forty-five minutes curling and pinning it up. When she turned me to the mirror, I was shocked. She explained that my hair was now just past shoulder level and layered. A mass of curls framed my face and brushed the back of my neck, tickling it as I moved. My hair felt light and bouncy. They let me change into my new clothes behind a curtain and even offered to refresh my makeup. I took them up on it and emerged from the salon with a new style, a new hairdo, and a new outlook on life. After generously tipping the women, I made my way over to The Seven Seas seafood restaurant that Kishan had picked.

I arrived before Kishan. The waiter sat me at a table and brought me an ice-cold lemon water. I watched the passersby and heard the motorcycle before I saw it.

Kishan pulled up, took off his helmet, and searched the street for me. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans, faded along the thighs, and a long-sleeved gray shirt with embroidery details across the chest and the back. His hair was wet and longer than Ren’s.

He was a very handsome man, but better than that, he was a good man, and someone I considered a friend. Surely it wouldn’t take me long to love him. He walked into the restaurant and perused the room. His eyes flitted past me and then shot back and widened as he took in my appearance. He smiled and approached the table.

He dipped his head over my hand and kissed it warmly. “You look beautiful. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He pulled out a chair, then stopped and winced. “That’s not exactly what I meant. I meant to say that you look even more beautiful than you usually do. I like that color,” he said indicating my blouse. “It makes your skin look like cream.”