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Authors: Flo Fitzpatrick

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Chapter 43
Brig, Asha, and I stayed at the table for the next five hours. Two men in dark suits who flashed badges and ID at us at least ten times to prove they were indeed from Interpol, and not associates of Patel or Mahindra, took the permanently speechless Kirkee and his soggy male dancer wannabes away. They waited until Asha gathered up Sparky and Fluffy, the guardian snakes. By then, Mahindra seemed grateful to be in international police custody.
Claire hugged everyone, casually slung the tote bag with Shiva's Diva over her arm, then headed for her car. She paused just before leaving and turned to me. In Portuguese she told me to take care of the man. I assumed she meant Brig, which sounded fine to me.
She then said that she and Sachin would come to the States for a visit the first chance they had. She even winked and said they'd throw the Diva into a bag and bring her so we could see her again.
The cast of
Carnival of Lust
left for the day.
Asha, Brig, and I sat drinking more tea, debating whether we wanted to head into Bombay for dinner. Asha rose. “I've had it. This is nuts. I want to know where Jake disappeared to. He's missed all the action.”
She shrieked as the man himself wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air.
“I'm right here. Sorry I couldn't join you earlier. But I had things to take care of, and I did
not
miss the action, Miss Kumar.”
“What things? Where were you? Hell, Jake, you didn't even get to hear the whole explanation about Claire and Shiva's Diva and everything.”
“I realize this. Brig will fill me in later.”
He sank into a chair and gratefully accepted the cup of tea I handed him. “So? Not to echo Asha, but what happened to you, Mr. Roshan?”
A huge smile spread over his face. “I was standing on the crane lift while all that action Asha spoke of took place on the ground. I watched my sweet fiancée throwing snakes, dancers tapping around Mahindra's men in the fountain, Brig riding in on the elephant. I loved that great bit where Tempe came swinging down on the rope and knocked Mahindra off his feet. Magnificent. I caught every moment of it on film!”
We stared at him. He seemed oblivious to the looks.
“I have a new movie planned.”
Asha sighed. “Might have known. After this one wraps and after our wedding, I hope. By the way, I've been thinking about that. I've decided I want to have the ceremony here after all. Mom and Dad need to visit. Perfect way to get them to India.”
I nearly fell off my chair, but Jake nodded as if he'd always known this would be her choice. He turned to Brig. “Can you stay? Be my best man?”
Asha interrupted before Brig had a chance to speak. “Tempe's going to be my maid of honor if that makes any difference.”
Brig smiled. He reached for my hand. “Well, yes and no. When do you plan to have the wedding?”
Jake thought for a second. “April. Right after
Carnival of Lust
is released.” He smiled. “It's far less hot here in India that time of year.”
Brig shook his head. “Well, then, Tempe will be Asha's
matron
of honor. Because, if my charm still works on the lass, I plan on her having a status change several months before that.”
He knelt down on the ground in front of me. One knee.
“Will you marry me?”
For a moment, I thought Shiva's Diva had gone insane. She'd cursed and blessed me all at once. I was speechless and delirious with joy. When I finally found my voice, I could only utter one word. “Yes.”
Brig helped me stand up from the table and held me. And kissed me. And kissed me a bit more.
My skills as a linguist had deserted me. Even when we came up for air, I kept repeating, “Yes. Oh yes!” Then I stared at my newly intended and thought of all the days and nights we'd be sharing until we both were very, very old.
Asha broke the silence since Brig and I were still too busy hugging and gazing into one another's eyes to be coherent about anything.
“You two have just proved something for me. I'd always heard love makes you stupid. I'm now witnessing exactly that.”
Jake grabbed her and planted a firm kiss on her mouth. “I seem to remember a certain Miss Kumar and a Mr. Roshan spending no less than thirty minutes crying and hugging and one or the other asking, ‘Is it true? We're engaged?' not that many months long ago. Right?”
I interrupted while Jake was keeping Asha quiet but happy. “I, personally, would rather be stupid and be loved than be brilliant, not loved, and lonely, thank you.”
Brig nuzzled my neck. “You'll never be those latter two, lass. That I can promise you.”
We kissed again, then I drew back for a second.
“Wait. One thing I need to ask. Yes, I love you and will proudly become Tempe O'Brien.” I giggled. “That is so cool! Talk about dreams coming true.”
Brig grinned at me. “So, what do you need to know?”
“Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Stupidity whacking me again. What exactly do you do for a living, O'Brien? I mean, do I need to fear Interpol coming back and throwing you into the pokey with Mahindra and friends for trafficking in hot merchandise?”
Brig shook his head. “I work for a firm called Restoration. We . . . well . . . we find lost items and things and we . . . well . . . we restore them to their rightful owners. Simple.”
“Beg pardon?”
He laughed. “You're going to hit me.
Another
college buddy asked for help about ten years ago. He was searching for paintings that had been stolen from his grandparents during the Holocaust. The few leads he had led to Amsterdam. I trotted on over and I found the blighters. Both the paintings and the neo-Nazi spawn who had them.”
I had a feeling there was a lot more to this than Brig paddling around the canals, then popping up with a Rembrandt or two in his pocket. Maybe someday the full story would seep out in polite conversation. Perhaps when my hair finally turned gray from old age and not horror.
“Yes? Go on.”
“My buddy became my business partner. Actually, he funds Restoration. People like Claire and Sachin come to us for help in getting back pieces that have been stolen from them. No matter how long ago they were taken, it's still stinking thievery. I dislike people absconding with others' belongings. Hence the name Restoration.”
“I guess that clears up a few things. Kind of.” I paused. “Wait a second. I do have one other question.”
Brig kissed me. “Anything.”
“Who exactly is Saint Swithen?”
He assumed his brogue. “Swithen was a foin bishop plyin' his trade in the latter half of the first century, don't ya know. Legend has it, if it rains on Swithen's day in July, then it'll rain for the next forty days. Not a damn thing to do with the affair of Shiva's Diva, but I love his name. And ya know, the sun shone on the bishop's feast day this past July?”
“Where? Here in Bombay? During monsoon season?”
“Nope. Manhattan. I remember that day. July twelfth. The heat wave had broken but no rain. I'd just spied a red-haired beauty in a cream-colored blouse and jade earbobs juggling coffee cups on her way to an elevator in a building on the corner of forty-ninth and seventh.”
“What?”
“Aye. Mind now, I didn't know 'twas you. But I did some talkin' with the good bishop and asked his help in arrangin' a meeting in honor of his own blessed day. And he did.”
I blinked. “So you're saying Saint Swithen stuck me with you at Hot Harry's just because you made a request?”
“Yes.”
I had no response for this other than to ignore him. My new intended who believed in Indian goddesses and first-century weather saints.
Funny. I remembered July twelfth. Two days after my birthday. I'd worn my cream-colored blouse and jade earrings that had been a birthday gift from my aunt Moira, another Irishborn American who adhered to the credo of the little people, rainbows, and all saints canonized before the seventeenth century.
“Got it. So. Any more fables, myths, or great Irish stories I need to know? And what were you doing in my building anyway? Assuming that was even me. I mean I.”
“The diamond district is only a few blocks away. And, don't worry, I'll fill you in on the tales of my exploits with Restoration throughout the years. We have time. And don't imagine I'll leave you at home when I'm doing a job. Aside from not being able to be parted from you for more than an hour or so, you'll be an asset in the work.”
I didn't ask why he was loitering in the diamond district. I didn't care. My thoughts were focused on the years of listening to Brig telling me about his adventures and making me part of his life.
Asha had not stopped beaming at us. Jake took a more practical stance. “I must ask this of you both. Would you be in my next movie? After all, I had to steal Tempe's passport to keep her here this past week. Do I need to do worse?”
My eyes nearly popped. “You took it? You? Why on earth?”
Jake snickered. He didn't seem the least sorry.
“Brig told me to. He didn't want you to hop aboard the fastest flight back to New York. And after I saw your dancing and those marvelous aerial tricks, I was very glad he convinced me to commit this slight misdemeanor so you would stay. Don't worry. I still have both the passport and your suitcase in my trailer.”
I squinched my eyes at Brig. “What was this about not approving of stealing? Huh? What do you call sneaking into my hotel room and snatching my passport? And I thought you were trying to keep me safe?”
Brig didn't seem at all sorry either. “ 'Twas for a good cause, lass. For sartin. I knew I loved you the second I saw you come sashayin' into Hot Harry's Saloon. I hadn't been plannin' on Mahindra's bullets forcin' ya into me arms, but once you were there, I was determined ta keep ya. Forever and a day. I hoped that the heat generated between us would keep ya here, but just in case? I couldn't have ya hoppin' aboard a jet and out of me life, I swear. I had no idea you'd keep gettin' inta trouble now.”
The man was incorrigible. I hoped Saint Swithen would help keep him exactly that way.
Jake continued as though the discussion about stolen passports hadn't just taken place. “I plan on using the footage I shot today, so you're already in the best scenes for the new movie. Yes?”
Brig had started kissing me again. We stopped long enough to turn and stare at Jake. He smiled.
“Tempe, luv? What do you think? Ready to be a star? I can see the posters now.
The Return of Shiva's Diva
, starring Asha Kumar, soon to also be Missus Jake Roshan, plus Briggan and Tempe O'Brien. All newlyweds. A great publicity move. And, of course, introducing Binky the heroic elephant. Jake might even have to bring back Spot the tiger and let both Tempe and Asha sing to her.”
Asha brightened. “And Sparky the snake. Don't forget her. And her sister, Fluffy. I mean brother, I guess.”
Brig sighed. “I was trying not to remember. If you must, Asha. Just keep them both a good ten yards away from me and I'll remove all elephants from your sight? Deal?”
Jake whooped. “You'll do it, then? Both of you? We can shoot on location at Hot Harry's and at the Taj Mahal Hotel. We'll film at the Flora Fountain. We can add a few scenes in the park with the animals. I'll even let Asha ride the llama if she wants. It will be magnificent.”
All eyes turned to me. I rolled my shoulders in a pure dance isolation move. I fluttered my lashes.
“Oh heck. Why not? My mother will go nuts. In a good way. Let's see. First, I get married. That she won't really care about. I mean, she'll adore Brig and be pleased for us.”
I paused to curl up solidly within the circle of the adored one's arms. “But the movie? Oh, lads and lassies. She'll be about shoutin', screamin', shriekin' proud, and ya'd best be believin' it. Because after all these many years, and after all the lessons? Finally, her darlin' daughter will be a star.”
About the Author
Flo Fitzpatrick is a performer and choreographer, with a BFA in Dance and a Masters degree in Drama. She first attempted to write a novel at the age of eight, but was persuaded not to submit the piece by her brothers, who were skeptical that her characters were traveling across the Atlantic from New York to London—by train. A transplanted Texan, Flo currently lives in New Jersey with her husband, singer/actor Edmound Fitzpatrick, and their two Border Collie wannabes, Lucy and Huckleberry.
Visit Flo's website at
www.flofitzpatrick.com
.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
ISBN: 978-1-4201-2302-9
Copyright © 2005 by Flo Fitzpatrick
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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