To Have and to Heist(22)

His brow creased in a frown. “No one has ever asked me to do anything like this.”

“Then you mustn’t know many single almost-thirty-year-old South Asian women with marriage-obsessed parents.” I grabbed his hand. “Please, Detective Garcia. I’ll owe you one.”

“Is that a bribe?” His voice rose from deep and low to just low. “Are you trying to bribe me to handcuff you in front of your family?”

“Is it illegal? If so, then yes. I can’t take it anymore. Everywhere I go, there’s an auntie dragging along some hapless suitor. They show up at my work, my gym, even the dentist’s office. Once they caught me getting onto a ride at Six Flags and I had to talk and scream at the same time.”

Garcia shook his head. “I don’t—”

“You can’t take me, cop!” I raced for the living room, but not too fast because I needed Garcia to keep up.

“Jesus Christ,” Garcia muttered, following behind me.

“What’s going on here?” Dad shot to his feet. “Simi?”

With the slightest shake of his head, Garcia pulled his cuffs off his belt. “Simi Chopra, I need you to come to the station. You’re under suspicion as an accessory to a burglary.”

“You can rough me up,” I whispered when he came near. “It’s okay.”

Garcia spun me around and snapped the cuffs around my wrists. My heartbeat quickened at the way he held me, confident and commanding.

“Oh no.” I put as much fear into my voice as I could. “What’s happening? How could you do this to me? I’m innocent, I tell you, innocent.”

Garcia yanked me back, his lips warm on my ear. “You’re overdoing it.”

“You’ll never make this stick,” I shouted as he marched me out the door. “You’ve got nothing on me.”

“You’re a terrible actor,” he said quietly. “I hope never to see you onstage.”

“Have you ever seen a Bollywood film?” I retorted. “This is positively repressed.”

Dad rushed out to the porch, waving his phone in the air. “Don’t worry, beta. I’ll call Riswan.”

“We’ll never get her married now,” my mother wailed.

Garcia opened the door to the police cruiser and put a gentle hand on my head. “In you go.”

Just before the door slammed, I heard Annika Auntie say, “It’s okay. Nothing to worry about. She was an accessory to the burglary, not the actual burglar. Everyone knows accessories don’t count.”

Seven

Where have you been all my life, sunshine?” Cristian blew me a kiss from the other side of the tie display when I walked into Dad’s store Monday morning. I’d only spent an hour at the police station the night before. Riswan got me out of there after Garcia admitted he still had no evidence to tie me to the crime. After a sleepless night, turning over all the possibilities of my worsening situation and fantasizing about being cuffed by Garcia but this time in bed, Cristian was the last person I wanted to see.

“Hiding.” I made my way to the workroom, keeping my distance from his octopus hands.

I love my dad’s store. It’s everything you could imagine a traditional tailor shop would be, with its dark wood paneling, gold accents, and deep red upholstery. He expanded a few years ago when the sandwich shop beside us went out of business, increasing the size of his workshop out back and adding a spacious and discreet fitting area behind a wall of frosted glass. Suits of all types are displayed on racks in the center of the bright and airy space, with shirts and accessories neatly folded on warm wooden shelves lining the walls. The scents of fresh linen, wool, and leather are so much a part of my childhood, the store feels like a second home.

“Don’t be like that, Sim.” He followed behind me, his Sperry boat shoes thudding softly on the plush carpet. He was wearing a pink and white striped shirt with a blue polka-dot tie and a pair of slim navy dress pants that broke perfectly at the tops of his shoes. On anyone else, it would have been too much. On Cristian, it was style perfection, and he knew it.

“I’m not like other guys,” he continued. “You’re special to me.”

“Like your three special baby girls from the other night?”

“Five,” he said, totally unashamed. “I broke up with my girlfriend and I needed some love.”

“And now you’re trying for six?” I pushed aside the curtain separating the workroom from the sales floor. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Want to play the question game?” He leaned against the sewing table while I took off my coat.

“No.”

“Handcuffs or roses?” He followed me back into the shop and across the floor to the tie table.

“Cristian . . .”

“I want to be ready when you realize you’re desperately in love with me. Should I show up at your place with a bouquet of roses or a shiny pair of handcuffs?” He studied me, considering. “I think it’ll have to be roses. I can’t imagine you’d let anyone put you in cuffs.”

I was tempted to tell him about me and Detective Garcia last night but then he’d never leave me alone.

“Save your money. It’s never going to happen.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard those words from a woman.” He held up a tie and tilted his head to the side. “What do you think about me in yellow?”