“Stop pushing my buttons,” Kareena said, and gingerly uncapped her Pedialyte for another gulp. “God, this is disgusting.”
Bindu sniffed and made a gagging sound. “Reeks, too. Well, it serves you right. Especially after you put me in that position with your birthday gift.”
Kareena glared at her sister. “You deserve it for trying to embarrass me first.”
“I thought it would be funny.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Especially after Dad told me he was getting rid of Mom’s house.”
Bindu rolled her eyes. “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with the house.”
“To each her own.”
Even though Bindu had been young when their mom died, she was more like their father anyway. She didn’t see the house as their mother’s legacy. As Kareena’s legacy.
Kareena waited for someone with a long back wire to walk past them. “How long is this going to take? I want to go home.”
“An hour tops.” Bindu checked the time on her phone, then reached into her purse and pulled out a tripod. She began deftly unfolding it, until it stood about five feet tall. She pulled out her cell phone and attached it to the clip at the top. “There. Now while you help me livestream on my channel today, hopefully you’ll learn something about dating and finding your true love.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Bindu smirked at her. “I mean you need all the help you can get—”
“You keep insulting me, you can forget getting my help ever again.”
Bindu held up her hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is that you’re going to need to take some advice if you want to find love like Mom and Dad had.”
Kareena looked down at her maroon sweater vest and adjusted her glasses. “And who exactly am I supposed to take advice from?”
“Dr. Dil, of course. And me.”
Before she could ask who Dr. Dil was, a woman with dark kohl-lined eyes, a hoop nose ring, and audio equipment in one hand stopped in front of Bindu. “Bindu Mann, right? From the YouTube channel Mann Your Business?”
“Yes, that’s me!”
“Cute name. I need to mike you up. Once you’re ready to go, then you’ll wait here. Dr. Verma will call you.”
“Great!” Bindu stood and let the woman clip the receiver to her waist and explain how the mic system worked.
“It’s still okay to livestream my segment on my YouTube channel, right?”
“Of course. When Dr. Verma calls you to the stage, you can just step up onto the platform from here, and your uh . . .”
“Assistant,” Bindu said. “She’ll be here to record, yes.”
“Great. We’re starting in less than a minute, and you’re the first guest, so stay ready.” The woman eyed Kareena’s Pedialyte bottle and turned to leave.
“Assistant?” Kareena said. She’d be more offended if her head didn’t ache so much.
“Every major influencer has one,” Bindu said as she sat back down. “I didn’t want to seem like an amateur. Just go along with it.” She waved a hand in dismissal, and her row of bangles clanged musically.
“Whatever,” Kareena said. She couldn’t wait for this to be over so she could go home. Her stomach roiled, and she groaned again.
The overhead lights dimmed, and various members of the cast began calling out time, and camera positions. The circular platform in the center of the studio lit up, focusing on two red high-back chairs angled toward each other. The screen behind the chairs said The Dr. Dil Show: Focusing on the Holistic Health of the Heart.
“What garbage show are you making me sit through?” Kareena mumbled.
Bindu shushed her. “I’m starting to record on my phone. Now watch and be quiet.” She repositioned her cell in the tripod and tapped a few buttons on the screen. The red record button appeared in the corner.
A woman’s voice filtered through the speakers with a heavily Mumbai-accented voice. “Welcome to the Jersey City South Asians News Network and a very special Saturday episode of The Dr. Dil Show!”
Fake applause ricocheted through the studio speakers.
“Please welcome Dr. Prem Verma, our very own Dr. Dil!”
Prem?
Kareena’s shoulders went ramrod straight when Dr. Dil appeared from behind the set backdrop.
Oh no.
She could’ve sworn she heard doom music as she took him all in. Dr. Dil was tall, lean, and broad chested. His suit fit him like a glove, and when he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve, she had to remember to breathe.