Five-Thirty AM - XVII

Dev was having a bad day.

Actually, it had started the night before.

He’d been to a party last night. It was the most boring party that he’d ever been to, but had had to attend. Noel had pleaded a headache and refused to go - as usual. So he’d been alone. He’d had a little too much to drink and now he was paying the price for it.

Early this morning, Noel’s director called him. Noel had not turned up for his shoot and wasn’t answering his phone. His headache started at that point.

He’d called Noel, only to find out that Noel was running a temperature, could barely speak, much less get out of bed, ergo, he’d been a no-show at work. Turns out, Noel’s headache had been very real. He’d had to run around calming everybody down.

Back in his office, his engagements were backed up and he had to work through them. On top of that, he had a lunch appointment that he’d meant to, but forgot to cancel. His head was killing him. He just wanted to sit quietly or even better, take a nap if that were possible.

It wasn’t. Instead, he went for lunch.

The sun glared down on him, exacerbating the already heavy pounding inside his temples. His glares hid the bags under his blood-shot eyes. He couldn’t wait to get into the air conditioned confines of the restaurant, heaving a sigh of relief as he entered the cool, dim interior.

It was done in blacks and golds, with red accents. Upscale and trendy, there was a fair smattering of a crowd, but he already had a reservation, and was seated immediately. He asked for a limeade, hoping the freshness of the lime would reduce the number of jack-hammers doing double-time in his head.

He looked around for his companion as he waited.

A whiff of perfume floated by and he turned his head to look as she passed by. Even with a headache, he wasn’t immune to the allure of Chanel no.5.

She was tall, about five-six, he thought, and a figure like an hour-glass. Shapely bottoms were encased in skin tight black jeans, while a short powder blue blouse clung snugly at all the right places. Her feet were clad in ballerina flats, and she carried a book in her hand. A long pony tail slung down her back, the layers curled lovingly.

Following her were two older women, slim, about the same height, dressed in traditional salwaar-kameez. They all stopped at a table within his line of vision, and she turned around to sit.

Dev’s eyes widened. She was gorgeous!

The full lips in a deep, candy red, were pouting as she seemed to be arguing with one of the ladies, leaning over the table. The voice was low, he couldn’t make out what she was saying. The high cheekbones were flushed - whether by the heat or by anger or just plain blush, he didn’t know. Large dark eyes, were framed by a pair of thin black-rimmed, rectangular glasses sitting atop a small, cute nose. Glasses! She wore glasses!

He took a sip of the limeade. Somehow, he’d never thought he’d find glasses sexy, yet here she was, and all he could think about was wetting his suddenly parched throat.

As if aware of him, her eyes snapped to his. She raised an arrogant eyebrow.

He let his eyes travel slowly and insolently down her face all the way to her ballerina-shoe-clad feet, before he turned away indifferently to his Blackberry, ostensibly checking emails. He knew she was watching him. He was used to these games, a past master at it. He smirked to himself, and then suddenly something struck him.

His eyes snapped back to her. What was it? Why was there that feeling of familiarity? Like he’d seen her before? He was pretty sure that if he’d met her, he’d remember who she was. Unlike most men, Dev had a substantial memory bank when it came to girls he dated, even the most casual of dates. He was sure that he’d never met her before.

At that moment, his lunch companion arrived. For the next hour, he focused on the work at hand. Although, his peripheral vision was fully occupied with the table where SHE sat. The question still niggled at the back of his mind.

His companion was in a hurry and excused himself almost as soon as lunch was done. He signaled the waiter for the bill, and sipped his limeade. The waiter brought him his bill and he paid, waiting for him to bring back the receipt.

Ms. Chanel No.5 and her companions passed him on the way out, and he smirked slightly as he met her eyes for a brief moment. A jolt of something passed through him. He glanced over at their table and saw that she’d left her book behind. Perfect! he thought, walking over to pick up the book. The waiter came back with his receipt at that moment and he grabbed it before hurrying out.

He saw the other two ladies walking down the street but no sign of her. He turned back and went into the restaurant.

She bumped right into him as he entered, and his hand automatically grabbed her forearm, to stop her falling.

‘Hey!’ she exclaimed. ‘Watch where you’re going!’

‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I was looking for you.’

‘Really?’ the sarcasm dripped from her voice.

‘Yeah! You left your book behind,’ he held it out to her with a slight smirk. She was something, this girl. Rude as all hell, but he’d love to tame her, he thought.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered, snatching the book out of his hand.

She spun on her heels and was walking away when he said, ‘Excuse me.’

She stopped and slowly turned around, a bored look on her face. Eyebrows raised, a question in them.

‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ he asked the question that had been bothering him all through lunch.

This time she smirked, and slowly let her eyes travel from the top of his close-cut hair, down his expensive pale-green shirt, and the razor’s edge creased grey trousers to the polished toes of his back wingtips.

‘You really need to find another line,’ she drawled.

‘What?’ he was flabbergasted.

‘Yeah. Another pick-up line. That one is as old as the hills.’ She narrowed her eyes.

‘Look, I’m not trying to pick you up,’ he shook his head. ‘I really feel like I should know you.’

She chuckled sarcastically. ‘You need to get a life,’ she snapped, before turning around and sashaying away.

He stood there, looking after her thinking, I will, kitten. Just as soon as I have you in it.

****

Mitul absently picked up the phone ringing beside her, and held it to her ear. She was curled up on the couch, absorbed in the book in her hand, having given up on writing any more that day. The biography was taking shape, but she wasn’t happy with it. Yet.

‘Mitul?’ she frowned at the unfamiliar yet familiar voice.

‘Yes? Who is this?’ she asked

‘It’s Dev.’

She looked at the phone wondering why Dev was calling her. ‘Dev. Hey!’ she finally said.

‘Hey. Listen. Just wanted to let you know that Joyce will be sending you the appointments we’ve set up for you to interview Noel,’ he seemed to be in a vehicle of some kind. She could faintly hear the honking of traffic behind him.

She frowned. Why was he calling her with this information? She’d already got it from Joyce!

‘The thing is, we might have to change around some of the dates,’ he said.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. Just wanted to give you a heads up,’ he was speaking quickly.

‘Okay,’ she still wasn’t sure why he had called up.

‘Are you still returning next week?’ he asked the last question.

‘Yes, yes. I reach there on Sunday,’ she answered almost automatically.

‘Okay. I gotta go. Talk to you later,’ and he hung up.

*****

Dev knocked softly on the door to Noel’s apartment, waiting for Shomu to open the door and let him in. He’d showered, for the second time that day, and was dressed casually in shorts and a comfortable tee, that helped him deal with the sweltering heat of Mumbai.

‘How is Noel?’ he asked, when the door opened.

‘He’s sleeping now,’ answered Shomu softly.

‘Has the doctor arrived yet?’ He’d called Noel’s doctor on the way over, since Noel’s fever didn’t seem to be reducing.

‘Not yet,’ Shomu replied.

Dev nodded and went inside. He let himself into the master bedroom. Noel was usually very private about this room, and he’d rarely been here in it. A soft lamp glowed, and the curtains were drawn, the air-conditioning bringing the room temperature down.

Noel was fast asleep.

Not wanting to wake him up, he reached out and picked up Noel’s phone, when his eyes fell on the picture of Noel and Mitul. He picked it up and studied it.

The body language was telling. They were looking into each other’s eyes and smiling, obviously sharing some joke. His hand was visible at her waist, pulling her closer, as she leaned towards him, one hand on his chest, while he was turned just a little bit into her. This was a couple who were into each other, he saw. He didn’t understand their mutual decision to stay apart - at least, that’s what Noel had told him. Mitul didn’t want the relationship, it seemed. And Noel wasn’t going to fight her decision.

Idiot! he thought fondly, putting the picture back and tip-toeing out of the room.

The doctor arrived a little later, and a check up revealed it was nothing more than heat and exhaustion. Noel needed to rest, at least for the next five days.

Shomu went off to get the prescription filled, while Dev sat with Noel who had woken up and was sitting propped up against the headboard.

‘So. Heat and exhaustion, nothing to worry about,’ Dev said.

‘But what about the shoot?’ Noel’s voice was hoarse and raspy.

‘I’ve talked to the director. They’re reorganizing the schedule, so you can get the rest you need,’ Dev reassured him.

He fidgeted for a while and said, ‘Noel, I’ve got to tell you something.’

‘So tell me,’ Noel invited. ‘I got nothing better to do.’

Dev sighed impatiently. ‘Listen to this. I was at a lunch meeting yesterday. Went to that Japanese restaurant off Grant Road.’

‘And?’

Dev waved a hand to stop him interrupting and said, ‘there was a girl there, having lunch with two other women.’

‘Why is it always a girl with you, Dev?’ Noel groaned.

‘Shut up, Noel and let me finish,’ he snapped.

‘Was she gorgeous? Of course, she was, otherwise why would you look at her?’ Noel smiled to lessen the sarcasm.

‘So anyway,’ Dev plowed on, determined to continue his story. ‘The thing is, she looked so familiar. I asked her, if I knew her, and she...’ he stopped, and then continued, ‘she cut me down to size.’

Noel shook his head sadly, ‘after all these years, that’s the best line you come up with?’

Dev clucked his tongue, ‘that’s what she said. But that’s beside the point. The thing is, that it’s true. I’ve never seen her before. And yet I feel like I should know who she is!’

Noel laughed feebly, which turned into a cough. He drank some water, placed his hand on his heart. ‘It’s a union of the souls, Dev,’ he intoned dramatically. ‘If destiny has made you for each other, then nothing can tear you apart.’

‘Shut up! Noel. I’m telling you it was nothing like that. Okay, maybe a little bit like that. But I swear to you on everything I hold true, I know this woman, and I just don’t where from!’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Dunno,’

Noel nodded. ‘So basically, you met a gorgeous woman in a restaurant, tried to hit on her, she turned you down. You don’t know her name, and you want to find her .... because?’ he asked, grinning, already feeling much better because of this weird conversation.

‘I don’t know, Noel,’ Dev looked at the floor. ‘But I need to find her!’

‘Dude, Bombay has a population larger than Canada,’ he started and stopped, swallowed and brought his mind back to the matter at hand. ‘How’re you going to find her?

Dev took a deep breath, completely and thankfully overlooking the reference to Canada. ‘I have not a clue!’ he stated emphatically. ‘But find her I will!’

Noel clapped his hands. ‘Bravo!’

Dev looked balefully at him and then decided to get his own back. He stood up, his back to Noel and said, ‘Spoke to Mitul, by the way. She gets back on Sunday.’

Silence.

He turned around. Noel was looking at him, his face devoid of any expression.

‘Thought I’d let you know,’ he ended lamely. He drew a deep breath and said, ‘I should get going. Take care.’

Noel nodded. Dev let himself out of the apartment.

*****

Mitul sat with the phone in her hands wondering if she should. Why had Dev called out of the blue? Was everything okay with Noel? She felt dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

She hadn’t been thinking when she’d talked to him, but now that she had - she was wondering about it. Should she call and find out?

She wanted to. But she didn’t want to.

She got off the couch, and paced up and down. It was gnawing at her. She so wanted to hear his voice ... just to make sure he’s alright, of course.

And if she called .... would he ... But she could call him as a ... friend ... though, couldn’t she? She ran her fingers over the buttons on her phone. Just one call, find out how he is and hang up. That’s it.

She caved in.

She dialed his number. The call went to voicemail. She hung up. Sat back in the couch, leaned back, eyes closed. Dammit.

*****

Noel lay staring up at the ceiling. It was boring lying here. He got up and slowly walked to the living room. His phone was on the table, the charge dead. He plugged it in and went into the kitchen to get himself some orange juice. He felt parched.

He sank with a sigh of relief into the lazy-boy. Even this much exertion made him feel like an old man. Turning on the TV, he tuned into CNN, catching the news, sipping the glass of juice. He waited till the phone was half-charged and then turned it on. He scrolled through all the missed calls looking for one number. Hoping.

It wasn’t there.

He put the phone back on the charger, and went back to his bedroom, the pills starting to take effect as sleep filled his eyes.

The last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was the picture of them smiling at each other.

I have to put that away, was his last thought as he sank into the welcome arms of oblivion.

*****

Five-thirty am.

She sat looking at the phone in her hand, blearily trying to make out the numbers. She would call him. And God help him if he didn’t pick up the phone, she thought.

She dialed.

The phone rang, twice before she heard his voice, ‘Hello?’ It was huskier and raspier than before.

She shivered and held the receiver tight.

His voice dropped, as if he knew who the caller was, ‘Mitul?’

‘Yeah, it’s me,’ she struggled to form the words. The room was spinning and spinning badly. ‘Noel, I just wanna know.. just one thing..,’ she slurred.

‘What?’ he cleared his throat.

She tried to frame the thought clearly in her head. ‘I..’

‘Mitul, tell me,’ his voice was soft and tender.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked him in a small voice.

He chuckled, and then coughed. ‘I’m okay.’ And he was. More than anything. Just to hear her voice, he could feel life flow through his veins again.

‘Noel,’ she said, drawing out the two syllables. And suddenly he realized. She was drunk!

‘Mitul, are you drunk?’ he asked.

‘No. No. No. nononono. I’m not drunk. I just had a little wine,’ she stopped. He couldn’t stop smiling. She was so drunk!

‘Go to sleep, babe,’ he whispered huskily.

‘Dev. He called. Why did he call?’ she asked him.

‘I don’t know,’ he tried to keep the laugher out of his voice.

‘I wanted .. missed...’ she forgot her train of thought.

‘Did you miss me?’ he closed his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ She repeated. Of course, she didn’t remember asking him that. But he could listen to her voice forever, he thought, and she could repeat everything twice and he’d still listen.

‘Yes, I am. Now go to sleep,’ he commanded, gently.

‘Sleep?’

‘Yeah. Good night, babe,’ he said.

‘Good night,’ she whispered, falling asleep almost instantly.

He hit the end button and thought about the call. She’d been drunk. Of that he was sure. Would she remember calling him? Probably not. But still a smile curled his lip, tender and amused. She was so cute when she was drunk. He’d have to tell her that sometime, he thought.

*****

Mitul woke up to light streaming in through the windows. She sat up and looked around. Evidently, She’d fallen asleep on the couch! An empty bottle of wine stood on the table, and a single glass, wtih wine still in it, stood next to it. The phone was next to the glass.

Vague fragments of a conversations wisped through her memory. With a feeling of dread, she picked up the phone, and scrolled through the dialed calls. The last call dialed was to Noel.

She’d drunk dialed Noel James Figueiredo at Five-Thirty AM!

*****