"TEN BUCKS,” the thin, pimply-faced, male attendant said in a sleepy voice.
I handed over the bill and jammed out of the underground garage. I’d been kidnapped, drugged, and now I was getting screwed up the butt for parking.
On top of that Sanjay had rudely criticized my driving. Was that any way to treat a goddess? So what if I drove with my cell phone in one hand and a Frappuccino in the other? Most Southern Californians did the same.
I sped down Sepulveda Boulevard, miraculously free of airport traffic. This particular Holiday Inn was right next to LAX. So Ram and Sanjay didn’t go very far.
I couldn’t believe no one noticed two Indian men, one dressed in orange robes, smuggling an unconscious body into a car and out of the airport parking garage. I imagined Ram and Sanjay casually strolling through the hotel lobby, my comatose form propped up between them. Hadn’t that rated at least one raised eyebrow from the concierge?
Because of the late hour, traffic in LA and Orange County proved relatively sparse. Forty-five minutes and I was home.
I stepped inside, expecting my parents to be up, demanding to know what happened to their only daughter. Instead the house was quieter than a cluster of nuns at a Marilyn Manson concert. Mom and Dad were obviously asleep.
Just as I reached my room, the guest bedroom door opened and the last person I expected to see stood there.
“What on Earth happened to you?” Tahir demanded. “Your parents were absolutely ill with worry. I offered to wait up so they could get some sleep.”
I yawned. “That was nice.”
“Not quite. I happen to be suffering from the most awful jet lag.”
I slumped against the wall. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were staying with my aunt?”
“Thanks to your shockingly vulgar display of manners at the airport, I was forced to converse with a ruffian of a baggage handler on where to get a taxi. Public transportation is pathetic here. Your parents were understandably horrified to hear of my ordeal and kindly offered to let me stay.”
I yawned again and felt my eyelids droop. “Well good night then.”
“Excuse me,” Tahir snapped. “I’m not quite finished.”
I looked up and smiled. He was as beautiful as I remembered. “Kiss my brown ass.”
Before he could respond another door opened and my parents stood there, tired and rumpled in their pajamas. My mom tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. “Maya, where were you?”
Staring at their weary faces lined with concern, I longed to tell them the truth. Maybe they’d take the news their daughter was the incarnation of the goddess Kali by exchanging high fives and hugging each other.
After all, my decision not to major in premed had gone over pretty well. Mom had fainted twice, and Dad had faked a heart attack.
I just wasn’t ready to share this particular news with anyone, not until I figured it out for myself.
I decided to resort to the excuse one of my high school friends, Lisa Kim, had used with her parents to great advantage. Facing them I took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad, it was terrible, there were these white supremacists and…”
Enough said.