The Hero Next Time: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 4)

Chapter Two: Sunny, Saturday

He looked around for Tej, and found her with Harpreet and Ajit, warmly greeting new arrivals at the ballroom. Gorgeous and charming, she made a fantastic first impression, and a bottleneck was forming at the entrance because everybody wanted to talk to the brown goddess in the clingy black dress. He made his way over there, just so he could shake some hands and relieve some of the gridlock.

"Hey!" he said, putting a hand on the small of her back. "How are we doing here, my love?"

"Mom's taking too long talking to everybody," Harpreet grumbled. "People are waiting to get in, and I can see Naomi and them back there."

"Come with me, then, and we'll take some of the load off Mom," he said, taking his daughter's hand in his. "Ajit can stay with her." He sounded calm and jovial, but he was thrilled his friends were here, if what Harpreet said was true, and also a little nervous. This was a side of him his friends never saw, and he felt apprehensive bringing his two worlds together.

They made two greeting points, one on either side of the door, so that they could double the flow of the guests. Harpreet, to her credit, exuded some of her mother's charm, making a humorous counter play with her father; she was becoming a fine young woman, and he was terribly proud of her.

The faces he greeted wore mostly polite, curious smiles, and to his fortune he didn't get anymore earnest questions about where he came from, no, really came from, or how his turban was important to his identity. Maybe it was his perfect, cultured, accentless English diction that swayed people to think he was one of them, or at least a good immigrant who blended in.

Then one face approached him, and he took the man's offered hand before he realized who it was.

The blood drained from his face. "Jordan," he breathed.

"Hi, Sunny." The man was tall, white, brown-haired, blue-eyed, with a chiselled jaw. Handsome, sure, even Sunny could admit that; he wasn't insecure about his sexuality.

His comeliness wasn't the reason for Sunny's reaction. It was his very presence here after not seeing him in eight years. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Jordan shrugged. "I live here now, I vote, and I saw you were running, so I was curious. I thought, maybe, it might be nice to say hello to you again."

"Uh-huh," he said, unconvinced. Jordan was here for another reason, but Sunny wasn't going to call him on it now. "You know my parents are here, right?"

Jordan's face fell. "Oh. You know, I didn't even know they were still alive, if you want to know the truth."

It wasn't his job to know, but Sunny wouldn't tell him that. "Yup. Dad's still hanging in there, but he needs dialysis now. Mom is pretty much his caregiver, even though she's slowing down." He cleared his throat and said, "It's already a night of excitement in their otherwise quiet lives. I'd rather not cause them undue distress."

Jordan nodded soberly. "I take it that's code for you don't want me here?"

Sunny shrugged. "It's a free country. I would appreciate, however, if you didn't talk to them. I don't want them to have any reminders of Bishan tonight."

Jordan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if the very mention of her name rocked him just as much as it did the brother who'd uttered it. Maybe it did. The man had loved her, for all the good it had done.

"I get it," he said. "I'll just mingle and listen to your stump speech, and take my leave."

"I appreciate that," Sunny said, eager to get him on his way now, because his friends and their families weren't far behind him in line, and he had no desire to introduce him to them.