Destiny's Gamble

Devil In Disguise

"Yeah," Cabir replies unsurely.

"My predictions say that your best friend, Manik Malhotra, will be murdering you tonight before the strike of midnight." My friend frowns.

"Oh...that's not going to be pleasant." I shake my head, smiling.

"Not at all," I agree. "So I would suggest that you stop making drinks for Angel and aim to live a longer life - one that allows you to enter your late eighties." 

"Manik," Angel takes my name, drawing our attention towards her. "I really don't understand why you're consuming that poison when this is available." She lifts her glass, swaying to the beat of the music. "Do you want to try it? No, wait, I won't share mine. Cabir, make him one." Fucking hell, I can already see the effects of the alcohol reaching Angel's head.

"Want one?" My friend asks, grinning like a fool. My glare makes him purse his lips and sink onto a bar stool. "Never mind," he mumbles. One glass of whiskey, and two containing vodka, I mentally calculate. 

"Where's Eva?" Angel asks, her eyes scanning the lawn for our friend. "I want to see the birthday girl and wish her." Placing the glass on the counter, Angel heads away from the bar.

"Eva's probably inside with Aahan, Angel," I say. "Let them come out and then you can meet her." 

"Oh come on, I'm no stranger. Let me go in and find her," Angel calls out over her shoulder. "Wait right here. I'll be right back." As I'm about to step towards Angel, with all intentions of following her, Cabir grabs hold of my wrist.

"Manik, Nandini isn't a two year old girl. I'm sure she can find her way around the house just fine," he says. "Stay here and give her some space. It isn't right to follow her around like a lost puppy all the time." He's right, and on any other day I wouldn't have any issues with Angel setting off on her own. But today she's under the influence of alcohol. Naturally it'll take some time to hit her brain and when it does, I wish to be around Angel, so that I can prevent any disasters from taking place.

With a hesitant mind, I seat myself on the bar stool beside Cabir and make myself a drink. A couple of minutes later, Aahan joins us as well. 

"What're you doing here?" I ask, my eyes flying around the garden for any sign of the girls. "And where are the girls?" 

"They're both inside," Aahan says. "I was told that some lady business is going on in there and that was my cue to leave." 

"How was Angel looking? Was she seeming tipsy? Completely drunk, perhaps?" I ask. 

"No, she seemed quite alright, but I don't think I'll be able to say the same after about half an hour. Eva and Nandini were making out with the top of the Chardonnay bottle as if it's their first and last love." 

"Fuck," I hiss, shooting up from the stool. "I need to find Angel. Which room are they in?" 

"Eva's," Aahan replies. "I don't see the big deal in them getting drunk though, Manik. It's not like they abuse alcohol everyday. Let them have their fair share of fun." Not a word that Aahan has uttered registers in my head. But before I can take even two steps ahead, all the lights in the garden switch off - darkness surrounding us. 

"What the fuck?" I curse in exasperation. "Aahan, if you were planning on organising a party, then the least you could've done was rent a generator for the night." A shrill sound makes me wince, closely followed by someone clearing their throat on the mic.

"Sorry," Angel's voice enters my ears. Oh fuck, she's on stage. A white spotlight lands on her, lighting up her entire figure. My eyes widen, an involuntary gasp escaping my lips. The outfit Angel has on is definitely not the same one we walked in with. 

"Oh my word." Cabir gasps, voicing out the thoughts - or lack of - that are filling my head. He hoots, clapping his hands together. 

Angel is wearing a floor length black lehenga. The borders of this lower piece are done up with intricate gold designs, which are overlapping near her feet. But this isn't the piece of clothing that I have an issue with. It's the top, that I may as well call a bra, which is bothering me. She's wearing a black halter top to complement the lehenga, but I think the tailor ran out of cloth while stitching it because it barely covers anything. This bra, as I will now call it, ends inches above her stomach - exposing a great amount more than it should. The dupatta - which is made from a white, netted material - is draped over Angel's left shoulder, but it does nothing, whatsoever, to help cover even an inch of her skin. 

"Whoo!" Angel exclaims, turning around in her spot. Oh Lord, the bra is also backless.

"I know she's your wife, but that doesn't mean you stare at her like a pervert." Cabir comments, pushing my chin shut with his index and middle fingers. All I can do is gape at the woman on stage. I've suddenly forgotten each and every word in my dictionary and my tongue has also lost its power to utter anything, including gibberish. I cast a quick gaze at the crowd around us to find all the men drooling in their places, each hungry eye unabashedly staring at Angel. Involuntarily, my fists clench themselves at my sides. 

"Okay, I'm here. I'm here," Eva says, joining Angel onstage. Another spotlight lands on the woman who has just joined the former one who is swaying from side to side, eyes shut, almost as if she's lost in a trance. Only the two of my friends on either side of me and I know that this isn't any trance, but the end result of consuming more alcohol than a petite body can handle. The thought of Angel thinking she has high tolerance has me scoffing in disbelief. Which fool's paradise does she live in? 

"Listen up," Eva says, taking the mic from Angel's hand. "My friend, Nandini, and I have prepared a dance for tonight. It was kind of last minute, but isn't that kind of preparation the one that lands us with the best results? I, personally, passed high school only by doing last minute preparations." By now Angel has opened her eyes, but instead of marching onstage and getting her off it, all I can do is stare; praying that by some miracle she makes eye contact with me. I don't know why, but this look of hers has me frozen to my spot. 

"Give that to me!" Angel orders, snatching the mic from Eva's hand. 

"Yeah, catfight!" Cabir hollers, clearly enjoying this to the fullest. This man will definitely not live to see tomorrow's sunshine. 

"Before starting our performance, we would like to say that this..." Angel trails off, furrowing her brows, thinking hard. "This...dance! Yeah, this dance is dedicated to our handsome lovers." Her eyes scan the crowd for mine. Alas, they don't find me. Huffing, I wrap my palm over my eyes. I have no desire, whatsoever, to witness this spectacle.

"Tell me when this is all over." I say, accepting defeat once again. 

"Hit it!" Eva yells. A mere second later, music begins to pulse through the speakers and around the garden. My eyes widen behind my palm as I realise the song the drunkards have chosen. It's an item song! 

"Fuck," I hiss, my hand dropping away from my eyes. "Have they fucking lost it?" I spit through gritted teeth, as Angel and Eva turn around, getting into the positions they must've set. "This isn't a bar and neither are they bar dancers. Aahan, how the fuck are you allowing this to go on in front of all these filthy men?" Once again, I glance at the people gathered around us, only to find hunger burning like a wild fire in their orbs.

"A woman does what she wants to," he replies helplessly. "Stopping them will just create a scene, Manik, so just go along with it. How much can go wrong in a mere three minute song?" 

The second Angel's hands snake their way up from her waist and to the sides of her chest, I realise that a shit ton can go miserably wrong in three fucking minutes.