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The phone was snatched from Manik's hands. "Nandini Murthy? What the fuck is she doing here?" Alia gasped, waving the device at the group surrounding her.

Manik Malhotra's personal phone went in circles within the unfinished construction building as everyone in the group checked out his potential match on a dating app. Part of his job meant he could not indulge in the simpler joys in life that other common people had the privilege of experiencing. It was dangerous to get close to anyone outside the intimate circle he had grown to trust or his true identity could be exposed.

At the least, that would be a five year prison sentence for anyone in the clan, the stakes only rising with each substance they were confiscated with. The only way to lay low was to keep the circle tight, and protect what was yours—turf or women—with everything you had.

His team was currently stationed in Mangalore, to oversee an important transaction. 500 kilograms of marijuana were being shipped from the port sometime within the next three weeks. The exact dates were yet to be revealed by the big boss, and given the stakes of the mission, there was no room for error, so Manik's team was in charge of protecting the fort.

In the meanwhile, their daily duties resumed as they moved stuff around for some quick cash to spend on cheap thrills, and another mobile remained active for those purposes precisely.

Yet, a part of Manik was tempted by the opportunity of a smaller city in which he could, albeit momentarily, step into the shoes of a mediocre character and experience at least one of those simple thrills in life—that of wooing a woman.

Mukti held a small flip mirror between her fingers, and smudged a layer of thick liner on her waterline. She was handed the phone, and she browsed through the pictures. "How do you know her?" She scrutinised at the boring appearances the girl posted on a dating site.

Nandini Murthy. 23 years old. Psychologist by degree, musician by passion. Loves trying out new food. Class of NMWC '23.

"I forgot she even existed. She was in my year, attached to a weird girl who nobody else talked to by the hip and would judge everyone for their actions, you know... the typical behnji kind?" Alia cringed.

Cabir lit a blunt with Manik's gold encased lighter. For someone like Alia who was the most popular girl in an all womens' college, being in the limelight was no issue. In fact, she craved it even after she dropped out midway through. Her opinions of people were warped to say the least, so Cabir took her thoughts with tablespoons—not just pinches—of salt.

Cabir glanced at a button phone that lit up at the desk in the vacant space. "Manik, our customer's here,"

Surrounded by unfinished cement walls, Mukti and Cabir loaded their arms and tucked it behind them, while Alia and Dhruv fronted the table in the centre of the room, pulling chairs to sit before it.

Manik opened the makeshift plastic door that covered them. "Harshad, is it?" He said with a smirk as shades covered his eyes, and he was dressed impeccably like a businessman in his suit, and the guy behind the door extended his hand for a shake as he entered the premises. "Nawab here. Take a seat,"

Nawab was the name he went by in that line of work.

He showed his hand to the interiors of the room. Alia stood up and went beside Mukti, letting Harshad take the chair.

Feeling mildly intimidated by the close-knit group, Harshad gulped, "I need to get going soon, can I just get the goods?" He seemed out of place in comparison to them, wearing a T shirt and rugged jeans to draw less attention in a crowd.

Nawab twitched his lips, approaching him. "Itni jaldbaazi mein kyoon hai, Harshad, aaja... baith!" He pushed the man into the vacant chair.

It was part of their clan's tradition to make sure every customer hung out with them for a bit, so as to not raise suspicions from random passersby as to why meetups were so quick. While it seemed unnecessary for a place like a construction site where there was nobody else around, the team had their rituals.

They pulled out a tray of blunts from the desk drawer, giving Harshad the liberty to pick his poison. "Woh kya hai, hum apne mehmaanon ko bina kuch diye waapis nahi bhejte," Cabir uttered, jiggling the tubes and commanding him with his eyes to comply. Harshad reluctantly grabbed one, examining it suspiciously as Cabir tossed him the etched lighter.

At the spark of a flame, when Harshad lit his Nawab too dipped the tube Cabir was using earlier, and they jointly heaved a puff from their respective blunts.

Both Nawab and Harshad smirked at each other, for vastly different reasons–Harshad was not a cop, and Nawab was not as naive as Harshad thought—quite a tradesmen in that profession; Nawab pulled small packets from his blazer placing it on the table. Harshad took out a couple wads of cash from a belt strapped to his bare torso, putting it adjacent to the product.

Dhruv went around the table and studied the bills, counting and checking that every note was legit, as Harshad sultrily eyed Mukti.

"Bhejega?"

"Meri wali nahi hai," Nawab said off the side of his shoulders, taking another smoke as he occupied Dhruv's seat and put his black leather shoes on the table in front, crossing one over the other.

Alia hopefully gazed at Manik, adjusting her sweetheart red dress: he was Manik to everyone in his team anyways.

Dhruv nodded to him assuring that the payment was sorted, and Mukti passed Manik's phone across to Dhruv as she made her way to Harshad. She straddled him to keep him busy, raised his fingers to her mouth and took a breath of his tube, blowing on his face.

That's hot, he felt his body automatically respond as hands eagerly reached to feel her thighs through her ripped black jeans. The red tube top she was wearing gave him a beautiful view of her assets. "Uh-huh!? Hands to yourself," She mumbled through the smog as she felt him up. Harshad sucked a breath through his teeth.

Dhruv casually glanced at the phone that was passed his way. "She's cute," he said at Nandini's profile with an absentminded smile. From under her thick false eyelashes, Alia alternated between Manik and Dhruv, Dhruv clearly appearing more smitten by her.

"We should make you a profile so you can swipe on her," Alia suggested, eyeing Manik's reaction.

If there was one person within the clan Manik truly felt he could take a bullet for, it was Dhruv. While Manik had a choice in choosing this path of life, Dhruv had been forced into it first as a substance victim, and then embraced it as a means of survival. He had already been through so much, and having never even hooked up with a girl before, Manik could not risk Dhruv getting his hopes up without a beautiful end at sight. That boy deserved love, not one night stands.

"I would bang her." Manik remarked, tugging his black blazer flaps as he took off his shades and inhaled another smoke. As a matter of habit, he was holding it like a pen instead of between his forefingers.

Cabir passed him a look, as Alia stomped in her spot.

"That's insulting!" To me, Alia wanted to add, that your type is so average.

Manik scoffed, shooting rings in the air. "I mean, what's not to like? She has a pretty face and has enough to grab in all the right places, plus she's petite, so I don't even have to explain all the advantages that brings especially in bed... so yeah, I could do her all night!" The words rolled off his tongue with such ease, boiling Alia's blood.

Even a blind person could decipher by then that she and Manik used to share a friends-with-benefits relationship, that ended a few weeks ago when Alia outed their little secret to the group. But for him to stoop down to such a pathetic level—and choose someone like Nandini—just for sex was appalling. There were so many other women who could give him more, and better; one of them was even standing right before him!

As Cabir received the phone, he raised it in the air so that Manik's face was in line with Nandini's picture on his phone. Hmm, cute couple, he thought before reminding himself that there was no way Manik could ever afford a relationship with her. Cabir had merely gotten lucky, that Professor Raghav–the big boss–and him swung the same way, and things had escalated romantically while both of them were aware of what they were getting into.

What Manik was looking for was temporary, that was all it could be. "Sorry Dhruv, your buddy called dibs!" He said, emphasising one important rule of being part of the tribe—loyalty. Women were not to be shared.

He swiped her profile to the right on Manik Malhotra's behalf.

Manik. 6"2. A wanderlust musician.

Manik's pictures presented a chocolate boy version of him, gelled hair, casual T-shirts and colourful blazers over jeans or shorts, and a guitar with a star dangling from it—nothing like the seductive drug lord sitting in front of him. In fact, many of those photos were taken on his solo trips around the world, in countries where nobody knew him at all.

Mukti cockblocked Harshad in his journey of kisses down her neck. She slipped a card out of her bra cup and tucked it between his teeth as she got off him, shaking her head to the rest. He had nothing on him. "Based off what Alia says, I think there's no way he could sleep with her," Mukti remarked waving her hands, siding her friend while Harshad stored the packets from the table safely, desperately wanting more from the woman.

Manik raised his eyebrows at her, as if accepting the challenge.

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