The progression of Parkinson’s was unpredictable. Eram had learnt to dread discovering what new weirdness each day would bring, what new piece of Faizl’s brain would have been pulped into sauce overnight. Rather than going fifteen rounds with his dad’s dementia over every damn bill that needed to be settled, Eram paid for everything. The upside was that it made his life easier; the downside was that, at this rate, he wouldn’t have enough cash to buy into the tournament.

Three months, three lakhs. I need a big score. It would have to be a live cash game. Online gaming was a grind and winning at higher stakes was difficult because there were a lot more skilled players.

Eram’s phone rang. He put down The Baron’s Probability for Poker Pros and answered it. It was Varun.

‘Dude, one thing I gotta say for almost dying,’ he said without any preamble, ‘you really find out who your friends are. Thanks for coming to see me all those times. It meant a lot. In fact, it meant so much that I kept a count. You wanna know how many times you visited? Do you?’

‘I’m really sorry, man,’ Eram said. ‘I thought you wouldn’t want a bunch of—’

‘Zero. Bagel. Nada. Zip.’

Eram didn’t know what to say. He had actually believed that Varun would be too embarrassed after OD’ing to meet anyone. ‘I was going to come by, I swear, it’s just that I was waiting—’

‘Dude, please stop. I can’t take it any more,’ Varun laughed. ‘How gay do you think I am? I’m good, it’s good, we’re good.’

‘Sounds like everything’s good,’ Eram said, a bit snippy because Varun had put him on the hook for no reason. Being a math nerd when he was younger and having a non-existent social life now meant that he didn’t know what the right thing to say or do was with people. He ended up apologizing a lot, often without knowing why.

‘Yeah, except that I’m bored out of my freaking mind. There’s this party out near Juhu beach tonight. You wanna go? The ’rents are watching me like hawks and they know all my friends. The only way I can get out is if I tell them I’m catching a movie or something with you. Apparently, they like you. Or my dad does anyway. Mom doesn’t like anyone.’

‘So you want me to be your beard.’

‘My what now?’

‘Your beard. Like, your disguise.’

‘You’re a very weird kid, you know that? So whaddya say? Are you in?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Come on! There’ll be Russian girls there.’

Eram didn’t say anything.

‘Free drinks?’

Eram still didn’t say anything.

‘There might even be a game on. These guys are loaded and love to gamble.’

‘I’ll pick you up at ten.’

Varun whooped. Eram knew he was being used, but as long as there was a fast and loose poker game on offer, he didn’t much care.

The party was at a double-storey Art Moderne villa overlooking Juhu beach. The building was supposed to be pure funk. Cool, even. Maybe it was. Eram couldn’t tell. To him the place seemed confused, the design equivalent of a fashion magazine having polite sex with a tech start-up.