Bollywood Confidential (15 page)

Raveena's mother called that night.

“Mom! Why didn't you email me back?” Raveena demanded.

“What email?” Leela asked. “I didn't receive one.”

Damn Hotmail!

This had happened to Raveena before.

“Are you invited to the wedding?” her mother asked.

“What?”

“I was reading on the
Filmfare
website that Siddharth and Bani Sen are engaged.” She sighed. “Such a beautiful couple. Surely, as his costar, you'll be invited to the wedding. All the stars will be there: Shah Rukh, Hrithik, Sanjay Dutt, Aishwariya, Rani Mukherjee…”

Raveena felt as though she were going to gag. If only her mother knew the real Bani Sen. Then again, maybe Bani and Siddharth deserved each other.

“Mom, I have to go. Are you and Dad okay?”

“Your father! He made such a mess in the kitchen this morning. And he broke the DVD player! Imagine that! The
man is an engineer, and he doesn't even know how to use the DVD?”

All too soon, her mother had to hang up and run errands, and Raveena was left standing in the hall alone.

She tried to give herself another pep talk.

“You didn't come here to hook up with guys. You came to further your career,” she said aloud.

Her pep talk sucked.

All she could think about was Siddharth. The man was an ass.

But he still deserved better than Bani.

Raveena hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the phone and punched in all the digits required to call America.

She would pay Uncle Heeru back.

The phone rang and rang. “Pick up, Maza,” Raveena whispered.

“Hello?”

“Maza!”

Finally! Maza would give Raveena the pep talk she needed. After all, wasn't Maza off men? Her friend would put things in perspective, as usual.

“Chica! Oh my god, I just walked in the door. Ian and I were going to call you!”

“Ian?”

Maza giggled.

Raveena knew something was very wrong.

Maza never giggled.

“Ian…” Maza giggled again. “Ian is my husband.”

This time Raveena was the one who dropped the phone.

Moments later she was able to choke out the words. “What? Husband? What are you talking about?”

“I was doing a reading in Seal Beach when this tall blond guy—you know I don't like blonds—comes up to me. Turns out he's a fan…well, we went for coffee, coffee turned into drinks, drinks turned into dinner, and forty-eight hours later, chica, we were in Vegas.”

“Wow…Maza!”

“Ian teaches anthropology at UCLA. I can't wait for you to meet him. We're on our way to my parents' in Santa Barbara. But we won't have the wedding reception until you get back. I need my girl with me. I never in my life thought this would happen. You know me and marriage. And Ian can't wait to meet you.”

Raveena felt wretched. She wanted to be happy for her best friend. Instead, she felt jealous. She felt alone.

“So how's Siddharth?” Maza asked.

“Fine,” Raveena said. “Look, I have to go. Uncle Heeru needs to use the phone.”

“Okay, chica, I'll call you from Santa Barbara.”

It's hard, Raveena thought, when the fact that you're a loser seems to be staring you in the face.

 

“What the bloody hell is your problem?” Sachi demanded, glaring at her brother. “Are you really marrying that bitch, Bani?”

Siddharth groaned and rubbed his face.

Siddharth, Poonam and his manager, Javed Khan, were at the flat. He hadn't realized Sachi was home.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” Javed said to Sachi.

Sachi spun on him. “Don't call me sweetheart. Was this all your idea? It's the stupidest idea I've ever heard.”

“Now, darling,” Poonam lectured. “Javed knows what's
best for Siddharth. Everyone has forgotten about the police incident, no?”

“But what about Raveena?” Sachi insisted. “No one's told her about this publicity plan. If she and Sid really were engaged in lewd behavior—”

Siddharth glared at her. “Sachi.”

“Oh, shut up,” she answered. “Obviously you two were locking lips or something. That means you like her and she likes you. Then she has to read in the paper that you're engaged? How do you think that makes her feel?”

“Darling, she has a point,” Poonam said to Siddharth. “What about poor Raveena? We must tell her the truth.”

“Not yet,” Javed instructed. “I'm sure Raveena is a nice girl, but how do we know she won't go to the press? Next thing you know the gossip-mongers will be all over Sid. He's up for a CineStar Award in two days. I don't want anything to hurt his chances.”

“Oh, please,” Sachi scoffed. “If he's rigged to win, he'll win.”

“Ah,” Javed wagged his finger, “but the people who've done the rigging may change their mind. I want my boy to get this award.”

“Oh dear, what a fuddle,” Poonam sighed, lighting up a cigarette. “Darling, do you care for Raveena? You have my blessings if you do.”

Siddharth sat back against the sofa cushions. “I do, Ma. I want to take things slow, but yes, I do like her.”

“Lovely, darling, I'll start planning the wedding. What's her mother's number in America?”

“Ma!” Siddharth warned.

He turned to his manager. “I'm telling her, Javed. I have to. I've made a mess of everything. I've behaved like a jackass.”

“Yes, you have,” Sachi agreed.

Javed placed his hand on Siddharth's shoulder. “Please, I only ask that you wait until after the CineStar Awards.”

“Fine, but I'm leaving as soon as I get the statue.”

“Deal.”

“Bani called earlier,” Sachi said. “Sid, I think she feels she really is your fiancée. She was saying something about going ring shopping.”

Javed looked puzzled. “But she was there when I came up with the publicity idea. She knows the engagement isn't real.”

“That girl is unbalanced,” Poonam said. “It runs in the family.”

“You want me to go with you when you talk to Bani?” Sachi offered. “I can handle her.”

Siddharth was tempted. His little sister was a lot tougher than he was. But he had built a career on soundly thrashing the bad guys. “Thanks Sachi.” He smiled. “But it's my problem.”

“Good, now that mess is settled,” Poonam said and picked up a pad and pen. “Darlings, let's start thinking up baby names. I like Tasneem for a girl…”

Raveena got a call that morning from Millie D'Souza.

Randy wanted to see her at his office.

By eleven she was there and Millie was ushering her inside. The secretary wore a sad look. Raveena was going to ask Millie if she was okay, but she didn't get a chance.

This time Randy didn't keep her waiting and buzzed her in immediately.

Before Raveena left the waiting room, Millie put a hand on her arm. “Ma'am, I think you're a fine actress.”

Raveena shot her a puzzled smile. “Thank you.”

Randy indicated Raveena should have a seat and she did.

From his desk he removed an envelope with the Swiss Airlines logo on the front.

“Planning a trip?” Raveena asked.

“To Zurich,” Randy said. “I'm going for a holiday.”

“When?”

“I'm leaving right after the CineStar Awards.”

“But what about the film? It's not finished.”

“It's merely a four-day trip,” he said and added in a suggestive voice, “and three long nights.”

Raveena ignored the suggestion. “Well, I hope you have fun.”

Randy rubbed his chin and pushed the tickets towards her. “I have two first-class tickets here. I'd like you to join me.”

Oh, so
now
he was offering up first class!

“I don't think so, Randy. We should keep this professional.”

“But this
is
professional,” he said. “It has everything to do with the movie and your role in it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You want to act in my film. And I want to enjoy Zurich with you.”

Raveena felt coldness seep into her. “Are you saying you want me to sleep with you? And if I don't, I'm out of the picture?”

The casting couch was finally waiting for her to take a seat.

“I'm tired of waiting for you to come to your senses, Raveena. Why do you think you were chosen for my film? You're nobody in Hollywood
and
Bollywood. The only reason you're here is because I fancy you.

The coldness inside Raveena turned into white hot fury.

She stood up. If there had been a glass of water on his desk, she would have flung the contents in his face. As it were, there was a jar of pens. She picked it up and threw it at him. One of the pens hit Randy on the forehead. “Hey!” he cried.

Raveena gripped the edge of the desk and leaned forward. With his hand pressed against his face, Randy tried to see down her shirt.

Raveena threw the stapler at him.

“Listen, asshole. If the choice was between you and that leper with boils who stands on the corner of Turner Road, I still wouldn't sleep with you.” She leaned closer. “You're nasty, conniving, pathetic, and I hate you. I hate Bollywood. Fuck all of you!”

“You're fired!” Randy shouted. “I'm hiring Bani Sen. She came to me yesterday and offered to star in my film. She was always my first choice. Bani is a star. You can't even act!”

Raveena looked around, but there was nothing left to throw.

She did, however, slam the door on her way out and didn't reply to Millie's concerned good-bye.

Newspapers carried reports that it was the hottest day in Bombay
that year.

Raveena wandered the streets, the heat adding to her anger and making her head spin, moving aimlessly in no particular direction.

At one point she thought she saw Siddharth walking ahead of her on Linking Road and pushed ahead, trying to see past the waves of people.

The man turned around and Raveena dived behind a coconut juice vendor.

It wasn't Siddharth.

Oh, the humiliation.

Raveena felt a sharp sting and rubbed a weird swollen bump on her neck.

The juice vendor was watching her. Angrily, she stood and continued down the street. Passing by a stack of newspapers, she saw Bani Sen's face. The caption read:

 

Bani's saying bye-bye to Bollywood?

 

Raveena grabbed the paper and began scanning.

Furious, Raveena threw the paper to the ground. If someone like Bani could drop ass-backwards into a role opposite Goldie Hawn while Raveena couldn't even stay on the cast of
Taj Mahal 3000: Unleashed,
then life was seriously screwed up.

It was like Bombay was rejecting her. Rejecting her like a bad donor organ.

While Bani was living the good life, Raveena was running around trying to keep her hands bacteria-free.

Randy's words echoed in her head.

You can't even act!

She'd show him. She'd show all of them.

She'd tried. God, had she tried. And what did she have to show for it?

She'd finished
Hurray for Bollywood
.

And then she walked past a shop where the television was blaring.

Stopping, she stared at the screen. A reporter stood in front of the Andheri Sports Complex.

The CineStar Awards would be held there tonight. Bollywood's glitterati would be in attendance—that meant Siddharth, Bani and Randy Kapoor.

Siddharth was up for a best actor award for
Love in Kashmir
.

The CineStar Awards…

Raveena hadn't received an invitation to the show, but a plan began to form in her mind.

According to the reporter, Randy Kapoor would be presenting the Award for best actress.

The reporter also mentioned the stunning lapses in security at the last Awards show.

The universe was giving her a sign.

She looked up at the sky, and an angry smile formed on her lips.

Look out, Bollywood.

Raveena Rai is about to go Quentin Tarantino on your ass!

Raveena wasn't a wimp.

Neither was she a Sidney Sheldon heroine who could gutsy her way into an editor's office, demand a job, and deliver a top-notch story by somehow staking out the visiting diplomat no one else could get to, all thanks to her brains and ravishing beauty.

But she did manage to sneak into the Andheri Sports Complex without raising any alarms.

Then again, so did about a hundred other uninvited fans and curious onlookers.

The entertainment reporter staking out the aisle got on Raveena's nerves with her incessant chatting. “Ladies and gentleman, expect a wild and wacky night, filled with temperamental and whimsical stars—”

Whimsical? Raveena wondered.

“Stunning gimmicks, special effects and shenanigans galore,” the reporter trilled. “The CineStar Awards just infects one with enthusiasm and endearment for what this show
means. To honor the best talents and provide encouragement and incentive to all the members of India's Motion Picture Academy.”

Raveena wanted to gag.

“So stay tuned for electric excitement, tangible tension, magical moments, poised perfection and scintillating stars.”

Raveena nearly wrestled the microphone away from her.

“For the first time in CineStar history, the Awards show will be beamed live to countries all over the world.”

On stage, the crew was checking on the sparkling waterfall that stood nearly two stories in height. Technicians in charge of the fireworks display wore black Polo shirts with “Ramani Fireworks” printed on the back.

Raveena suddenly had an idea.

She followed one of the technicians backstage. Once she was sure they were alone, she executed her cunning plan.

She handed the skinny man fifty American dollars. “Can I have your shirt?”

He took the money. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

He handed her back a ten. “I'll take forty. This shirt itches.”

Raveena pocketed the money, and the man peeled off his shirt.

“Here.” Raveena peeled off her white Tee, paying no attention to the way the man was ogling her bra-covered breasts.

They walked off in each other's shirts.

Looking like one of the fireworks crew, Raveena moved towards the stage and found a hiding place in a dark corner.

There, she burrowed and waited for her moment.

When Randy Kapoor would take the stage.