Busted in Bollywood (8 page)

“Of a pretty boy like that? Not bloody likely.”

I beamed as Rakesh tugged at his shirt-sleeves and straightened his collar in a fair impression of a guy afraid of the competition.

“It’s that extra thumb, you know. Drives the girls wild, apparently.”

If he’d said extra inch I could’ve understood.

Rakesh guffawed at my dumbfounded expression. “Go figure.”

Before I got a proper glimpse of Anjali’s latest crush, Buddy steered the car down an alley and braked hard as hundreds of dancing women swarmed in front of us, a swirling mass of vibrant topaz, mulberry, magenta, and tangerine as they clapped, stomped, and jumped.

Once the dancers had passed, Buddy edged the car forward, his head swiveling side to side as he stared, goggle-eyed. Several turbaned men brandishing swords gestured at the car to move but Buddy waved at the extras like a celebrity. When one of them tapped on the car’s roof, Buddy shook his fist, tooted the horn, and shot forward, sending actors scattering.

“Missy, look. Buddy famous.”

I craned my neck and caught sight of a producer giving us the finger for ruining his movie sequence while gesturing with his other hand to move our car.

Anjali reached over the seat to twist Buddy’s ear. “Move, you fool, before you get us thrown out. This is my big chance and I won’t have you ruin it.”

Buddy reversed so fast our necks snapped back, ensuring whiplash all around. Rakesh and I exchanged grins while I pondered Anjali’s ‘big chance.’ Surely she didn’t think she’d be discovered on her first trip to Bollywood?

Who needed movie stars to make this day interesting? With Drew’s assured prying and Anjali’s secret movie star yearnings, I already had my own
masala
movie script playing out right before my eyes. (I love learning the lingo. Bollywood productions are often called masala movies after the Hindi word for spice mixture,
masala
, because they’re a mixture of many things. Cool, huh?)

Rakesh pointed to a huge white marquee resembling a giant circus tent. “Pull over there, thanks.”

“Oh my.” Anjali mopped the perspiration from her brow. “Look at all these men.”

I followed Anjali’s line of vision and apart from a few guys lolling around, some behind cameras, the rest on giant metal boxes, I couldn’t see much to get excited about.

Until Drew stepped into view.

Despite the fact he knew I was a phony and rubbed me the wrong way after one meeting, an irrational, inexplicable, intense, mind-numbing lust stabbed through my veneer of indifference and made me want to fling open the car door and run toward him.

Sheesh, I think the drama of being here was getting to me already.

“There’s Drew.” Rakesh waved madly, his excitement contagious. His perpetual enthusiasm irritated me a tad but my pretend-fiancé was also endearing. I couldn’t wait for Rita to meet him.

While mulling the bizarre night I’d had at the Ramas’ welcome party in the wee small hours this morning, I’d come to the conclusion maybe there was such a thing as fate. For others, not me. In my case, fate and the other four-letter F-word were freely interchangeable to describe my life.

What if Rita and Rakesh hit it off and by some weird cosmic twist fell in love? Did stuff like that happen, or were my views of romance tainted by my infatuation with rom-coms? Life wasn’t a movie, though I could’ve debated the fact as I stepped out of the car and into one.

While Anjali gave Buddy instructions to move the car and wait in the parking lot near the entrance, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, my bravado ebbing. Fine and dandy to want a confrontation when I’d received Drew’s supercilious email last night, but now I was here, with the man in question striding toward us, focused and formidable, I wish I’d told him where he could stick his summons.

“Glad you could make it.” Drew smiled at our group as his gaze met mine in an unmistakable challenge and I resisted the urge to poke out my tongue. “I’ve taken the liberty of organizing a tour of the studios.”

Anjali’s eyes lit up like a true movie connoisseur. “Maybe Rakesh could show me the music side of things? His dad and I are old friends.”

Pity she couldn’t extend the friendship to Anu. I’d get to the bottom of that mystery by the end of this trip if it killed me.

“Fine by me.” Rakesh darted a fond glance at Anjali and I respected him all the more. If he knew about her vendetta with his mom, he didn’t let on.

“Great.” Drew rubbed his hands together like a mastermind before pinning me with a glare that meant business. “Amrita, there’s a distant cousin of the Ramas who would love to meet you. Or would you prefer to go with your fiancé?”

I noted the clenched jaw as he said ‘Amrita’ and ‘fiancé,’ realizing it must take superhuman effort for a control freak like him not to blurt the truth. Not that the truth would shock anyone in our little foursome.

As for Drew being controlling, call it a gut instinct. Guys like him—mega wealthy, well-put-together, the whole package—thrived on power and his peremptory email summons last night reinforced the fact. Not to mention the tour he’d deliberately organized to get Anjali and Rakesh out of the way.

I’d come to realize one small gesture in this city had a ripple effect: pose as fake fiancée, get blackmailed by guy to meet real fiancée, meet intriguing guy, can’t do anything with intriguing guy because of stupid role-playing and the fact I couldn’t—and didn’t—like him, etc… etc… It went on and on. If I didn’t confront him now, the fallout would be disastrous.

I could toy with him and tag along on the tour, but why prolong the inevitable? If he didn’t interrogate me here he’d arrange some other time. Best to get it over with.

I rubbed at my temples, not needing to feign the tension squeezing my skull in a vice. “I’m actually feeling a bit light-headed from the heat. Maybe I could have a cup of
chai
and catch up with the tour later?”

Rakesh smirked at my ploy to be alone with Drew. If he only knew. “You sure, honey—”

“She’s fine.” Anjali slipped her hand through the crook of Rakesh’s elbow so fast she almost toppled both of them. “You rest, my dear, we’ll see you later.”

Anjali dragged Rakesh—who gave a helpless shrug—as they left the marquee and disappeared from view.

Despite the bustle of people moving around us running errands, reading scripts, and toting refreshment trays, risking a glance at Drew only exacerbated my feeling of loneliness. His dour expression, compressed lips, and deep frown made him a formidable adversary.

One I had every intention of taking down.

“If you’d like
chai
, I’ve got afternoon tea waiting.”

“How very civilized,” I muttered, trying to pick up the pace when he insisted on sticking to my side like I was a fugitive about to bolt.

Normally, I would’ve loved having a cute guy cozying up to me but I knew he was after one thing and it wasn’t my body—he wanted the truth and I’d be damned if I gave him either.

Not that I should be viewing him as anything other than the enemy. If his resemblance to Brad Stoddard wasn’t enough of a warning, the fact I’d been dumped three months ago should boost my immunity against guys, attractive or otherwise.

We reached the refreshment trestle in a corner of the marquee, quiet and far from eavesdropping ears, and I braced for the incoming inquisition.

“I’m surprised you had the guts to stay behind.” He handed me a cup of
chai
, his speculative stare sending a jolt of unease through me.

It had been dark on the Ramas’ veranda last night so I hadn’t noticed the incredible color of his eyes, a startling cross between cobalt and sky, a shade that could never be imitated by artists or technicians or any number of digital experts. I had a thing for blue eyes and Drew’s could melt a woman at twenty paces or less, depending how lucky she was in getting close to him.

Blue-schmoo
. I was here for one reason and one reason only: get Detective Drew to keep his big mouth shut and keep the heat off Rita in the process.

“I read your email. The old ‘we need to talk’ line didn’t do it for me.”

“What does?”

I fought a rising blush and plowed on, ignoring his innuendo and wondering when I’d become such a party-pooper. In my pre-Toad days, I would’ve lobbed a witty comeback straight at him, continuing the flirtation until one of us capitulated. I hated how Tate had dented my self-confidence, hated how my experience with him had left me wary and suspicious, whereas before I’d confront any situation head-on.

Getting involved with a married guy had been dumb and delusional despite the lies he’d fed me, but the residual self-doubt was what I loathed most. Was my judgment that off? Was I that gullible? The thought alone made my stomach churn, sickening me more than any accusations Drew could hurl my way.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“But you do, Miss Jones.”

“Keep your voice down.”

The brazen bastard had the audacity to chuckle at my panic in possibly causing Rita irrefutable shame and condemnation from the Indian community across two continents.

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do.” He lowered his voice as several bare-chested actors in baggy pants helped themselves to
samosas
and iced tea before moving away. “Listen up. Rakesh is a good friend as well as my business partner. His family is revered around here and I won’t let you make a laughingstock out of him. He’s engaged to Amrita Muthu and you aren’t her. So why don’t you tell me exactly what game you’re playing?”

The more he pushed for answers, the more I’d clam up. I hated being told what to do. Didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Tate had controlled our relationship and when I’d wised up, I took back the power. I liked being in charge and had no intention of kowtowing to anyone, especially some guy who thought he ruled the world along with a movie studio.

“No game.” That much was true. Impersonating Rita might have started out as a way to escape my problems back home, but the minute I’d met Rakesh and he’d divulged how this plan could affect Rita if it went awry, I knew I had to protect her.

“Then why are you doing this?”

“I don’t owe you any explanations.” I tilted my chin up for good measure, trying to stare him down.

Bad move. Boring hazel eyes locked on dazzling blue—and the hazels lost. “I’ll tell Rakesh.”

I laughed. “
I’ll tell Rakesh
,” I imitated, enjoying his open-mouthed shock. “
Na-na-na-na-nah. I’m going to tell on you
. Jeez, what are you? A first-grader?”

Emotions warred in his eyes, amusement with anger, frustration with curiosity, and I watched them all, enjoying the show. His high and mighty attitude irked, his supreme confidence rankled, and he was way too good-looking for comfort. But right then I came close to liking this guy for sticking up for his friend, even if he had my motivation all wrong.

I waggled my finger under his nose. “Stay out of my business. This has nothing to do with you.”

“This is insane.” He backed away from me as if I’d developed a case of leprosy. “Rakesh is one of this country’s top businessmen and is known for his intelligence. Why can’t he see past you?”

“Because love is blind.” I gave a little shrug, grateful when an actress in a stunning chartreuse sari edged between us for a cup, mumbling an apology.

This couldn’t go on for much longer. I couldn’t keep from laughing at his absolute outrage. He acted like some stuck-up English lord with nothing better to do than harass his poor serfs. I couldn’t wait to see his expression when he learned the truth.

The actress moved away, casting us a curious glance, and we waited until she’d rejoined a group at the far end of the marquee before resuming our conversation. I’d been so caught up in our private drama I hadn’t noticed the swarming mass moving around the marquee: makeup artists, costume changers, techies, and hangers-on. I’d love to chat to them, get the lowdown on moviemaking Bollywood-style, if I didn’t have to deal with an uptight, nosy, know-it-all.

“Love?” He raised an eyebrow in a classic scoff. “You’ve only just met the guy. How could you possibly love him?”

Biting my inner cheek to keep from laughing, I clasped my hands to my heart. “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Just because it hasn’t happened to you doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“This isn’t a movie.”

On the contrary, this charade I was perpetuating on behalf of Rita and Rakesh was fast turning into a movie for me. Who would’ve thought I’d star in my very own rom-com? Sadly, circumstances were heavy on the
com
and not enough
rom
.

“Rakesh is a big boy. He can look after himself. Why don’t you butt out and make life easier on all of us?”

He had the penetrating stare down pat, the kind that left me wishing I hadn’t had
dhosai
for lunch so my stomach wasn’t pushing up against my diaphragm and making me slightly breathless.

In reality, the
dhosai
had digested hours ago and the out-of-breath sensation had everything to do with Drew and little to do with my atrocious diet.