Busted in Bollywood (9 page)

“Easier on you, don’t you mean? Isn’t that what this is all about? You come here, try to get one of India’s richest men to fall for you, and once he’s smitten announce you’re not his betrothed but you love him anyway?”

“Is that what you think?”

Not a bad plan… if I’d been living in the dark ages. No amount of money would be worth putting up with an arranged marriage, though I guess Drew didn’t know that. He lived in a country surrounded by such marriages on a daily basis and though I’d hazard a guess he didn’t agree with the concept, he’d obviously grown to accept it as the norm.

How ironic. He thought I was here to marry for money when in fact I was here to break the bind between the betrothed.

He shook his head. “It’s the only reason that makes any sense. You’re a scam artist. An opportunist who’s taken a calculated risk in the hope it pays off. Well, guess what, Miss Jones? To quote your fellow countrymen, it ain’t gonna happen.”

He did a lousy imitation of a New York accent, sounding like a cross between Big from
Sex and the City
and
The Godfather
. Cute.

I stepped into his personal space in a deliberate taunt. “Seeing as you’re so smart, what are you going to do to stop me?”

“Don’t push your luck or you’ll be sorry.” His voice had dropped low and if it hadn’t held such menace, I could’ve really dug its husky timbre.

“Ooh, scary.” I covered my eyes with my hands, peeping out from between my fingers, wondering how long I could keep this up before I laughed my ass off.

A faint red stained his cheeks and I felt sorry for the guy. Lame, getting my thrills teasing some guy genuinely concerned for his friend.

“There’s a name for women like you.”

My amusement faded, replaced by insidious anger, making my fingers convulse, my manicure digging into my palms. The Toad had used that same line when he dumped me, though the bastard had gone the extra yard and told me exactly what that name was. I’d wanted to kill him for judging me when he’d been the scumbag doing the dirty on his wife. I’d been guilty of naïvete—he’d been guilty of adultery and he’d called me names? Prick.

Having Bollywood Boy echo the Toad’s words… not so great if he wanted to walk out of here rather than hobble.

“And there’s a name for guys like you, but I’m too polite to use it, so I’ll settle for pompous jerk.” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “Stop jumping to conclusions and leave me the hell alone.”

Shock widened his eyes, vindicating my outburst. I’d matched it with Bollywood Boy and then some.

To his credit, he calmed with effort. “I’ve got two words for you. Tell him.”

“Or what?”

“I will.”

“Buzzzzz. Wrong answer. Besides, that’s four words.”

He muttered under his breath and I’m sure I caught a posh version of ‘fuck’ but before I could bait him further Rakesh rushed into the marquee.

“Amrita, come quick. You’ve got to see this.”

chapter five

My heart seized at the shock widening his eyes and pinching his lips.

“What’s up?”

“It’s Anjali.” Rakesh grabbed my hand and I barely had a chance to see Drew’s reaction to our cozy hand-holding before Rakesh pulled me into the harsh afternoon sunshine. “She’s gone stark, raving mad.”

Hell, hope she hadn’t muscled in on an executive producer’s Michelin-starred lunch.

“Where is she—oh.”

As we dodged a guy in a cowboy hat and pushed through a throng of people congregating on the outskirts of a set, the crowd parted and I caught a glimpse of Anjali. Not as bad as first thought, though I agreed with Rakesh’s earlier assessment of the situation. Anjali
had
gone mad.

She towered over a scrawny old man, yelling ‘you know nothing about lost loves and rekindling affairs of the heart, you heathen,’ brandishing her fists in his face as a crowd of onlookers gathered around. This wouldn’t have been a catastrophe if her sari hadn’t loosened and now hung around her waist, on the verge of unraveling completely.

She shrieked, she gestured, and she wobbled, oblivious to her near-naked state and the crowd swelling to movie premiere proportions.

“Quick, do something.” Rakesh shoved me none too gently in Anjali’s direction and I planted both feet firmly in the dirt.

“And add to the spectacle? No way. She’s not my aunt.”

“Oh yes, she is,” he muttered, with a pointed glare.

“Shit.” I had to take care of this debacle? Rita’s debt to me was growing by the minute. I chuckled at his horrified expression as his disbelieving stare returned to Anjali. “As my fiancé it’s your duty to protect me from scandal, so I think it’s
your
job to break up that little melee.”

“Melee? It’s turning into a circus and about to get worse.”

“Why?”

Rakesh cringed. “She just threatened to turn that soothsayer into a eunuch.”

“Soothsayer? As in fortune-teller?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s a fortune-teller doing on a movie set?”

“Damned if I know. Are you going to do something about this or not?”

“Okay, okay. Settle, petal.”

Calming an angry Anjali couldn’t be any worse than facing the Toad when I’d tried a eunuch trick using my knee. Besides, surrounded by a bunch of people I’d never see again come next week, I didn’t care.

I shouldered my way through the onlookers and headed straight for Anjali. “What seems to be the problem, Auntie?”

Anjali turned toward me and I resisted the urge to jump back. With her black eyes blazing, kohl bleeding into the corners, and perspiration rolling down her face, she looked like a deranged asylum escapee.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure we can settle this somewhere more private?” I dropped my voice and used my eyes as an indication to our growing audience, hoping it would work.

“This… this…
charlatan
,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “has the audacity to talk about my past and predict my future when he wouldn’t know a prophecy from a
paratha!
”

She’d lost it over a lousy prediction? If I got this upset with every horoscope I’d read, especially the ones forecasting riches and TDH—tall, dark, and handsome men—I’d be a basket case. Predictions were hooey. Now I had to convince Anjali.

Before I could open my mouth the toothless old man, who resembled a shrunken monkey, turned his rheumy eyes on me and beckoned with a twisted, arthritic finger.

Great. I didn’t need some shriveled guy to predict my future: the TDH man, the fortune, the holiday, the house. Generic crap believed by gullible women the world over, but no longer applied to wised-up me.

“Leave my niece alone, you hypocrite.” Anjali latched onto my arm in one of her famous death grips, the same one she’d used when Anu had welcomed me to her house.

“It’s okay, I’ll handle this.” I pried her claw-like fingers off one by one and bent closer to the soothsayer. “I’m sorry, my aunt hasn’t been well lately. Please forgive her.”

I tried my best dazzling smile, the same one I intended using on Drew when I told him the truth.

The old man’s eyes narrowed, his mouth opened, and his hand rose to hover in front of my face, knobbly finger extended. “You. Be. Famous. Soon. Very soon.”

Considering I stood in the lot of one of the world’s biggest moviemaking meccas, I guessed this was his standard prediction, like my generic weekly online horoscope forecasting a surprise influx of wealth.

I nodded and maintained the smile. “Thanks, but we really must be going.”

“Rich man follow you. Bad man follow you, too.”

The rich man was more of the same old, same old. As for the bad man, I thought these guys weren’t supposed to elaborate on doom and gloom. Like Anjali said, a real whacko.

“Uh-huh, but—”

“Boss bad man, too. He lie. Make baby with wife. No job for Missy. No house. No life. Missy travel far. Feel better.”

My smile slipped and I tried not to physically recoil. How the hell had he known that stuff about Tate? Nobody here knew and I doubt Rita would’ve informed her aunt. As for Anjali telling this guy, no way.

I backed up, trying not to prompt another scary insight. At least his focus on me had taken the heat off Anjali, and thankfully, she’d quieted. Instead, she stared at me goggle-eyed, her penciled eyebrows raised toward the heavens in a comical WTF.

“Let’s go back inside.” I linked arms with Anjali and smiled at the crowd, signaling ‘show over.’

However, it wasn’t over until the skinny man sang—or soothsayed, in this instance.

“Rich man bring joy. Some pain. You decide.” His final words wavered before he closed his eyes and his head lolled forward. He sat so still I could barely see his chest moving as he breathed.

“He’s not dead, is he?” I muttered to Anjali as we walked away.

“We couldn’t be that lucky,” she said, belatedly realizing her state of undress as she frantically rewrapped her sari.

“What did he say to get you so wound up? Something about an old boyfriend?”

“Stupid old fool. I don’t want to talk about it.” She flung the last corner of the sari over her shoulder and sailed ahead of me before coming to an abrupt stop. “Who’s this boss that ruined your life?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I fired straight back and waved to Rakesh, skulking by the marquee.

“Cheeky girl. Now, where’s that young Drew? I’ll have to tell him the tour’s off. I need to go home and rest after my ordeal.”

“Fine by me.”

Better than fine. I’d had enough for one day: interrogations from fake fiancé’s friends, real-life drama Anjali-style, and scary soothsaying. I liked watching drama being filmed here. Being a central character, not so much.

“We’re leaving,” I said as Rakesh materialized by our sides now the throng had dispersed. “No thanks to you.”

I sniffed and pretended to ignore him, raising my nose in the air. That lasted all of two seconds when he tweaked it. “Didn’t like your fortune, huh?”

“Didn’t like the way you wimped out.”

“Ouch.” He clasped his heart, flashing the boyish smile he used to great effect. Rita had met her match with this one. “I didn’t wimp out. I just discovered Kapil the soothsayer is the grandfather of a lead actor and a permanent fixture around here. Been telling fortunes for years.”

His smile turned sly. “Besides, I have a reputation to uphold. It wouldn’t be good for me to be seen interfering in women’s work.”

“
Women’s work
? You little worm, you—”

“Gotcha.” He had the audacity to wink and I deflated.

Yep, Rita was in for a fine old time with Rollicking Rakesh.

Anjali cleared her throat, suitably shamed as we discussed her escapade. “Why don’t I thank Drew for his hospitality and meet you by the car?”

“Good idea.” Anything to avoid another confrontation with Bollywood Boy.

As Anjali waddled through the marquee entrance, I turned to Rakesh, now as good a time as any to discuss his friend’s suspicions. “Speaking of Drew, we need to talk.”

“About your little crush?”

“You’re crazy.” The same craziness making my heart pitter-patter at the thought of having a crush on a guy like Drew.

“You like him, I can tell.” He tweaked my nose again and I swatted him away, annoyed by his intuitiveness. “Just remember you’re engaged, otherwise my mother might stone you.”

“I’d like to get stoned all right,” I muttered, mustering a glare I couldn’t maintain when he grinned, a smile between two friends who’d only met recently but clicked anyway.

I hadn’t had a male friend before. Boyfriends, yeah. But platonic? Uh-uh. Yet here was a guy from another continent who I’d known for a few days and we’d become buddies. Go figure.

He squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance to make a move on Drew when we’re in New York.”

“What?”

“Didn’t I tell you? This movie he’s backing has several New York scenes, so once it’s a wrap here, the cast and crew will be heading to the Big Apple for a few weeks. Drew’s definitely going, so perhaps you two can get properly
acquainted
there?”

I didn’t know whether to kiss Rakesh or slap him. He deserved a kiss for being so astute and a slap for presuming to know more about what I wanted than I did. “Not interested.”

Bollywood Boy would be in New York for a few weeks? Big deal. I didn’t want a fling, not anymore. Besides, after I revealed the trick I’d played on him, I’d be the last person he’d want to see.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re in denial,” Rakesh said, grabbing my chin and tilting my face from side to side as if studying it.

I elbowed him away. “Now you’ve had your fun, perhaps you’d like to hear that Drew knows my identity and is giving me grief over it.”

“Drew
knows
?” His jaw dropped so far I placed a finger under his chin and guided it shut.

“Uh-huh. And he’s becoming a real pain in the ass.”

“How?”

“He’s giving me a hard time about telling you the truth, implying I’m a gold digger out to fleece you for every rupee, about to ruin your family’s reputation, blah, blah, blah.”

Rakesh’s brows drew together, the frown not detracting from his good looks. “Why didn’t you tell him I already know?”

“Um… I didn’t think you wanted anyone else in on it.”

And I wanted to fool Mr. Hotshot-Know-It-All and have the last laugh.

Maybe it came down to control issues, and having Drew bully me into telling the truth chafed. Maybe I hated being told what to do. But whatever the reasons, I wanted to play this game a little longer. I was suffering Mojito Monday and Rita withdrawal. I had to tolerate Anjali’s channel-surfing as she alternated between swooning over Ridge on
Bold and the Beautiful
and lusting after Leno—unfathomable. I’d contemplated flirting with a peeping Tom Lone Ranger look-alike.

I definitely needed another form of entertainment, even if it was an adolescent ruse. It wouldn’t hurt to keep him at arm’s length either. The guy rattled me. Not in a good way. His accusations and defense of his friend I could handle. The subliminal attraction? Not so much.

I’d come to Mumbai to help Rita, but my trip had been more about nursing my emotional bruises than altruism. Having Drew believe the worst in me was probably good. Last thing I needed was him to pick up on the buzz between us and want to explore it.

Falling for Tate had been dumb. Falling for a guy on the other side of the planet would be monumentally stupid.

Should I feel guilty? Probably. Did I? Hell no.

Rakesh didn’t buy my lousy excuse. “But he already knows. He’s a good guy, but we’ll have to swear him to secrecy. Why didn’t you tell—I get it.” Rakesh snapped his fingers, his frown clearing, his mouth curving into a smug grin. “You’re enjoying baiting him, making him squirm, knowing a secret he doesn’t. I bet you’re loving every minute of it, you devious woman.”

“He’s a pompous, arrogant ass who should mind his own business.” I folded my arms and pretended to be in a huff when in fact I liked having a friend I could talk to about this. Rakesh knew Drew well, he’d guessed I was interested in the guy, and he’d proven to be an unexpected ally in a short space of time. I liked having him in my corner despite the fact he gave me as much grief as Rita. If the two ever joined forces, I’d be in trouble.

“Listen to yourself. Pompous and arrogant?” Rakesh chuckled as he led me to the car, softly singing “Drew and Shari sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.”

“Juvenile.”

“Flirt.”

“Idiot.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Schmuck.”

“Sassy.”

“Stop. How can I keep insulting you when you’re so damn nice?”

“That’s my girl,” he said, giving my shoulders an affectionate squeeze as Buddy opened the door for us and I slid inside.

I sagged against the worn leather seats, half listening to Rakesh making idle chatter with Buddy, the soothsayer’s words echoing in my head.