Читать книгу Grand Masti - Fun Never Ends - Neha Puntambekar - Страница 10

“Never again,” Amar’s voice was a mixture of relief and regret.

“Never again,” Meet and Prem parroted him.

“From now on, I will toe the straight line,” Prem added in earnest. “Do you guys know where I can Google stuff like that?”

“Can’t be too hard, everyone else seems to have stumbled on it,” Meet suggested, “It’s like a template they hand out, I think: study, graduation, find proper jobs.”

“A proper job? Like in a bank, or something?” Prem asked.

“Yeah, or something sounds about right,” his friends added, their expressions sombre.

It had been an exhausting three weeks for the three friends. Of course, they were always broke. What else could be expected of student life? But then they swung from broke to flushed to broke again, from carefree to careworn, from wanted to hunted, from boys to slightly more grown-ups. Some would call these three weeks life changing. Meet, Prem and Amar called it Monday.

They had blown their allowances on some low grade weed – there literally was more grass in it than anything else, peddled by a six-foot-four, well-built Russian exchange student. Unfortunately, one of him could break all of them, so there was no getting their money back. Despite the hunger pangs, none of them called home for a refuelling. Even idiots like them knew never to poke the angry bear.

They were passing a packet of Parle G around, savouring every bite, when Prem came up with a solution, another one of his ‘grand ideas’. He was holding open the classified section of a tabloid, grinning like a maniac. “I found it guys, I found a way to have our pot brownies and eat them too.”

The plan was simple. They’d sign up for slightly risqué jobs – jobs they were guaranteed to love; jobs that’d get them money, honeys, and some masti. What could possibly go wrong?

Fitness was a passion for Meet. Not too many people knew of his pudgy teen phase, where he was mocked and picked on by the popular kids. After his 10^th exams, he swore he’d never get out of shape again. He was proud of what he had achieved. And he had no qualms about dropping his clothes off to put his work on display.

He found his perfect job when the professor at an art school told him, “We’ll require you to pose in the nude for an hour every day”.

The money more than made up for it, but what he really enjoyed was the class full of hot chicks, running their eyes across his frame every day. He hoped in a couple of days he’d be able to convince at least a few of them to explore him a bit more intimately. Really, could he have found a more enjoyable job?

Prem was born with two right feet. It was true. His mom was fond of saying Prem could dance before he could walk.

“We cover entertainment at local sangeets, kitty parties, hen parties, that sort of thing,” the events manager told him. “Do you think you can manage?”

Prem took to it like a fish to water.

Given his particular brand of charm, he got fast-tracked to kitty parties, and Prem couldn’t be happier. He got to dance for cougars; cougars were his fourth most favourite thing in the world after his friends, Baywatch reruns, and beer. And the cougars really liked him too. He was delighted when they turned out to be a handsy bunch, handsy and rowdy to boot. Prem had found his calling.

When you came from a family of Doctors, you ended up learning quite a about the human body without even trying. It was this awareness that had pushed Amar towards the family trade; he had been studying medicine for a while now. The road to getting licensed to practice was a long one. But one of the many advantages of being a future-medical-intern was that people had no objections to being touched by him. He got away with a lot in the name of a full body massage.

The local ladies’ gym was the perfect excuse of a job. He had more fun ‘working’ over the last three days, than he had had in the entire last month. He had helped unknot more than a few tensed muscles, and the tips, mixed with phone numbers, had been phenomenal. Thank you, scary Russian, for helping me find my way to heaven.

“I need more practice with the gluteus maximus, maybe we can have a one on one session later?”

“I’m a little stuck on the lips, but I think it’s just about working on it.”

“I’ve always been a little shy, and they don’t they say the best way to get over it is to plunge right in?”

The girls in the art class told Meet.

Meet usually had to do all the heavy lifting, so he was savouring this moment. He enjoyed being pursued. He enjoyed being wooed.

“We love your abs”, the women at the kitty party winked at Prem.

No one had said that to Prem before. Between Meet’s fitness regime and Amar’s almost-doctor status, he tended to get sidelined. He grabbed this opportunity with both hands and each of his four and a half abs. He flashed a smile their way. “You are welcome to touch, but if you break it, you buy it.”

The women were not shy, and Prem even managed to learn a couple of new things.

Members had started asking for Amar by name. Where they’d come once a month before, they were suddenly willing to splurge on weekly sessions.

He manages to do things I haven’t felt in years, he caught one regular whisper into her phone. He paid a little extra attention to her that day. He enjoyed watching his clients come with an extra sway to their step and leave on wobbly feet.

Meet spent so much of his focus on the sexy art students, he didn’t notice the very interested art professor lurking in the corners.

Prof D, as he was called around the campus, was smitten by this beautiful young man. He had attended every class, and he could say positively he had never enjoyed it as much. He could tell Meet was not all about vanilla, but he knew it would be a challenge.

There was a photo that Prem didn’t know about. It was taken about three days back at a kitty party he worked. It was a shot of a particularly feisty lady taking a shot off of his abs; it was her idea. The photo was sent to a friend in confidence, and from there on it was shared in confidence.

That photo had completed its trek around the social circuit and was now sitting in front of her very pissed off husband.

Amar packed up his kit, stuffing his shirt and shoes in without a care. If he paid a little more attention, he’d notice something amiss. Slinging his bag across his body, he stepped out with a spring in his step; today had been particularly profitable.

He didn’t notice his colleague Priya, or her death glare, on his way out. Priya balled her fists in anger. She had lost eight clients since this newbie started. If he is going to steal my clients, I might as well get a cut of his tips, she reasoned.

The following week was weird.

Meet noticed Professor D everywhere he went. At first, he brushed it off as coincidence. But very soon he realized this was something else.

When the professor finally approached him, Meet was reminded of a hunter approaching its prey. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to notice me. But I guess better late than never, right?”

Meet just stared at him.

“Look, I know this isn’t your usual scene, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Think about it, that’s all I’m asking.”

The professor remained within his perimeter, inserting himself into any situation he could. Clearly, he would not back off. It was worse when class was in session.

Now that Meet knew what was going on, he wasn’t as comfortable. Unfortunately he had already been paid for the next two sessions. Not turning up meant returning money already spent.

Prem noticed that a black Audi turned up where ever he went.

As he parked his bike outside a reception hall, the venue for today’s kitty, a heavyset man finally stepped out of the car. “Yo douche bag,” he called to Prem. “I’m glad I bumped into you.” He threw an envelope across to Prem.

Prem opened it and slid a photo out. The woman drinking a shot off his naked chest.

The man added in a dark voice, “that’s my wife.”

All the blood drained out of Prem’s system. How was he going to explain this? Would the clichéd ‘it’s not what it looks like’ work?

“I’m going to destroy you little by little,” violence radiated through the man’s pores. “There’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind. You mess with me, I mess you up.” With that he stepped into his car and right as he drove away, he shaped his fingers into a gun and mimiced pulling the trigger.

Things at gym had been weird today.

First his key card didn’t work. Then someone slashed at his sneakers. His towels were all missing. And now as he was working, he had the distinct feeling of being watched. Oblivious to his worries, the client continued to prattle along. She giggled, she flirted, and she enjoyed her massage vociferously.

Amar was counting the notes, his tip, when he heard her voice again, more specifically her moans. He rushed outside the locker room, where Priya was leaning across the door, holding her phone up.

“I have a great video here. I was hoping it would be dirtier, but it’s good enough.”

“What are you doing?” he asked her.

The glint in her eyes told him it was nothing good.

“You stole my clients, you stole my tips. I had to do something about it.” Her voice was hard and angry. “Here’s what we’ll do. You continue this,” she waved the phone towards him, “and you split your tip like a good boy. If you don’t, this gets emailed to everyone, including the client, her family, your family, and of course, your college principal.”

She blew him a kiss and walked out.

For the first time in his life, Meet kept his wits about him.

He walked into the staff room and addressed the professor. “Leave me alone; forget I exist. If you do, I promise to leave you alone too. If you don’t”, Meet said, “I know the way to the dean’s office, and if pushed, I’d have no problems filing an official complain.”

With that, Meet turned and walked out the room, and away from the institute. He had lost all his love for nude art. As a beautiful young student waved at him at the main entrance, he realized, with much agony that he had lost all love for artists as well.

“Yo douche bag,” Prem sauntered across the parking lot towards his nemesis, with a slow smile. “You must be wondering what I have to smile about. Well, see that day after you threatened me, I spoke to some of the guys at work. Rather, some of the girls. One of them mentioned a bachelor party she worked a month ago. Yeah, I see you remember. Well, see there was photo. A photo you don’t know about. I’ve seen it, and trust me, there’s going to be a gigantic alimony cheque, once it gets out. So here’s my deal: leave me alone, the photo doesn’t come out.”

With that Prem walked away. He promised himself this was the last muddle he’d get himself into. He was done – no more grand ideas, no more weed, no more shots, no more shortcuts.

Amar did the only thing he could, he went to the boss.

The owner was concerned. “There’s a lawsuit here, and bad publicity, and possible jail time; there’s too much trouble.”

Priya was summoned. She paled when she saw Amar in the office. “What’s happening?” She asked.

An employment contract was placed in front of her, specifically the paragraph about client privacy. They made sure the video was deleted right there. If it got leaked, the boss promised to take her to court and fight her to bankruptcy. If she behaved, he was willing to write her a letter of recommendation.

It was her choice to make. She chose the latter.

As she walked out, Amar blew her a kiss; he didn’t tell her that he had been fired too, without a letter of recommendation.

The boys sat huddled in their hostel room, nursing their various scars.

The new month had rolled over and fresh allowances had been credited into their bank accounts. Over a round of hot tea and crackers, they recounted the last three weeks.

“Never again,” Amar’s voice was a mixture of relief and regret.

“Never again,” Meet and Amar repeated after him.