Читать книгу A Date With A Bollywood Star - Riya Lakhani - Страница 8

OMAR WAS SITTING alone in his bedroom. After the previous day’s filming George had driven him to the country house in Hertfordshire that was his home in England. It was a large sprawling place and cost a fortune to maintain. But he didn’t need to worry about the money. Since his career had taken off Omar never bothered to check his bank account. He just bought what he fancied and let his accountant take care of the bills. He had more money than he’d ever dreamed about while living in that dingy two-roomed flat with his father. Even now, after all the years that had gone by, he gritted his teeth when he thought back to those days. The anger had never left him.

Now he was surrounded by works of art by people he’d never heard of, objects of luxury he certainly never needed, but he’d bought because he could. They showed the outside world that he had made it to the big time and he liked that. It was just part of showing off, of playing the role of the superstar. It was his way of sticking a finger up to all the people who’d ever done him wrong or who looked down their noses at him because they felt they were better than him. So what if they were? He had the money to rub in their faces and, coming from a poor background, he knew one thing for certain—money could buy you power.

But was he truly happy? He hadn’t really given it much thought. He’d got on with playing the role of the celebrity film star, attending the parties, being photographed with gorgeous women. He couldn’t help but think that, for all he was surrounded by the outward signs of wealth, his bed was often cold when he got in it at night.

‘George, George,’ Omar called out. ‘Any word from that reporter?’ George made his way up the stairs from the ground floor. He was puffing.

‘Not a thing.’

‘Huh!’ Omar said. ‘Ah, well, some you win, some you lose, eh!’ He tried to shrug off the disappointment he felt by making a joke of it. ‘Shame; she could have really helped me out—she’s just what I need at the moment—but I’m sure we can find someone else. We better had—the publishers are nagging me about the book. Pity, it would have saved a lot of time and effort and she is very, very pretty.’ He looked at George. George didn’t respond.

‘Unlike you to hold back on giving me your opinion, especially if I don’t want it,’ Omar commented dryly. George remained tight-lipped. ‘Oh, come on, George! What did you think of her? She liked you, didn’t she?’ He threw the paper towards the silent George. ‘Here, read what she put about you again. “Courteous and charming, George the driver is always there to lend a hand. “‘ George began to blush.

‘She’s certainly different to all the others, sir.’

Omar was just about to question what George meant, but his manservant continued, ‘We should be going soon. The opening is at eight and you know what the traffic will be like.’

‘Oh, don’t mother me, George! Fashionably late, you know it’s my way. Anyway, it’s my club. I’ll turn up when I like!’

The noise of the club hit them head-on as they ran from the cover of the limousine and through the crowd waiting in the rain to get in. The burly, stone-faced doormen nodded as the three women zoomed past laughing and giggling. The lobby was brightly lit with huge palms on either side of a magnificent marble staircase. The guests were being ushered up it by smiling hostesses bearing trays of champagne. Rani and her friends ignored them and made straight for the top of the stairs. Their high heels chinked with each step. Sunita stopped and took a glass of champagne from a waiter at the top of the staircase, turned to Rani and began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

Shilpa joined in, laughing all the way through the verse as everyone turned to look at them.

‘Happy birthday, dear Rani, happy birthday to you!’ There was a round of applause from the onlookers and Rani flushed red.

‘Oh, my God! And you had to tell the whole club!’ she said, giving Sunita a tight hug and kiss on her cheek.

‘Well, it’s only once a year and we need to celebrate, don’t we, Bridget?’

They linked arms and marched into the club as if it were them that owned it and not Omar Khan. There was something totally liberating about being old enough not to care what other people thought but young enough to still get the looks and they still did. Every man’s head turned as the three beautiful women walked through the double doors and into the main bar. As soon as they stepped inside the first man willing to chance his luck approached them. He was tall and dark-haired, wearing a sharp suit and a tie in a thick Windsor knot. He made straight for Rani.

‘Good evening, gorgeous. Would you like a drink?’

She smiled politely and shook her head. ‘We’re fine, thanks.’ She continued to walk towards the bar.

‘Who’s the gora?’ asked Sunita.

‘I’ve never seen him before,’ Rani replied with a wide smile. They hadn’t been in the club five minutes and they were already being admired. It felt good but she was very anxious. Her friends had talked her into accepting the invitation to the opening of Omar Khan’s club and she’d reluctantly agreed just hours before.

‘I’m not sure I can face him again, not after what I’ve written about him, and knowing he’s read it.’

‘Look,’ said Sunita, ‘think about it this way, he wouldn’t have invited you if he was upset, would he? He knows just how you feel about him, doesn’t he?’

‘The whole world does!’ said Shilpa.

‘What I mean,’ Sunita began again, ‘is that he knows you.’

‘He knows he’s onto a good thing!’ Shilpa butted in before Sunita could finish what she was going to say.

‘I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,’ said Sunita, ‘but he does know you’re interested in him—so what? It’s about time you looked forward and not back.’

‘That’s just what I’m afraid of,’ said Rani. ‘I’m not like that—you know that.’

‘You know you mentioned the D word this morning?’ Sunita probed, hoping to excavate a little more of the truth.

Rani looked shocked. She’d brought up David?

‘I did?’ she questioned her friends. They both nodded.

‘You see, that’s why I’m scared. I mean, I would never have said … that … I mean … really, would I? You know … it’s …’ Rani struggled to express herself. ‘If I got involved with Omar, what if it was like it was with David all over again? I mean, imagine how awful that would be.’

Sunita looked straight into Rani’s eyes.

‘He sent you flowers, didn’t he? Why did he invite you to his club? It’s not out of charity, is it? He could have any woman he wants, can’t he?’

‘That really makes me feel special, that does!’ baulked Rani.

‘You know I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Sunita. ‘It’s just that he’s obviously interested or why go to all the effort?’

‘You won’t find out unless you go,’ said Shilpa.

‘For once I agree with her,’ said Sunita. ‘You’ve got to be in it to win it, as they say, so come on—you’ve nothing to lose.’

‘My dignity, my self-respect,’ pointed out Rani.

‘You lost that the moment you hit the send key on your computer.’ Shilpa laughed.

‘But I feel too embarrassed to face him. What will I say? What can I say?’ Rani asked, her face stricken with worry. Her two friends now sat either side of her, each with an arm around her waist.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ said Sunita. ‘You just have to be you. Go on, enjoy yourself. After all, it’s not every day a Bollywood superstar asks you out, is it? And anyway, you can just brush it off as journalistic exaggeration, can’t you? What’s the worst that could happen?’ Sunita continued.

‘She could get pregnant, that’s the worst!’ said Shilpa and then, putting on a matriarchal Indian accent, ‘Beti, you make sure he’s a good man, an honest man.’ She was wagging her finger at Rani like a scolding mother. ‘Make sure he’s handsome, make sure he loves you, make sure he’s a doctor. And, if he’s none of these, make sure he’s rich!’ They all hugged and laughed.

‘Come on, then, no time to lose,’ said Sunita.

Rani had met Sunita on their first day at university. They’d been allocated rooms next door to each other in the halls of residence and had struck up an immediate friendship that hadn’t wavered in the subsequent years. They’d even started out on the same course, medicine—what else for two Asian girls? But Rani had grown frustrated by the length of time it was going to take to finish, and, much against her parents’ advice, dropped out to study journalism instead. That was what she’d told her parents anyway. But it wasn’t the truth; she’d never been able to open her heart to them about the real reasons for switching course. She was too scared to admit it even now, but the unpleasant memories of that ordeal were stirring deep inside Rani’s stomach again. She was trying her best to ignore them and she knew it. The self-deception was paper thin because no matter how she tried to distract herself it was always there at the back of her mind and in her aching tummy. David. That one word that summed up her entire attitude and experience of men. One word that caused a tower block of feelings to crash in on itself. One word she’d not uttered since leaving university. One word that encapsulated all of the extremes of love and pain, just five little letters. David was the real reason Rani had dropped out of medical school. He had said he loved her. She had thought she loved him. He cast a long shadow over Rani and meeting Omar had brought back all of those memories and they tore at her now.

The rest of the day was spent in preparation for the night out. There was plenty of discussion and squabbling about what to wear. How to do Rani’s hair and what make-up was appropriate.

‘You don’t want to look tarty,’ Shilpa advised. ‘Go with the gold. It says, I’m sophisticated and know my own value.’ Rani and Sunita looked amazed.

‘An eyeliner can tell you all that?’ asked Rani.

‘Of course! Don’t you girls know anything? No wonder you’re both single.’

‘And you’re not?’ Rani retorted. Shilpa ignored the comment and continued to extol the virtues of her make-up choice. Sunita helped Rani with her eyebrows, expertly shaping them with thread. Shilpa offered to give Rani a wax but she declined. Instead she took charge of the curlers and began to set Rani’s long brown hair.

‘He’s a film star, he’s used to perfection, so we’ve got to give you the film-star look,’ she said, rolling strands of hair up. The day passed in a blur of colour and conversation as Rani paraded her entire wardrobe and they discussed the merits of each outfit. Apart from some family occasions the opportunities to wear traditional clothes were rare and they all made the most of the preparations for Rani’s big night out.

‘What about this?’ Rani said as she tried on a marigold-yellow churidaar pjama.

‘Nah, too bright. It’s not a ladies’ sangeet, you know!’ replied Sunita. She busied herself rummaging through Rani’s impressive jewellery cabinet and laid the pieces on the bed. There were simple plain gold chains, wonderful solid bracelets and her prized possession, her panjagla given to her by her mother as a hint that she should be looking for a husband. In the end Rani decided on her black halter-neck sari, which was decorated with waves of silver sequins and embroidered flowers.

Now they were actually in the club Rani felt nervous about meeting Omar again. Just what would she say to him? What could she say that would undo the embarrassment she felt? She breathed in deeply and vowed to enjoy herself whatever else happened that night. The club was bright and cheerful with a dance floor to the left and low tables with comfortable-looking cream sofas on the right. The wall behind the bar was lined with hundreds of different bottles and the staff seemed to know which ones they were picking up without even looking. A waiter wearing a very tight pair of trousers came out from the side of the bar.

‘Ladies, good evening, welcome to The Palace. Your table’s this way. Mr Khan knows you have arrived,’ he said, and they followed him to an empty table behind the dance floor. Rani’s heart skipped at the mention of his name and she began to think the whole idea was a huge mistake. They sat down and as the waiter turned to ask them what they’d like to drink Sunita had a fit of the giggles.

‘Where do you think he puts his tips?’ she whispered, looking at his tight trousers. Her laughter was infectious and Rani began to giggle too.

‘Not in his shorts, that’s for sure!’ she said. They hadn’t even finished ordering their drinks when the music began. It was Beyoncé.

‘Come on, let’s dance,’ said Shilpa, and the three of them headed to the dance floor, leaving the waiter still hanging on for their order. Rani loved to dance and it felt great being with her best friends. She felt safe on the hard wooden dance floor, as if it were her own private island, a place where all the things she was afraid of couldn’t get to her. A sanctuary in a sea of confusion she was anxious about swimming in. But the tranquillity didn’t last. Rani’s nose twitched. It was definitely his aftershave. She spun around to find Omar standing beside her.

‘Very stylish. You dance well,’ he said. ‘Can I?’ and he put his arms out to hold her hands and dance. Rani was in a state of shock and just instinctively let him take hold and spin her away from her friends.

‘I’m glad you were able to make it,’ he said, leaning in towards Rani’s ear. His breath felt warm and intimate on her skin as they glided around the dance floor. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d got the messages.’

Rani felt guilty. She hadn’t responded to the flowers or the invitation and was about to try and explain when Omar continued as if he sensed she was backed into a corner.

‘The doormen spotted you as you came in. All the staff had been given a photograph of you, just in case.’

Rani felt relieved and affronted at the same time. He obviously cared enough to have everyone look out for her, but at the same time she felt vulnerable being identified like that to people she didn’t know.

‘Do you make a habit of spying on women?’

‘No, but in your case I’m happy to make an exception.’

Well, at least he’s honest about it, Rani thought to herself wryly. And he does move very well! She let him lead her around the dance floor, trying not to get too carried away.

‘How’s the ankle?’ he asked with genuine concern in his voice.

‘Much better, thank you. I didn’t have any peas at home, but oven chips work just as well.’ That made Omar laugh out loud.

‘You’re a very funny lady.’

Rani felt a little put out by the description. Funny! Like ha-ha, or odd to look at? she wondered.

‘Funny? In what way?’

Omar looked straight into her eyes and she could feel the intensity of them frazzle her mind.

‘In a good way. I mean, saying that about the chips, and the way you wrote about me. I like your sense of humour. It’s very attractive.’

Rani gulped at his directness. He wasn’t like any of the men her mum and dad had paraded in front of her in an effort to find her a husband. They had all been well-mannered doctors, dentists or lawyers who knew which knife and fork to use and when. They wouldn’t have been caught running their eyes up and down her body, and if they had they’d at least have had the decency to be embarrassed.

‘That’s a little forward, don’t you think?’ Rani said in her most cut-glass accent.

‘And then you spoil it by being so snobby,’ Omar said in his roughest Mancunian delivery.

Rani pushed Omar away with a haughty snort, but he still had hold of her hands and pulled her back towards him with little effort. She crashed into his chest and he held her tightly against his body, squeezing her breasts against his silk shirt.

‘Are you really as toffee-nosed as you seem, Ms de Silver?’ His eyes burned into her.

‘Let’s finish dancing first and I’ll let you know,’ Rani said, giving up the struggle to be free from his muscular grip. Her stomach was spinning with the sheer exhilaration of being so close to him and being so powerless. She wanted to pull away and at the same time wanted to know what it would feel like to be crushed against his bare skin. As they moved gently to the next song Rani knew just what the experience reminded her of. She felt like a cartoon character with a good angel on one shoulder and a naughty devil on the other. So far she thought the mischievous, impish side was winning and she liked it. No wonder her mother had disapproved of the posters of Omar on her bedroom wall. What would she think of her now? Rani let her face fall closer to his and breathed in his aftershave again. His stubble tickled her cheek but she didn’t flinch away; she savoured the feeling.

As Omar moved cautiously he could feel her heart beating so near to his and he wondered how much closer he could hold her. He was in a playful mood, enjoying the sensation of Rani’s chest pressed against his. She had a lovely smile and, as far as he could tell, a very shapely body. As Rani relaxed in his grip he slowly let his hands slide down the sides of her black sari until his left hand was supporting her shoulder blades and his right hand was in the small of her back just above the curve of her bottom.

‘Why don’t we have that drink now?’ Rani said in a rushed tone, twisting her body away from Omar’s. Just as Rani stretched their arms as far as they could go without actually letting go Omar tugged her back towards him like a yo-yo, spinning her back into his arms. It was so quick that Rani didn’t have time to resist as he bent his head low towards her mouth and planted a kiss on her lips. Her eyes were wide open as she stared in shock up into his, and then as his lips gently moved against hers she closed her eyes and let him kiss her.