Bollywood Superstar Read online

  It was too much. She laughed then put a hand to her mouth before it turned too hysterical. He spoke to me.

  An impatient Ranjit Dhaliwal waved his hands.

  “Okay, okay. What’s your name?”

  “Jasmeena.”

  “And what are you going to do for us?”

  “I’m going to sing the Bebo song.”

  “Aha. The Kareena Kapoor number.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What are we waiting for then?”

  A technician pressed a button on a vast tape machine and the introduction burst out almost before she was ready. But she caught up with herself and threw her body into the dance moves she had rehearsed for months.

  Once the first line of the song was out of her mouth, she was able to lose her inhibitions and her nerves and glide seamlessly into her performing self, even spinning and bending flirtatiously close to Ajay and fixing his fascinated eyes with hers. His clear appreciation of her routine gave her the boost she needed and she reached inside herself, finding every reserve of talent and rhythm and sex appeal she possessed, flinging it all in front of the judges like precious jewels.

  When the music finished, she came to a shuddering halt, panting and shiny-eyed, holding herself strictly in motionless reserve until the judges spoke.

  “You certainly channelled Kareena Kapoor there,” commented Dhaliwal.

  Not the cutting-to-the-quick nastiness she had dreaded. A compliment?

  She smiled. “Kareena Kapoor is one of my great Bollywood heroines.” She nodded towards Priti, hoping to imply that the retired actress was also included in that bracket.

  “She is a talented actress,” nodded Dhaliwal.

  Priti spoke up next. “I like your moves, Jasmeena, you clearly take your dancing seriously. That was a very tight routine. Thank you. I enjoyed it.”

  “Thank you!” exclaimed Jas, overwhelmed, putting her hands together in rapture. She was still beaming at Priti when Ajay spoke.

  She looked into him, trying to locate his soul, willing him to fall in love with her. He certainly had the face of a man who was, if not in love, at least contemplating that emotion.

  “Jasmeena, you are one of the hottest new talents I have seen this week. If I have my way, you will be in round two. And, for what my opinion’s worth, I think you have what it takes to go much further than that.”

  To her terminal embarrassment, Jas actually screamed and leapt into the air.

  “Are you serious?” she gasped, tears threatening to ruin her carefully-applied maquillage.

  He nodded, still smiling like a man about to garland his bride with flowers.

  “Very serious. Congratulations. Well done.”

  The soap actress stepped forward and took her arm, shepherding her from the room while the cameraman followed them.

  Either very good or very bad, thought Jas ecstatically. And she certainly hadn’t been very bad.

  The soap actress, a rather excitable woman, flapped around her once Jas was seated for her mini-interview.

  “Wow, Jasmeena, Ajay really seemed to love your performance. How does that make you feel?”

  “I can’t believe it.” Jas dabbed at her treacherous eyes with a tissue. “I just can’t believe the lovely things he said to me. It’s like a dream come true.”

  “A dream come true for a girl who serves behind the counter in her local grocery store. A big, big chance.”

  “Oh, I know. I mean, I might not get in. There still might be performers better than me to come. But those words will live with me forever.”

  “They’ll warm your heart on a cold night, I’m sure.”

  Jas, in a daze, could do no more than nod.

  The interviewer and cameraman returned along the corridor for the next auditionee, but Jas stayed in her place for a few more minutes, searching in vain for her lost composure.

  She had another hour to wait before they would announce those who had made it to the next round. She ought to find Krishnan and maybe get a cup of tea and something to eat. But there was no way she could eat. Not now.

  She looked up to see the technician who had sorted out the backing tape standing in front of her. Was she going to get her tape back?

  “Message for you,” said the technician abruptly, shoving a piece of folded paper into her hand before turning away again.

  “For me?” Jas asked the empty space wonderingly. She unwrapped the piece of jotter paper to find a couple of lines in an elegant hand.

  “Jasmeena,

  You are a knockout and I want to take you out tonight. Please meet me at eight o’clock by the back exit of the studio.

  Ajay Amir.”

  Chapter Two

  Jas couldn’t have read that right. She tried again, forcing herself to linger over each word, making sure it said exactly what it seemed to say.

  Yes. It did. Ajay Amir wanted to take her out on a date. And he hadn’t waited for a reply. She could just not turn up…but this was Ajay Amir. It would take a woman with a cast-iron case around her heart and her libido to turn him down, and she didn’t have that.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered to herself. “Oh my God, Jas. This has to be a delusion. Or a trick. He’s tricking me! But why would he…and isn’t it wrong for a judge to date a contestant? Perhaps this means I haven’t made the cut…oh, what does it mean?”

  “First sign of madness,” Krishnan drawled.

  That brought her to herself. She looked up, shocked, and stuffed the piece of crumpled paper into the waistband of her skirt.

  “I’m just…” She shook her head.

  “How did it go?”

  “It seemed…all right.”

  “You’re shaking, Jas.” Krish put a hand on her upper arm, just above the silver snake bracelet that wound around it.

  “Nerves. I got a bit nervous.”

  “You need a cup of tea. Come on. I’ll take you to the canteen.”

  Over tea and a biscuit Jas couldn’t face, Krish chatted lightly about all the sights and sounds he’d absorbed whilst watching people ebb and flow from the auditions.

  “I’ve never seen so many vain people all in one place,” he said, stirring sugar into his mug.

  “Thanks for calling me vain,” said Jas, only half-listening, her brain taken up with her dating dilemma.

  “I don’t blame you for it,” he said. “You’ve got the looks and the talent. I bet half of these don’t have either.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” Jas looked up, touched. Krishnan usually teased her or put her down.

  He pouted flirtatiously, weakening her knees.

  “Nah. Look at that face. Too much makeup. You’re like one of those TV models—an Asian version of Jordan.”

  “I’m not Asian. But thanks for that.”

  “I keep forgetting. So they didn’t bust you then?”

  “No. Nobody mentioned it. I think I’ve got away with it so far.”

  “But if you go on TV, don’t you think someone might see you? ‘Oh, there’s Jasmine Wyatt. I didn’t realise she’d changed ethnicity. I wonder if you can do that down at the registry office.’ And next thing you know, they’re on the phone to the papers with their story, and you end up with egg on your face.”

  Jas’ heart went cold. Of course he was right. Perhaps she should confess all when…if…she met up with Ajay. Should she? No, she couldn’t, not yet. She would see how far she could go, or she would wonder forevermore if she could have made the final.

  “My white friends won’t be watching,” she asserted, hoping she was right. “This show airs on a specialist British Asian channel. Why would they be looking at that?”

  Krish shrugged. “You’ll probably be fine,” he conceded. “But don’t come running to me if it all blows up.”

  “Really? Cos you know, you’d be the first person I’d want to run to.”

  His smile was strangely melancholy.

  “Okay,” he said softly. “You can run to me.”

  People all
around them began rising from their chairs and surging towards the double doors.

  Jas pinched Krishnan’s hand.

  “The announcement! Let’s go.”

  Grumbling, Krish picked up his half-full mug and took it out with him to the heaving colour-clash of the auditorium.

  Of the one hundred and fifty auditionees, only ten would go through to the next round.

  At the top of the stairs stood the judges, Ajay in the centre, towering over his left- and right-hand companions, a piece of printed paper held out in front of him. The babble of voices hushed to silence and the cameras began to roll.

  “If I call out your name,” said Ajay in his sonorous, actorly tones, “you are coming to the next round. Only ten competitors from the East Midlands will join their counterparts from the Birmingham, London, Manchester and Glasgow auditions. Those ten competitors are…”

  Jas seized Krishnan’s wrist, causing him to spill tea on his shoes.

  The names were read out and Jas counted each one. She wasn’t in the first eight.

  “Anjali Gupta.”

  She watched, her stomach in knots, as the pretty, local girl ran up to the top of the stairs to join her idols, waving her hands and ululating in triumph.

  “And our final contestant is…Jasmeena Khan.”

  Jas leapt into the air for the second time that day, clamping both hands to her mouth. It was a few moments before she could trust her legs to carry her through the crowds to the staircase.

  “Congratulations,” said Krishnan, deadpan, as she launched herself away from him.

  Ajay said the same word at the top of the stairs, accompanying his with a telegenic hug. He pulled her closer than necessary and she almost swooned against his broad chest so that she breathed in his delicious scent of spiced patchouli.

  He took the opportunity to murmur into her ear, “Later, yes?”

  She could only murmur, “Uh-huh,” before retreating from his arms to turn and face the one hundred and forty unsuccessful contestants with their friends and supporters.

  She waved with the other winners, sensing the vibes of jealousy and disappointment. Anjali, who stood next to her, put an arm around her and pulled her close for the benefit of the photographer.

  “We’ll have to stick together,” Anjali whispered through her bared, smiling teeth.

  “Yeah,” replied an unconvinced Jas. She had the oddest feeling that Anjali wasn’t to be trusted.

  The flashes seemed to go on forever, long after Jas’ facial muscles began to twitch and sag, her smile increasingly forced. Eventually, though, the photographers must have been satisfied and the successful contestants were led to a meeting room to collect the information about the next round.

  “Two weeks today,” said Anjali, smiling as they walked back to the auditorium together. “And they’re sending cameramen to our homes! My mother will go into a cleaning frenzy.”

  Jasmine laughed uncomfortably. She had given the address of Krish’s store as her home, but they’d wanted to know about her family, who she’d claimed were all on an extended visit to the Punjab. The researcher had found this odd, judging by her raised eyebrows, but she hadn’t voiced any query.

  “Ready then?” asked Krishnan, lounging at the foot of the stairs.

  “Umm…” Jas checked the clock on the wall. Ten to eight. What do I tell Krish? She needed a minute or two alone to think. “I just want to use the bathroom,” she managed. “Bye, Anjali. See you in two weeks.”

  Looking back from the door to the corridor, she caught Anjali smirking at Krishnan and luring him into a conversation.

  Humph. While the cat’s away, eh?

  But then she berated herself for her ungenerous thought. Wasn’t she contemplating sneaking off with Ajay Amir anyway? If Krishnan wanted to flirt with another woman, then that was no crime. Oh, it was all too difficult!

  She pushed through the door of the women’s restroom and braced herself over a sink, looking at her face in the mirror, trying to decide what the reflection there really was. Just a pretty girl on the verge of an adventure? Or a liar, a schemer, a disloyal bitch? What should she tell Krishnan? Not the truth!

  She couldn’t face him. She’d just…go. She’d call him in a little while, before he got too worried, make up some excuse for disappearing.

  Breathing fast, Jas rummaged in her handbag, bringing out a lipstick and refreshing the metallic-tinted colour of her mouth. Pressing her lips together, she tried to picture herself as Ajay would see her. She aimed for mysterious sophistication, but it was a difficult look to pull off, so she opted for more mascara instead.

  “Don’t sleep with him, Jas,” she commanded herself sternly. “He won’t respect you.” But a chance like this might never come again. “What am I doing?” she moaned, then she danced around the empty restroom, singing, “It’s Ajay, Ajay, Ajay Amir,” just as the fangirls liked to chant outside the Bollywood studio lots.

  She shrugged at her mirror image, palms upward.

  “I’m only human,” she told herself.

  And she left, searching for the back exit door.

  She smelt that patchouli spice before she saw him. She hurried forward, turning a corner to a small set of steps that led down to a barred fire exit door. But where was he?

  She squealed as a pair of strong arms caught her from behind, circling her waist, the hands clasped around a bouquet of flowers.

  “You came.”

  The famous voice swirled into her brain, killing her capacity for sensible thought and filling her with tremulous rapture.

  “Ajay…” Her protest was weak and he must know it.

  “You were dynamite today.”

  Realising she was going nowhere with those powerful arms holding her, she decided to relax into the flow and rested her head against his shoulder. It felt good, really good, just the way it had felt in her dreams but more real.

  “Ajay, is this wise? Is it allowed?”

  “What, to take a beautiful woman out for the evening? I think it’s in order, don’t you?”

  “I mean, the rules of the contest…”

  “Hey, I didn’t get where I am today by following rules. Don’t worry, baby. As long as we’re discreet and we don’t do anything to put us on the front page of the newspapers, we can do whatever we want.”

  Whatever we want. Right now that covers quite a lot of activities…

  “You think rules are meant to be broken?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pressed his nose against her cheek, his hot breath travelling down the curve of her neck.

  So you won’t mind if I don’t have any Asian heritage then…

  But she didn’t dare voice the thought. Not yet. Instead, she turned her face up to his, his lips so close, his eyes devouring her.

  “You think I’m such a pushover. You must be very arrogant.”

  “I am. Very arrogant,” he whispered. “And I know you want me as much as I want you. So let’s go.”

  At least he was honest. She made no effort to resist him when he took her hand and left the building with her, ushering her smoothly into the back seat of a cream limousine.

  The chauffeur pulled out into the fast-moving evening traffic, heading for the city centre.

  “Do you do this often?” Jas asked, struggling to find suitable subjects for small talk. “Pick up girls at auditions?”

  “No,” said Ajay with a laugh. “Only when they knock me dead. Which has only happened once.”

  “Oh, come on!” Jas tried to keep her Midlands white-girl accent neutral, which was hard at times of emotion or surprise. “All the gorgeous women that you must see every day as part of your career. Surely they must catch your eye.”

  “I’ve had girlfriends, of course,” he said. “But I’m not usually…stunned at first sight. Like I was today. Hey, why are you so suspicious? You must know you’re a very attractive person. Obviously men are going to fall at your feet.”

  Jas shook her head, feeling she had somehow beco
me entangled in somebody else’s movie.

  “Yeah, can’t you see that the ground in front of me is covered in adoring men?” she said.

  He leaned in close to her, putting a hand on her thigh.

  “If it isn’t, it should be,” he said. “You’re going to be a star, Jasmeena. And I want to be part of your ascent.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  He nodded gravely then touched his forehead to hers.

  “I really believe that.”

  His hand cupped her cheek and she glided into the kiss, encountering no resistance at all. It was as if their lips were two magnets, bound to come together by forces beyond their control.

  They continued to kiss, gently at first but with gathering force, all the way to the swankiest hotel in town, breaking apart only when the chauffeur put the gears into neutral and switched off the engine.

  “Okay,” murmured Ajay. Still running his hands all over her, he drew her out of the limo into the underground car park. “I’m having you all to myself tonight.”

  His room was the penthouse suite, which didn’t surprise Jas, but she struggled out of his arms for a moment in order to gasp and make exclamations at its opulence.

  “Wow, a Jacuzzi.”

  “Strip off and jump in.” He tried to catch her, but she darted beyond his reach.

  “And a fridge full of champagne!”

  “Take out a bottle. We’ll share it in the Jacuzzi.”

  Again, he swiped, almost catching her arm before she twisted away.

  “You can see the whole city.” She stared out at the million lights spread before her, stretching away to the Meadows and beyond, though not quite as far as Leicester—a place about which she didn’t particularly want to think right now.

  She felt his presence behind her, a disturbance of air, a whiff of testosterone and spice, and glided sideways, pirouetting over to the bed, which was huge.

  “You could fit ten people in here.”

  “I suppose it’s been tried.”

  “By you?”

  She pretended to wag a finger at her wayward companion, who was looking a mite frustrated now.

  “Jas, I want you. Not ten people. Just you. Stand still for a moment.”