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For the next hour Rani pounded away on the keyboard of her computer, occasionally stopping to turn a page in her notebook or to take a sip of tea.
‘Yuk!’ she exclaimed as she took a cold mouthful from the mug and spat it back in shock. She paused to reread what she had written and her hand went to her mouth as she bit her lip.
‘My God, this looks like I fancy him,’ she said out loud as her eyes darted along the lines of her story. She frantically created a new file and began rewriting it. She was conscious of the time now and knew that at any moment her office would call demanding she file the story. Her fingers furiously darted across the keys, making sure that this time it didn’t sound as if she had fallen in love with him! When she felt happy she wrote a quick email and attached the document; it flew from her fingers and away to the office.
Rani slumped back in her chair and put her hands to her face. She felt hot; her cheeks were burning. What was that? The anxiety of having to meet the deadline? No, she’d been up against those many times before. Perhaps it was meeting a megastar that she’d had a girlish crush on? Perhaps. Or was it what she had originally written about him? She clicked on her documents file and pulled out the first draft and began rereading it. The burning in her cheeks grew as she went over the words again. Rani could feel the heat move to her chest. She pulled her dressing gown apart and saw the tell-tale red flush across her breasts and quickly closed it, embarrassed by her own intense feelings. She got up from the computer and walked around the apartment in an effort to cool down.
‘Thank God I changed it,’ she said to the empty flat. ‘I need more tea,’ and then, ‘Why am I talking to myself?’ she continued as she paced to and fro around the boiling kettle. Clearly the legendary film star had got to her in a way she didn’t think either of them had thought possible. The ringing of the phone stopped Rani contemplating her emotions any further. This time she managed to answer it.
‘Great stuff with Omar Khan, Rani!’ It was Tony. ‘Really good quotes and a very nice turn of phrase. I’ve just finished looking at it and it’s off to lay-up now so we’ll get it in for tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, Tony, it was quite a day,’ Rani replied cautiously.
‘Sounds like it! Really, it’s great work, you’ve obviously thrown yourself into it and I loved the bit about the broken mobile.’ He began to chuckle. ‘But do me a favour, please, Rani—get yourself a back-up phone next time. Getting hold of you was like raising the dead! Any way I’ve gotta go, thanks again, you’ve got us out of a jam. Have a good weekend.’ And he was gone as quickly as he’d begun his call.
Rani was a little taken aback. She’d never had so much praise from her boss before. She went back to her tea making and then headed to bed. She was worn out, physically and emotionally; it really had been quite a day.
It was the singing that finally woke Rani the following morning. She thought she’d been dreaming it but it wouldn’t go away and eventually, begrudgingly, she got out of bed to see who it was.
‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ she said as she trudged towards the door, her ankle still giving her some pain, although it was much better today—probably due to those peas, she thought with a wry smile. She could hear voices on the other side. It was her best friends Sunita and Shilpa and they were singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.
‘Come on, let us in, birthday girl,’ said Sunita.
‘Yes, hurry up, Rani!’ added Shilpa.
‘What is it? Has Armani launched a range of designer kameez?’ Rani retorted as she opened the door. Her two friends were grinning like Cheshire cats.
‘Happy birthday, Rani. What have you got to say for yourself, young lady?’ Sunita questioned. She was waving a copy of the morning’s London Review. Shilpa was clutching a bag of presents. Rani looked and felt bemused.
‘What are you on about?’ she asked with genuine concern. Shilpa and Sunita looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and then looked back at Rani.
‘You, you minx! Gushing all over Omar Khan. I’m surprised you didn’t ask him to marry you!’ said Shilpa. The penny dropped and Rani finally understood what they were going on about.
‘My interview, I see, very funny, ha, ha,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’ The girls looked at each other again and Sunita began to quote from the paper she held.
‘“I was weak with excitement as he touched my hand, this handsome hunk of a man, this demigod, and here was I breathing the air that he had exhaled.”’
‘Need I go on?’ asked Sunita.
‘Oh, my God, they’ve printed the wrong version!’ Rani exclaimed. She went bright red and her heart raced and her fingers went into her mouth. She turned from her friends and ran back into her flat to her computer. Frantically she began searching through her sent emails and then let out a little gasp in shock. She’d attached the original draft, not her rewritten one!
‘Rani, Rani, what is it, didi?’ Sunita said as she followed her friend into the living room.
Sunita put a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders.
‘There, there, it will be OK,’ she said, not knowing what else to say.
‘She doesn’t remember what she’s written—that’s an age thing, that is. Don’t worry. We’ve all known you’ve fancied him for years and now you’ve told him—a bold move, I must say!’ exclaimed Shilpa as she stood at the doorway. Sunita waved her hand, shooing her away.
‘You don’t understand,’ Rani cried in a muffled voice.
‘Don’t understand what? That you fancy a Bollywood hunk? What’s not to understand? You go for it!’ Shilpa said, she couldn’t help herself, but, realising she’d overstepped the mark, she backed away. Sunita put her head next to Rani’s.
‘What won’t we understand?’ she said in a caring voice. Rani continued to sob.
‘Shilpa’s right, I’ve fancied him for years and look what happens when I meet him. I twist my ankle and gush like a stupid girl!’ She paused, turning her head to her friend. The crying had made her eyes red and the tears were still flowing down her cheeks.
‘It may sound really stupid,’ she continued in a stuttering voice, ‘it sounds stupid to me as I’m saying it, but I felt a connection between us.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Like, like when I met David.’
That was a name none of them had spoken for several years and it was enough to stop the clocks from ticking.
‘Tea, anyone?’ Shilpa put her head round the door from the kitchen and peered in. Sorry, she mouthed at Rani. Rani nodded her acceptance of the apology and took the tea.
‘That’s a great idea,’ said Sunita, trying to lighten the mood a little more, ‘and then you can tell us all about it. You’ve started now so you have to!’
They sat on the sofas in the living room, each nursing a mug of tea, and Rani began recounting the events of the previous twenty-four hours. Sunita and Shilpa weren’t bystanders and kept interrupting her.
‘When he picked you up from the pavement, how did it feel?’ asked Shilpa, her eyes wide with excitement.
‘Like I’d been plugged into an electric socket! I felt completely weak all over my body, like I was going to pass out or something.’
‘Tell us about his eyes,’ questioned Sunita.
‘Oh, yes, yes, Rani, what were his eyes like? Are they really as deep and green as they seem on the screen?’ Shilpa added her request, anxious to know every little detail. Rani nodded.
‘Greener and more stunning than you can imagine. I thought I would drown in them. They were as crystal clear, as rich as the finest Sri Lankan emeralds.’ Rani began to lay it on for the benefit of her friends. But inside she was reliving the moments as she retold the story and as she spoke she felt warm from the inside of her body to the surface of her skin.
‘He was everything you would want him to be,’ she added, but stopped, unsure of what she was going to say next.
‘But,’ said Sunita. ‘You were going to say something more and there was a “but,” wasn’t there?’
‘Oh, you know me too well,’ Rani said, picking up a cushion and throwing it at Sunita.
‘So go on, then, don’t leave us in suspense—what is it?’ asked Shilpa as she shifted in her seat. Rani sighed before continuing.
‘As I sat watching them film a scene of the movie he came up to me and asked me to close my eyes. He said he had a surprise for me.’
‘I bet he did!’ exclaimed Shilpa and began to giggle. Sunita threw a cushion at her.
‘Well, I didn’t know what to expect and I was nervous. I thought perhaps he was going to kiss me. But instead he put a bag of frozen peas on my ankle!’
‘How disappointing!’ Shilpa said, biting her lip.
‘You see, there was …’ she hesitated ‘… there is something about him, I’m sure there is, and I know I don’t know him but I feel like I do so I wrote it down …’ Rani suddenly groaned out loud and clutched her head with her hands. ‘What if he reads it? Oh, my God, I’ll just die!’ she said as her voice reached a level of panic the others had never witnessed. She grabbed a cushion and buried her face in it.
‘So what if he reads it?’ Sunita said supportively. ‘You’re a journalist—journalists make stuff up all the time to sell papers, don’t they? So, then, where’s the harm? He’s just another interview you’ve done, that’s all.’
‘But what will your mum think?’ asked Shilpa pointedly. ‘I mean, he’s not exactly take-home-and-meet-the-parents material, is he? Well, not your mum and dad anyway! I mean, he’s a flashy actor, not a respectable doctor, isn’t he?’
Rani rolled her eyes but Shilpa continued, ‘He’s not even a lawyer! He’s a song and dance man, and you know your father really wouldn’t approve, especially if he’d read any of the newspaper cuttings. His only daughter mixed up with an international playboy!’
‘Aaahh,’ screamed Rani in sheer frustration. ‘I’ll die of shame! I’ll move house, I’ll move city, I’ll move country!’ she yelled. The phone rang. It was the duty editor from her office. Rani let the answer phone cut in.
‘Rani? It’s Edward Evans here, just thought you’d like to know we’ve had a tremendous response to your interview with Omar Khan. Never seen anything like it: the punters love it; the website has crashed; we’ve had so many people trying to leave messages. They’re calling you an Asian Bridget Jones. Great stuff. And I’m sure Tony will be in touch—he’s as bowled over as the rest of us.’
‘Bridget Jones!’ Sunita said. ‘That chain-smoking, alcoholic, man-obsessed thirty-something?’
‘I don’t smoke, I hardly drink and I’m exactly twenty-five today!’ Rani protested.
‘So you admit to being man-obsessed, then?’ Shilpa chipped in cheekily.
The doorbell rang.
‘What now?’ Rani said almost hysterically. ‘Please can you get it?’ she begged, looking towards her friends. Sunita obliged and headed towards the door. Rani and Shilpa could hear a conversation but couldn’t make any of it out. Sunita returned, smiling across her face and holding a very large display of flowers out in front of her.
‘I think you can afford to relax now,’ said Sunita. ‘These are from him,’ she said, plonking the impressive display down onto the coffee table. ‘Here, take a look at the note that came with them.’ She handed it to Rani. ‘The delivery man said they were ordered first thing this morning.’ Rani opened the little envelope and began to read.
‘I enjoyed your article, Rani. Peas be upon you. Omar.’
‘What does he mean “peas”?’ asked Shilpa, who was frowning at the display.
‘They’re sweet peas, the flowers—he’s sent hundreds of sweet peas,’ said Rani, beginning to laugh. Shilpa still looked confused.
‘The frozen peas?’ said Sunita, hoping it would trigger a connection for Shilpa. ‘Remember? He put a bag of frozen peas on Rani’s ankle—well, this is another pea joke.’
‘Oh,’ said Shilpa. ‘Taking the peas, more like,’ and they all fell about laughing. They were wiping tears from their eyes when there was another knock at the door.
‘I’ll get it,’ said an enthusiastic Shilpa, jumping to her feet. There was a short exchange of words and she returned holding a small silver tray in one hand.
‘For you,’ she said, bending down and offering it to Rani. Sunita crowded in to see what it was.
‘I bet it’s from him again,’ she said.
‘Oh, he’s so smooth,’ Shilpa said as she sighed. Rani was tearing the envelope open as fast as her nervous fingers could manage. There was a small card inside and a short handwritten note. She read it to herself.
‘Come on—what does it say?’ urged an eager Shilpa.
‘He wants to see me again,’ Rani said. There was a slight tremor in her voice. ‘He says he hopes I liked the little joke, which he couldn’t resist, and would I like to be his guest at the opening of his new club tonight.’
‘Tonight!’ exclaimed Shilpa. ‘He’s not wasting any time, is he? And you thought you might put him off by throwing yourself at his feet. Looks like he can’t keep away!’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d402d770-ac18-5664-98be-35056cac2069)
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.
