A Date With A Bollywood Star

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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.