Silver Screen Dream (3 page)

“They’re here,” I heard a voice from near the doors shout. I stood up straighter and ran my hands down the front of my uniform. I had always imagined I’d be wearing something light and sexy that flattered my curves when I met Rahul, but I supposed I would have to make the best of greeting him in my ugly uniform.

The first lady to reach me was stunning. Farharnaa’s sari glistened like the noonday sun on the Lake at Vihar, and her eyes held the same, stunning sparkle. She looked at me and smiled.

“Welcome to Cinematic, we are absolutely thrilled to have you here,” I managed. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“A large gin and tonic, please.”

“Certainly. I’ll take your order to the bar in a moment. Just walk through this door and my colleague will show you to your seat.”

She didn’t even thank me, she just walked past me and the door I held open. I hoped the rest of the stars wouldn’t be so stuck up. Unfortunately, the next few were exactly the same, and the director asked for such a complicated, concocted drink that I had to write it down. I hadn’t seen Rahul and was beginning to wonder if he weren’t coming at all. I turned my attention back to the stunningly beautiful young lady in front of me and tapped my foot impatiently. I tried to hold back the negative thoughts that swarmed together in my mind. I didn’t want to believe he wouldn’t make it. A few moments later a young, slim beauty appeared on the red carpet before me. Just to the side and slightly behind her stood Rahul. My heart leapt.

“Good evening and welcome to Cinematic,” I said. “Would you both like a drink?”

“I’d love a water, please, thank you.” Rahul answered. “What would you like, Panya?”

 “Oh, Rahul, you order something good for me, please. I need to reapply my lipstick. I’ve kissed you too much today.”

“Ah, you can never kiss me too much, Panya, my dove.”

She giggled and blew him a kiss. Rahul smiled at me. I tried hard not to stare or drool, then I remembered my job.

“Panya will have a gin and tonic, please,” he said.

“Certainly, I’ll see you get your drinks, Mr Khan. My colleague will meet you on the other side of these doors and lead you to your seat.”

“You know who I am?” Rahul asked with a kinked eyebrow.

“Yes, I do. I used to have a lovely
Nani
who would babysit for me. We watched Bollywood films together. You were one of her favourites.”

“Really?” Rahul beamed. “That’s so sweet. So you enjoy Bollywood yourself?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied, forgetting my nerves and letting the love sparkle in my eyes. “I still watch all the newest releases. I’m going to see
Benazir
tomorrow when it comes out to the general public.”

“Wonderful. Will you be here when the film is over?”

“Yes, Mr Khan, I will.”

“Then I’ll make sure to write you an autograph, okay? It’s always nice to meet beautiful new fans.”

“Thank you, Mr Khan, that would be wonderful.” I giggled. I tried not to, but the joyful noise just bubbled up beyond my control.

“Oh, call me Rahul, please. Mr Khan is so formal.”

“Okay, Rahul. You’d better take your seat, the film will start soon.”

“Ah yes, and you need to get the drinks in before Farharnaa dies of thirst.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll leave you to your work. See you later.” He took a step towards the door then looked back over his fine, muscled shoulder. “Oh, you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

I smiled. “I’m Laura.”

“Laura. Well, it’s been lovely meeting you.” He held out his hand.

I shook it. I think I managed to control my movements quite well, in my arm, anyway. The rest of my body was vibrating like a jelly in an earthquake.

“I’ll see you afterwards, okay?” he added.

“Certainly.” I smiled and reluctantly let go of his hand.

I didn’t have time to squeal, faint or do a happy dance, but I wanted to do all three at once. However, I stopped my instincts and got on with getting and delivering drink orders. Then I took up my position outside the screen doors. I was not exactly the same as a burly security guard, but apparently I was cheaper.

However, as much as I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek through a crack between the doors to get a glimpse of the newest, hottest Bollywood movie.

I couldn’t see Rahul from my position. Well, not the Rahul who was there in the flesh. I could see the one splashed across the screen in cool, white, billowing clothes who was looking thoughtful and tasteful and downright sexy.

I swung back out as I realised how long I’d been snooping. Tony would kill me if he knew what I was doing. No one was in the dark, royal blue corridor, and as I fidgeted about, my mind wandered.

I was meant to be there to direct the stars to the toilets or to answer any other enquiries they might have, but I just wanted to watch the film, preferably snuggled close to Rahul. That would be surreal, to watch the star I loved on the big screen with the man himself beside me. I imagined his arm around me, his cheek against mine.

I didn’t think we’d watch much of the film. I know I would be far too distracted by his presence beside me. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but touching him and kissing him, and I would just lose myself in the ecstasy of his plump lips pressed against mine.

I had to peep again, I just couldn’t resist. I reached out to open the door once more without even glancing that way. My hand encountered something hard, but it was also warm and it certainly wasn’t wooden like the door would have been.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” Rahul replied with a smirk. “I never complain when a pretty lady touches me.”

“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

I stepped back but didn’t take my hand off his chest. Signals from my brain were taking forever to seep through the excited cells of my body to my fingers.

“I do want something,” he said, and stared deep into my eyes as the door swung shut behind him. “I want you.”

I wasn’t sure I had heard him right at first. I decided I must have been fantasising again.

“Pardon?”

“I want you,” he repeated. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

“Me?” I was stunned. I should have leapt on him. I should have pushed my face to his, but all I did was stand rooted to the spot. Oh, and I gawped. Like a wide-mouthed clown on a miniature golf course, I let my jaw hang loose.

“Yes,” he affirmed, “you.” He stepped forward and pushed a curl of my hair back behind my ear. His warm fingers lingered on my cheek, his soft palm lay gently on my heated flesh.

I held my breath.

He looked at my lips, and I darted my tongue out instinctively to wet the dried flesh that I had suddenly become intensely aware of.

It was just like my favourite moment from any Bollywood film. Time slowed, colours intensified and I noticed the ice shock of his blue corneas against the jet black, widened pools of lust that were his pupils.

I could hear the softened, romantic music. It might have been real or imagined, I wasn’t sure, but everything in the background faded away, and it became as if Rahul and I were the only people in all the world.

The moment his lips touched mine, I felt as if I had been switched on. Turned on, certainly, but I was also fully functioning. Every little brush of his lips on mine registered in every last, little nerve. Every movement excited me. I realised I had been left on standby since I had been dumped by Danny, my body just going through the motions. Rahul’s kiss brought me back to life.

I had never experienced anything of its like before. I suddenly realised why a kiss could bring Snow White back from the dead. I won’t ever be able to explain exactly what happened to me then, but it was magical. I had watched a million movies, each of them hundreds of times over. I’d seen more first kisses than I could remember, and I always knew, deep in my heart, that a Bollywood kiss was a lie. It was acting. It was a show.

I got my first Bollywood kiss, and I realised that it was a reality. That love at first kiss could exist.

When Rahul pulled away from me, he looked as confused as I felt. It was etched on his brow.

“Did you…” he started.

I never heard the end of the sentence as Panya stormed through the door at just that moment.

“Where is my drink, Rahul? You went for it ages ago.”

“Sorry, Panya,” he said and shook his head as if clearing it after a hard bump to the noggin. “I had to visit the little maharajas room first. I was just asking this lovely young lady to get it for you.”

“No need, now,” she snapped, “they’re having a break. I’ll go and get it myself. Come on.”

I didn’t even get to bid him goodbye. He was pulled along with such force towards the bar I didn’t have time to react. All the stars followed Panya, and I answered questions, directed people to the bathrooms and to the bar. I don’t know how I managed to speak. It must have only been my years of experience that gave the correct directions to those who asked for them because I don’t think I was capable of actual thought.

You fantasise about kissing the stars of your fervent desires and you imagine the fireworks, the passion and the lust, but you know it’s all simply a fantasy. I had just experienced something better than my dream kiss, and it had really happened. I didn’t just imagine it. His lips touched mine, and magic happened.

I showed people back to their seats with a stunned smile slapped across my face.

The director commented to the man seated beside him, “They must pay their employees well, here. That woman hasn’t stopped smiling since we arrived, and it’s a real smile, too. When you’ve directed as many films as I have, you get to recognise a fake smile at forty paces.”

He was wrong. Cinematic did not pay me well, but he was right about the smile. I felt so much joy inside I couldn’t keep it in.

I took my position outside the doors happily, and the stunned smile still played across my lips.

 Chapter Three

Johnny

“And what was that?” I asked Rahul as he stood by the bar.

He looked at me. “I thought you were back in your kettle,” he snapped.

“I fancied a trip to see the bright lights of London Town, so I hopped into the amulet. You didn’t think when you ran away you could get away from me, too?”

 “No, I didn’t think that, but I’ve told you not to ride in my pendant, Johnny. It makes me feel weird.”

“There’s no part of my flesh touching your flesh, pal. And anyway, I was the one asking the questions. What were you doing with the Brit girl?”

“I believe it’s called kissing, Johnny. I know you’ve been single for a millennium or more, but surely you still recognise the act of lip to lip embracing,” he mocked sarcastically.

“Oh, stop trying to be clever, Rahul, it doesn’t suit you. You’re engaged to be married, you know.” I reminded him of the facts.

“No, I am not. Some doting, dead, old idiot promised me in payment years ago. That’s not the same thing.”

“However, you’re still meant to be marrying Malati next month.”

“It isn’t going to happen,” Rahul snapped and slammed his pint glass down onto the bar with some force.

“Look, when you go back to India, your uncles and Malati’s father and her uncles are all going to be out to get you to that wedding. How are you going to resist so many men? You are one dude, and a skinny one, at that. You’ve got no chance of escape.”

“I’m staying here.”

“Well, I think even as a rather well-known Bollywood actor you’re going to get chucked out of this bar eventually.”

“Sometimes, Johnny,” Rahul said through gritted teeth, “I can’t work out if you’re just trying to be funny or if you’re really stupid.”

I shrugged my shoulders and repelled a young lady who wanted to stand by the bar just where Rahul was. To her, there was just an empty space. Often when I chatted with Rahul, I’d wrap us around with a soundproof cloak of invisibility. It just makes things easier. People would think Rahul was a complete nutcase if they could hear what we were saying. I can make myself invisible whenever I want, of course. And I usually do, as I prefer not to be stared at by humans.

“I’m staying here in the UK. First for a few weeks’ holiday, then I’m working on Ranjeesh Setna’s newest project. He’s doing a proper Bollywood romance set here in London. I’m perfect for his hero and being out of the country is perfect for me.”

“Oh, great, so we’re leaving the heat, the glamour and the beauty of Mumbai for smog, rain and bowler hats?”

“Yes, Johnny, though I think the last one is just a stereotype.”

“So you’re running away from your responsibilities?”

“Yes, Johnny, I am.”

Like father, like son,
I thought. “Fair enough.”

“So I can snog as many Brit girls as I like.”

“Hmm, really? I thought you were fucking Panya.”

“I was,” he said, “but the film is over, and I’m sick of her brand of crazy. We’re splitting up.”

“And she knows this?”

“No, but she will do later.”

“God, Rahul, you’re a right piece of work.”

“What?”

“You treat women like crap. I think Malati should be thanking the gods that you’ve run away from her.”

“Just leave me alone, Johnny. I’m not going to take romance advice from a lonely old Djinn, all right?” He shook his head in disgust.

I left him alone and returned to my amulet. The rules say I only have to grant his wishes, I don’t have to put up with his insults. I am not old, and he should have taken my advice. I knew the Brit girl would be trouble.

I mean, she just wasn’t like Rahul. She might have had some knowledge of Bollywood and a tolerance for people in general, but she wouldn’t last five minutes in India itself. She was far too pasty, pale and English. She was also poor. I mean, I didn’t look up her financials, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out a woman working at a cinema isn’t exactly rolling in dosh.

Well, to be blunt, she was white, poor and smitten, and they were all good reasons for Rahul to avoid her like the plague. She was a fan girl, and trying to have any form of relationship with a fan is not clever. Not that I thought Rahul was contemplating a relationship. He wanted to shag her and that was all. Rahul had always been the curious one.