A Sticky Wicket in Bollywood Read online

  Neel didn’t look convinced. “You looked concerned, Ajay. Could the anger all those years ago have been on your side, and now you’re sorry for what you said? I know how you blow up, then almost instantly regret your words.”

  Ajay averted his gaze, instead staring out of the windows that overlooked Mumbai. The sun was rising, bathing it in gold, yellow and orange. The beauty of the dawning day hid so much, and Ajay knew what the outside world said about his city.

  So much of it was true, yet amidst the poverty and hunger, there was wonder and life.

  He’d managed to claw and climb his way out of the slums to where he was today. Of course, it was because he was one of the country’s top cricket players, and becoming that took talent and determination.

  He didn’t want to talk about Rajan, and all the stupid reasons why they didn’t talk anymore.

  “Are you staying until it’s time to go to the stadium for the match?” Ajay changed the subject, and Neel, being his friend, let him.

  “No. I have to run some errands, so I’ll meet you there.” Neel stood, then brushed his hand over Ajay’s shoulder as he walked past. “Try not to get too caught up in Rajan again, Ajay. There are rumours about him and his co-star. Something about an engagement soon to be announced.”

  Ajay hid his surprise and dismay behind a smile. “I’m not pining after him, my friend.

  I’m simply concerned because he looks like he has been working too hard.”

  “You should practise your lying, if you plan on doing more of it, because you aren’t very good at it,” Neel teased.

  He shooed Neel out of the room, not wanting to hear any more of Neel’s jokes. As much as he loved his best friend, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Neel.

  After pushing to his feet, Ajay padded back to his study, knowing Mrs Mehra would clean up what was left of breakfast. He grabbed his laptop, then wandered out onto his balcony. He needed to rest, but first he wanted to do a little research. Ajay sat on another rug set outside for his meditation.

  He’d been so busy with the recent cricket season that he hadn’t been keeping up with Rajan’s career. Ajay had known Rajan had a new movie coming out, but he hadn’t known how exhausted Rajan had become from all the filming.

  Ajay began scrolling through the online articles he found about Rajan, his movies and the woman who always seemed to be on his arm during each premiere. Ajay had never noticed her before, thinking they had simply been put together for appearance’s sake.

  Neel’s comment about the rumour of an engagement seemed to be true, and Ajay didn’t like that. The Rajan he used to know wouldn’t marry a woman, knowing how unhappy he would make her. Rajan liked women well enough, but not enough to marry one. At least he hadn’t when they’d been at university together.

  After studying recent photos taken of Rajan, Ajay saw the empty smile Rajan shot at the cameras. There wasn’t any sense of life in Rajan’s expressions, and that worried Ajay. The one thing he’d always loved about Rajan was how happy and joyful he always seemed to be.

  Yet lately something seemed to have sucked Rajan’s soul from him, in a way. Ajay wanted to know what, and he wanted to tell Rajan to take a break. Rajan’s career was solid, so he didn’t need to do a new movie every other month. He needed to find someplace to get away from the craziness of the media and the public.

  Ajay looked around him and sighed. His home in the city would work, if Rajan ever wanted to get away. No one would ever believe one of the premiere batsmen knew one of Bollywood’s biggest stars. Though they were both well-known, they moved in completely different circles. That ignorance could give Rajan a chance to get his energy and joy back.

  He stood, then went back inside to his desk. After sitting, he picked up the phone. What did it say about him that even though he hadn’t talked to Rajan since that night at university, he had the man’s private number? He’d got his own agent to get Rajan’s new number a couple of months ago, when he’d begun to notice how tired his friend was starting to look.

  Ajay hadn’t been sure at the time what he would do with it. Now he knew what to do.

  Ajay planned on talking Rajan into a holiday, and he’d offer his house as a retreat. Of course, all of it depended on Rajan taking his call.

  Chapter Two

  A slicing shard of light pierced his sleep and Rajan groaned, instinctively rolling away from the offending brightness.

  “Mr Rajan, sir. It’s nine. I’ve brought your tea.” There was some clinking of dishes being set near him, and he knew what would come next. He pulled the covers up over his head just in time to avoid the worst of it when his houseman Armaan drew the blackout curtains open.

  Not wanting to fall into unhealthy habits even when he had no particular reason to be up, Rajan had long ago given his employee strict instructions to wake him no later than nine, even if he’d only gone to bed a few hours before—which had been the case last night…today.

  It would be far too difficult otherwise to adjust to a shooting schedule, which required very early mornings to get through makeup and wardrobe and read-throughs before the filming even started.

  Sometimes he wondered why he bothered.

  “You’re not up yet? We have a meeting with the stylist at ten.”

  Oh, yeah. That’s why. Beni Sharma strode into his bedroom like he owned the place. He felt no qualms about letting himself in whenever it suited him, and just about every morning he descended upon him. Usually the nine o’clock rousing gave him a bit of time to wake up, have some tea and be alone with his thoughts before the day began.

  “Come on, then. Up, up, my boy. The car will be here in thirty.” Sharma’s voice grated on his nerves, but rather than seeming bothered, which he knew from bitter experience would only make things harder on him, Rajan made sure to put on a neutral expression and threw back the covers to rise.

  “And that’s exactly why.” His agent gave his bare torso a disapproving once-over. “You need to gain some weight back, but in the meantime, your clothes aren’t photographing right. You should see how you look in the papers this morning. So we’ll need to get you a new wardrobe until you’re back to looking the way you should.”

  Rajan held back a snort. This was the same man who had ridden him until he’d dropped the ‘fat’ for his last role. Now he was too thin? He shook his head.

  I can’t win.

  Rajan rose, donned his robe that Armaan had placed on the foot of the bed then strode across the room to his en-suite bathroom. He freshened up before returning to his sitting area, his tea service at the ready on the low table. A phone had rung while he was in the other room—Sharma’s. He was still on the call, standing on the other side of the large bedroom, so Rajan prepared himself a cup of tea and picked up his messages to read while he sipped.

  There were three from Sharma, big surprise, which he skipped—he’d get the information in person, he was certain. One from Maa. He’d see her later. Hopefully she was having a good day and wasn’t too sick from her chemo. Some enterprising soul, whose name he didn’t recognise and who had managed to get his home number, saying he had something of Rajan’s and was keeping it. There was no return number. Rajan frowned, trying to think what he might be missing, then shrugged. Probably just a scam.

  Sharma wrapped up one phone call then began another, pacing back and forth in his usual agitation as he bargained with someone about a guest appearance on some reality show. Rajan stifled a chuckle. He could be very annoying and pushy, but he was a good agent to have on his side, and he truly did look out for Rajan’s best interests…except, of course, when Rajan made noises about wanting to slow down.

  New wardrobe? I’d rather just stay at home in my pyjama bottoms until I have to start shooting again.

  Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  Rajan glanced at the door and signalled to Armaan that he was ready for his breakfast.

  He had got into the habit of eating light, and really wasn’t that hungry, but he knew that if he
was going to be out with Sharma today for the fitting, it was very likely he might get dragged around all over Mumbai until tonight. So he’d better have at least some fruit and yoghurt, and maybe a stuffed paratha, if Armaan had some made.

  He set his cup down and picked up the messages to finish his task. His heart began to race. The last message was just a name and a phone number—one word and a series of digits, but it nearly shorted out his still-awakening mind.

  Ajay?

  It was almost as though his thoughts last night had conjured him up. He looked up to find Sharma’s eyes on him, a frown creasing his brow as he continued his phone call. Rajan struggled to regain his composure.

  Fortunately, Armaan chose that moment to arrive with the breakfast tray, and Rajan was able to turn towards the food and busy himself with fixing a plate.

  Why would Ajay be calling him? He mulled it over as he half-heartedly picked at his food. And actually, why was he so convinced that it was that Ajay? He knew at least three other men with the same name. But none of them were more than casual acquaintances and wouldn’t have had his number, though the mystery message proved that anyone who was determined enough could get it. That was why he never answered his house line himself. His friends generally called his mobile.

  But Ajay wouldn’t have that number. He’d been out of Rajan’s life for a long time.

  “Anything I should know about?”

  Rajan came back to the present when Sharma joined him in the sitting area, choosing the chair opposite him and helping himself to a spinach paratha. He waved his hand at the stack of messages beside Rajan, though he refrained from actually reaching over and reading them for himself.

  Thank heaven for small favours.

  He didn’t think that the man whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to steer Rajan’s life down the path of perfection would be happy to know that there was a past love interest running around out there like a loose cannon that could go off at any time. A male love interest, and one who was just as big a household name as Rajan, if not more so. One who was now trying to get back in touch with him.

  The media would be happy to find that out, though.

  “Nothing exciting. Just Maa.” He brandished the notes and affected a grimace.

  Sharma’s features shifted at once from suspicious to understanding. Rajan loved his maa, but she was a force to be reckoned with, and Sharma knew that as well as he did. Her strong personality had not been in the least diminished by her precarious physical state as the cancer ravaged her body.

  “Of course. She probably read the papers today and wants to hear how things are going with Karishma. We’ll call her later. But first you need to get ready to go. The car will be here in twenty minutes.” Sharma’s phone rang again, and while his agent was distracted, Rajan surreptitiously pocketed the note with Ajay’s number, trying not to think about exactly why he was doing so.

  Tonight. I’ll call him tonight. Then he would see why his past was suddenly rearing its head, and at this most inopportune time. He closed his hand around the paper in his pocket and tried not to count the hours until he’d be alone.

  * * * *

  It was dark by the time Rajan arrived back at the house, and thankfully Sharma had dropped him off rather than accompanying him inside. The day had passed, as he’d predicted, in a whirlwind of activity, with Sharma escorting him first to the stylist’s storefront for a private shopping session.

  The tiring wardrobing appointment had been following by a brief but emotionally draining visit with his mother, who had predictably spent their time together examining news articles and photos and debating what impact they’d had on his image. He’d finally cut the visit short but not before she’d blatantly mentioned how lovely Karishma would be as his bride.

  Then they had gone all the way across the city to lunch at a fashionable restaurant, where they’d just happened to run into one of the studio owners for the movie Sharma was trying to pair him in with Karishma. The lunch had lasted hours and during that time, an official meeting had been set up for tomorrow to talk about a possible contract.

  Rajan was surprised that Karishma herself hadn’t been trotted out for the impromptu meeting, but then again, she wasn’t exactly malleable. She hadn’t mentioned anything about seeing him today. They’d only just parted company early this morning after their night out on the town with her friends following the premiere. He could just see Sharma trying to use his usual tactics on her, and Karishma laughing in his face if she had other plans. She definitely had her own mind.

  Not like you.

  No, he’d never had much of an opportunity to make his own decisions. Between his maa, who had run his life with utter control until she’d passed that authority to his agent, to Sharma, and even Karishma—Rajan seldom needed to make a choice in anything. Which might sound nice in theory, but…

  “Will you be needing dinner, sir?” Armaan accepted his jacket and waited for instructions. Rajan shook his head.

  “I already ate.” At the look of incredulity, he sighed. “Really, I did. I won’t be needing you tonight. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Mr Rajan. Nine o’clock if you aren’t up?”

  “I’ll be up,” he muttered bitterly. If I have to set my fucking alarm. He hated the feeling of being at a disadvantage when his agent arrived in the mornings, and he knew Sharma was going to be on him like a fly on honey until the deal was made.

  Not for the first time, he wished that no one else had access to his house. Well, besides Armaan. But his agent and maa had both treated it like their own from the start, and after so much time had passed, he had no idea how to change things.

  It hadn’t exactly been great for his sex life, either. He had made a habit of going to the house of whatever woman he was seeing at the time. Rajan grimaced at the thought of how long it had been since he’d got laid. He and Karishma had definite chemistry…on screen and in photos. In real life? Not so much. They hadn’t slept together yet, and while he hoped that came across as being respectful, he really wasn’t interested. Thankfully, Karishma hadn’t pursued him either, which suited him just fine. Except for the fact that it had been so long since he’d been pressed up against the warmth of another person, feeling their strength cradling him…

  Rajan snapped out of his thoughts, realising he was rubbing himself right there in the entry of his home, and not exactly thinking about a woman’s soft curves while he did it.

  He thought about the message from earlier that he’d tucked into the planner in his desk drawer as he’d dressed. Walking towards his bedroom, he heard the slight click of a door closing—Armaan going to his apartment for the night. He had his own separate entrance and would not re-enter Rajan’s house until he was either called or came at his usual time in the morning.

  Alone for the first time that day since before he’d awakened, Rajan revelled in the silence as he cleaned up and changed out of his street clothes into silk pyjama pants. He opened the drawer of his desk and removed the seldom-used planner, before holding it by the spine and fluttering the pages until the notepaper with Ajay’s number floated to the ground.

  He bent and picked it up, contemplating it. Curiosity, and no small amount of nostalgia, finally overcame him, and he brought his cell phone with him as he moved over to the sitting area.

  After making himself comfortable in his favourite chair and taking a deep breath, he dialled.

  “Hello?”

  That voice. “Ajay?”

  “Yes. Who is this?” Ajay hadn’t recognised the number on his ID.

  “So much for you never forgetting me.”

  Ajay stared at the lights of Mumbai below as shock hit him. It couldn’t be who he thought it was. There was no way Rajan would call him back, even though he’d secretly prayed for him to.

  “Rajan?” Ajay hated how insecure he sounded.

  “Yes. I was hoping it was you. I mean, instead of some other Ajay…” A brief huff of laughter. “This is awkward.”


  Ajay laughed as well. “Yes, it is, and I was the one who called you. I saw your picture in the newspaper. You’re not looking too good, my friend.”

  Rajan groaned. “What is it with everyone telling me how horrible I look lately?”

  Wincing at the exasperated tone in Rajan’s voice, Ajay said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean you’re looking horrible. I think you’re exhausted, and you should take a break from all those movies.”

  There was a long pause, and Ajay was about to break the silence with another apology when Rajan finally replied, “I am tired. And I didn’t mean to make you apologise. We know each other too well for pleasantries instead of honesty between us. At least, we once did.”

  There was a rustling noise as though Rajan was moving about, maybe getting comfortable.

  “Anyway, it’s easier said than done. Taking a break, I mean.”

  “In a way, I understand. The PR people for my team and my agent always want me to do interviews and make appearances during the off season. I refuse to do as many as they’d like because if I did, I would never get any rest.” Ajay leant back against the cushions of his lounge chair. “I’ve learnt how to say no, and you have to learn that lesson as well, Rajan, or you’ll end up getting sick.”

  Ajay hated pointing out how Rajan allowed everyone else to make his decisions for him, but that trait was the major reason why Rajan was as tired as he was. It was also one of the arguments they’d had during university.

  “I want to make you an offer, but I’m not sure you’ll accept help from me. Not after the way we ended our friendship back at school.”

  “What sort of offer? And why do you care? I’m not sure I understand why you would want to do anything for me at this point. It’s not as though we’re bosom pals anymore.”

  “No, we aren’t, and I’m positive it’s my fault.” Ajay paused a moment, biting his bottom lip, before continuing, “I care because you’re my friend, Rajan, and no argument is going to change that. I’ve kept track of your career since university. I know you probably won’t believe me, but it’s true. My offer is simply this—you can come and stay at my place for as long as you want. No strings attached.”