Chapter 12
Twelve
RAASHI
Raashi glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the wall of her childhood bedroom. She wore jeans, a soft cashmere sweater and boots. Her hair was brushed and lay in loose, glossy waves around her shoulders. She hadn’t even contemplated putting on makeup because she wouldn’t have the first clue of what to do.
She grabbed the pink lipstick Veda had loaned her years ago from the corner drawer it had been stuffed into and applied a layer. It smelled stale and was dry and flaky on her lips. Shit, it had probably expired. She tried rubbing it off, but it wouldn’t go off completely. She peered at the tube and saw some marketing nonsense about it being kiss proof. Wonderful, how was she to get it off now?
Despairing, she glanced at herself again. She looked nothing like the girlfriend of a popular actor. That’s because, she reminded herself, she wasn’t the girlfriend of a popular actor. She was just faking it for a while.
She pushed her glasses up her nose with a finger, a nervous tell of hers that flared when her social anxiety got particularly bad. The door clicked open, and Ram walked in.
“All set Raash?” he asked, pulling a leather jacket over his own crisp white shirt and perfectly fitting jeans.
Raashi looked at her own jeans. She believed this style was what the fashion magazines called ‘mom jeans.’ Ugh, she should probably stay home. But she couldn’t. Today was supposed to be Harsh and her first public appearance as a couple.
“It’s going to be okay,” Ram said gently, grabbing her clenched fist and opening out her trembling fingers. “We’re all right there, with you. It’s just a small party at a mutual friend’s place. Spend some time together, talk, laugh, have a little fun and then we’ll leave. We just need people to see you both together in an informal, social setting. The journalists have already been briefed on the pictures they need and the hook to lead with.”
Of course they have, she thought resentfully. Her family did own the biggest media outlet in the state, after all.
“Let’s go,” she said abruptly, turning away from her white, frightened reflection. “The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ram said cheerfully, draping an arm over her shoulders.
Her shoulders drooped. She didn’t have spirit, not tonight. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
“Anna,” she said quietly. “Maybe I should just go back to the States.”
They reached the BMW Gran Coupe parked at the foot of the stairs, the security guard waiting for them with the keys.
“Thanks Ramesh Anna,” Ram said, taking the keys and sliding into the driver’s seat.
Raashi slid into the front passenger seat. Ram maneuvered them out of their driveway and into the peak nighttime traffic that clogged the roads of Jubilee Hills.
“I thought you wanted to come home,” he said, finally, his voice as neutral as possible.
“I did.” Raashi exhaled, rubbing her sweaty palms on her mom jeans.
Ram flicked the blower of the air conditioning higher, his quick glance taking in the beads of sweat lining her brow.
“But this was not what I wanted to come home to.”
“This is temporary, Raash,” he said, his gaze back on the chaotic traffic. “Public memory is short. They’ll jump from one juicy scandal to the next in a matter of weeks. If Harsh and you can be bland and boring and sweet for the near future, this will all disappear.”
Bland, boring, sweet. Raashi thought she was going to dissolve into a puddle of sweat at the thought. Harsh and she had never been any of those three. They were anything but bland, boring and sweet.
“What was the plan though Raash?” Ram asked now, flipping his right indicator on. “When you came home, what did you want to do?”
Raashi didn’t respond. It was a valid question though. From the age of eighteen, all she’d wanted was to escape Hyderabad. Her education abroad had given her the means to stay far away from here and she’d grabbed it with both hands. Every time she’d finish a course, she’d apply for the next degree, desperate to postpone returning to India. The best option would have been to find a job there. Then she would never have had to come home.
But…
But, she’d missed her siblings. Watching Veda akka marry a man who’d then proceeded to fall in love with her and worship the ground she walked on had been an eye opener. A man that Raashi had been sure was going to crush her sister and leave her in the dust as he walked away. She’d been wrong, desperately wrong. And for the first time, in so many years, Raashi had wondered if she could have that too. If she could come home too…
So, she had. And immediately landed herself in the fires of hell that involved pretending to be Harsh Kodela’s girlfriend.
Ram pulled up in front of a large, sprawling bungalow. About five different men rushed the car to offer them valet parking services. Raashi took a deep breath and got out as Ram handed the keys over to one of the drivers and stepped up to stand beside her.
“Ready?” he asked, pretending to ignore the fact that she hadn’t answered his question.
“I have some ideas,” she blurted out as they made their way into the paved driveway that led to the house. “For what I want to do with my life.”
Ram stopped walking, his warm, gentle eyes on her face. “I would love to hear them.”
“I don’t know,” she stalled. “If they’re any good.”
“We won’t know if we don’t try.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. For now, game face on.”
They turned as one to face the brightly lit, noisy house. “And try not to drink too much Raash,” he added.
She shot him a death glare just as the front door opened and Satan stepped out of it.
“There you guys are!” he exclaimed, looking thrilled to see them. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Raashi wanted to puke, preferably all over him. She knew people were watching so she forced her lips into a sweet smile.
“Stop it,” Harsh hissed, when he got into hissing range. “You look like you’re about to bite me.”
Raashi stopped smiling. “Well, some of us aren’t talented fakers,” she whispered, keeping her voice low.
“Shut up both of you,” Ram added to the hissed whispering. “There are cameras pointed in our direction.”
Harsh beamed another smile at her. Raashi blinked. It was potent, that smile, she thought a little dazedly. If they could bottle it and sell it, they’d beat Jeff Bezos in the money game.
“Cameras,” Ram mumbled again.
Harsh grabbed Raashi and pulled her in for a hug, her face ending up smashed against his chest. “I can’t believe you took so long,” he told the top of her head. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.”
“Ughbumpgh,” Raashi replied, her mouth smooshed in what felt like the softest sweater to have ever been invented. It even managed to smell divine. She wanted to marry this sweater and have its babies.
Harsh rubbed her back and ran a hand through her hair, making a fine trail of goosebumps erupt all over her skin. Raashi shivered.
“Okay,” he whispered near her ear now. “That should be enough for the cameras for now.”
What? Cameras? A little befuddled and disoriented, Raashi tried to straighten from her sweater induced stupor. Except, she couldn’t.
“Rash,” Harsh said out of the side of his mouth. “Get off me.”
“I can’t,” she gritted out. “I’m stuck.”
She yanked her head back but all that did was cause Harsh to stumble into her.
“My glasses are stuck in your sweater,” she mumbled, trying to take them off and wincing. It appeared Harsh’s rumpling of her hair had managed to get the glasses also caught in a lock of her hair.
“Don’t rip my sweater!” He sounded frantic as she tried to untangle the mess. “It’s my favourite sweater!”
Hers too. And she also happened to be fond of her hair, Raashi thought furiously. She could hear giggles and clicks as people took pictures of them.
“Hold on.” Ram’s calm voice broke through the moment as he slowly but steadily untangled them. It was only when he was done and she was able to step away that she saw that her poor glasses were in two pieces, the stem still dangling from a hole in Harsh’s sweater.
Oh no!
Like she’d known, sweet, bland and boring, they were not.