Chapter One #5
Kabir, Rodrigo’s intuitive and protective manager—a gift from his football agency—recalls with mild horror the exact moment when he heard Rodrigo’s voice rising above the din and spotted Timira drawing her clenched fists back and up, squaring her shoulders and adjusting her feet in a boxer’s stance.
Just at that moment, he had leapt in, hands on Rodrigo’s chest, gesturing with his eyes and lip movement, pleading with him to back off.
By the time he picked up the shredded pieces of the script, Timira had left.
The stylist is now nowhere to be seen; her services not needed any longer. Kabir has successfully shooed her away.
Rodrigo is now holding a much-deserved bottle of chilled sparkling water against his neck.
He can feel his breathing slow down and return to normal, even though his heart is still aching.
Kabir is looking at him with pleading eyes after having placed a request that Rodrigo doesn’t seem particularly happy about.
‘You only need to show your face at the after-party. Just a few photos, and we can leave.’
‘Do I HAVE to go, Kabir? Aah, I’m so embarrassed. Have you heard from Tim?’
‘Her phone is off, and I heard from her colleagues she’s not in the office either.’
‘Perhaps I should go to her place and check on her …’
‘Her place?! You never visited when you were dating, and you want to go now after a break-up and today’s events? Rod, please try to be rational. The season is still on, and people are very interested in you. VERY!’
‘Yeah? Yeah, I guess. This country hasn’t really seen a star like me. Ah, well, what can I say? Hehehe,’ he quips while stroking his abdomen and admiring himself in the mirror.
There he goes again , muses Kabir. He isn’t entirely new to self-obsessed celebrities, but Rodrigo is at a whole other level. It has taken Kabir every last bit of his patience and experience to handle him.
‘What are people saying? Are they gossiping? She’ll hate me if everybody finds out we were dating! Although, if you ask me, I never understood why she wanted us to date in secret. I mean, am I not a trophy to be shown off?’
‘Relax, nobody is going to find anything. It’s not like it was a lovers’ quarrel,’ Kabir replies in an exasperated voice, trying to look away so Rodrigo can’t see the look of utter disbelief and disappointment on his face.
Kabir is lying, of course. Rod and Tim’s exchange had all the makings of a lovers’ quarrel.
Especially as Timira walked away from Rodrigo in a pointedly dignified manner and stayed out of sight for the remainder of the shoot.
A despairing Rodrigo had meanwhile stared into the dark, blinded by the studio lights, as if waiting for her to come back.
It had set tongues wagging across the room, and Kabir had had to issue clarifications on more than one occasion.
‘Of course not. They knew each other only through Marbella, of course. It was all very professional. But you know how tough and focused Ms Marak can be, right?’
Unsure heads nodded in unison and muttered their ‘hmms’.
‘You feel me? And Rod is Rod. Like a rod, hehehe, strong and stubborn. Bullheaded and brazen. And when two strong personalities clash, there’s bound to be fireworks!’
He had meant to say fire, like the kind that burns buildings. Not fireworks that light up the sky. Quickly realizing his folly, he tried to get to the more important bit.
‘So it’s all cool with her office folks, right? ’Cause, you know, Rod’s super chill about this. Honestly, this is no big deal. All professionals here, just trying to get the work done.’
‘She’ll be fine when she goes back in to work, yeah?’ He tried to sound casual but there was alarm in his voice. He knew there’d be trouble.
As though to confirm his fears, only a few moments later, Timira’s boss had found him and offered a succinct but genuine-sounding apology for her behaviour. Kabir tried his best to put out the fire, but he could tell that the fire was already raging and on its way to burning down buildings.
‘Rod, bro, I need to quickly run down and get a few stills from the photographer. For your socials. Sit tight and, for the love of god, please don’t do anything you’ll regret later!’
Satisfied that his client’s best angles have been captured, Kabir is on his way back towards Rodrigo’s vanity when he spots him sitting on the stairs and typing on his phone with a smile on his face.
He’s barely within earshot when Rod gleefully yells, ‘I just texted Timira. I’m sure she needs me right now. Man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.’
Kabir groans softly.
Can this day end already?
He’s tired. From the day’s work, and of Rodrigo.
* * *
Tim was out of the shoot floor the instant the director yelled ‘cut’.
Literally in a flash. Just like Flash, she thought.
As she walked out, Timira knew the chances of her coming back to Marbella were slim, like Alice’s waist , she smiled sadly.
She knew she would be questioned for her behaviour and that it wouldn’t be long before her personal life became the fodder of the office pantry gossip mills.
Or made headlines in the tabloids, at worst. Her mother might have to quit all her Saturday poker clubs and her father would have to leave all retired IAS officers’ WhatsApp groups to avoid questions from curious, gossipy, judgy aunties and uncles.
I’d rather be unemployed than turn into lunch-hour gossip. It’s fine, I stood up for myself. I should be proud. I am proud. Alice and Bhaskar would be proud …
Absent-mindedly, she fishes out her phone and long-presses 1.
Before the call can go through, her phone vibrates to announce an incoming call.
Startled, she presses the answer button without even properly looking at the caller’s name.
But before she can even respond, something strong grips her arm and yanks her away. Hidden behind a wall is her boss.
Good grief, why is he so red? Is his BP acting up again? Did his wife catch him checking out other mommies at his kid’s school? Why is he here anyway? Ugh, do I have to tell him what happened earlier? Should I? I’m sure he’ll understand; I hope he will …
‘Oh, hi, boss! What brings you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on parental duty today? I have everything under contr—’
‘I’m disappointed in you, Timira. You’ve turned into a hot topic of discussion, just like you aim to do with your talents. Clearly practising in your own life what you preach at work. Hah, excellent work there!’ His words are cold and his tone icy.
Caught off-guard, Timira takes a few seconds to compose herself and a reasonable explanation for what had gone down on set.
‘Zip it, Timira. I don’t think there’s any way you can come back from this’.
He’s quick to interrupt her when she finally does try to explain.
He starts to walk off, takes a few steps and then turns around to add, ‘You know, you might want to think, think hard, about the fire YOU created today and I’m now having to douse.
You might be better off …’ he hesitates briefly, ‘… elsewhere. I’m sorry, but I hope you get my drift? ’
Without bothering to even look at her, he walks on, shutting the door to the shoot floor firmly on Timira’s face.
Tears start to well in her eyes, and her pride feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest.
After all that I’ve done, all that I’ve achieved for Marbella, this is what I get? “Better off elsewhere”? The gall!
With trembling fingers, she types out a hasty, rage-fuelled resignation letter on her phone and shoots it off without as much as a second thought.
She checks her pockets for cigarettes but can’t seem to find any. She then checks her bag and finds a pack of her usual hemp smokes but gets distracted as her fingers brush against something cool and sharp, and a plan begins to take shape inside her mind.
Wiping off her tears, she smiles a lopsided smile and with a wicked, almost deranged look in her eyes, she hurriedly walks out and into the VIP car park.
* * *
Aah, would’ve been fun to actually have kicked him! Koi na, I’m sure he’ll love my pyaar ki aakhri nishaani!
And then she recalls, with a mischievous grin and a rapidly beating heart, what she’d done just moments ago.
The sound of her house keys scratching against the body of Rod’s shiny black Audi comes rushing back to her and fills up her ears like a beautiful piece of music. She giggles as she recalls how she’d skipped away and then run for her life before anyone could notice and catch her in the act.
Shortening the strap of her bag, she swings it across her body. She puts her phone on airplane mode, flings it inside her trusty Coach satchel and zips it shut. Lighting a cigarette, she rolls her shoulder back before stretching an arm out and hailing a rickshaw.
‘ Bhau , Pali Naka?’