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Authors: Flo Fitzpatrick

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BOOK: Hot Stuff
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Chapter 39
“No!” I screamed.
Mind you, a lesser woman might have become hysterical, thrown herself over the body of her fallen lover, cried, cursed, and quite possibly fainted. I did all the above. Except faint. And once I saw that Brig still breathed and that the bullet had only grazed his ear, I flung myself over his body more to protect him, rather than a show of further histrionics on my part.
Apparently, Kirk Mahindra had turned the wheel over to a more experienced driver at some point in the midst of the traffic jam by the clubs. A driver who rivaled Asha in speed. This shift had allowed Kirk to aim a gun out the window of the limo and fire one bullet. One was enough. Mahindra had been right. “Crack shot” nailed his ability with a weapon.
Asha sent the Jeep hauling at speeds over a hundred miles per hour. She drove silently, with intense concentration. Never again would I hassle her about her skill behind a wheel. Jersey girl was about to save our lives.
We made it to the gates of Vivek Productions in under sixty minutes. Somewhere along the road, Asha managed to lose Mahindra. Whether we'd achieved that goal in front of a nightclub, Churchgate Rail Station, or a brothel, I didn't know. It didn't matter. I cradled Brig's bleeding head in my lap and sobbed.
Asha sent the Jeep into the garage with a squeal of brakes and tires rivaling a pit stop at the Grand Prix. She and Jake jumped out.
Asha peered at Brig. “Is he awake? Can he walk?”
I lightly touched Brig's temple. He was still awake but obviously in shock. But in true, stubborn, O'Brien fashion, he'd managed to hang on to the tote bag.
I looked at Jake. “Where to, do you think? Is there an infirmary out here? What if we all carry him?”
Brig waved his hand. “No!
Tá fáilte romhat
!”
Jake and Asha looked at me.
“He said, ‘No!' Which I think you got. The second phrase claimed he's fine. Which I think is a lie.”
Brig managed to exit the vehicle on his own, then promptly fell to his knees. I tried to grab him before he toppled, but I tripped and tumbled with him to the ground.
Brig howled. “Ow! I've got one lousy nick in the bottom of my damn earlobe! Which I just scraped again. Not to mention some bloody gravel stones just attacked my knees. But we're not looking at a life-threatening wound here. Slap some stinkin' gauze on it. I'll be fine in the mornin'. Oh. It is mornin'. Well, then, later in the mornin'. Perhaps noon.”
He exhaled. “Think there'll come a night when any of us can get to bed before four and not worry about hooligans trying to kill us in our sleep?”
Jake whistled through his teeth, then looked at Brig.
“You are a menace. Do you realize that, Briggan O'Brien? I
had
been enjoying six weeks of calm filming before you showed up. The biggest problem I encountered was keeping Asha from flying off to America during one of her costumefitting . . . uh . . . fits. Then you waltz in with your statue and turn everything topsy-turvy and nearly get everyone, including yourself, killed.”
Brig's eyebrows raised. “And the point of that would be?”
Jake shook his head. “I do not know. I believe I had a point when I started talking. It seems to have vanished. Just like Mahindra. Into the night, I sincerely hope.”
Asha patted his hand. “Jake. You don't do well when you don't get sleep. Let's help get Brig to Raj's trailer and call it a night. Tempe can patch up the brave hero and we can regroup around noon.”
“Raj is gone again?”
She nodded. “His wife made it clear if his butt didn't make it into their house at close of shooting today, Mr. Ravi could spend the next forty years or so at the bottom of a very deep pool. At least that's what he told Jake. I've met Mrs. Ravi. Far too meek and sweet to ever say such a thing. I think Raj had just gotten into that conjugal mood thing.”
“Got it. No need to go further. As long as we don't have to worry about Raj turning up before noon, it sounds great. He has a nice trailer.”
We took about three steps away from the Jeep before all of us turned as one. I spoke first. “Shiva's Diva.”
Brig groaned. “We've left her!”
Asha held up a hand. “I'll get her. After all the trouble we've had, it would just be too anticlimatic, plus damned inconvenient, for some idiot car thief to decide this is the night he's stealing a Jeep and get our statue.”
Brig, Jake, and I waited while Asha brought out the tote bag. The four of us then stared at each other. Jake voiced the feeling. “Where are we going to keep her?”
Brig's ear continued to bleed. He appeared in no shape to think, and I was in no shape to think for him.
Asha took over. “I have a great idea for a hiding place. Don't worry. I promise no one will dare try and take her.”
Brig sighed. “Keep it secret. Keep it safe.”
I stared at him. “Thank you, Gandalf.”
“What?”
“
Lord of the Rings
. I watched the marathon on cable in New York, geez, just last week.”
“I thought you saw
Butch Cassidy?
” Brig asked.
“Well, I did. Great week. They had the Paul Newman marathon on for two days, then
Rings
for three days. In between they had Gene Kelly
Singin' in the Rain
all night.”
Jake beamed. “Did you notice that Debbie Reynolds is minus a shoelace . . .?”
I joined in on him with “in the dance sequence!” We grinned at each other.
“Do you realize she was just nineteen for that one? As dancers go, you're old, Tempe!”
Brig held up his hand. “Stop! Both of you! Damn. I spent three years with Jake watching old movies in the dorm room. Then I get involved in a shoot-out that far outweighs anything Butch Cassidy ever encountered, I meet Tempe Walsh, film buff, and I now get to look forward to another fifty or so?”
Brig quickly turned to Asha. “So, Miss Kumar? Where will the Diva be kept secret and safe?”
She snickered. “The snake cage.”
Brig's eyes popped. “What!”
“It's okay. I'll retrieve the goddess at the proper time. I really don't think anyone will dare try and get her out.”
“Especially me,” Brig sighed.
Asha snorted at him. “Wimp. Sparky and Fluffy wouldn't hurt a fly. A mouse or a rabbit maybe, but never big brave stalwart Irish-Robin-Hood types.”
“Fine. You go bond with the serpents. Would you bring the Diva out tomorrow at four? Please.”
Brig could walk without assistance from Asha and Jake, but he leaned heavily on my shoulder during the quiet trek to Raj's trailer. This night, we even had a key.
Symmetry. Raj's trailer. In the very early hours of the morning. I did take the time to find some bandages and deal with Brig's ear. He was right. Barely a dent in him and in no way life threatening.
Once my services as nurse ended, the night became a repeat of the last time we'd stayed in Raj's trailer. Brig and I collapsed together onto the bed. I wrapped my arms around the fallen hero and both of us promptly fell asleep.
Chapter 40
Brig and I spent the remainder of the night in peace.
Upon waking, Brig proceeded to demonstrate one did not need the tip of one's ear to engage in pleasurable, strenuous, amorous activities. I could have easily stayed in that trailer moving from one exotic position to another helping him prove that point, but we did have a scene to shoot.
We made it to Jake's covered tent by noon. Asha and Jake looked far worse than Brig and I. I knew Jake needed about nine hours of sleep to function properly, which could account for the shadows under his eyes, but Asha's lips were set and her chin trembled. She sat as far from Jake as the tent allowed.
“Problems?” I inquired. “Other than the usual with kidnappers and murderers and hidden statues, that is. Don't tell me someone managed to sneak in and grab our goddess from the snake cage. Or steal one of the snakes.”
Asha growled, “Nope. Sparky and Fluffy are still there and still guarding Saraswati. This is more important. Jake has ixnayed the scene in front of the carnival tent where the princess rides in on the llama. He thinks it'll spoil the effect of the lovers reuniting. I totally disagree. It's going to really set up the part where they see each other at the cybercafe.”
Artistic differences between director and star. They could easily resolve that kind of problem without resorting to bloodshed, which would be a nice switch.
I plopped next to Asha, poured some tea, grabbed three scones, then dove into what now constituted brunch. I glanced at Jake. “So, llama or not, are we filming today?”
He ignored Asha and nodded at me. “Yes, indeed. I want to try and finish the big dance sequence over by the fountain. With the boys on one side and the girls on the other. Do you know the one I mean?”
Brig and I nodded with Jake. Asha did not nod. She handed Brig a buttered scone.
“Briggan. I've been really patient in not asking this, but I can't stand it anymore. What do you intend to do with the statue? Now that Tempe and I have been kidnapped, Ray is dead, and you're running around with half an ear missing, I personally don't want to keep the Diva. Maybe she really is cursed.”
Brig mumbled as he took a bite. “Only for the greedy, Ms. Kumar. Only for the greedy.”
“Yeah. Right. Maybe I got greedy? Is that what you're saying? Well, whatever. So? Where's the goddess off to next?”
Brig glanced at the clock hanging on a hook at the back of the food tent. “With any luck, Shiva's Diva will be in the hands of her rightful owner by four this afternoon. So, when you retrieve her, bring her back to the food-service tent.”
Asha and Jake immediately began a barrage of “Who? Why didn't you tell us before? Where are you making the exchange? How much?”
I stayed silent. Claire Dharbar. I knew it. I didn't quite understand this “rightful owner” comment, but I assumed the lady had met his price. A twinge of my unreasonable jealousy hit, but I squelched it with another bite of my scone.
Brig glanced around the table. “It's Claire Braganza Dharbar. Tempe met her the other day in Bombay.”
Asha and I looked at each other, then Asha crowed, “Knew it! Tempe nailed it the other day. Said it only made sense for her to be the buyer because otherwise why would you go chatting her up at a restaurant?”
I nearly threw my scone at her. “Asha? Care to take a long slow ride on top of Binky the elephant? I know how much you love the beasts.”
Brig winked at me. “A bit of jealousy, now, is it I'm hearin'?”
I tossed my hair back. “Not a lick. I just told Asha that you wouldn't have been rude enough to leave me sitting by myself less than two hours after nearly getting shot by Ray.”
Asha glared at me. “
I
said that, Tempe, and you didn't listen!”
I did throw my scone at her. Then I rolled my eyes and hissed, “Isn't it swell how smart you are? And isn't it time you go jump on a llama?”
She just grinned. I rose. Brig did as well. I waved at him to stay put.
“Finish your tea. I need to shower before we start filming today, then I'm off to Reena's to fight over her latest costume in the let's-make-Tempe-look-like-a-rat's-nest design contest. I'll meet back up with everyone on the set.”
I was still wearing the ruined, bloody sari from last night's foray into violence at Hot Harry's. I hadn't had a chance to get back to my own trailer and put on some jeans.
Jake smiled for the first time this morning. “If it were not for your memories of what you went through last night, I would tell you to keep wearing the sari. It's perfect for the scene.”
Brig looked closely at me. “It's nicely open in the right places too. Shows a lot of skin.” His smile dimmed. “I don't like whose closet it was hanging in originally though. So just as well you're changing.”
I sighed. “I'm so glad this look meets with the approval of the men present. But excuse me if I feel I need a bit more coverage and a little less smell. Bye-bye all.”
I ran all the way back to Raj's trailer and locked the door. It wouldn't deter Brig if he decided to gain entrance, but it gave me a slight illusion of privacy while I considered the issue of Claire.
I stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out, while I wondered why Brig hadn't given the woman the statue before today. I was certain he had his reasons, but they eluded me right now. He'd be handing over the statue to her at four. Teatime. Great. Super.
I can be classy when I need to. If I ran into Claire Braganza Dharbar, I would outdo Asha in the acting department. Be gracious and charming and nice. Pour tea into china cups for her and spread fresh marmalade over scones and muffins while I tried not to make comparisons between the two of us. Comparisons that would not be pretty. Because by teatime, after dancing through fountains and doing flips off elephants, my hair would have frizzed, my makeup would be nonexistent, and I'd look much as I did after my first run-in at Hot Harry's. Claire, doubtless, would look classy, calm, collected—and smell fresh too.
I dressed in a short black skirt and black tee in case I managed to change out of my slutty Reena design before the grand presentation of the statue.
Today's filming had the girls on one end of the fountain and the boys on the other, so Brig and I were separated. Just as well. I didn't need to listen to Irish charm. I had enough trouble dealing with the
pas de bourees
, elbow twitches, and pelvic grinds they had me performing in a fountain spewing water down steps that were slippery and hard to traverse.
Jake called a halt to all terpsichorean activity at 3:49. As I walked toward the tent for a badly needed break (and the tea and pastries) I saw an old tan four-door sedan drive up near where we'd been filming.
Claire Dharbar exited the vehicle from the driver's side. This surprised me. I had assumed this buyer for Shiva's Diva would have glided up in a Rolls driven by some gorgeous Swedish male named Sven. (Yeah, yeah. Add snide and tacky to my list of bad personality traits.)
But the sight of Ms. Dharbar looking cool and chic in her immaculate linen suit and low-heeled pumps brought back my feelings of inadequacy. She and Brig were of a kind. They didn't have a perspiration gland between them. A hundred degrees out and she seemed as dry as the wine Mahindra had pressed on me at the Yacht Club.
I had to stop this. Claire couldn't help being rich, gorgeous, and perfect. She was obviously wealthy enough to meet whatever price Brig had asked to release Shiva's Diva. She might even be an artist of some kind, perhaps a painter who normally occupied a loft in Soho in lower Manhattan. Saraswati would abundantly bless her and doubtless the fertility bit would kick in so little Claires would soon overrun Bombay.
Fertility.
That called to mind Mahindra and his own desire to leave a legacy. The man must have heard that particular call, because behind Claire's tan sedan three cars suddenly came screeching to a halt. The first two vehicles were as nondescript as Claire's four-door. The last was a stretch limo. White. Out stepped Kirk Mahindra.
BOOK: Hot Stuff
4.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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