Silver Screen Dream (10 page)

“Chin up, Rahul, I’ve never let you down before,” I said and, just before I blinked out of reality, I heard his reply.

“That’s a matter of opinion, really.”

It didn’t matter what point of view Rahul took. He didn’t have any choice but to trust me.

But I had to time this exactly right.

Chapter Eight

Laura

In the shower, I thought back over the last day and a bit. I was pretty damn content. I had wobbled a little when Rahul had intimated I was just a day long one night stand, but when he had explained, I’d felt placated. I’d known I couldn’t expect a proclamation of undying love from him, but I needed something. I didn’t want to be just sex for him, as good as the sex was. I wanted to know I meant something.

I didn’t expect to be given a priceless family heirloom, though, but I was very touched by the gift. I liked the way the cold, teardrop-shaped urn sat in the centre of my cleavage. I liked the pressure of it there, reminding me of its presence.

It wasn’t until I exited the huge, gilded bathroom that I realised something was wrong.

“Rahul,” I shouted even though I knew he wasn’t there. “Rahul, what are you doing?” I walked over to the wardrobe and opened the door. “You do know it’s not very clever to shut yourself in a wardrobe. Have you never read any CS Lewis?”

However, Rahul was not in the wardrobe. He wasn’t under the bed nor behind a chair, either. He’d gone…but where? I wondered if he’d shouted to me, told me he was going somewhere, and I hadn’t heard him. I looked at my watch and shook my head. I had to leave to get to work. Surely he wouldn’t go out now.

It struck me then that maybe he’d gone to have a word with Roger, the driver, but when I rang the front desk, the helpful lady told me Roger was outside and waiting for me but they hadn’t seen Rahul.

“Is there a problem, madam?” the level voice asked me.

“No, no, not at all,” I replied. “Thanks for your help.”

It all did seem a bit queer, especially as I checked my phone and I didn’t have even a single message. I had to get to work, though, and I was convinced a simple solution would soon come to light. I kept trying to convince myself of that all day, but by the time I went home I was truly panicked.

I didn’t sleep much that night. In the morning I slumped on my couch and tried to call him again, but he didn’t answer his phone. He hadn’t responded to any of my texts, either. I racked my brains and tried to work out if I had offended him somehow, if we’d had a row and I didn’t even realise it. I couldn’t think of anything. The only reason that fit was that I was not anything more than sex to him. All his pretty words had been an act, and he’d run off while I bathed because he didn’t want to say goodbye.

It was the only explanation that made any sense, and it probably meant the necklace around my neck was some trifling trinket. Maybe he had dozens of them he gave out to his conquests. Just as I was about to take it off and throw it in the bin, it started to burn against my skin.

It wasn’t uncomfortable at first, it actually felt quite soothing. But it grew hotter and hotter until I had to hold the amulet away from my chest by grasping the chain between my fingers. The chain was as warm as my skin but no warmer. I had no idea what was going on. I was scared and wondered if the stupid thing were going to explode.

It sort of did. At least there was an explosion of light that forced me to close my eyes. As the glare faded, I blinked and slowly opened them again. I screamed.

“Who are you and how the fuck did you get in here?” I grabbed a sofa cushion and held it in front of me as a shield. I’m not sure what good I thought it might be, I’d picked it up purely on instinct.

“I’m Johnny, and I don’t think you’d believe me even if I tried to explain it.”

“Try me, Johnny,” I replied.

“All right, all right. Let’s start at the beginning and get this sorted out as quickly as possible. I’m working to a precise schedule, here. I am Johnny. I am a Djinn.”

“You don’t look like a bottle of alcohol to me,” I snapped.

“Not G-I-N,” he spelt out, “D-J-I-N-N.”

“The magic kind?”

“Yes, the magic kind. Can I carry on? Time is of the essence, you know.”

“Go on.” I exhaled slowly. My phone was on the sofa seat beside me. If I could keep the psycho talking, I thought I might be able to reach it and surreptitiously dial nine nine nine.

“So I’m a Djinn and I was enslaved many moons ago by a Khan. I’ve been the servant of his family ever since. I’ve passed down from generation to generation, and the man who is currently my master is Rahul.”

“Rahul,” I gasped. “Is he okay?”

“I’m getting to that, just hush, woman, and let me speak. Okay, where was I? Oh yes, Rahul is my master. However, I have one command left over from his father, and his father takes precedence because, well, that’s how it works. Age is respected in my world.”

“What has this—”

“Shh,” he hissed in interruption. “I’m getting to it, missy. Shut up and listen. Rahul’s dad ordered me to make sure his son married Malati, the daughter of his closest ally in business. So I had to do it, I had to. It was a direct wish, and a Djinn can’t ignore that, you know. Rahul was running away from his responsibilities, and so I did what I had to do. I made Panya jealous, gave her the arranged marriage details and set her off on a mission to get Rahul into trouble and back home to India to marry Malati.”

 “You’re trying to tell me Rahul is on his way home to India to marry another woman?”

“Yes, but he’s being forced. Two burly blokes, Malati’s uncle and cousin as it turns out, snatched Rahul from the hotel yesterday morning, tied him up and took him to the airport. He’s already back in Mumbai. In fact…”

The strange, be-suited man pulled up his sleeve and looked at a watch that had a huge face. I picked up my phone while he was distracted.

“Everything should be just about underway, by now.”

“So why are you here? I thought you wanted him to marry this Mai tai woman.”

“Malati,” he corrected. “And no, I didn’t and don’t want him to marry that woman. I was carrying out an order. But do you know, there are certain things we Djinns can’t do.”

“Oh, I know this one. It’s no zombies, no falling in love and you have an intolerance to blue cheese.”

“I was with you all the way up to that last one.”

“Oh, no, it was my evil science teacher who hated the cheese.”

“Anyway,” he said, his dark eyes rolling back, “let’s get back on track, shall we?”

I nodded and held the mobile tighter in my hand.

“You do realise the phone device is useless, don’t you? I’m a Djinn. I thought to disable communications before I poofed in here.”

“Oh.” I still gripped the phone.

“Put it down on the table,” he snapped, “and let’s forget this distraction and get the hell to the point.”

“Haven’t you got to it yet?”

“No,” he cried, “someone keeps interrupting me. Come on, toots, put the phone on the table. Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t like hurting ladies, but I will if I have to.”

I reluctantly dropped my mobile to the table before me and it landed with a foreboding clunk.

“Right, so where was I?”

“I believe we were talking about blue cheese.”

“Oh yes, I do like a good Stilton. Whoa, wait, stop trying to distract me. I’ve got something important to tell you. The third thing Djinns can’t do is that we can’t go against true love.”

“Really? That old chestnut?” I sighed.

“Yes, really, it’s true. Love is not something to be sneezed at, young lady. Oh, you drive me bananas. Will you let me finish?”

“Go on.” I waved nonchalantly with my hand. The longer the crazy guy talked, the longer I had to think of a way to escape.

“So Rahul can’t marry Malati because Malati isn’t his true love.”

“Rahul has a true love?”

“Good gods, you’re not too quick on the uptake, are you! Yes, he has a true love.”

“Who?”

“Oh come on, toots. Surely even you can work that out.”

“Are you trying to tell me that
I
am Rahul’s true love?”

“Bingo!” the strange, dark haired man exclaimed and danced excitedly in a circle.

It was a strange thing to see. A strapping guy as big as any rugby player spinning around and pointing his fingers up and down in excitement.

“So, say I
am
Rahul’s true love. What can I do about anything?”

“Ah, well, I’ve not quite worked out all the details yet, but I imagine you and I could go and stop the wedding.”

“All right,” I said, pushing myself to the edge of the sofa. “Let me get this straight. You are a magical genie, Rahul is your Master.”

“Yes, that’s right, but I—”

“Just let me get this straight in my mind, would you? It’s a lot to take in. Rahul is pledged to some woman in India and he doesn’t want to marry her. So Rahul came here, met me and apparently fell in love with me. He’s been kidnapped by Martini’s relatives and is now on the verge of getting married in Mumbai, and you want me to go with you, a total stranger, to Mumbai to stop the wedding.”

“That’s about the top and tail of it,” he said. “Except she’s called Malati. You seem to have alcoholic beverages on the mind right now.”

“Do you blame me?” I asked. “I do think this is the craziest tale anyone has ever told me, and I’ve watched Bollywood movies since I was eight.”

“I know it sounds peculiar, but it’s true and you are Rahul’s last hope.”

“Why? Can’t you just stop the wedding?”

“Well, no. True love might muck up my prime directive, but I still can’t act directly against it. If the wedding just didn’t happen, I wouldn’t feel compelled to try and get it to work in the future. I’d have been released from my obligation. But for that to happen, I need you to go to Rahul and stop the wedding. Then I can work on the side of true love and forget the old order.”

“Well, okay, I guess that sounds plausible.” I chuckled hysterically. “Well, as plausible as it can when you claim to be a genie.”

“I prefer the term Djinn,” he said. “Genie is a derogatory term men gave us to taunt us in our slavery.”

“Sorry, Johnny Djinn.” I laughed once more, seriously heading firmly in the direction of insanity.

“Yes, well, maybe I didn’t think that through when I picked the nickname. Anyway, we’re wasting time and I know Mr Hamada won’t be. Once the wedding actually starts, he’ll want to get to the
Saptapadi
as soon as possible. Normally, Hindi weddings take days, you know.”

“I know. I went to one once.”

“Well, they won’t hang about on this one. They’ll go through the traditions, but they’ll do it fast. And our arrival has to be timed perfectly.”

“All right, mate, all right, but how did you get here and how the hell do you expect me to get to Mumbai? I don’t exactly have a lot of money, and a flight to India takes hours.”

“Your amulet is my amulet.”

“Pardon?” I got more confused with each comment.

“The necklace Rahul gave you is one of my residences. I can move between residences freely.”

“So you burnt my boobs!”

“Well, yes, possibly. I’m sorry. I was so busy working out the timing, I forgot to dampen the magic on arrival.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“Look, you’re going to have to trust me. I know this all sounds like some weird fairy tale, but Rahul needs you right now. When I checked in with him last, he told me to tell you he was sorry to have left you. That he misses you, and he said I wasn’t to tell you he loved you because he wanted to do that himself.”

“But you’ve told me he loves me,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, not in a direct message. Oh, come on, it’s the only bargaining chip I have here, I needed to use it.”

“Whatever, Johnny. I can’t believe you. How can I believe you? And you still haven’t answered my question about getting to Mumbai.”

“I’m connected to Rahul. I can transport myself from anywhere in the world to his side in a matter of moments. And I can take you with me because there are magics to help me do that.”

“Is it safe?” I asked.

“Apparently so,” he replied with a slow nod.

I stared at him.

“Well, I’ve been told so. I mean, I’ve never done it before.”

“Oh, great. So not only am I supposed to trust a complete stranger who claims to be a magical being, but I’ve got to trust that the magic spell to get me to India will actually work.”

“Oh hush, woman, and change into something suitable.”

“What?”

“Look, we’re going to arrive in the middle of a Hindu wedding. I don’t think tracksuit bottoms and a baggy T-shirt are appropriate apparel for such an occasion.”

 “If you’re just some random weirdo who’s broken in to steal my TV, you’re doing it in a very convoluted way.”

“Believe me, if I was going to break in anywhere out of choice, I wouldn’t choose this place.”

“Well, thanks, that’s so reassuring.” I was mad. I was completely mad. I left the living room and went to my bedroom. I decided that if I were going to die, I would do it with my back to the crazed idiot. Although as I reached my room and leafed through the few items in my wardrobe, I started to wonder if Johnny were actually genuine.

See? Certifiably insane. I couldn’t deny the amulet had burnt, I couldn’t deny he’d arrived in my living room in a blinding flash of light, and his story was plausible—well, as Djinn-generated tales go. But I supposed if I were going to die at the hands of a disturbingly black-eyed, psychotic killer, I might as well do it in my best dress.

I’d never worn the dress before. I’d bought it on a whim months ago. It has the same bright colours that I love in the Indian saris worn by the heroines I watch week in, week out, and it has folds of material that billow when I walk, but it is a dress with a zip at the back that I can put on by myself, without help.

I’d fallen in love with the colours in it first, it’s like a sunburst with reds and oranges and yellows that bleed into each other. There are highlights of gold thread all over the bodice and skirt that swirl around like dust motes on a hot, summer’s day. It makes me feel happier just looking at it. And look at it was all I had done. When you work six out of seven days a week in a cinema, you don’t often get chances to wear flamboyant dresses.