Bollywood Superstar

“Never mind the press,” said Ajay fervently. “Never mind the stupid contest. You’re a winner already, baby. You’ve got a part in my new production. I’ll sort out tickets and a hotel for you. You don’t need to carry on in that stupid TV show to get your Bollywood career.”

Jas looked manically from Ajay to Krishnan, back and forth. Krishnan’s arms were folded, his mouth set in a grim line.

“I don’t…”

“If you leave this shop, Jas, that’s it,” said Krishnan. “I don’t keep staff who walk out on the job.

I realise that’s not going to mean much to you, what with this glittering career you’ve got mapped out in Mumbai, but—”

He broke off, holding his hands up to the ceiling.

“Your shop girl days are over, Jas,” said Ajay fervently, reaching for her hands over the counter. There was a flash and a click. “Come with me. Leave all this behind.”

Jas looked around at the dingy shop, the freezer chests that shuddered and juddered all day long, the dusty row of Bollywood DVDs on the counter, Krishnan.

“I can’t,” she said.

Ajay squeezed her hands so tightly she winced.

“What do you mean, stupid girl? What do you mean, you can’t? Look at everything I’m offering you. Are you going to turn it down for the sake of this dump? I mean, look at it. Everything so small and mean and grey. This ugly city, these stunted, colourless people. Have you seen Mumbai? Do you know what kind of life you could have there?”

“I’ll make it to Mumbai,” said Jas in a low, level voice. “I’ll make it there on my own merits. I’ll finish the contest and perhaps I’ll win.”

“You don’t stand a chance, babe. Anjali is three times more talented than you. She’ll wipe the floor with you.”

Jasmine gasped.

“Get out,” said Krishnan, moving forward.

The security guards took a menacing step in his direction.

“You’re making a mistake, Jas!” Ajay said.

“I’ll be the judge of that. I’m sorry. I’m staying.”

An enormous sneer turned Ajay’s face into a mask of contempt.

“Stupid little tart,” he growled. “But what did I expect of a girl who keeps her brains in her knickers? I might see you at the semi-final…but somehow I don’t think so.”

He turned and stalked off, bulbs flashing about him, and disappeared into the clamour.

Jas was too stunned to do or say anything, so she was vulnerable to the approach of an eager young man with a Dictaphone who cornered her by the canned goods. Krishnan, busy making hostile gestures to Ajay’s retreating figure, apparently didn’t notice at first.

“When did you and Ajay get together? How do you feel about this breakup? Did he really offer you a role in one of his movies?”

“We…please, go.”

“Are you going to quit the contest? There’s a rule about relationships between judges and contestants, I’m sure.”

“I made a mistake,” cried Jas. “Everyone makes mistakes. Please go.”

“A mistake that could cost you the title of Bollywood Superstar 2011.”

“Get out!” Krishnan’s voice this time. He clapped a hand on the reporter’s shoulder, yanking him back out of Jasmine’s space.

“Are you her boyfriend? Brother? Boss?”

“Get. Out!”