Free Busted in Bollywood by Nicola Marsh

fist, tooted the horn, and shot forward, sending actors scattering.
    “Missy, look. Buddy famous.”
    I craned my neck and caught sight of a producer giving us the finger for ruining his movie sequence while gesturing with his other hand to move our car.
    Anjali reached over the seat to twist Buddy’s ear. “Move, you fool, before you get us thrown out. This is my big chance and I won’t have you ruin it.”
    Buddy reversed so fast our necks snapped back, ensuring whiplash all around. Rakesh and I exchanged grins while I pondered Anjali’s ‘big chance.’ Surely she didn’t think she’d be discovered on her first trip to Bollywood?
    Who needed movie stars to make this day interesting? With Drew’s assured prying and Anjali’s secret movie star yearnings, I already had my own masala movie script playing out right before my eyes. (I love learning the lingo. Bollywood productions are often called masala movies after the Hindi word for spice mixture, masala , because they’re a mixture of many things. Cool, huh?)
    Rakesh pointed to a huge white marquee resembling a giant circus tent. “Pull over there, thanks.”
    “Oh my.” Anjali mopped the perspiration from her brow. “Look at all these men.”
    I followed Anjali’s line of vision and apart from a few guys lolling around, some behind cameras, the rest on giant metal boxes, I couldn’t see much to get excited about.
    Until Drew stepped into view.
    Despite the fact he knew I was a phony and rubbed me the wrong way after one meeting, an irrational, inexplicable, intense, mind-numbing lust stabbed through my veneer of indifference and made me want to fling open the car door and run toward him.
    Sheesh, I think the drama of being here was getting to me already.
    “There’s Drew.” Rakesh waved madly, his excitement contagious. His perpetual enthusiasm irritated me a tad but my pretend-fiancé was also endearing. I couldn’t wait for Rita to meet him.
    While mulling the bizarre night I’d had at the Ramas’ welcome party in the wee small hours this morning, I’d come to the conclusion maybe there was such a thing as fate. For others, not me. In my case, fate and the other four-letter F-word were freely interchangeable to describe my life.
    What if Rita and Rakesh hit it off and by some weird cosmic twist fell in love? Did stuff like that happen, or were my views of romance tainted by my infatuation with rom-coms? Life wasn’t a movie, though I could’ve debated the fact as I stepped out of the car and into one.
    While Anjali gave Buddy instructions to move the car and wait in the parking lot near the entrance, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, my bravado ebbing. Fine and dandy to want a confrontation when I’d received Drew’s supercilious email last night, but now I was here, with the man in question striding toward us, focused and formidable, I wish I’d told him where he could stick his summons.
    “Glad you could make it.” Drew smiled at our group as his gaze met mine in an unmistakable challenge and I resisted the urge to poke out my tongue. “I’ve taken the liberty of organizing a tour of the studios.”
    Anjali’s eyes lit up like a true movie connoisseur. “Maybe Rakesh could show me the music side of things? His dad and I are old friends.”
    Pity she couldn’t extend the friendship to Anu. I’d get to the bottom of that mystery by the end of this trip if it killed me.
    “Fine by me.” Rakesh darted a fond glance at Anjali and I respected him all the more. If he knew about her vendetta with his mom, he didn’t let on.
    “Great.” Drew rubbed his hands together like a mastermind before pinning me with a glare that meant business. “Amrita, there’s a distant cousin of the Ramas who would love to meet you. Or would you prefer to go with your fiancé?”
    I noted the clenched jaw as he said ‘Amrita’ and ‘fiancé,’ realizing it must take superhuman effort for a control freak like him not to blurt the truth. Not that the