Bollywood Confidential by Sonia Singh Page B

I was crying about before.”
    â€œSid! What are you doing out here?”
    Bani Sen stood before them.
    â€œOh, right,” Raveena murmured. “Now I remember.”

Chapter 24
    Raveena wondered if anyone had ever thought of constructing a BOLLYWOOD sign amid the parched hills above Bombay.
    Then again, what with the heat haze, exhaust fumes, sea mists and monsoon showers, the sign would most likely be barely visible.
    Anyway, Raveena didn’t need a sign to remind her she was in Bollywood.
    The fact that there was a Moroccan dance number in the middle of a film about the Taj Mahal…that was sign enough.
    Raveena was lifted up by a team of male dancers and placed before Siddharth in the makeshift tent.
    The dance didn’t seem to advance the plot at all. All Lollipop had said was, “It’s a slave dance, very come-hither, seductive and sexy. You’ve been captured by Siddharth and are his slave. But he will become a slave to your heart.”
    Got it.
    Randy had spent the previous winter in Marrakech and wanted to incorporate the look into his film.
    Raveena was sort of proud of herself for learning the dance moves in one solid hour.
    She swayed before Siddharth, her veils flying as she spun, and prayed the material wouldn’t snag on her teeth.
    She hadn’t seen Siddharth after their conversation at Randy’s party. He’d been quiet on the set as well, staying in his trailer and watching movies.
    Raveena felt he could have at least invited her in to join him.
    She didn’t have a trailer.
    She did have an air-conditioned dressing room, though, and had spent most of her time there finishing Hurray for Bollywood .
    But now, as Siddharth placed his hands around her waist and pulled her against his chest, she could swear the intense way he gazed at her wasn’t just acting.
    Or was it?
    And what was up with him and that Bani bitch?
    â€œCut!” Lollipop shouted.
    The music stopped, and Siddharth dropped Raveena as if she had an infectious skin disorder.
    â€œI’ve got it!” Randy shouted, running into the studio and waving a stack of bound paper.
    They all turned to face him.
    Looks like Randy has finally finished the script, Raveena thought.
    â€œI just finished the first five scenes.” Randy said happily.
    Several of the people in the studio began clapping.
    Raveena glanced at Siddharth, but he had a bored look on his face.
    Oh well, she shrugged.
    It was time to start memorizing lines.
    And then she realized something.
    Mumtaz Mahal, the seventeenth-century Mughal Empress of India, was going to have an American accent.
    Â 
    Raveena decided to go to the Karma Productions office and approach Daddy instead of Randy with her request.
    It wasn’t a hard call. Daddy never ogled her breasts or pinched her ass and ran away giggling.
    â€œIt’s essential for suspension of disbelief that my Hindi be flawless,” she pointed out after she’d taken a seat. “The audience needs to feel like they’re in seventeenth-century India.”
    â€œExcuse me, sir,” Millie said, entering the office. “But the set designer is on the phone and would like to know when she should begin production on the Eiffel Tower replica.”
    Raveena cocked an eyebrow. “Eiffel Tower?”
    Millie smiled. “Oh yes, ma’am, for the eight wonders of the world song sequence. The designer has done a wonderful job. Wait until you see.”
    The Eiffel Tower was built in 1889. Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan had met in 1607.
    Raveena uncocked her eyebrow.
    So much for suspension of disbelief.
    â€œThank you, Millie,” Daddy said. He reached for the telephone and smiled at Raveena. “I think a dialect coach is an excellent idea. I know just the one.”
    Exiting Karma Productions, Raveena sucked in her breath as the air-conditioned coolness was replaced with intense heat.
    She sucked in her breath again when she was nearly side-swiped by