Page 8 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
Timira can now feel tears start to sting in her eyes. She recalls the evening of his birthday when she’d taken an uncharacteristic personal day in the middle of the week and taken over Alice and Bhaskar’s kitchen to cook up a feast for him. The evening she had waited for him to come over for a surprise until a text from him, well past midnight, informed her that he wouldn’t be able to leave the team hotel. She recalls the morning after, when she woke up to photos of him splashed across tabloids and social media—photos of him locked in an embrace with a rising tennis star–social media influencer who’d only just turned legally adult. The same morning, the platinum promise bands she’d got for the both of them sat untouched on the bedside table, a reminder of her naiveté and his infidelity.
She valiantly fights back the tears and clears her throat purposefully, forcefully.
‘Like I was saying, you’ll need to emote while saying these lines …’
‘I’m not listening to any of this. You first answer me. Do you feel nothing when you see me?’
‘As you can tell, the client wants it to sound like an actual proposal. So you will have to make it sound as genuine as you possibly can.’
‘Oh, to hell with these lines. And to hell with you!’
Rodrigo’s voice is raised a few decibels over his usual pitch and, snatching the sheet away from Timira, he tears it up. The room is stunned into silence.
Timira cannot hold it in any longer. Channelling her inner Geum Jan-di, her favourite teenaged heroine fromBoys Over Flowers, the megahit Korean adaptation of the megahit Japanese manga and TV showHana Yori Dango, she grabs Rodrigo by the collar and with all her might and all the technique she had picked up during her brief obsession over Bruce Lee and resulting dalliance withJeet Kun Do, she knees his nuts. Pressing hard, she twists her knee clockwise and then anticlockwise, and with glazed eyes filled with glee, watches him first turn pale, and then a shade of blue she can’t name but that looks painful. She relents and releases her grip only when he collapses to the ground. The room that had been pin-drop silent until a few moments back now erupts in thunderous applause. It continues to clap and cheer loudly as Timira, wearing a triumphant victor’s smile, makes her way through the crowd in giant strides befitting a winner and makes her exit, while the vanquished lies on the ground, clutching his family jewels and wondering if they were lost for good, while staring at her receding form, slowly melting into the darkness.
* * *
‘And that’s a wrap!’ yells the director.
Cacophonous voices fill the air that was next-to-noiseless until just a few moments ago. Shoot rushes are getting intently peered at, footage being backed up onto hard disks, backups of backups being arranged, calls being made to place food orders, and plans being made for the wrap party later.
A lot of backslapping, hurrahs and applause later, Rodrigo is inside his vanity van with his manager. The same guy who had intervened just in the nick of time and perhaps fended off what had the potential to be a giant disaster.
Dude, that was close! I actually thought she’d hit him!
Kabir, Rodrigo’s intuitive and protective manager—a gift from his football agency—recalls with mild horror the exact moment when he heard Rodrigo’s voice rising above the din and spotted Timira drawing her clenched fists back and up, squaring her shoulders and adjusting her feet in a boxer’s stance. Just at that moment, he had leapt in, hands on Rodrigo’s chest, gesturing with his eyes and lip movement, pleading with him to back off. By the time he picked up the shredded pieces of the script, Timira had left.
The stylist is now nowhere to be seen; her services not needed any longer. Kabir has successfully shooed her away.
Rodrigo is now holding a much-deserved bottle of chilled sparkling water against his neck. He can feel his breathing slow down and return to normal, even though his heart is still aching. Kabir is looking at him with pleading eyes after having placed a request that Rodrigo doesn’t seem particularly happy about.
‘You only need to show your face at the after-party. Just a few photos, and we can leave.’
‘Do I HAVE to go, Kabir? Aah, I’m so embarrassed. Have you heard from Tim?’
‘Her phone is off, and I heard from her colleagues she’s not in the office either.’
‘Perhaps I should go to her place and check on her …’
‘Her place?! You never visited when you were dating, and you want to go now after a break-up and today’s events? Rod, please try to be rational. The season is still on, and people are very interested in you. VERY!’
‘Yeah? Yeah, I guess. This country hasn’t really seen a star like me. Ah, well, what can I say? Hehehe,’ he quips while stroking his abdomen and admiring himself in the mirror.
There he goes again, muses Kabir. He isn’t entirely new to self-obsessed celebrities, but Rodrigo is at a whole other level. It has taken Kabir every last bit of his patience and experience to handle him.
‘What are people saying? Are they gossiping? She’ll hate me if everybody finds out we were dating! Although, if you ask me, I never understood why she wanted us to date in secret. I mean, am I not a trophy to be shown off?’
‘Relax, nobody is going to find anything. It’s not like it was a lovers’ quarrel,’ Kabir replies in an exasperated voice, trying to look away so Rodrigo can’t see the look of utter disbelief and disappointment on his face. Kabir is lying, of course. Rod and Tim’s exchange had all the makings of a lovers’ quarrel. Especially as Timira walked away from Rodrigo in a pointedly dignified manner and stayed out of sight for the remainder of the shoot. A despairing Rodrigo had meanwhile stared into the dark, blinded by the studio lights, as if waiting for her to come back.
It had set tongues wagging across the room, and Kabir had had to issue clarifications on more than one occasion.
‘Of course not. They knew each other only through Marbella, of course. It was all very professional. But you know how tough and focused Ms Marak can be, right?’
Unsure heads nodded in unison and muttered their ‘hmms’.
‘You feel me? And Rod is Rod. Like a rod, hehehe, strong and stubborn. Bullheaded and brazen. And when two strong personalities clash, there’s bound to be fireworks!’
He had meant to say fire, like the kind that burns buildings. Not fireworks that light up the sky. Quickly realizing his folly, he tried to get to the more important bit.
