Page 17 of Everything She Wanted

I stop and try to discern who said that and notice a table of three guys. Anjali has already stopped in front of them. I slide up next to her.

The guys are all wearing basketball jerseys and look like they must be in college.

“What my friend here was trying to say is, are you ladies like Bollywood movie stars?” His accent sounds American. He has tanned skin and a mop of dark curls.

Anjali answers for us. “I’m not, but she is.” She gives me a naughty look while I gape at her.

What is she doing?

“A model and actor, actually. She just wrapped up a fashion show.”

They all turn their eyes to look at me, astonished, and I want to laugh. The other two boys have short brown hair and look like brothers.

Curly Top speaks up again. “Chris here has no game, but maybe a picture with you could change that.”

I hesitate and don’t answer, but Anjali jumps right in.

“I think we can arrange that.” She smiles at me like she’s really enjoying this, and the boys look at me so earnestly that I relent. It’s just a photo with some college kids.

“Really?” The boy I presume to be Chris lights up.

The waitress comes by just then. “Some more drinks?”

“We’ll get another round and whatever they’re having,” Curly Top chimes in. “A thank-you for the photo op.”

Anjali orders a martini, and since I’m ordering for Fantasy Nisha, I go with the same. We slide into the booth next to the boys.

“Where are you from?” Anjali asks as we wait for our drinks.

“Texas. We’re just here for a tournament.” I don’t listen to the rest of the conversation, but I do admire how effortlessly Anjali makes small talk with just about anyone.

The waitress comes back with our drinks.

“Cheers!” We clink glasses, and I take a sip and let the gin soothe me.

“We have to get back to our promotional tour activities, so let’s take that photo.” She looks around appraisingly, trying to find a good background.

“Nisha, why don’t you sit on the table, and guys, you can stand around her and hold up your drinks like you’re toasting her.”

I look at Anjali, imploringly. I don’t know how I’m going to lift myself up there in this too-tight outfit.

“You two can give her a lift.”

“No objections here,” Chris says with a cheeky smile.

Chris and Curly Top gently place me on the table, and I stifle a giggle. Chris hands his phone to Anjali, who takes a few shots. I raise my martini glass in the air, and I’m sure we look like quite the sight: me in my sparkly Bollywood outfit and the boys in their basketball jerseys.

Chris and Curly Top help me back down, and I feel like a real-life princess. I give him my socials so he can tag me.

“Well,” says Anjali, “we’d better get back to her other fans.”

We make it to the bathroom and then both lose it, laughing. “What the fuck was that?”

“I couldn’t resist, they just looked so smitten. Why not put a little smile on their faces.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that.”

“That’s why you love me.”