Read Online Bollywood Confidential by Sonia Singh - Free Book Online Page B

being battered and splattered across the pages of India’s answer to Variety!
    About the randy Randy business—sure, the casting couch was a fixture in Hollywood as well. But Raveena had never encountered it.
    She couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or offended about that.
    Raveena was still deciding when the door opened and Millie looked up. “Mr. Kapoor,” she said.
    Raveena put the magazines away and prepared herself.
    She was finally going to meet Randy Kapoor.

Chapter 16
    Not surprisingly, Raveena didn’t care for the director.
    And it wasn’t because he grabbed her ass as soon as they entered his private office.
    Randy Kapoor was, in the words of philosopher Thomas Hobbes, nasty, brutish and short.
    â€œI consider myself the Quentin Tarantino of India,” Randy said with a smug smile. “Or maybe a cross between Tarantino and Coppola.” He laughed loudly.
    Since Chris Rock wasn’t in the room, Raveena didn’t know what the hell was so funny.
    Randy was about thirty, five-five and slightly on the chubby side. He was dressed head to toe in Polo Sport: Polo baseball cap, Polo sunglasses, Polo track pants and a Polo T-shirt.
    Privately, she decided to refer to him as Mr. Polo Sport from now on.
    Mr. Polo Sport didn’t bring up the accommodations or her flight.
    Instead, Randy fixed her with what he probably thought was a seductive smile.
    Raveena thought he looked constipated.
    â€œThe moment I saw your ad in Singapore, I knew you were the one,” he said. “You were very voluptuous and seductive.”
    â€œErr, thank you.”
    He leaned back in his chair. “My last film was nearly screened in Cannes. I suppose you saw it. It was a super hit.”
    â€œOh, the remake of Runaway Bride ?” Raveena asked.
    Honestly, she said that without any sarcasm.
    Randy narrowed his eyes. “My film was inspired by Runaway Bride. Why can’t anyone see that?” He sat forward and stared directly at her. “Let me ask you a question. You don’t hate the Japanese, do you?”
    â€œOf course not!”
    Randy threw out his hands. “Well, I’m like the Japanese; I take something American and make it better. Don’t you use Japanese products? Well, that’s me. I’m like Sony and Hollywood is Panasonic. We both exist in the same market.” He sat back in his chair and beamed.
    Raveena shifted in her chair, and for the umpteenth time since arriving at Randy’s office, she questioned what the hell she was doing peddling her acting prowess in Bombay.
    Oh right, because she didn’t have any other offers.
    To distract herself, Raveena checked out the office artwork and felt oddly comforted.
    Glossy posters of sexy Bollywood heroines and studly Bollywood heroes in blockbuster Bollywood films graced the walls.
    Movies starring people who looked just like her.
    Okay, so maybe her boobs weren’t as uplifting as the actress’s in the poster to her right, and she’d yet to see an Indian guy who looked as good as the actor featured in the poster to her left…
    And yet that wasn’t the point.
    The only Indian face Raveena had regularly seen on TV while growing up was Apu from The Simpsons.
    God, how she loved Apu.
    Randy interrupted her reverie. “I knew you would be perfect for my film.”
    No one had ever told Raveena she was perfect for a film.
    Well, no one other than Griffin, and he was usually talking out of his ass.
    She felt herself softening a bit towards the randy Randy.
    Crossing her legs, Raveena flashed him a smile. “Well, considering your main character is a girl from America. I’d say I’m absolutely perfect.”
    â€œWe’re not doing that film any longer,” Randy corrected.
    Raveena sat forward. “Excuse me?”
    â€œRomantic films are out.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The audience wants action. They want lavish sets. They want larger than