Bollywood Babes Read Free Page B

nose over my shoulder. “I've never heard of her.”
    “Molly Mahal,” I repeated. “I think she was a star back in—oh, the early eighties.”
    “That's ages ago,” Jazz sniffed. “I wasn't even
born
.”
    “Neither was I,” I said. “But Dad's got some of her films. She didn't make that many, though.”
    “Then she just disappeared,” Geena remembered. “Wasn't there some sort of scandal?”
    I was skimming through the article. “Yes. She had an affair with one of her directors. He was married.”
    “Really,” said Jazz. “It's lucky that's not a problem in Hollywood. They'd have no actors or actresses at all.”
    “Look.” I squinted at the photo of the house more closely. “I swear that's Rosamund Road. You can just see the Indian sweet shop on the corner.”
    Geena peered at the photo too. “You mean the one Uncle Dave's taken us to a few times? It looks like it.”
    “It says here that
Masala Express
tried to interview her,” I went on, “but she wasn't interested.”
    “Well,” Geena said, “that's what recluses do. Reclude themselves.”
    “How sad,” yawned Jazz. “Do you think Auntie's making curry today?”
    I didn't reply. My mind was off, winging its way down another track entirely. That was how I got my best ideas. Or my worst, some might say.
    “I have an idea,” I announced.
    The reaction I got didn't surprise me. Jazz stuckher fingers in her ears and began to hum. Geena stared at me in disgust.
    “Really, Amber! I would have thought your ideas had got us into enough trouble by now.”
    “This won't get us into trouble,” I said. Oh, what famous last words. “But if you're not interested …”
    “Tell us.” Jazz took her fingers out of her ears. “I could do with a laugh.”
    “It would be rather good if we could get Molly Mahal to be guest of honor at the school's Bollywood party,” I said.

L ooking somewhat surprised, Jazz turned to Geena. “Actually,” she began, “That's not bad at all—” “Don't get taken in,” Geena interrupted. “That's how Amber operates. Her ideas
sound
reasonable at first. It's only later that the full horror really hits you.”
    “You make me sound like Dr. Evil,” I said. “Anyway, Jazz thinks it's a good idea.”
    “I said it wasn't bad,” Jazz backtracked cautiously. “I didn't say it was good.”
    “Of course it's good.” I spread out my arms. “It's genius. Here we have a real Bollywood star—”
    “Ex-Bollywood star,” Geena pointed out.
    “Living just down the road from us,” I steamrollered on.
    “About twenty miles away, actually,” said Geena. “And we're having a Bollywood party at school. It's meant to be.”
    Geena waved the magazine aggressively at me. “Do you know what the word ‘recluse' actually means?” she demanded.
    “Of course,” I said.
    Geena ignored me. “Molly Mahal wouldn't give
Masala Express
an interview. She obviously doesn't want any publicity. Is she going to turn up at our school party? I don't think so.”
    “Auntie could persuade her,” Jazz said, her tone faintly bitter. “She can persuade anyone to do anything.”
    Geena frowned. “That's true,” she admitted.
    I was thinking hard, my mind zipping through all the pros and cons like lightning. “No,” I said slowly. “I don't think we should get Auntie involved just yet.”
    “Excuse me?” Geena raised her eyebrows. “I was starting to get ever so slightly interested in your foolish idea there, Amber. But without Auntie it's deader than a big fat dead duck.”
    “Think about it,” I urged. “If we can get Molly Mahal on board ourselves, we'll be in with Auntie like never before.” I grinned widely. “We'll be heroines. She'll have to cut us some slack then and get off our backs.”
    “I like it,” Jazz said instantly. Even Geena looked marginally more interested.
    “All right,” she said grudgingly. “It'd be worth it to have Auntie at our mercy for once. But I still think it's doomed.”
    I shrugged.