The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(82)
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
MUMBAI DRISHTIKON NEWS
Filmi Bytes
Kittu Virani to throw a lavish Diwali party with her new fiancé
9:30 PM IST 28 October, Mumbai.
The who’s who of Bollywood, the business world, and top cricketers are to attend the annual Diwali bash at socialite, interior designer, and star-mom Kittu Virani’s residence.
This is where the ageless Kittu, who has recently returned from a quick Bali getaway with her handsome businessman fiancé, is expected to introduce him to her Bollywood friends. Fans are eagerly waiting, not just for the Diwali party starlet selfies with Karan and Rehaan Virani that are sure to flood social media, but a date for the glam wedding as well.
Sources close to the family say this might be a good thing for Taneja, who has been in the news recently for all the wrong reasons. There was police activity at the Aksa beach site following a few gruesome discoveries, which sent the gossip mills churning.
Interestingly, Taneja’s name has come up in another investigation regarding a recent dramatic shooting incident at Malwani Police Station, which left one officer dead and another severely hurt, along with injuries to passersby.
We only hope this marriage is as bright and happy for Kittu as her vacay snapshots from Bali (see below the sun-kissed pics from the infinity pool). She’ll be wearing two different designer ensembles for the Diwali Pooja and the party afterward, reportedly costing several lakhs each (a gift from guess who?), and along with her legions of fans, we just can’t keep calm.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
He was furious. Women. Putting their hands where they didn’t belong. This chit of a woman thought she was so smart—as if she’d pin him down after all this time.
He picked up his buzzing phone. Uhnna, as expected.
“My men will stop by tonight with the bunch of sparklers you ordered. You’ll have to guide them.”
He looked out the window at the farmhouse. He must celebrate it before it vanished, a big Diwali. A grand film with a large cast, and soon it would be gone, like the movie set it used to be, where Dad had first met the Item Number on a film shoot.
“Are you paying attention?” Uhnna sounded like a testy old grump.
“Sorry—I thought someone was at the door.”
You’ve got to keep the big man calm, he told himself. A lot hangs on him getting things perfect.
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes. I’m alone. I’ll tell them what to do, no problem.”
The don asked him to hold on for a minute, and his mind drifted to the sparklers. Explosives Bilal would know nothing about, for the climax of the movie.
Item Number would be the difficult part of the cast to procure, but Bilal would swing it. Tell her stories. She’d wonder why it had to be here. Fearing. Rightly so. Bilal would be useful one last time. When a rocket crosses the upper reaches of the atmosphere, the boosters detach one by one before the astronaut can go into space.
“The Malayali is being questioned again.”
He loved how Uhnna called Shetty the Malayali, as if he himself wasn’t one.
“He isn’t much use anymore,” he said. “If things get worse, he takes the fall.”
“That wasn’t the original plan. You wanted someone else pinned.”
“We both did. No help for it now. You have time to change things around.”
The Home Minister had agreed this was the best option. The investigation was in the papers, and the inspector might not shut up. Pin it on Shetty and deal with that pesky inspector later. The commissioner would do his bit, the way he’d done all these years.
“I don’t like this, but all right.” Maybe Uhnna liked Shetty, after all.
“You make sure the girl comes in.”
“Why can’t my men lure her out?” Uhnna said. “Far less trouble.”
“She has to decide, make up her own mind.”
The Item Number had never given him a choice—not at the railway tracks, nor in his bed. He wasn’t a monster like her. He let women choose.
“Your money, your rules. She hasn’t reported her daughter missing yet, but that could change. We must be careful. They’ll send her a little gift today then, as incentive.”
“Don’t make it gory. There’s an election coming soon.”
The sooner this mess disappeared, the better. The Home Minister would not like him if the “little gift” turned into a blood-soaked sensation, ammunition in the hands of the opposition party in the state, and the media. That fattu had spoken to the papers more than once.
“My men are on the job. You’ll get your girl. Unless that boyfriend of hers pokes his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Then he’ll add one more to the count. Take your time. You and I both know how this will end.”
Choti Diwali tonight. Once Bilal was taken care of, time enough for fun before everything came apart. Proper Diwali the day after. He’d destroy all the journals. The basement workshop would go after he’d used it for the final time—Bilal was already removing the extra equipment, and should be done by evening.
His collection in the cubbyhole remained. Letting that go would be painful. Cleansing hurt.
He pulled them all out, laid them out in their individual ziplock bags. Beads from a necklace, a hook from a bra, a nose ring. Maybe he’d keep them for today. The finale was not for some time yet.