Glamour Puss by R. J. Kaiser

Author:R. J. Kaiser [Kaiser, R. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance Suspense
ISBN: 9781551666143
Publisher: Mira
Published: 2000-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

Monday, August 28, 2000

Pacific Palisades

For the first time in months, Venita dreamed of her husband, Ranjit Govind. But she awoke next to her twenty-year-old American lover, Troy Hampton. That was hardly the story of the typical Indian woman, modern or otherwise. Ranjit was her past, the father-husband who had defined her world and made her a queen—fashioned from his own imagination and will. But then he’d died and Venita’s life had begun its gradual decent into infamy. Perhaps the Hindu wives of old who’d practiced sati, climbing upon their husbands’ funeral pyres, knew what they were doing. Perhaps the British, in abolishing the custom, had done the Indian widows no favors. What, after all, was a few minutes of agony in the flames compared to the water-torture life of a woman struggling to make it alone in a man’s world?

Of course, Venita hadn’t bowed to the will of the vengeful male gods. She’d bid Ranjit farewell, and then gone on to pursue her dreams. Ramda Bol, unfortunately, had proven to be a grave mistake, a dream become a night-mare—a nightmare presently in the guise of Percy Gay-lord.

From the moment Troy had uttered Percy’s name, Venita figured the game was over. All that remained was to plan her exit. There was no way she could hold things together with Percy trumpeting her story. Once he’d gotten to the bottom of the Arjay-Amal business—if, indeed, he hadn’t already—all of Hollywood would see her as a fraud.

What she couldn’t absolutely be sure of, though, was what Percy was really up to. Like most journalists, he loved dirt—anything to feed the prurient minds of the reading public. And, like most journalists, Percy would gladly—cheerfully, even—provide the necessary corpses to feed the dogs.

If there was a sliver of hope, it was that Percy might be after something other than her scalp. Maybe it was Ramda Bol he wanted.

The whole story hadn’t yet been told—nor would it ever, as far as she was concerned. But there were certain things that, were they to come out, would cause Ramda more harm than her. Was that where Percy had aimed his sights?

The irony was that Venita had brought much of her woe upon herself, allowing her ambition to carry her into the world of politics. She had been seduced not only by Ramda Bol, but by his dreams. At thirty-eight Ramda had been the darling of the Congress Party and roundly considered the likely successor to the prime minister. But being the mistress of such a man, while rewarding in some ways, had limitations. She’d have forever been Ramda Bol’s whore—glorified whore, perhaps, but whore nonetheless.

Instead, Venita had aspired to hold the reins of political power in her own right. Looking back on it, she’d been terribly naive. Oh, but how tempting the dream had seemed at the time.

Arjay had asked her why it wasn’t enough to be adored by millions of movie fans. And she’d told him the truth: “The adoration of the public can’t be trusted.”

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