"Was it good?" Ashish held out his phone. "Check it out for yourselves, dudes. You guys looked just like Anushka and Shah Rukh out there." He played them a snippet.
Rishi was astounded. He'd known Dimple had looked good, but he'd been distracted by his own steps. Now, seeing it like Ashish had, he was blown away. She looked like a professional . Not like someone who'd decided to do this for a talent show, but like someone who did it all the time. Every step was fire; her hips were magic.
"You should be a dancer," he said, and then whistled. "I mean, wow."
She smiled and blushed adorably, swatting at him. "I'm so glad it looked okay. I really want to win that money."
"You will," Ashish said with absolute sincerity, and Rishi's heart surged with love for his little brother.
Dimple was giddy with glee. She stood in front of the mirror, wiping her makeup off with remover José had given her. He seemed genuinely excited for Rishi and her, which she thought was sweet. Dimple could see, flush from the endorphins of a great performance, why actors and performers got addicted to this kind of thing. It had always seemed unfathomable to her, choosing a career where all you did was put yourself out in front of hundreds or thousands of people and risked rejection in real time. But if they felt even half of what she was feeling now when it went well . . .
Cackling laughter broke Dimple out of her reverie. She looked in the mirror to see Isabelle and Celia stumble in behind her, arms around each other, laughing and swaying, clearly drunk on something besides life. Celia's face was red and sweaty, her usually buoyant curls stuck to the back of her neck and her forehead. She was wearing a hot pink leotard with a cotton ball tail and a headband with pink, glittery ears. She looked like she'd been dipped in body glitter. Isabelle was dressed in a black bikini that showed 98 percent of her skin, but she kept holding her arms in front of her chest and stomach, like maybe she wasn't the one who'd chosen that particular outfit.
"Oh dear gods," Rishi muttered next to her, his mouth twisting into a mixture of distaste and pity. "Celia's trying to be a sexy bunny."
"I wonder what the guys are dressed like," Dimple said just as Evan and Hari walked in. They were, no surprise, both shirtless. Their six-packs (collective twelve-packs?) had been coated in bronzing oil. Dimple got a whiff from where she stood-it smelled like the word "tropical." They wore surf shorts and their hair was carelessly bedheady.
Evan caught her eye and flashed her a thousand-watt grin. "Nice stretchy pants," he said, half leering. "Too bad you got no booty to fill them out."
Rishi stood up, hands balled at his sides. "What did you say?"
Dimple put a hand on his arm. "Not worth it," she said, looking straight at Evan, who laughed and bumped fists with Hari before they kept moving.
Celia didn't even spare her a glance. Dimple wasn't sure she'd even seen her, but it still stung.
"Man, those singer guys just bombed so hard. I mean, they utterly and totally butchered ‘Hotel California,' " Ashish said, walking in with two bottles of water. He stopped when he caught sight of Celia and the Aberzombie group, his smile slowly fading.
Dimple walked up to him and took the bottles of water. She spoke quietly, looking at him, though his eyes never left Celia. "She's just doing this because she wants to finally have that high school experience she never had. It means nothing."
Ashish swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly. He looked down at her. "That just makes it worse," he said, and walked out just as Evan picked up Celia with one arm and she began squealing.
Dimple walked back to Rishi and handed him one of the bottles. "That sucks," she said, sighing. "I think he really likes her."
Rishi hadn't opened the bottle. He was looking out toward the hallway where Ashish had disappeared. "Yeah," he said, sort of wonderingly. "I think he really does."
"What?" Dimple asked. "Why do you have that look?"
Rishi turned to her after a long pause, as if just realizing she'd asked a question. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. "I need to go talk to Ashish for a second."
CHAPTER 50
Rishi found Ashish sitting by a huge stack of folding chairs in a dark, dusty corner of the backstage area. He had his hands between his knees, fingers laced together, and was staring out into the middle distance. Rishi cleared his throat softly, and Ashish looked up at him. It struck Rishi how soft and vulnerable and hurt his little brother looked in the instant before his defensiveness came back. I did that, Rishi thought, and the idea stung like nettle. I've made him defensive by constantly judging his choices because they aren't the ones I'd make.