Agastya Singh Chauhan

“That was great!”

The lights illuminate, and I witness every face glowing with pride at the director’s praise. We give ourselves a huge round of applause, smiling and high-fiving each other. As the excitement slowly dies down, I go over to the storage section to grab my backpack when the casting director calls out to me. I turn around just as the woman approaches me with a warm smile.

“Here you go.” She holds out a cheque to me. I blink down at it in disbelief, my gaze darting up to her face in joy. “We got a few sponsors onboard last week.”

Accepting the cheque, I envelope her in an almost suffocating hug, and she can’t help but laugh. She pats my back softly, while I stretch out the hug until the tears in my eyes have dried up. Pulling away after a long moment, I look back down at the cheque in my hands, of merely £7000, but it’s not the amount, it’s the money that breathes life into me again, making the month’s turmoil all worth it. Life is suddenly starting to make sense again.

“Thank you so much.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” She shakes her head with a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry for the delay. But please know that it wasn’t anything personal. The higher-ups usually make the decision of holding onto the rookie artists’ payments so they can pay the senior artists in time.”

Nodding in understanding, I step back and collect my backpack, stuffing the cheque into the first zip-pocket before heading outside the theatre. Catching a bus back to the metro station, I walk to the last window seat available and plop down, hugging my bag close to my chest, a smile temporarily etched onto my face.

After getting off at the Bond Street Station, I all but make a run for the bank considering their working hours are about to end. Making it to the bank in record time of seven minutes, I pant roughly, guiding myself to the designated window to encash my cheque. As the man behind the counter clears my cheque, he lets me know the amount will reflect in my account in two business days, bringing a grin over my face.

“Thank you,” he nods back with a polite smile.

I turn around and walk out of the bank, checking my account online to see how much money I have right now.

Hundred and twenty pounds.

I also check my wallet to see if I have any extra cash left and a chuckle escapes me seeing the wrinkled note of twenty pounds still sitting in there, looking very cozy and comfortable. Enough to last me a day or two. With a satisfactory sigh leaving my mouth, I catch a bus and get down at the stop which is just a half a mile from Ira’s place.

Coming home, I’m greeted by the sight of my girlfriend reading a book on the couch and her dog all snuggled up to her side. She barely glances at me when I step in, hyper-focused on her book. I drop my backpack on the dining table and pick up a bottle of water from the refrigerator before heading to the attached living room. Sitting down adjacent to her, I twist open the cap of the bottle and chug a few mouthfuls of it down my throat, hydrating my parched mouth.

“How was your day?” She asks me, flipping the page of her book.

“Awesome,” I grin, making her look up at me with a smile of her own.

“You look happy, got any good news to share with me?”

I nod. “But I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

She squints her eyes. “Why the suspense?”

“Because it’s a surprise.” I shrug.

She sigh, “You and your surprises,” she says, shaking her head.

“Accha suno na,” I get off the chair and sit next to her, looping my arm around hers, prompting her to hum encouragingly, “When is this field trip you were telling me about yesterday?”

“This Thursday.” She states, her tone monotonous, lacking any enthusiasm.

“You do not sound excited about it. Why are you even going?”

“It’s mandatory.” She forces a smile my way.

“Okay, well, where are you going?”

“Manchester.”

I groan softly. “That’s too far. And how long will you be gone for?”

“Two days,” she mumbles, causing me to groan the second time.

It was yesterday Ira told me her school is taking all the senior students on a field trip, and she’s expected to come along because they’re paying her too much to just sit at the desk and issue out books—her words not mine. I didn’t ask her much about it, partly because I was way too occupied with my own mess to worry about anything else, but now that I’m finally free and myself again, it felt important to ask her about this trip she’s going on with a bunch of eighteen years old kids.

“Is there another Arnold I should be worried about accompanying you on this trip?” I ask, feigning to be serious, but really just pulling her leg.

She slaps me on the arm with the back of her book, “Shut up.”

I laugh softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “It’s Tuesday tomorrow. You have work?”

She nods, “You don’t?”

“Not really. We’re taking a break before the last rehearsal.” I relay, plucking out a grape from the fruit bowl and popping it in my mouth unwashed. “I’m free tomorrow. Can you not take a leave from your shift at the bar?” She looks at me quizzically. “For the surprise I have in mind.”

“It better be worth it.” She states, picking up her phone to make a call, probably to ask someone to cover her shift.

“Yes! Thank you.” I press a kiss to her cheek, getting off the sofa to get ready for my shift at the café.

Togo follows me to the bedroom, sprawling down on the cold floor and resting his mouth on one of his front paws, watching me change into casual clothes for work. I engage him in mindless, pointless conversations and he listens to it all curiously, like I’m declaring next year’s tax regime. Having finished getting ready, I pluck out a t-shirt from my side of the wardrobe and slide it off the hanger, sitting on the floor in front of him with my legs crossed. He rises on his front legs, bearing patience as I put on the ridiculously baggy t-shirt on him, before grabbing one of my sunglasses from the collection and putting it on for him. I doll myself up in Ira’s red fur scarf and put on her bright red lipstick, turning around to show myself to Togo, who quickly turns his head away, like he regrets having a healthy eyesight.

“Time for the reveal!”

 As both of us strut out, I stop at the doorstep, exaggerating my poses into more feminine styles with my hips jutting out and mouth pulled together in a pout. Ira bursts out laughing, quickly unlocking her phone to snap photos of us. When Togo attempts to leave, I scoop him up like a baby, holding him on my hips and bending low so the glasses slide down slightly to reveal his electric blue eyes.

Seems like Ira is having the most fun because she cannot stop laughing and taking photos of us.

The fun session ends when Togo wiggles down my arms, sheds off the glasses with a violent shake of his head and saunters to his bed, slumping down with a huff. I take off the muffler, sinking into the couch to take a breather, an amused smile lingering on my face as Ira continues to giggle at me. Plucking out a tissue from the box placed on the lampstand, I wipe off the red lipstick from my face and pocket the tissue to throw it away later in the dustbin.

“What was that?” She asks me, chuckling softly after I have taken another sip from the almost empty water bottle.

“You looked a bit upset.” I shrug.

The smile on her face fades, replaced with awe. “How did I get so lucky?” She whispers, breathing out deeply.

“By existing,” I wink.

A blush creeps onto her cheeks and a smile returns to her face, albeit a little bashful. Getting off the sofa chair, I lean in to press a kiss to her forehead and rest mine against hers for three long seconds. “See you later. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she drops a chaste kiss to my lips.

“Bye,” I say, pulling away.

“Come soon,” she says after me.

I stop at the front door and hold it open, “As you wish, Jade,” flashing her a big smile, I wave at her and Togo one last time before closing the door shut. Stopping in front of the elevator, I call for it to arrive, which it does in less than a minute and I step in, pressing for the ground floor.

Reaching the café that is at a walking distance from Ira’s place, I clock in for my shift and put on the apron, replacing Brian as a barista behind the counter. The busy hours are from six to eight since that is the standard time when the corporate employees head home or step out for a break. I wouldn’t say I make the best coffees in the town, but considering I’m a good cook and know my way around the kitchen, I work with the coffee machines and ingredients with a natural ease, building a loyal customer base in just over a month and half.

“The regular?” I ask Lyla, one of my loyal customers.

The blonde-haired young woman nods, her attitude pleasant than most of the customers I have gotten acquainted with over the last few weeks.

“That’ll be-“

“£2.50, I know.” She cuts me off with a knowing smile, presenting me with her debit card.

“Thank you,” I return the card to her, “Just give me five minutes.”

This place really needs to hire a separate individual to handle the counter. One person can only do so much at the same time. No wonder Krystal, the barista before me, left the job in just over six months. Handing Lyla her preferred cup of coffee, I get back to the counter, taking in the impatient and eager faces standing in the queue. With a fatigued sigh, I plaster a fake, polite smile on my face and resume work.

Max steps in just as I’m about to clock out of my shift. I submit the apron to the guy taking over after me and grab myself a cup of coffee that I prepared during a break, carrying it over to the table where he waits for me after giving his order. He wastes no time in unzipping his backpack and producing the contract papers, sliding them over to me with a ball pen to sign them.

“Read them carefully first,” he suggests when I pick up the pen and papers.

“I don’t need to,” I smile sheepishly, sliding the papers back to him.

He frowns, ironing it out quickly when the waitress comes back with his order, which is unsurprisingly another pastry. “What do you mean?” His gaze shifts back to me.

“I’m not doing it.” I shake my head, my words firm and final.

His brows dip, looking bewildered, “But you were onboard with it until yesterday.”

“Because I thought I had no choice.”

“Like you do now?” he remarks sarcastically. “Agastya, beggars cannot be choosers. You’re ought to take every opportunity you can. You need the exposure.”

“You’re right,” I offer him a small smile, “Beggars cannot be choosers. But just because I have no choice, does not mean I need to eat shit off the road. And yes, I need the exposure, but not this kind of exposure, Max. I’m not going to sell myself so low for money. I know my worth and working for a platform that sells cheap porn to satisfy some cougar’s creepy fantasies is not it.”

He sighs, “Was the script that bad?”

“You’d have barfed if you read it.” I scoff. “It’s not just promoting abuse of power play, but also non-consensual sex.”

His nose scrunches in disgust, “That sounds terrible.”

“Trust me, that was the sugar-coated version of it.”

Nodding, he puts the contract back in his bag, “The BC is going to chew my head off for wasting his time.”

I sputter out the coffee from my mouth at his choice of words. He recoils back, looking disgusted.

“What the hell?”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call him?”

“BC?” he sounds clueless.

“Wha- What does that mean?”

“Business Counsellor. He’s the one who came to me with this offer.” He clarifies.

“Oh!” I exclaim, breathing out an amused chuckle. “I thought—never mind, I thought nothing.” Shaking my head, I sip on my coffee, keeping the mirth in check.

“So, how are you going to manage now? Do you have anything in mind?”

“Well, my next month is sorted.” I shrug, “I got my cheque for the play today that I’ve already submitted in the bank, I’ll also get my salary credited on the fifth of next month. So yeah, for the next thirty days, I’m actually stress free.”

“Good, because I happen to have a modelling gig for you.” He says, holding out a visiting card to me. “They are in search for a male model of your age to market their protein powder. The pay is good too. All they need is your portfolio. But you’ll need to shed off all the baby fat you’ve accumulated over the years before sending in your face profiles.” He points to my cheeks, making me feel self-conscious again. I look at him in deadpan. “And there’s a condition, which I’m not sure you can pull off in the given time.”

“What condition?”

“You need to weigh in the range of 140-165 pounds. How much do you weigh?”

“The last time I checked it was around 180 pounds.” I state nervously.

“That shouldn’t be a problem then. How long ago was that?”

“Three months.”

“Oh, it’s a problem alright.” He releases a tough breath.

“How much time do I have to get back in shape?”

“Twenty days.” He states.

I gape at him in shock. “Do you want me to starve?”

“If you need to,” he eats the last bits of his pastry, “Remember, beggars cannot be choosers.” With a wink at me, he beckons over the waitress with the final bill. “Better run to the gym as soon as possible.”

“I don’t have the money to hire a trainer.” I look up at him miserably, “And let’s be real, dropping so much weight healthily in under a month is next to impossible without someone guiding you.”

He looks at me seriously, “They’re offering £12,000.”

“I’ll figure something out.” I nod with certainty.

“Good.” He pays for his pastry and walks out with a pat on my shoulder, one that expresses his pity rather than his confidence in me.

I pick up the cup of my coffee, taking in its sweet scent and putting it back down with a huff, denying myself of the sweet treat against the voices screaming inside my head to just go for it since it’ll be the last time for the longest of times.

Nope.

I shake my head.

To lose weight, you need determination and discipline, both of which I’m lacking currently. I can’t fall for temptations. I’ve chosen a field that needs me to stay healthy. I’m not bargaining with my career just so I can eat whatever I want.

Pushing away the cup of coffee, I lend it a mourning glance before getting off the chair and stepping out of the café in the chilling cold. Hugging myself around the front, I take quick steps in the direction of the home, reaching in less than twenty minutes. Togo greets me at the doorstep and I stop to pet him for a while. Ira is in the kitchen, preparing something, and I’m sure it’s delicious from the aroma wafting through the air. My stomach growls in response and I slap it softly, chastising it for having demands. From now on, I’m only going to feed myself enough to function normally.

“I made mac and cheese, and-“

“I’m having salad.” I cut in, walking into the kitchen behind her.

She pauses abruptly to stare at me. “What?”

“Salad,” I smile her way sheepishly.

“But- But I made mac and cheese.” She says softly, sounding upset.

It’s okay, I can eat tonight and start dieting from tomorrow.

No!

But the food will go to waste.

You can give it to Lara and Harry.

But she sounds so upset.

Do you want to survive on her fifty pounds again after next month is over?

Okay, fine! Geez!

“I’m sorry,” I smile apologetically, “I got this modelling gig and the pay is way too good. They need me to weigh in the bracket of 140 to 165 pounds. I can’t lose this opportunity.”

The corners of her lips turn downward, expressing her sadness. “It’s fine. I’ll give your portion to Lara.” She says, forcing a smile my way.

“I’m really sorry, Ira.”

She shakes her head, her smile turning genuine, “It’s for your work. I understand.”

“Thank you so much, my love,” I engulf her in a tight hug. “What would I do without you?”

“Sleep around with older women,” she snorts.

“Touché,” I wince, and we both laugh.