Deepika and Ranveer were waiting for their ride in the hotel lobby. Deepika was talking to a lean and tall middle-aged woman who had the face of a beaten boxer. She was Deepika's manager, Sharin Wintour. Her firm broad jaws and resolute eyes alone were enough to get her the job, but she was even better with negotiations and impeccable in paperwork. Qualities without which you won't survive a day in the ruthless and unforgiving business of pretty faces, especially when you are a woman.

"The event can't be canceled now," she said in her one tone voice practiced over years of meetings with brands and clients. A tone that wasn't imposing but assertive.

"Sharin, I am too tired," Deepika pleaded, her eyes wandering. Sharin stood an inch above her expressionless, gazing at her with penetrating eyes accusing her of unprofessional behavior.

"It's Mumbai press, Deepika. You know they are the worst."

That was the end of the discussion.

Ranveer sat alone his head high talking to himself like he always did before the cameras rolled. Nothing he said in public was unscripted. He rehearsed everything. He wasn't spontaneous with media and fans like Shah Rukh, but he wanted to be Shah Rukh someday.

Deepika walked to him her hands on her sides which were burning with pain. She wore a tight hugging deep neck white skirt. The deep neck went down to her navel, which her designer said, had become her signature style.

She stretched her back stealing short glances at Ranveer. She wished he cracked some jokes or talk about his passion, acting. He had a wonderful sense of humor and she loved to listen to him talk about acting, just to see that sparkle in his eyes. While her interests in the job weren't much beyond what transpired on the sets during her scenes, he was crazy about preparations, camerawork and even editing. Deepika looked at him longingly. He was probably busy rehearsing his jokes for the press.

She could just lay in his embrace clinging to the warm suit he wore. Much to her relief, Ranveer never wore weird around her; it was his own PR game which Sharin felt is funny only from a distance and so she had nearly commanded Ranveer to wear decent during public appearances with Deepika.

But he was too far, engrossed in his preparations. Like he was in the alleyway upstairs when he swept her off her feet. But she couldn't blame him. Wasn't space her wish? Even though both their PR had pressed for cozy photoshoots, collective brand endorsements, and whatnot. Wasn't she preventing herself from getting too close?

"Your ride is here, ma'am.", someone called.

Deepika broke out of her trance. She glanced at the hotel attendant in his magenta suit, in a pretentious bow his hands clasped in front. She scowled at him, then regretted it and walked away. As Sharin would have said, she lost a fan.

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