#
Me. At home. With Sebastian. In my body. No. Bitch. Mary Ann took her body back. Bitch. I want to go back inside her. I want to be in Chris's arms again. I want to have a romantic dinner with him.
Sebastian is worried. He says I'm very pale. That we can stay home if I don't feel good. I'm very sick and not hungry at all. He gives up and goes to the kitchen to make a sandwich.
Damned Mary Ann, give me back your body!
#
I tried to call Johnny, but he doesn't want to talk to me. He hates me because I took my body back, or something like this, he wasn't very clear when I reached him instead of Sebastian. I guess he's still confused about it.
He's been only twenty-four hours in my body and didn't use it very well! He didn't ask Chris to use condoms, and now I'm pregnant. I can't take the pill, so we've always used condoms. Now we'll have the son of a brainless gay guy who used my body. I don't know if it's good or bad yet. Chris and I got much closer to each other, after that strange night. We talked, about us, about what happened and our marriage has come out stronger.
I've heard from Sebastian, we're friends now: I had told him my name when I was in Johnny's body and after many phone calls trying to reach his boyfriend, he asked to meet me. We had a dinner the three of us, Chris included. It was a great evening, Sebastian is very sweet and sensible. And patient, but he has his limits: he kicked Johnny out of his house, he was sick of his tantrums.
Johnny is only a spoiled kid, I wonder if what happened helped him to grow up, or he'll let Sebastian go...
Bonus story – prequel of Pat&Babs
Kyle and Rohit
(not a body switch)
1. The Eternal City
Rohit sat at the Café de Paris in Via Veneto, quite oblivious of his surroundings. He'd stepped out of the Hotel Excelsior and stopped at the first place with tables outside, more dragged in by the waiter than because he wanted to try his first Italian cappuccino. In fact he'd ordered a chai on that fine October morning, and then lost himself in thought.
His bandaged wrists still itched, reminding him why he'd left in such a hurry, without any programs in mind. He wondered once more why they'd taken the trouble of saving him. He was finished – as a star, as a man – so why bother?
His concerned parents had suggested he take a break away from home, so he'd jumped on the first flight out of Mumbai and ended up in Rome. Not that he cared where he was. But he was relieved to be alone – and anonymous – for the first time in years.
All the fame and gossip he'd had back in India had messed with his head, confusing him to the point he'd screwed his life completely. His beloved wife had dumped him, a rising starlet had called the paparazzi on them, raising a minor scandal, and he'd been kicked out of the latest production. One day a hot young star, the next blacklisted in Bollywood. Was it really so surprising that he'd tried to put an end to his misery?
Just because he'd followed in his family's footsteps and broke into Bollywood, didn't guarantee personal success. He was a good dancer, but not a very good actor – he was a highly sensitive person who didn't really crave all the attention he'd received so far.
Hence the breakdown and the need to get away and find himself a place away from the glamor of his "previous" life. Except he didn't know what to do with himself in a foreign country.
He sipped his tea with a sigh. He had lost track of time – and it couldn't be just jet-lag. But he still hurt, inside and outside, and couldn't see a way out of his depression.
"Excuse me?" The voice startled him. "May I?"
A tall, dark-haired man was asking if he could sit at his table – although most tables were empty.
"Sure," Rohit answered, puzzled, looking around the half-empty veranda.
The man smiled and sat.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I've seen you sitting here all day for two days in a row and was wondering if you like it so much that you ignore everything else," he said.
"Huh? Um, no," Rohit admitted, frowning at his tea as if it was its fault he hadn't bothered moving around. "I didn't plan to come and don't know what's up."
"And you're obviously not a Trip Advisor user," the other joked. "You are aware you're in Via Veneto, the most expensive street in Rome? This bar was immortalized in 1960 in the movie La Dolce Vita by Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini..."
Rohit focused on the man. "Movie buff?" he asked bluntly. Although western movie buffs usually didn't know much about Bollywood.
The other grinned. "You could say that. Only a movie buff would spend so much time in Via Veneto. It's not the most touristic of places. Okay, there's the American Embassy down there," he pointed downhill, "but you don't sound American."
"I'm Indian. And unlike Americans, we have as many old stones as Italy, if not more. So, I'm not really interested in visiting."
"Sounds fair. So you're here for the Rome Film Festival?"
"Why, there's a film festival?"
"Of course. Not as old and glamorous as Venice, but it's on this week. That's why I'm here."
"Oh, I see." Rohit smiled. "So you really are a movie buff."
"My name is Kyle." He leaned forward and offered his hand over the table.
"Rohit," he answered shaking it.
"Actually, I'm a gossip journalist." Kyle leaned back in his chair.
Rohit stiffened.
"I came here all the way from LA to see if I could gather some news, but so far nothing," Kyle continued, looking around. "Well, let's say I took it as an opportunity to visit Italy at my boss's expenses," he added with a grin. "But I'm kind of sick of this job of chasing celebrities, so I'm thinking to become a novelist instead."
Rohit relaxed a little. Kyle was an American gossip journalist, he couldn't possibly know about him.
"Are you writing novels about Hollywood or things like that?" he asked.
"Novels about people," Kyle answered. "I've met so many... Everybody has a story. If I could mash up a few and create a work of fiction..."
Rohit pondered. That sounded interesting. He could do the same.
"I've met some interesting people too," he said, thoughtful. Maybe writing would be a therapy. Maybe he could find himself by writing about other people.
"And now you're in a foreign country, there's a lot to explore," Kyle said.
"True." Rohit smiled. "Help me explore this town. I admit I have been lazy so far."
"Let's blame it on jet-lag, shall we?" Kyle replied. "Are you up for a walk?"
"Sure." Rohit rose and followed him on the sidewalk. He was wary of talking about himself to a journalist, but Kyle didn't ask personal questions and seemed to ignore the bandages on his wrists.
Kyle discussed the film festival as they went down Via Veneto and reached Piazza Barberini. He asked Rohit if he'd like to see any movie, but Rohit declined – he'd rather not think about the movie industry for a while.
As they strolled down Via del Tritone, Kyle kept talking mostly about himself, arousing Rohit's curiosity. He was happy to listen for once, instead of being pressed with questions by mean journalists who only wanted to see him fall from grace. Which had happened, eventually, although he could blame only himself for it.
Rohit was glad to hear Hollywood and Bollywood were very similar. He'd considered trying to break into Hollywood, but after hearing Kyle's stories, he decided he better quit acting altogether.
Then they reached the Trevi Fountain. Kyle described the Fellini movie and suggested Rohit throw a coin in the fountain – to come back to Rome. Amused by the strange custom, Rohit turned his back to the fountain and threw a rupee over his shoulder.
Kyle grinned and asked if he was hungry. Hearing his stomach rumble, Rohit wobbled his head and followed Kyle to the Pantheon, where they sat at the Ristorante da Fortunato's outside tables.
After the waiter took their order, Kyle stared at Rohit, serious.
"What happened to you?" he asked, pointing at Rohit's wrists. "I mean, that looks pretty extreme..."
Rohit hid his hands under the table and hung his head, gulping his renewed pain.
"I messed up," he whispered with a little shrug.
"I'm glad you survived," Kyle said. "I'm sure you can mend."
"I don't know." Rohit felt his heart breaking again as his wife hurled insults at him. "I had everything."
"Everybody screws up sooner or later." Kyle sighed and averted his eyes. "And it's those who have the most who lose the most."
Indeed. Rohit's eyes filled with tears. He couldn't speak with that lump back in his throat.
Kyle leaned forward. "Rohit, you're young and handsome, you shall overcome."
"I'm not that young, I'm almost forty!" he protested.
Kyle smiled. "I know, but I'm almost fifty and I promise you it will pass. My friend Babs says real life starts at forty, so you're ready for the new beginning. Doesn't have to be in Bollywood, if it hurts so much."
Rohit's eyes widened in panic. He knows who I am!
"Relax, Rohit, I won't give away your secrets," Kyle said soothingly.
"You're a gossip journalist!" Rohit blurted out.
"True, but I'm not on duty right now. Nor was I when I approached you."
"Journalists are always on duty!"
"Not me. Besides, I work for Hollywood, where they don't know who you are. I wouldn't know who to sell the news to, unless I tried to sell them in India. But that's why I want to become a novelist. I'm sick of chasing gossip and making up stories."
"You... make them up?" Rohit was shocked.
"Sometimes. Babs says gossip journalists must have as much imagination as fiction writers. And that's why I think I can be a good novelist."
The food interrupted the conversation, allowing Rohit to ponder Kyle's words. He felt a little betrayed, but Kyle's laid back attitude was comforting. Still, he was determined not to reveal any details about himself.
***
Kyle's heart had missed a beat when Rohit had confirmed his identity by saying his name. In person he looked different than on screen, and not only because of the stubble and his brooding expression. The Bollywood Hero was nowhere to be found in the shy and sensitive young man now sitting in front of him at Da Fortunato.
Rohit was obviously hurt and when he realized Kyle knew who he was, he became even more cryptic. So Kyle gave up trying to prod him and, as they ate, he suggested what things they could see nearby. Rohit was obviously not interested in the touristic spots, so Kyle suggested they visited Babs's favorite places within walking distance.
Rohit agreed with a shrug. He obviously didn't have a plan for his stay, so Kyle tried to come up with something.
"You could come to the Film Festival, but everything is dubbed in this country," he said as they paid for their meal.
"Why do you go, then?" Rohit asked.
"To see the guests and look for, you know, gossip. That's what I'm here for. There's no real red carpet, but sometimes you can get a juicy bit here and there."
"I'm glad they don't like Bollywood here," Rohit muttered.
"Actually, Shah Rukh Khan was invited for the release of My Name is Khan," Kyle said, amused.
"Really? And he came?" Rohit asked, puzzled.
"Of course. Unfortunately, I couldn't come that year, so I missed him," Kyle answered as they rose and headed for Piazza Navona, skipping the Caravaggio in San Luigi dei Francesi. Kyle showed how two of the statues – the Nile and the Rio de la Plata – on the Fountain of the Four Rivers by Bernini looked disgusted by the church of Sant'Agnese done by his rival Borromini. Rohit looked surprised to see the Ganges featured in a seventeenth century fountain.
"Portrait? Caricature?" Kyle suggested, pointing at the artists showing their drawings on the piazza. "It's like Montmartre in Paris here."
"No, thank you!" Rohit looked horrified. Maybe the Indian press had already done caricatures of him.
"I'm told the best time to see this square is around Christmas and until January sixth," Kyle continued. "Although you probably won't be staying until then. When were you planning to leave?"
"I don't know." Rohit avoided his stare.
What a brooding beau. But he looked so vulnerable in person – unlike his onscreen persona!
"Let me show you Babs's favorite church," Kyle said as they left Piazza Navona. "She's a history buff who is in love with the middle ages. She even goes to medieval dinners. And Renaissance Faires in America."
"Are you taking me to Saint Peter?" Rohit asked, a little wary.
"No, no." He chuckled. "Saint Peter is too big for her tastes – although she likes the castle nearby where the Pope used to hide in times of siege."
Rohit was only mildly interested, but curious enough to have a good look at the starry gothic ceilings of Santa Maria Sopra a Minerva – a later addition on the original architecture.
"Look, an elephant!" he joked, coming out of the church and pointing at the little obelisk in the square in front of it.
"Makes you feel at home?" Kyle asked, amused.
"Nah. Too small." Rohit shrugged.
They went to Sant'Ignazio to admire the moving perspective of the frescoes of Andrea Pozzo and the fake dome, then crossed through the alleys the Via del Corso and headed for Piazza di Spagna following Via Belsiana – less crowded and noisy than the Corso itself.
Via Condotti took them to the Barcaccia and they went up the stairs to Trinità de' Monti. They walked the Via Sistina to Piazza Barberini, then went up Via Veneto again. Rohit was a little more lively now, and eager to explore more.
"I can show you around tomorrow morning, but in the afternoon I really need to go to the Festival," Kyle said as they reached the Hotel Excelsior.
"Okay," Rohit said.
"Okay what? Morning program or full day program?"
Rohit pondered. "Full day is fine. What are they showing tomorrow at the festival?"
Kyle was glad Rohit had accepted him as a guide. They decided to meet in the Excelsior's lobby, and then they parted.
Kyle went back to his hotel – not as posh as the Excelsior and hidden in the alleys behind Via Veneto – still musing about the chance meeting. Of all places, he'd met a Bollywood star incognito in Rome.
Rohit was a mystery, and a wonderful one. He was obviously wary of a journalist, but Kyle didn't despair to win him over – for the novelist blossoming inside him, mostly.
***
Rohit was glad to have found someone to show him around. He kept quiet most of the time, fearful he might give Kyle any gossip bits, but his guide seemed to be more a friend than a wretched journalist.
As they strolled through Villa Borghese, Kyle told him about his novel, set in Rome – another reason to visit to check a few facts. It was a murder mystery with an American detective framed for the murder of a beautiful Italian woman during his vacation in Italy.
"So are you going to other towns when the festival is over?" Rohit asked, curious.
"No, I'm supposed to go back to LA in a couple of days," Kyle answered with a shrug. "I had considered having a chase throughout Italy, but when I got to Rome, I decided this town is a big enough setting for my purpose. By the way, tomorrow I'm busy in the outskirts, you'll have to visit the touristic stuff on your own."
"It's okay, I can do it," Rohit answered absentmindedly, still taken by the plot of Kyle's book. "Is it going to be a series?"
"Well, it might. Maybe the guy will find trouble in some other country afterward," Kyle answered.
"Another country... like India?" Rohit insisted, amused.
Kyle chuckled. "Why not? If you show me around, I'm sure I can come up with something."
"Mm." Rohit pondered. "I don't want to go back yet."
"Ever been to the US?"
"Yes. Indians are everywhere, in case you didn't notice. And we shoot a lot of movies abroad, lately."
"And Indian money is financing Hollywood, I know. But it's expensive to shoot in LA."
"I haven't been there," Rohit admitted. "The Academy do
esn't like Bollywood, so they never invited me."
"You're not missing much, according to Babs. I don't know, I just happen to live there, and I'm not a wannabe actor. If I become a fulltime novelist, I might move somewhere else, though."
"Like where?"
"Publishers are in New York. I'm very close to quitting, since my boss at the tabloid is driving me crazy with his demands. But I don't have the money to relocate to New York yet."
They reached the terrace of the Pincio and looked down – at Piazza del Popolo and beyond. Rohit studied the landscape, then turned to look at Kyle.
"We could write a book together."
He had no idea where that had come from. He wasn't a writer. But he had a few ideas. Maybe with the help of a professional, he could put them on paper.
"But we must use a pseudonym," he added on second thoughts. He didn't think his screen name would help to sell books. They already criticized his acting, and he didn't want them to take down his writing too.
"You know, there are actors who are also decent novelists," Kyle said. "I've read Ethan Hawke's first novel back in the Nineties and it wasn't bad. I've heard he wrote more. He might not be a best seller, but I'm sure he's doing just fine."
"Yeah, well, he's Ethan Hawke. Not really a Hollywood A-lister. Not that I ever was an A-lister either..." Rohit muttered.
"I think you're good," Kyle said.
"You saw my movies?" Rohit asked, surprised.
Kyle nodded with a smile. "Some scripts are not so good, but I think you do a good job with what you're given. And of course you're the best in the dance numbers."
"Thank you." Rohit was flattered that a westerner appreciated him more than his home country. "But I've had enough of movie sets," he continued, frowning. "You have no idea of what kind of hell they can be."
"I've been on a set or two when I was younger, so I know exactly what you mean," Kyle confided, elbowing him. "And that's why I gave up almost immediately."
Rohit smiled against his will.
"So why did you become a gossip journalist?" he asked.
"It's a freelance job. And I've discovered I'm good at it. I'm also sending out short stories under a pseudonym and the rejections have piled up for years, but I won't give up. I have actually written a couple of novels in my teens, but they're very bad. I like writing in all its forms, so yeah, I've tried screenplays too, since I live in LA, but like Babs says, the writer has no control over those. So I'm switching careers now – mostly because everyone is telling me I'm crazy and too old for it, so I want to prove them wrong."
Body Switches Page 25