Rosy Rockstar

"The Return of Rosy Rockstar" announced the papers. "Book your tables now!", "Early bird wins a date with Rosy and a complimentary glass of rose wine", "Rosy in Roxy!"

Who does these headlines? Rosy could not believe the sleaziness of the bar owners in promoting her return. She was trying on the costumes for the rehearsals. Have I taken the pill? The whole of last week was a lucrative, lubricated one. She slept with everyone, well almost. With Christmas around, a lot of shopping had to be done after all. Her son Praveen (she was born Radha Kumar) would be so happy when she would gift him the yearly membership at the cricket coaching centre. He knew of her avatar. You couldn't hide your very tailored curves from a growing boy, could you?

She adjusted the waistline of her skirt, two inches southwards. Tomorrow, tomorrow I will say 'yes' to Abraham Sir. Rosy stuck her legs to the pole and balanced herself seductively between the pole and her guitar. Subtlety wasn't exactly her middle name. She wore a flimsy throng underneath, flimsy enough for as many as four proposals for this one night. Cyrus Sir is back from UK. His tip will be the highest. Calculatively, she went back with Cyrus. 

Rosy's night was to begin in half an hour. Praveen was delighted with his Christmas gift. The hoots from the bar could be heard from the artist's room. Drunk howlers' hoot. No, this is a hoot of chaotic urgency. "Rosy! Run! Fire on the first floor!" Quickly, picking up her bag Rosy took to the streets in her costume. As the people gathered on the other side to watch the building be gobbled by the flames, they could not but turn their attention towards Rosy. All heat was centred there. All eyes focussed.

Abraham emerged from the bar, and Rosy ran to him. Now was a very good time. He needs comforting. "Oh, Abe!"

"Get inside the car."

They jumped into the sedan and while Abraham made urgent phone calls, Rosy managed his nerves. Stroke after stroke. Like many years ago, Rosy returned to Abe. This time to lap up his lust. Two years later, Mrs & Mr Arnold Abraham booked newspaper space for more headlines. They were re-opening the bar that was burnt to ashes. Rosy took special attention to finetune the headlines. Praveen was handling the wholesale transactions and she sat at the cash. Poor Mr Abraham smiled beside, from his wheelchair. He boasted it was caused because of a fall from the bed while Rosy Rockstar was at it. Men did not know whether to be envious of him, or pity him.