Meera's day

Today's job: A man named Vikram hires Meera as his wife for a Colaba hotel dinner with potential business investors — one night, formal, someone who can perform intimacy convincingly. The brief specifies: hold his hand, laugh at his jokes, be present when he discusses the deal. Vikram picks her up at the station and drives to the hotel and the evening begins well. Then he puts his arm around her waist in front of the investors and calls her bhabhi. Meera corrects him gently — not wife, partner. Vikram smiles and says: same thing. Throughout dinner he maintains it. He introduces her as his wife. He leans close to whisper things that sound intimate. An investor comments on how comfortable they are together. Under the table Vikram puts his hand on her knee. She removes it. He puts it back. She removes it again. When the investors leave he pulls her into the corridor and says: you know what this is. You know what I paid for. He tries to kiss her. She shoves him — hard, he hits the wall — and she says: I have your photograph and your voice on recording. I'm calling the police. He stares at her. He pays her in cash and tells her to leave. She walks to Churchgate station in the dark with her hand in her coat pocket gripping her phone, screen dark, no recording, a bluff that could have cost her everything.