Free Hot Stuff by Flo Fitzpatrick

Jake Roshan. Finest director in India. And he’d be the finest in America if I could ever persuade him to film there. Even just one or two.”
    Jake smiled. “Brig likes to tease. I’m quite satisfied making my Masala films, although I use much of what I learned in the States as far as dramatic content and how to create a script. Anyway, the people of India seem to like my movies. They’re great escapist fare. And people here, as people everywhere, need entertainment.”
    I nodded. “My cab driver adores them. He talked nonstop about how wonderful you and your movies are the whole way here. He also seemed quite enamored of an actress named Asha something. You worked with her on a film that had tigers in it? And pirates?”
    Jake’s expression turned from cheer to doom. Brig shook his head at me. I felt like the mother who’d just taken the last bit of Halloween candy from her child and thrown it away. The piece the child had been saving for later.
    â€œI’m sorry. Did I put my foot in it?”
    Jake shook his head. “Asha Kumar is a fine actress. I’d go so far as to say a brilliant actress. And she is a beautiful woman. We were supposed to get married in the spring. She called it off two days ago.”
    I may have stuck a foot in, but Brig went full out and added a knee and a thigh. “What the hell? That’s just damn silly. You two are the perfect couple. Do I need to have a talk with your intended and set her straight? Why is it I can’t leave the pair of you alone for two days without you mucking it up somehow?”
    Terrific. Briggan O’Brien, couples counselor.
    Jake saw the look I sent Brig. He smiled before responding with, “It’s okay, Miss Walsh. I’m not offended. I know Brig quite well. We attended Yale University together. I’m generally wary of taking his advice. In fact, I might go so far as to say the day I listen to him in matters of the heart is the day I take a slow barge down the Mula River with a cargo of rabid monkeys.”
    I liked this expression so much I almost missed the rest of this response. Then it hit.
    â€œYale? You were at Yale? Both of you?”
    Jake chuckled. “I was given a full scholarship to the Yale drama department and ended up with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. But I’m still not sure what Brig did there, and we were roommates for three years.”
    Brig smiled innocently. “Unlike Jake here, I had no scholarship money dropped into my eager hands. Nevertheless, I did step out of the esteemed halls of ivy with a degree in Liberal Arts. Plus, I have a Masters in Humanities from New York University.”
    I grinned. “What does that mean? Liberal Arts and Humanities? In other words, you have no discernible means of earning a living. Right?”
    Jake roared. “She’s sharp, this one. I’ve often asked the same question for the last ten years. And Brig has yet to answer with anything remotely sane. Two useless degrees. That’s rich. I like you, Miss Walsh.”
    Our kidding did not seem to bother Brig. He preened and twirled and bowed and finally stated in a bit of his brogue, “I am a Renaissance man. I’m havin’ knowledge of all things on heaven and earth, unlike you peasants who have only dabbled in one or two subjects in your lives. I shall therefore be takin’ no notice of your attempts to belittle all me grand accomplishments.”
    â€œAnd what would those be?” Jake quickly asked.
    Brig opened his mouth. I could see his mind inventing more than one tall tale, but just then, Jake’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID bar and motioned us to silence. “I’m so sorry. This is an important call. People who want to finance my film. I have to take this. I’ll be back shortly.”
    Brig and I tactfully retreated and walked toward one of the enormous carnival tents. Brig assumed the kind of narrator voice suitable