Free Combustion by Steve Worland Page B

didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It was embarrassing. Boo-hoo. The end.’
     
    Judd’s about to say something ‘there’s-plenty-of-fish-in-the-sea’ glib, then sees Corey’s actually cut up about it and changes tack. ‘Sorry to hear that. Who is this lady?’
     
    ‘She works at Bowen’s agency. She’s great - funny and interesting and clever and . .. she gets me.’
     
    Just not enough. Judd doesn’t say it. He stays positive. ‘Well, if you feel that strongly, you’ve got to fight for her, pursue her - without being a stalker about it, of course.’
     
    Corey’s face brightens. Judd knows this is new ground for the Aussie. He hasn’t had a lot of positive experience with the opposite sex so he’s looking for any kind of guidance. ‘Really? Do you think that could work?’
     
    He continues to stay positive. ‘I have no idea, but it’s worth a try. Who’s the boyfriend?’
     
    ‘Scott Ford.’
     
    ‘Excuse me?’
     
    ‘His name is Scott Ford —’
     
    ‘The Blue Cyclone Scott Ford? The actor? In the tights, with the body?’
     
    Corey nods.
     
    Judd turns serious. ‘I may have led you astray with the advice I just gave you.’
     
    ‘But you said if I feel strongly, I should fight for her —’
     
    ‘That was before I found out she’s dating the biggest movie star in the world. You kinda buried the lead on that.’
     
    Corey studies his feet, no longer trying to hide how miserable he feels.
     
    ‘Sorry. But that’s kind of hard to top.’
     
    ‘Yeah, I know. I’m just a bloody chopper pilot from the Alice.’
     
    Judd places a mollifying hand on his shoulder. ‘And it’s her loss. And, you know, plenty of fish in the sea and all that.’
     
    Corey takes this in with a half-hearted nod and they continue walking. Judd sees the usual spring is gone from his step. ‘Why didn’t you want to tell me?’
     
    ‘I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me.’
     
    ‘Oh, come on, I wouldn’t do that. Last year I told you everything about, you know, my troubles with Rhonda.’
     
    ‘Exactly.’
     
    ‘And you felt sorry for me?’
     
    ‘Of course.’
     
    ‘Oh.’ Now Judd is despondent - and it’s Corey’s turn to place a mollifying hand on his shoulder.
     
    They pass through the terminal’s sliding doors and step outside. The dry heat slaps Judd across the face. LA: one season, all year around.
     
    Corey searches the roadway.
     
    ‘What are we looking for?’
     
    ‘A blue Bimmer, seven series - there it is.’ Corey points at the navy BMW as it approaches, Spike in the front passenger seat. It pulls up beside them and they slide into the back seat. Judd pats the ugly white dog on the head and takes in Bowen, who sits behind the wheel.
     
    The agent is on the phone, a Bluetooth gadget jammed in his right ear. He turns, holds up a single ‘one minute’ finger and continues to talk on the phone: ‘Why? ‘Cause my guy’s the one you need on this. Sure, his last movie was a hundred different cliches celebrating a reunion and yes, it was too long - I wanted to tap it on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, shouldn’t you have ended fifteen minutes ago?”, but it made six hundred and fifty million international.’
     
    Bowen pulls out from the kerb, turns and looks back at Judd, mimes a ‘nice to meet you’ that ends with a wink, then continues talking on the phone: ‘And that’s the point - it was awful and it opened everywhere because my guy is a star. He was a star thirty years ago when he started out, he’s a star right now and he’ll be a star the day the sun explodes and you can’t say that about anyone else. Think of him as insurance against that Russian first-timer you hired to direct.’ He listens for another moment, then, ‘It means this: you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter - and my guy’s the glitter. I want your answer ASAP, as in www-dot-you-got-fifteen-minutes-dot-org.’
     
    Bowen hangs up and looks back at Judd and Corey