Free Worst. Person. Ever. by Douglas Coupland Page B

you doing in …” I looked at Neal.
    “Honolulu General.”
    “What the
fuck
are you doing in Honolulu General?”
    “Well, for starters, I’m feasting on your tears. To me they taste of joy. Second, as you know, I was in southern France. I was having a strawberry lubricant-scented frolic with a gifted young thing who was, um, auditioning for a part in a global beverage campaign, when suddenly, just as I was about to withdraw the long string of beads from …” She paused, noting that the five belugas in the room were listening, completely rapt.
    “Go on,” said Neal, also enthralled. “Tell us more. You were talking about beads.”
    “Very well, I will, although before I was using beads, I was using a handful of those Babybel cheeses that come in the red vinyl mesh—just the right amount of satisfying texture and shape. And my young crumpet! Her name was Gwyn. So naive, yet so eager to learn. Skin like a peach. And so respectful of authority.”
    There was total silence. Fiona looked around, clearly pleased with our reaction.
    “To cut a long story short, I was in the midst of naughty, sexy, lubricated fun when the phone rang with the news.”
    “News? You came all the way here because you heard I had an allergic reaction?” I was touched.
    Fiona snorted and Neal leapt in. “Bad news, Ray,” he said. “That load of contestants that was about to take off when you ate the macadamia nut?” With his right hand, he made the international sign for a nose-diving corporate jet. “All gone.”
    I thought about this. “Well, at least they went to their graves hungry.”
    Fiona nodded. “Them and the entire casting team. So, thanks to contractual obligations,
I
have been dragged in to recast the show.”
    Shit. I
knew
I shouldn’t have been so hard on Mr. Bradley. And then a chill went through me. “Wait—was Sarah on the flight?”
    Fiona’s unholy left lizard brow arched upward. “Someone has a crush, do they?”
    Neal said, “No, Sarah wasn’t on the flight.”
    “Did someone say my name?” Sarah appeared at the door with a magnificent spray of cellophaned pink orchids, which she tossed to Fiona. She came to my bedside, sat down on the edge and smooched my cheeks while every other man in the room began to mentally schedule his next wank. “Ray, your
Survival
spirit saved you!”
    We all stared at her.
    “I’m kidding!” she said. “Fortunately, your ex here has come to help us.” She looked fondly at Fiona. “And even though Fiona was extremely busy, I thought it would be a nice gesture if she came to visit you.”
    Fiona rolled her eyes.
    “How do you two know each other?” I asked.
    Fiona looked at me cagily; Sarah was nothing but sweetness and light. She said, “Fi and I have been helping each other with all sorts of casting calls over the years. We see each other at industry events all the time.”
    Fi said, “Sarah gives the best backrub in the business.”
    Sarah blushed. “I just don’t like seeing people tense.”
    “She’s coming back to my hotel room after this to give me one,” Fi said. “I can’t tell you how badly I need it. I’ve been living on planes the past few days, and recasting a show from scratch is a Herculean task. We can’t find any of Bradley’s casting notes.”
    It was funny, but right then I had a tiny out-of-body experience—one of those rare moments where you step outside of yourself and see the human condition whole. You experience a warm glow, and you get the big picture and realize what’s important in life and what isn’t. “What about me?” I asked.
    “You have to stay in the hospital a bit longer,” said Neal.
    “It’s that bad?”
    “No,” said Fiona. “It’s just easier to keep you here instead of booking you into a hotel. Besides,” she looked around, “you have so many new friends.” She glanced at her iPad. “Whoops! Backrub time!”
    “You bet!” said Sarah. “It’ll be the most amazing one you’ve ever had. I’ll