‘Don’t be late, mofo.’
They hang up.
She didn’t say it. She went with her usual, the jokey ‘biatch’ instead of ‘love you’, and he replied in kind, with the ever reliable ‘mofo’. He thought that because she was on the other side of the country it might be different this time, but no, she didn’t say it. And he didn’t either.
This last year their relationship has gone from strength to strength, though he would like a little more sugar. And by ‘sugar’ he’s not talking about anything related to their physical relationship, which has always been stridently expansive (words that perfectly describe it yet make no actual sense). When he went ‘lovey-dovey’ (her term), by bringing her flowers or holding her hand or expressing heartfelt sentiment, she’d either shut him down or make fun. He likes a bit of the ‘lovey-dovey’ or ‘sugar’ (his term) occasionally, but, for some reason, it just doesn’t fly with her. She is the least sentimental person he has ever met, man, woman or child, so a month ago he stopped saying ‘love you’ at the end of phone calls, or before they fall sleep, or when they leave for work. It’s not a huge deal in the scheme of the world, but he misses it.
He will see her tomorrow when the Atlantis 4 all meet in Los Angeles to announce the Atlantis 4 movie. Yes, Twentieth Century Fox has bought the Atlantis 4’s life rights and is fast-tracking the film to be a ‘tentpole’ next summer. It starts shooting in a week so Fox wants them in town for a round of press engagements and has comped them an all-expenses-paid weekend at the Beverly Wilshire, hence her excitement at the prospect of a luxurious stay at one of the world’s great hotels.
Judd is looking forward to seeing Corey in LA. He’s talked to the Aussie on the phone while he’s been on his eight-month ‘hitch around America’ tour, but it isn’t quite the same. Judd missed him more than he’d imagined, guesses it had something to do with having shared an experience no one else could understand.
Judd pushes through a side door, steps into the warm afternoon and pauses as he takes in the vivid Texas sky. It’s so blue it hurts his eyes, a thin white contrail from a passenger jet its only blemish. Since the Atlantis hijacking he’s really tried to stop and smell the roses. His life is so hectic that it’s easy to miss the little things, like this perfect sky. Looking at it makes his heart sing, makes him appreciate that he’s part of a larger universe with endless possibilities just waiting to be explored.
He glances at his Omega Ploprof. He must get cracking. The debrief starts in ten minutes, then he needs to head home, pack for the weekend, finish his report on Orion’s landing software, attempt to read the Atlantis 4 screenplay then get a good night’s sleep before arriving at the airport bright and early tomorrow morning. He must remember to reserve row 56, seat A online tonight, and pack his baseball cap, his headphones and mirror-lensed sunglasses. He’ll definitely need them for the flight west.
3
‘Seen but not heard. This is very important so let me be perfectly clear. Seen. But. Not. Heard. Okay?’ Corey Purchase sits behind the wheel of a convertible BMW M3 and stares at the passenger in the seat beside him. ‘Don’t give me that face. I can’t have you screwing this up. Seen but not heard. Are we clear?’
The recipient of the lecture is not a recalcitrant child or a sulky teen, but a strikingly ugly canine named Spike. He’s a white blue heeler who looks like he’s been used as a canvas by a naughty toddler with a tin of navy blue paint.
He barks.
‘Okay. Good.’ With a nod the lanky, thirty-one-year-old Australian turns and studies the house on the opposite side of the street. It’s bigger than he expected. Much bigger.
Spike barks.
‘Yeah, only one person lives here.’
Another bark.
‘I guess you could call it a McMansion.’
And another bark.
‘Yes, it would have been more impressive to turn up in a chopper than a borrowed car, but unless you have a stash of money squirreled away that I’m unware of, then we don’t have the dosh to be renting aircraft for the evening, okay?’
Money’s only half the story, though. The truth is that since the destruction of his Huey Loach helicopter (may it rest in pieces at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean), Corey has been, for the first time in his life, a bit gun-shy about flying, which he’s kept quiet from everyone, including the mutt.
Maybe it was the sheer number of life and death situations he’d been through in Central Australia with Judd in that Loach, but Corey is more than happy not to be airborne at the moment. It’s one of the reasons he spent the better part of the last year hitchhiking around America. The trip had been excellent and they’d seen a lot of the States — and he hadn’t needed to fly once.
The journey had been a success in a different, unexpected way too. At one point or another it had been covered by every major media outlet and blogger, his trip plastered all over the Tweeter and the Facebooks or whatever they were called. That a bona fide hero, a member of the Atlantis 4 no less, a man who had helped save tens of thousands of lives, had taken the time to see the real America in such a low-key way greatly endeared him to the general public. He’d stumbled upon a phenomenon that occurred to a select number of Australian men who had ventured stateside over the years. Whether it was Errol Flynn, Paul Hogan, Steve Irwin, Hugh Jackman or Keith Urban, Americans occasionally liked to add a laconic, rough-and-tumble, hail-fellow-well-met Aussie bloke to their cultural mix — and now Corey Purchase is one of them.
The astonishing result of this, and what will pay Corey more money than he’s earned, in total, ever, is the Atlantis 4 movie that Twentieth Century Fox is about to make. And that is a very good thing because, as of this moment, one Corey J. Purchase has nothing but the dog, his blue jeans, a couple of navy Bonds T-shirts, his Justin boots and the not so princely sum of $1217 in savings.
He’s so broke he can’t even afford to run a mobile phone — and you really need a mobile phone in LA. When Corey first arrived in the City of Angels he hadn’t expected to stay long, two weeks at most, enough to finalise the Fox deal with his agent Matty Bowen, who graciously lent him this Bimmer for his stay, then continue his trip around America.
Then he met her.
The front door to the McMansion swings open and Corey sees her, silhouetted against the warm glow inside.
Lola Jacklin.
Even from thirty metres she takes his breath away. Corey felt it the moment he walked into the sprawling Beverly Hills office on his first day in Los Angeles and shook her hand. She is a partner at Bowen & Associates, the agency that represents the Atlantis 4.
The twenty-eight-year-old is whip smart and knowledgeable about subjects that Corey does not have the first clue, like the entertainment business and world politics and the fate of art in movies. She is, on the other hand, not well versed in the subjects Corey knows a lot about, like Central Australia and moving cattle with helicopters and saving space shuttles. So, whenever they’re together she’s fascinated by his stories, is quick to laugh at his jokes (even if they’re lame), and has a ready smile that seems to indicate she enjoys his company. He certainly enjoys her company, is both enlightened and delighted by the sprawling scope of her thoughts, which cover everything from what is happening in ‘town’, as everyone who works in the LA entertainment business seems to call the city, to the fate of the planet. That she has a light southern drawl, is slight and willowy with long dark hair, and has the angular features he finds so appealing is a bonus but makes no difference to the depth of his feelings for her.