Hot Stuff

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by Flo Fitzpatrick


  I sighed. “Funny. I had that same invite from Kirk last night.”

  “Yuck.” She paused, then chuckled. “Although you realize the guy is loaded. Moneywise, that is. You could do worse.”

  I grinned at her. “I have. Remind me to tell you about the actor I dated who proved my father’s point that men in creative fields are interested in money and sex and that’s it. In that order. I’d rather not start another lousy relationship, especially with a man who lists ‘shooting up saloons’ on his résumé under ‘hobbies’.”

  She giggled, I giggled, then I stopped when another thought struck me.

  “Asha, you know, I might need to face some not-so-pleasant facts. Mahindra may, and I stress may, not be after my blood, but that leaves Patel and Ray. Neither of whom believes I’m not lugging the statue around in my purse. And since I don’t have the beginnings of an idea where Brig hid the goddess, or himself, that still means I could be in danger.”

  Asha considered this. “Look. Shall we just whiz by the American Embassy today and see if they can straighten all this out? Which is what you should have done the night Hot Harry’s bar got trashed.” She fluttered her lashes. “They’ve got really cute marines guarding the gates. Always a treat.”

  I had to smile. “I thought about it. Really. And it’s the sensible course of action. And we should do it right now. This morning. I know this. But . . .”

  She swung the car around a sharp turn, missing a large SUV and an airport van by less than a foot each. I didn’t even flinch.

  “But. Damn, Tempe. I know that ‘but.’ I’ve used it more times in my life than I care to remember. It’s the but associated with a male. And I’m not talking but as in rear end.”

  I nodded. “Brig.”

  She nodded. “Brig. You go to the embassy and you set the hounds on the man. And you get a new passport and visa or whatever and fly back to New York and maybe never see him again. And not know where he is or how he is.”

  “Or even if he is. Still living I mean. Crap! Asha. Where is he?”

  “Girl, I wish I knew.”

  She swerved again to avoid a rickshaw loaded with tourists, and we both grew silent. Finally, she glanced over at me. “Tempe? I shouldn’t say this, but I’ve never seen Brig act like he’s been acting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I met Brig when I first started working with Jake about five years ago. Brig periodically visits Jake, and I got thrown into the old roommate buddy stuff with them. Brig has brought girls out to the studio. I don’t know the details of his relationship with any of them, if a relationship even existed. I didn’t ask. But I’ll tell you this. I never saw him with the same one twice. He’d show them the sights of the city, take them clubbing, whatever. That was it. The original no-commitment man.”

  “Well, duh. Why am I not surprised?” I blurted while I tried to choke back a few tears.

  “Will you let me finish? You’re different. Tempe, he stares at you all the time. And I saw how he looked when Patel grabbed you in the Pool Palace. Totally damn terrified. And it wasn’t because you were just any old person he’d gone on the lam with. The man has it bad. With a capital B, A, and D! It’s as if he’s been looking for you for years and now that he’s found you, well, he’s not losing you.”

  I considered this. “Asha. All that doesn’t mean anything. Not really. He and I sort of got thrust together with this nutty statue. A few kisses here and there were just the perks of keeping me alive. And his worry about Patel and his bruiser losers extended to you as well. Brig defended us both. And there are good reasons why he freaked over us being at a pool hall.”

  Asha nodded. “I know. Jake once told me about Brig’s sister. But Brig’s reaction at the Pool Palace was more than just fear of history repeating itself. If he doesn’t care, why didn’t he just take off with Shiva’s Diva the first night you met him and leave you in the middle of Bombay? He had the statue. Why drag you around with him?”

  “Unless he was afraid I’d report him to the nearest cop as one of the multitude of goons trying to get their hands on Saraswati. And I must point out, he seems to have done just that. Take the statue and leave me. I mean, now he doesn’t have to concern himself as much with my safety since I know you and Jake. And crap, it would have taken a complete scum to have left me in that alley behind Hot Harry’s.”

  “Well. I still think Brig has a thing for you. He looks at you with that look. That alpha male ‘my woman’ look. The one I saw most of last night from my man.”

  That did it. Asha had lost her sanity.

  “Yo! Slow this thing down, Miss-Soon-to-Be-Married-to-Alpha-Male-Type. We need to find a garage. I think we’ve hit parade central for the Ganesh festival. Isn’t this where Jake is shooting today?”

  Chapter 21

  Jake Roshan wanted to film one scene in the middle of a religious parade. Jake had decided the smart course of action would be to use an existing set at a real locale. He could climb up on a platform somewhere and shoot a few rolls of film and make everyone happy. Paradegoers would be thrilled to find themselves up on the screen. Jake’s accountants would be thrilled Jake hadn’t had to borrow money or go bankrupt building new scenery.

  The Ganesh Chaturthi, a festival honoring the elephantheaded god of wisdom and prosperity, was a ten-day bash that had started nine days ago. Asha told me Jake had left the yacht before dawn to set up location cameras throughout the parade route. This last day promised to be the grandaddy of parades, outdoing Mr. Macy’s annual Thanksgiving pageantry, the Rose Bowl march in California, and a New Orleans Mardi Gras all rolled into one.

  I was still ticked that those first nine days of the festival were over, unattended in any capacity by Miss Tempe Walsh, whose mind had not been focused on a religious festival. The party atmosphere and general feeling of excitement that accompanies a festival of this magnitude lingered in the very air. But Asha, Brig, and I had been hiding out away from major or crowded thoroughfares each time we’d come into the city.

  Asha parked in a garage across from Chowpatty Beach where the largest elephant replicas would be dumped later. As far as pollution was concerned, it was nothing short of dreadful. As far as the spectacle maintained from one year to the next, it was glorious.

  I turned to Asha as we exited the blue convertible and grimly stated, “You know, I’d been looking forward to watching this parade from the sidelines as a good ol’ American tourist just here to enjoy the sights. Now those dogs hounding us about the statue have just about ruined my even wanting to see the festival.”

  Asha slammed the door on her side. “Forget them, Tempe. Hey! If this hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have met me, and let me tell you, I am the ultimate guide for this kind of stuff. Not to mention Jake can get shots of us leaping down the street and turning cartwheels in front of one of the Ganesh idols resting on the shoulders of paradegoers. Which Jake is apt to do. Be prepared for anything.”

  We walked over to a street already crowded with musicians and dancers and jugglers. Flashes from hundreds of cameras lit the area from every direction. Sounds of bells jangling and voices chanting added to the party atmosphere.

  Asha and I bought some of the sweet carrot pastries called gajar halwa from one of the many vendors vying for attention. “Superb” didn’t half cover it. And cheap. I went back for three more and would have gotten a dozen if Asha hadn’t stopped me with the promise of a real lunch at a real restaurant within the next hour.

  We spotted Jake standing on a platform high above the street. He waved at us to join him. We weaved through the crowd, then climbed the ladder leading to Jake’s niche. Two cameramen flanked him, but Jake also held his own Panaflex to shoot footage.

  Everyone nodded pleasantly to Asha and me. Jake motioned to the director’s chairs placed around the platform; then we sat back and prepared to enjoy the festival. Thankfully I have no problem with heights. The ladder had been rickety at best, and the platform moved every time a small wind blew by. I ignore
d the swing and sway even though this perch made the Ferris wheel I’d been stuck on for the Day One shoot seem firm and secure. At least today I had my butt in a real chair instead of balanced over my head while I balanced on my hands.

  “Tempe!”

  I turned to look at Asha. She and Jake were both staring down at a sight I couldn’t see from my seat.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Brig! Look! I can’t believe this.”

  “What? Where?”

  I rose, then joined Asha and peered over the edge of the platform.

  Briggan O’Brien, the Irish American from Dublin, Ireland, and Riverdale, New York, was riding through the Ganesh festival parade atop an elephant. A real one. Not a Ganesh statue borne above the shoulders of honest worshippers. My first thought was Dumbo. Complete with tasseled saddle blanket and pink hat.

  I blinked. And blinked again. The vision didn’t change. “It’s Brig.”

  Asha glanced back at me. “I said that. You okay?”

  “Sure. I’m not even surprised that after leaving me to wonder where he’d gone, whether he’d been murdered or tortured or kidnapped or eloped, he should suddenly appear on an elephant in the middle of the biggest event of the year in downtown Bombay. Think there’s any way I can jump off this platform onto Dumbo so I can kill him without breaking every bone in my body or hurting the elephant?”

  Asha glanced at me, then at Jake. Sympathy showed in both faces.

  Asha sighed. “She’s hungry. All she had was that pastry. Well, four of them, but that isn’t working. This is a girl who gets crazy notions when she’s not regularly fed.”

  I scowled at her. “This has nothing to do with food.”

  She shook her head, and I muttered, “Well, maybe a little. But I really do just want to pounce on the back of that pachyderm down there and throttle the, uh, rider. What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

  Jake lowered the camera off of his shoulder. “Tempe. It’s fine. This is my idea. I asked him to ride the beast. I need this for several shots. I talked to one of the organizers of the festival weeks ago and asked if I could get one of my actors in there. I wanted our stunt man Jervi to do it, but he has a bad fear of elephants.”

  “And Brig volunteered.”

  “Exactly.”

  I let out my breath. “Okay. I can buy that. But Jake, where’s he been? Do you know? And damn the idiot, what happens if he’s seen? It’s not too easy to escape bullets from the top of a jungle beast.”

  Jake patted my hand. “I don’t know where he’s been. He was asleep at my place this morning when I left. But don’t worry about him. No one is going to recognize him up there. I doubt that any of your thugs will be watching this parade. They’re all too busy hunting through the city for where they think Brig might have hidden your statue.”

  “Not my statue,” I quickly stated. “Brig’s maybe. I don’t want anything to do with the lady. Except to get her to whoever should own her, then wish them well.”

  Brig had seen us. He waved so vigorously from his perch it was merely by the grace of Ganesh he didn’t topple to the ground. The elephant reached up and tapped him with her trunk. Brig caressed the snout with pure affection.

  I sighed. “Must be female. He’s obviously won her over with his charm. I wouldn’t be surprised if she speaks Gaelic.”

  Asha and Jake both stifled their laughter, but glee remained in their eyes. I looked back down at O’Brien and his new friend. Brig pointed to the beast, then at me.

  “He’s either comparing me to Madam Dumbo there or asking me to join him. I think I prefer the first.”

  Asha nudged me. “Go. Get down there. I think it’s very romantic. You and Brig riding through the streets of Bombay together. Jake’ll get it all on film. You can show home movies back in Manhattan and impress your friends.”

  I fluttered my lashes. “If it’s all that romantic, why don’t you and the director give it a whirl?”

  She grinned. “I’m right up there with Jervi the stunt man. Terrified of elephants. I love snakes and tigers and llamas, but these guys are just too big. Can’t even feed the critters peanuts at the Bronx Zoo. Can’t get that close to the cage. This is the perfect distance for me to admire them without interacting.”

  Jake held my hand for a moment and looked into my eyes. His held a twinkle, plus an entreaty. “Tempe? I had not planned this, but it’s truly perfect for the movie. You and Brig have been dancing partners for several scenes. It would be fitting to continue that relationship in the parade. Will you do it for me? For Carnival of Lust?”

  How could I resist a man who gave me those big sad brown eyes? He’d just delivered the film equivalent of “the show must go on.” Besides, I would never tell anyone, but my pulse raced with delight that Jake had asked me to hop into the parade. Riding that animal with Brig had been a serious itch in my brain since the pair first came marching into view. This was much better than just having my photo snapped next to an elephant.

  I scurried down the ladder, then tried to dodge through the crowd that merged around me. A group of dancers swirled and shimmied and shook and raised arms and tiny idols of Ganesh over their heads.

  There were too many people in the street. I couldn’t see over the heads of most of them, since they had statues of Ganesh held high. I bumped between dancers and clowns and men clad in robes who chanted in Hindi. I couldn’t even see Brig. My breath started coming in spurts.

  One of the clowns knocked me to the ground. Great. This was it. Death by Bozo in an elephant parade in Bombay. Couldn’t wait to see my obit back in Manhattan. I tried to ooze through the legs and feet pressing in on me but made no progress.

  A hand reached down and hoisted me over the crowd.

  “Bit of a press, isn’t it, luv?”

  “Brig! Nice of you to grab me before the guy on stilts over there put permanent holes in my side. I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem. Ready to meet Bambi?”

  I nodded as I stared at my rescuer, who escorted me back toward Bambi. He was dressed in tight black silk trousers and a vest. Nothing else. Most of his chest was bare, as were his feet. A bracelet that had to be pure gold encircled his wrist. He was the definition of gorgeous.

  The elephant knelt at his command. Brig leaned over and gave her a light kiss between the top of her trunk and her head. He then helped me up onto the back of the beast. He grabbed a fist of blanket and hoisted himself up beside me in a single, graceful move, then tapped Bambi with a stick. She slowly rose to a standing position.

  She lifted me higher and higher above the crowds until the music, the voices, the laughter, and the prayers seemed far away. I held on to Brig’s waist as tightly as I could, then peered around him.

  “This is so cool! I can’t believe I’m riding an elephant in a parade in India in the middle of the biggest festival of the year. And I’ll be able to prove it since Jake is filming every bit. Although I hope he didn’t get that view of my rear end as I climbed onto your new buddy here. Wow! Look! We’re even higher than that tree with the idiot tourist leaning out.”

  We both waved at the idiot tourist who was now clinging in panic to a branch that seemed unable to hold his weight. Then Brig turned around, leaned in, and kissed me between my nose and forehead. Rather like he’d done with Bambi, who seemed to need steering. He leaned back over the elephant’s head and whispered to her.

  I forgot the crowds and the excitement. I nudged his shoulder and growled, “Where in the hell have you been?”

  Chapter 22

  The minute I asked where he’d been, he turned again. The gleam in his eyes made it obvious he was hatching a good Irish tale to distract me from my question.

  I let out a woof of breath, then stated, “Wait. Don’t answer. I don’t want to know. Whatever you think up will have more holes than a tattoo artist’s model. I do have a news flash for ya though, Mr. O’Brien.”

  “Yes? And what might that be? By the way, it’s more than lovely to see ya today,
Tempe. You’re lookin’ fair and fine, if ya don’t mind my sayin’ so. The crowds below are thinkin’ the same. Blow them a kiss, okay?”

  “No! I am not some cheerleader riding a float in the homecoming parade.”

  “Ach, you’re prettier than any homecoming queen ever had a right to be. I must tell ya, I missed ya.”

  “ ‘Lovely.’ ‘Pretty.’ ‘Missed me.’ ”

  I forgot trying to be tough. I smiled and blew kisses to a crowd of teens waving flowers at this trio of boy, girl, and pachyderm.

  “Ta, Briggan. I do appreciate the compliments. But there are important things to tell you. Ready to hear with whom I had a delightful little chat last night?”

  “Kirk Mahindra.”

  I removed my other hand from his waist then put both back within milliseconds. Elephant riding requires a different balance I hadn’t mastered yet. Until I did, I’d rather keep company with the all-knowing Brig O’ Brien than tumble onto the street below to land in elephant goo.

  “Brig. How did you know that?”

  “Saw you. Very cozy you looked, too, sitting on the bench under the stars. Smoke floating around you both. Nasty habit, that. But I was jealous, I have to admit it.”

  “Why were you sneaking around anyway? Why didn’t you just come to the trailer?”

  Brig patted the elephant, who continued to wave her trunk, consequently knocking down small idols of Ganesh from the shoulders of three dancers below. “Hush, now.”

  I didn’t know if he’d aimed that at the elephant or me. I poked him in the ribs. “So?”

  “So let me quiet Bambi down and I’ll tell you.”

  “Is she really named Bambi?”

  Brig twisted in the saddle and smiled at me. “I think her real name is Bamnechokramurti or something like that. But she’s Bambi to me. Just look at those sweet eyes.”

  No surprise. The elephant was female and she was preening under the gaze and touch of Briggan O’Brien. I patted the closest part of Bambi that felt like Bambi and not the blanket, then nudged Brig again. “You do realize that the original Bambi was a boy? Come to think of it, so was Lassie. Never mind. How do you know how to ride one of these beasts, anyway?”

 

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