It’s Love, Dude

by Jenny Schwartz

  ‘No-one ever died of too much money. You’ll find ways to spend it. Your flights are booked. I’ll have Dawn send you the details. First class, so sleep, man. I want you looking fresh. You’ll be hitting the ground running, here in LA.’ He disconnected.

  Zane put the phone down. The deal was, as Max said, too good to refuse. So why was he even hesitating? It wasn’t like his granddad needed him here. In fact, if he showed up at his yard, Tom would probably set the dogs on him. He was in that sort of mood.

  Molly, on the other hand, was in a sweet mood. Innocently sexy.

  He’d have to cancel their date.

  A couple of years ago he’d have leapt at the Cloo-in contract. These days he knew that the raised profile Max hyped would have its downside. First, that profile didn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be photo shoots, advertisements, interviews, social media activities. All of it would have to be fitted into an already full schedule. He could do it. Hell, he knew he would do it. But he was old enough, tired enough of the game, to know it came at a cost.

  Losing his date with Molly was part of that price. What surprised him was how much it stung.

  He stretched, gripping the chin up bar and pulled himself up, letting the slow burn of his muscles underline his thoughts and decision. He dropped down and went to shower.

  ***

  Molly smiled as she saw Zane walk in the office door.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous.’ He grinned at her.

  ‘Morning tea time,’ Julie shouted across the room. ‘Molly, go grab a coffee — or something.’ The addendum was wicked.

  Molly fought a blush as she stood and smoothed down the shirt she wore over tailored trousers.

  ‘Coffee sounds good.’ Zane smiled. ‘Thanks, Julie.’

  Molly rounded her desk, her pulse going giddy.

  The look in Zane’s hazel eyes said he wanted her. He put a hand lightly to her lower back and guided her out the door.

  It was one of life’s mysteries how such an overtly courteous gesture could be so sexy and claiming.

  ‘Do you mind skipping the coffee?’ he asked as the door closed behind them.

  ‘Of course.’ But the happiness singing through her faltered: he’d lost his smile.

  His arm went casually around her waist as they walked down to the park. ‘My manager phoned an hour ago.’

  She blinked at the thought of Zane having a boss, then readjusted her thinking. Not an employer, an agent. Someone who organised his career and sponsorship deals.

  ‘I have to get back to LA. I’m driving up to Perth and getting the next plane out.’

  He was leaving.

  ‘Can I have a raincheck on our dinner?’

  It was nice of him to let her down gently. She ought to appreciate his efforts. And she would, just as soon as she got over being dumped.

  ‘Molly?’

  ‘You can look me up next time you’re in Jardin Bay.’ She tried to slip out of his hold.

  He swung her around so that she faced him. ‘Molly, my new contract is for millions and it’s come up unexpectedly. I want to stay and have that dinner with you.’

  ‘Millions? As in millions of dollars?’ She sounded naïve. But he said millions the way she might think of hundreds of dollars; as if that much money was commonplace.

  ‘Enough money that I’ll be set for life after surfing, whether I work or not.’

  Her mouth opened on a silent ‘Wow’.

  He’d be a millionaire by 30. No, he probably already was!

  She tried again to pull away. She was so out of her class. Zane probably hung out with models and celebrities — and if he didn’t, he would now. A multi-million dollar sponsorship deal would change everything.

  ‘Molly, I’ll miss the plane if I don’t get going, but I want your email address.’

  ‘Um, why?’

  ‘Because on social media I’m not me, I’m my public face, so you can’t talk to me there.’

  He didn’t get what she meant. Why did he want her email address?

  He pulled out his phone. ‘But my email address is private. I’ll be back in Australia, on the Gold Coast, in a month, and I’ll try to make it home, here to Jardin Bay. We’ll have that dinner.’

  The Gold Coast versus Jardin Bay? She loved her home town, but it couldn’t compete with the Gold Coast’s sun, surf and sex. Nor could she.

  ‘Zane, it’s nice of you to — ‘

  ‘Molly. What’s your number and your email?’ His expression said that plane or no plane, he’d wait for her reply. Then the impatient line of his mouth relaxed. ‘Don’t you want to give me updates on the great woylie hunt?’

  ‘Idiot.’ She melted at his grin.

  He typed in her number and email address, bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks, Molly. Be good. No night time swamp adventures — and look after Granddad.’

  Her eyes pricked with tears. The surge of emotion surprised her. She didn’t think, just put her arms around him and hugged him tight. He was very huggable, being tall and broad and muscled.

  His arms enclosed her in a world of sexy warmth. ‘I have to go, babe, but I’ll email you.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And you’ll email me back.’ Very stern.

  She found a small smile. If he emailed her — and it was a big if — she’d respond. ‘Yeah.’

  His gaze focussed on her mouth. ‘Lush.’ After a tense moment, he released her. ‘Bye, Molly.’

  ‘See you.’ She watched the worn denim of his jeans stretch taut across his butt and thighs as he strode to his car. She waved good-bye.

  He flicked his hand up from the steering wheel, and then he was gone.

  Molly closed her eyes for a long moment. ‘I think I need that coffee.’

  ***

  Zane’s text arrived mid-afternoon. ‘Sydney. Boarding in a few minutes.’

  Molly stared at her phone. It had been hard, walking back into the office to Julie’s friendly interest and the general curiosity.

  ‘Zane had to cancel dinner. He’s flying out to Los Angeles.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame.’

  ‘Something came up.’ She didn’t know if his deal with Cloo-in was public yet. She did know that she hated the careful sympathy in the office. They all knew Zane was out of her league. ‘He asked for my phone number.’

  Julie’s supportive expression broke into a smile. ‘Yes!’ She punched the air.

  Molly smiled back. ‘Zane’s a nice guy.’

  ‘Well, you’d be the expert on that.’ Julie’s expression sobered. ‘I’m glad for you, honey.’

  ‘It’s not serious or anything!’

  ‘Whatever it is, you enjoy it.’

  Now, Molly looked at her phone and Zane’s brief text. Her thumb moved. ‘Good flight?’

  ‘Economy. Squashed.’

  ‘That’ll teach you to be tall.’ She added a smiley face, flirting.

  ‘First class for the long haul to LA.’

  She’d never flown first class, never imagined she ever would. Money was always tight enough that it had to be spent on more important things.

  Her phone beeped with a new text.

  ‘I’ll stretch out, sleep and dream of you.’

  She’d bet the stewardesses would stop to admire Zane stretched out. He wouldn’t dream of her. He’d be thinking of his new contract.

  ’What are you doing?’ he added.

  ‘Filing.’ She grimaced. Way to sound interesting — not. The small walls of the filing room-slash-cupboard pressed in on her.

  ‘Flight’s been called. Email you later.’

  She imagined him standing, attracting attention in the airport just by being him. Gorgeous. Sexy. ‘Safe flying.’

  There were no more texts. She shut her phone, slipped it in a pocket and went back to filing correspondence. ‘Ow!’ She sucked the paper cut on her finger.

  ‘Molly? There you are.’ Julie stuck her head in the door. ‘You’re popular with the Carlton men, today. Tom’s here. He wants to sp
eak with you.’

  As tense and uncertain as she was, Molly still smiled as she saw Tom’s expression.

  Grumpy was too kind. He scowled at her. ‘I hear that boy followed you home last night.’ He made Zane sound like a cross between a teenager and a stray cat. ‘I hope you told him where to shove his orders.’

  ‘He was worried about us,’ Molly said.

  ‘Me, too.’ Julie didn’t even pretend she wasn’t listening. She renewed her lipstick while Greg knotted his tie. They were off to a local business lunch. ‘I never liked you two wandering Big Swamp at night. If Zane’s put an end to it, I’m backing him.’

  ‘No kid is telling me what to do.’

  Greg laughed. ‘Face it, Tom. Your boy’s not a kid anymore.’

  ‘Hmph.’

  Julie and Greg left. The other staff in the office got on with their work, but Molly knew their ears would be flapping. They were a team, all intent on serving Greg’s constituents and getting him re-elected. But being a team meant that they took an interest in one another’s lives.

  ‘Can I have ten minutes, Ian?’

  Greg’s chief adviser nodded.

  She snatched up her handbag. ‘We’ll be next door at the café.’

  Tom let himself be hustled out, though his walking stick thumped the doorstep in disapproval.

  The café smelled of coffee and cinnamon toast. Tom went to the counter while Molly slid into a booth. She’d had this argument with Tom before and lost, so she let him pay for their coffees.

  ‘I’ll be having a word with Zane,’ he began ominously once their coffees were served.

  ‘He’s gone.’

  Tom put down his cup. It rattled in its saucer. ‘The hell you say.’

  ‘It’s a sponsorship deal, although I’m not sure if it’s a secret. Apparently, it came up suddenly. He’s had to fly back to Los Angeles.’ Molly withstood Tom’s fierce glare. ‘If you had a mobile phone, like I keep telling you, I’m sure he’d text you.’

  ‘Text me! That boy lectured me last night and now he’s skipped off without a word. And after all he said about you and — Never mind that.’ Tom tapped his hand on the table. He took a deep breath and reached for his coffee. ‘Maybe it’s for the best.’

  Molly lowered her voice. ‘He said the sponsorship deal is worth millions of dollars.’

  ‘There are more important things in life than money.’

  ‘True.’ She worked up a smile. ‘But you’d be the first to doubt his sanity if he turned down millions of dollars just so he could stay here for you to shout at him.’

  ‘That wasn’t the only reason I thought he’d be staying.’

  She dropped her eyes, concentrating on the swirl of milk foam on her coffee.

  Tom cleared his throat. ‘He told me you two were going out for dinner, tonight.’

  ‘Zane asked for a raincheck.’

  ‘I think you should pass on it altogether.’

  ‘Tom?’

  ‘I came here with two things to tell you, this morning. Maybe they don’t matter so much now that Zane had flitted off again, but I’m going to say them anyway.

  Molly braced.

  The first is not to give up on chasing the woylie or any other dream because of someone else’s fear.

  ‘Zane was being sensible.’ She met Tom’s eyes. ‘I promised him we wouldn’t go alone to the swamp at night anymore.’

  ‘You can’t promise for me.’

  ‘No, but I promised for me, and I promised to try to convince you to be careful.’

  ‘Careful never got anyone anywhere in life. Besides, I’m old. How much longer do you reckon I’ll be able to tramp through a swamp?’

  ‘Knowing you, till you’re 104.’

  He laughed, the sound deep, rusty and reluctant.

  She sipped her coffee. Zane would look like his grandfather when he got old. Still impressive, still bossy.

  ‘I don’t want you seeing Zane anymore,’ Tom said.

  She winced, and not because the coffee was hot. Tom’s words hurt.

  He covered her free hand with his, squeezed. ‘Molly, you’re a good girl. Kind, intelligent, caring. You remind me of my Joanne.’ He released her hand. ‘When you love a man, you need one who’ll love you back and make you the centre of his world. Zane can’t give you that.’

  ‘I’m not asking him to.’ She was embarrassed. ‘All we’re talking about is dinner.’

  ‘Maybe that’s all you’re thinking about, but you can bet your last dollar that Zane is thinking of other things.’

  She could not believe she was having this conversation with Zane’s grandfather. ‘Guys do.’ She tried to shut down the discussion.

  ‘Yeah, but with Zane it won’t lead anywhere. I love him. He’s my flesh and blood. But his dad’s history and Zane flying around the world with his crazy life, means he’s a bad risk. He might seem glamorous, but you need a man who’ll be there for you in the tough times. One who’s not playing games.’

  Molly stood. ‘Tom, I appreciate that you mean well.’ Her hands were shaking. ‘But this is my life and a few games won’t hurt me. In fact, maybe I need them since everyone thinks I’m so fragile. Did you warn Zane away from me? You did.’ She closed her eyes a moment. ‘Forget it. Whatever is between Zane and me — and it’s nothing more than him being bored and me wanting, well, wanting something — whatever it is, it’s between us. You don’t need to warn me away from him, or him away from me. We’re adults. Thank you for the coffee.’

  She walked out, glad that she was wearing sensible boots and not wobbling on high heels. She felt unsteady.

  Behind her, in the booth, Tom swore.

  Molly didn’t return to the office but strode off, heading instinctively across the park to the path that ran along the top of the dunes. She breathed in the cool sea air.

  All her life, she’d done what others expected of her. It was cowardly, but she hated conflict so much, it was easier to avoid it. So she’d been a good daughter, a good student, had gone to university and gotten good grades, come home to Jardin Bay and been a good employee. But working for Greg was changing her.

  She ripped out the elastic holding her hair back in a ponytail and let the wind whip the long strands into a frenzy .

  You couldn’t work in a member of parliament’s office and not see life’s tragedies as well as its triumphs. She’d gotten caught up in people’s fights for their rights, for compassion and dignity. She’d learned that she did have the strength to fight for them. That was why she was searching for the woylie and trying to save Big Swamp. It wasn’t that she wanted to stand in the way of progress, but she wanted to stand for something.

  If she could be brave on others’ behalf, then she needed to be brave for herself.

  She knew Zane wasn’t asking her to dinner as the start of a forever kind of romance. So what? She hadn’t accepted because she wanted forever. She’d accepted because he made her feel alive and because he seemed to see strength in her and respect it. And because he was seriously sexy.

  She would flirt with him on the phone and by email, and if he returned to Jardin Bay and asked her out to dinner again, she’d go. It was time she freed that part of her that responded to the wildness in Zane.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Make-up!’

  Zane ignored the screams of the director. Yesterday they’d filmed him surfing and posing on the beach with his board. He’d felt a dill posing, but it wasn’t difficult. Difficult was this day in the studio, staring into the camera and saying the few words of encouragement some genius — and Zane meant the opposite — had written. The company ethos for Cloo-in was about seizing the day, or as the genius said, ‘kick-starting your heart’.

  Molly didn’t need to kick-start her heart. She’d been sending him emails. Cute emails about, of all ridiculous things, woylies.

  He now knew more than he’d ever wanted to know about the small marsupial and he also knew that the chance of a population lurking in Big Swamp, so close to a town,
was about as likely as him taking up knitting. But the unlikelihood of success didn’t daunt Molly. She wasn’t hunting woylies for the sake of hunting woylies or even to save the swamp. For her, it was part of being part of the community.

  ‘At-choo.’ The make-up artist poked him in the nose with a brush.

  ‘Sorry.’ She rolled worried eyes in the director’s direction.

  ‘No problems,’ Zane said.

  The director took a menacing step forward.

  The make-up artist dashed off to hide.

  ‘Are we ready, people?’

  Zane stared down the camera and recited his lines.

  ‘Cut! I’ve seen corpses with more animation.’

  ‘He used to work on horror films,’ the sound guy muttered.

  Zane snorted.

  ‘Do you think this is funny?’

  ‘No.’ And that was the heartfelt truth. Nothing about this exercise was funny. But he was a professional. Cloo-in was paying for him to be believable and inspiring. ‘Let’s try it again.’

  ‘And again and again,’ the director muttered. ‘Until you get it right. Action!’

  ‘Life isn’t about LOL’ing.’ Zane stared down the camera. ‘It’s not about sitting on the sidelines and watching. Find what you believe in.’ He thought about Molly and her quiet commitment. He smiled. ‘Kick-start your heart and change the world.’

  ‘Cut! Much better. Much, much better. Do it again.’

  Zane did it again.

  ***

  Molly stared at the photos Zane had taken of the beach and then of the film studio. Seen from his perspective, at the centre of the commotion, none of it looked glamorous. That surprised her. His comments made her laugh.

  ‘The director is a vegan. Doesn’t eat meat, but sure felt like he took a bite out of my hide.’

  ‘Make-up artist was filling in for her boss. She kept trying to hide. Should have dyed her hair something other than fluoro pink.’

  She flicked back to the first photo. It was simply labelled, ‘my favourite beach — invaded’. If you imagined away the film crew, the beach looked gorgeous. As beautiful as anything in Jardin Bay.

  But Jardin Bay was beautiful, too.

  She glanced up at the photo she’d taken, and had enlarged and framed, and which now hung on her lounge room wall. It was a photo of Welcome Beach, a few kilometres south of town. It was one of those miraculous photos that occasionally happened for an amateur photographer. The sun had been setting, casting a golden fiery glow over the ocean and warming the white sand to a shade of cream. She’d matched that shade in the colour she’d painted the lounge room walls. Her family’s dog, a red cloud kelpie, stood ears pricked, looking up at a seagull soaring over the sea. It looked like the dog was contemplating flight, which knowing Skip, he probably was.