I'm with Cupid (21 page)

“Don't be silly, Max,” said Legend, turning around and shaking his pudgy heinie in Max's face.

“We cure lisp,” said Olga. “Still working on attitude. What is problems Olga can help with?”

“Well, one of our biggest sponsors—Virgin America—has pulled their ads because Trent and Tanya's wedding now
isn't
taking place. The airline was underwriting the celebration and we were going to do a whole cross-merchandising thing with Trent and Tanya bride and groom action figures, et cetera. But now the UBC has lost a lot of revenue because this marriage isn't happening, and our producer, Michael Rothstein, is apoplectic. What can I do?”

“Simple,” said Olga, pausing only a minute to think of a solution. “Give this Virgin America free product placement for episode. Put name on everything. They make up revenue like that. Olga learn these things on Donald Trump show about apprentice.”

Max was gobsmacked. “Olga . . . that's
brilliant
. I can get the writers to mention Virgin America in the script—and get the art department to maybe put the airline's logo here and there on the set . . .” He did the math in his head. Those few gestures alone would add up to several hundred thousand dollars worth of free advertising. He immediately placed a call to Michael Rothstein. And as he waited for Michael to pick up, he set his gaze on Olga. “Who
are
you?”

“Just Olga.”

“Just Olga?” Max said as if that would never be enough. “Just Olga!” He was carried away. And before he knew what he was doing, he'd scooped up Olga in his arms and was planting grateful kisses all over her face.

“Yuck!” shrieked Legend as he shielded his eyes.

“Yum,” said Olga, starting to kiss back.

“Olga, my God,” said Max, pulling away. “I'm sorry to be so forward. I don't know what to say . . . You motivate me to
do
things, Olga! No one has ever done that for me before . . . Thanks to you the network will be off my back. Not to mention the fact that I've finally got the cast in line—and a new camerawoman with no podiatry issues!”

“Olga glad. Now Olga want more kiss.” This time it was Olga who scooped Max in her arms, dipping him low to the ground, planting a big, wet one on him.

“Yuck!” Legend shrieked again.

“Excuse me . . . ?” came a familiar voice. Max scrambled to his feet to find Corliss and JB staring at him in amazement. Behind them, the technicians had stopped what they were doing to ogle Max and Olga. “Max?” said Corliss teasingly. “What
exactly
is going on? This doesn't look like you're setting up for the next shot . . .”

“I agree, Herr Director,” JB piped in, shaking a naughty-naughty finger at Max. “I was just paged to come to the set for my next scene and, well, it looks like
you're
in the middle of a little scene yourself.”

Max shrugged, dopey from the ooey-gooey feelings that were currently cascading all over him. “What can I say? It seems like love is in the air!”

“Is that so?” said Corliss, slyly.

“Yes, it is,” said Max. “And because it is, I'm lifting the dating embargo for everyone! If I can make out with Legend's nanny, you two can date each other—just not in my trailer. Understood?”

“Understood,” said Corliss and JB, reaching for each other's hands.

“What do you think?” said Anushka, standing in front of Rocco, who was just finishing up his lunch at a table in the corner.

Rocco looked up at her bald head and couldn't help but smile. “What do I think about what?” he said, shyly. They hadn't talked since he'd told her that her bald head looked sexy.

“My head. I shaved it,” she said, tipping over to show him. “But for real! You said it looked sexy and I thought, isn't it time for Anushka Peters to have a sexy new look? So whaddya think?”

“Anushka . . .” Rocco ran his big hands over her now truly bald head. Anushka trembled as he did.

“Wow,” she said. “That feels really great . . .”

“It does to me, too . . .”

“It does to
both
of us, you mean?” said Anushka, backing up a little . . . but she didn't get far. Rocco took Anushka by the hand and led her quickly behind the coffee service. “Where are we going?” Instead of answering her, he kissed her. Tenderly. Softly. As if he didn't want to break her.

“What's with the soft touch, dude?” barked Anushka. “I want tongue!” And so she got it. Before long they were making Trent and Tanya's makeout antics look
amateur
.

After a moment, Rocco pulled away, caught his breath, then blurted out, “Maybe
this
is why I warned my cousin Patrizio away from you. Because I wanted you to myself . . .”

“Rocs, this is class-A nutso, but I'm so hot for you right now I wish I were wearing asbestos panties.” They kissed again. Anushka pulled away this time. “I'm going to cure you once and for all of that steroid addiction. Ya know how?”

“How?” Rocco panted hungrily.

“Like this,” she said, smashing her mouth against his.

“OHMYGOD!” yelped a familiar voice. Anushka and Rocco jumped a foot in the air. It was Tanya and Trent, heading toward the coffee service. “YOU GUYS ARE TOTALLY MAKING OUT!” squealed Tanya.

Anushka panicked. “It's not what it looks like, Tans . . .”

“Dang,” said Trent, “that was hot!”

Tanya swatted Trent playfully. “You are awful!” She turned to Anushka and Rocco. “But it
is
totally hot! You two make a hot couple! And you know what? So do me and Trent! Okay, maybe we're not ready to get married—but we're certainly ready to have a lot of public displays of foreplay. Right, Trent?”

“Totally,” he said, before sending his tongue into her mouth like a deep-sea diver.

“Let's all make out!” said Tanya, with Trent's tongue in her mouth.

And so they did. Two very strange, totally hot couples . . .

Max was jumping up and down in the sand. “Cue the plane, cue the plane!” The head of production cued the 747 Virgin American jet to enter the frame. “Are you getting it?!” Max shouted to the new camerawoman. She gave him the thumbs-up. “This is brilliant—brilliant!”

He watched as the plane lifted toward the sunset. As the plane soared over the beach—just as he'd planned it with the Federal Aviation Association—Max saw on the monitor it was framed beautifully in the shot. Everything, in fact, was flawless: his gorgeous cast, a perfect sun—and a 747 doing as
he
directed. Magnificent television AND off-the-charts product placement. He imagined his contract being rewritten the next morning. Another house in the hills! A boat off Catalina! Weekends in Miami!

And then . . . Corliss and JB, crushed out beyond redemption, appeared in the shot, walking hand in hand on the beach, staring into each other's eyes, oblivious to what was going on around them.

“Noooooooooo!” wailed Max, collapsing to the sand.

Corliss turned. “What happened . . . ?”

Anushka laughed her throaty laugh and slapped her toned, bronze thigh. “Doesn't get any better than that, does it? Now give me some sugar, Rocs.” Rocco obliged.

“I want some sugar, too!” said Tanya. Trent obliged.

Olga ran up, pushing her big, blond hair away from her face. “I hear Max scream?”

“Olga,” Max said, forgetting immediately that a fifty-thousand-dollar shot had just been ruined. “It's you!”

“It's Olga, Max. What can I do?”

Max thought a moment. And then he knew. “Just hold my hand?”

“Hold hand?” Olga said brusquely. “I do better than that.” She took Max by the waist, dipped him low, and planted a long, sloppy Russian kiss on him as the sun set behind them all.