Rip Tide Page #4

the kit, you, our contracts.

- And what did you say?

- She said yes.

Owen's your father now.

I said no.

Cora, did you want to, you know,

check out the rock pools?

You used to love them

when you were a kid.

Oh, uh, thank you,

but I should actually

really check in back home.

Um, what's your Wi-Fi?

What?

Margot doesn't

have the Internet.

Doesn't have the Internet?

Like, i-is that 'cause you

call it something else...

Kangaroo line or something?

No, I'm just not great

with things like that.

Things like the 21st century?

It's nice not having

to be connected

to the rest of the world

when I'm at home.

It helps my Zen.

Zen?

But Tom set up Wi-Fi

at Blue Soul,

so you can, you know, pop down

there whenever you like.

Great. Yeah.

Uh, I'll just... I'll go change.

Are you gonna get changed, too?

'Cause I'm just gonna wear this.

Popping candy?

Every time I eat them, I just...

I imagine a bunch of guys

in suits in a boardroom

surrounded by takeaway boxes.

They're tired,

but then this one guy

slams his hand on the desk,

and he says, "I got it!

A candy that when you eat it

makes the sound

of frying onions!"

Then the other guys

are like, "Wow!

Yes! Good idea, Steve!"

Oh, I just... just

love popping candy.

So, who are you talking to?

I'm not talking to anyone.

Margot says you're

a bit of a fashionista.

Yeah, yeah,

I'm a model, actually.

Sweet.

I know a guy in New York.

His name's Patrick.

You know him?

There are over 8 million

people in New York.

Mm-hmm.

He always wears a hat.

No.

I'll let you get back

to your mates.

Hey, Mom.

I think I really focused up

on the plane here.

So, um...

I've just been...

I've been feeling...

I just...

Why don't you give me

a call when you get this?

You've reached

the office of Sofia Hamilton,

New York's premiere

modeling agent.

Please leave a message.

Everything all right?

Yeah. Fine. Just tired.

Max... e-mail...

Is okay with your short list

for Wednesday's job.

- No response.

- Jennifer...

Cellphone voicemail... wants...

- Anything from Cora?

No. Nothing from Cora.

What else?

Dobrovski...

Cellphone text...

"Moved meeting

to Tuesday morning."

You're free.

- Book it in.

What's wrong?

Something's bothering Cora.

I think a code coconut

is in order.

Well...

We'll need helmets.

Chicka was definitely

concussed last time.

Batter up!

- They can't be serious.

- Come on!

- Whoo!

- Yeah, yeah, yeah!

You can't be serious!

Whoa!

What am I supposed to do?

You've got a bat, woman.

Hit it.

You could have killed me.

It's all right.

We've got helmets on.

Eye on the coconut.

It'll make you feel better.

I promise.

Aim to hit it from underneath.

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