Shooting in the Dark

black leather jacket and designer T-shirt opened the door. His accent was born out of Liverpool. ‘You’ve just come to stare, have you?’ he said to JD.
    JD shook his head. ‘No, sorry,’ he said. ‘You remind me of someone I know.’
    ‘D’you want me to guess who it is?’
    ‘If... if you like,’ JD told him, slightly taken aback, but disarmed by the guy’s boyish smile.
    ‘Brad Pitt.’ He held the smile and nodded his head in complete agreement with himself. ‘In Seven,’ he said. ‘You saw that?’
    JD shook his head. As far as he could remember Brad Pitt was a blond.
    ‘Because if you saw him in that Robert Redford movie, A River Runs Through It, you won’t think he looks like me.’
    ‘I didn’t see that either,’ JD told him. ‘It wasn’t Brad Pitt I was thinking of. It was somebody else, a writer.’
    The guy’s face fell. ‘Oh,’ he said, all interest in the conversation lost. ‘I thought you was talking someone famous.’ He glanced over his shoulder, back into the gloom of the house, as though there was something fascinating there which he was being denied. Something or someone that couldn’t manage without him. ‘What d’you want, then?’
    JD pulled the slip of paper from his pocket. ‘I came to see Christine,’ he said. ‘About her bike.’
    The guy glanced at his deep-sea diver’s watch. ‘Come in and wait if you like. She won’t be long. I’m Clive, by the way.’
    JD followed the man into the darkened interior of the house, which exuded a strong mixed aroma of body odours and stale socks. But that was OK. As a writer JD was a practical existentialist prepared to experience every situation that came his way. Every time he got into a lift he wondered if this was the time it would get stuck between floors. He didn’t want to get stuck between floors, but there was something in him which thought he should.
    ‘I’ve got some tea in the pot,’ Clive said. ‘Made about five, ten minutes ago. I could warm it up.’
    JD shook his head. ‘I’ll pass,’ he said. ‘Thanks for the offer.’
    ‘Have you seen any of Brad’s movies?’ Clive said. There was a tremor in his voice, as though he didn’t want to face the possibility that there was someone in the world who wasn’t a Brad Pitt fan.
    JD didn’t want to be the one to disillusion him. ‘Hey, I don’t really know, to tell you the truth. I’m not sure I’d recognize him if I saw him. I know the name, but I can’t honestly put a face to it. Tom Cruise. Di Caprio, I know them. Robert Carlyle and Sean Penn, but Brad’s a little more obscure. What was he in?’
    ‘Fight Club ? Meet Jo Black ? Interview with the Vampire, you might’ve seen him in that. Or Thelma and Louise, about a couple of women who go away for a weekend and end up getting killed?’
    ‘I’ve heard of Thelma and Louise ,’ JD said. ‘But I didn’t catch it.’
    ‘Jesus. What about True Romance, Seven Years in Tibet, or Johnny SuedeV
    ‘I don’t go to the movies a lot,’ JD admitted. ‘Last film I saw was Looking for Richard, A1 Pacino movie. D’you see that? Great film.’
    Clive shook his head. ‘That’s really sad, you know, we’re talking about a guy who’s got everything. He’s a brilliant actor, he’s a sex machine, multi-millionaire. You name it, and Brad’s got it; he’s a guy who is known all over the world, you know, in Japan, anywhere you wanna mention, they’ve heard of him. They go to see his movies, and you don’t even know what he looks like.’
    ‘I’ll try to catch up with him,’ JD said. ‘Next movie, it’ll be one of his. I’ll make a point of it.’
    ‘He was a choirboy in Missouri,’ Clive said. ‘Brought up a Baptist, so he has morals, too. Heart-throbs are a dime a dozen, but with Brad we’re talking real class.’
    ‘No, I mean it,’ JD told him. ‘You’ve convinced me, no need to say any more. I’m gonna keep my eyes peeled for the next film he does. I’ve missed enough good things for one lifetime. Hell, Thelma and Louise was a real mistake. How could I’ve missed that?’
    ‘You know Robin Givens?’ Clive asked.
    JD shook his head. ‘Can’t say the name rings a bell, no.’
    ‘She was married to Mike Tyson. She was one of Brad’s girls. And Gwyneth Paltrow, she was another one. They were engaged. Jennifer Aniston, you know who she is? Women can’t resist him. Even lesbians.’
    ‘I dunno where I’ve been,’ said JD.
     
    When Christine Moxey arrived home JD was