“Alison fromThis Morningis somewhat of a national treasure here in the UK,” she says. “Her interviews always go viral. They’re fun and playful, so you’ll be fine. She played Connect Four with Beyoncé and had Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford in pieces with her jokes.” She pats my arm and heads out to the door to get Alison as I sit down and put the microphone back on my shirt.
Although I often give Paul and Connie a hard time, maybe because they still treat me like a child, they do look after me.
Erica rushes over, readjusting my hair and misting me with spray to give me a healthy glow, while Laurie helps readjust the mic.
“Sorry again about last night, babe,” she says. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Laurie’s face looks whiter than mine was after I was sick this morning.
“Don’t worry about it. At least they got their money’s worth,” I say, waving off the apology. She gives me a small smile as she backs away.
After another quick test and a thumbs-up from the sound guy, Connie walks Alison in and over to me. Alison’s turquoise and yellow dress and gold bangles match her bright megawatt smile as she sits down and greets me.
“In three, two, one…” the cameraman calls out.
“Good morning, viewers! Today we have an extra special guest with us, who’s taken time out of his busy schedule whilehere in London to talk to us about life on the road, his latest single, and more… Alexander Morgan.” Alison points her cue cards at me.
And with that, I switch on the charm, turning it up to an eleven.
“The honor is all mine, Alison. I’ve been looking forward to this interview all week, wondering what games or questions you have in store for me…”
As the camera rolls and the interview continues, I catch Rob out of the corner of my eye. He gives me a thumbs-up sign, and I can’t wait for the interview to end. Has he seen Christopher? Has he found out something about him?
6.Christopher
Friday
By all means, take as long as you need. I just love watching things age in real time, I grouse to myself.
My gaze burns a hole through the man in front of me, who is carting his suitcase down the broken escalator and taking up the whole width so no one can pass. The tuts and sighs behind me confirm that I’m not the only one frustrated.
I finally make it to the underground platform, just to see the tube to Hampstead exit down the tunnel. The next isn’t due for another five minutes. I rub my forehead and let out a sigh.
Great.
She’s gonna kill me.
Most families would be understanding if I’m running late, and would maybe even offer to delay lunch to be accommodating—especially after all I’ve been through in the past thirty-six hours and the fact that I still have some work to do later. But the Foster family, or more specifically my mum, is anything but understanding or accommodating. It’s her way or the highway.
I collapse on a metal bench, noticing the sweat circlesforming underneath my armpits are staining the new beige polo I’d bought after finishing in the gym.
The mere thought of my gym interlude this morning causes a wave of irritation.
I rest my elbows on my knees, letting my head collapse into my hands.
How stupid was I to think he’d join me in the steam room, like it was a gay sauna?
What a schoolboy error.
A ping from my phone snaps me out of my pity party, and I retrieve it from the pocket of my black jeans.
Kelly
Please hurry, she’s on one today and I can’t face her on my own.
I quickly fire back a response before returning my phone to my pocket.
Stuck waiting for the tube at Euston. There as soon as I can be.
I feel for my sister, even though the upside to this delay is that I am spending less time with my mum. Ever since Daniel proposed to Kelly in Paris eighteen months ago, my mother has turned into a Mumzilla. She’s taken over all the planning and preparation, to the point that you’d think it was my mother, not my sister, getting married.
