‘Lesbians or public fights?’
‘Both.’ We both laugh then. ‘I guess I’m just a homebody.’
‘A homebody first aider in a killer dress,’ she says, and I feel heat rush to my cheeks.
Before I can reply, cheers sound around us. Between car and bike stand Miri and Sara kissing, a kiss of apologies and wishes and hopes and wants.
I really hope they can make it work.
‘Me too,’ says Dolly, and I realise I’ve said it out loud.
I know I shouldn’t stare, but I am captivated by their kiss. When they break apart to clear the road, their arms outstretch so their fingertips touch until the last minute.
Like they never really want to let go of each other again.
That’s the kind of love I want.
We dash back to our respective cars, as the traffic starts moving quickly.
‘Oh,finally,’ says Mike. ‘Victor and I were worried the show was going to have our necks.’
The show?
Dolly’s red lips flicker into a smirk. ‘Off to a warehouse you definitely didn’t have to sign an NDA about, Cherry?’
It all makes sense now. The dress, the hair, the general Goddess demeanour. Dolly is so beautiful, she was made for television.
I nod my head a little too enthusiastically, like a toy dog on a car dashboard.
‘Well,’ she says flatly. Something has changed, but I can’t read her; autistic occupational hazard.
Is she worried about us knowing each other? Production did background checks, and I can imagine making sure we didn’t know each other was part of it. If they found out about this, maybe they’d make one of us leave? That would be unfair. Especially when we’re just helping.
I step a little closer to her. ‘Let’s keep this between us.’
It’s her turn to nod, though she does it slowly, considering. I catch a lovely scent, maybe her shampoo or perfume. ‘We’ll be perfect strangers. Just to be safe.’
‘Just in case.’
The traffic has started moving, so we get into our cars.
Everything that just happened hits me at once – the new situation, the new people, Dolly, the hum of the traffic. I practise my breathing, my tapping, and feel the rush in my blood ebb. When I glance out the window, I’m pretty sure that Victor has been driving us in circles to buy me time.
Despite that, when we finally do pull up in front of a red-brick warehouse, I’m still not ready to be a person.
It’s busy outside. Furniture is being unloaded from vans, and crates of water bottles are stacked high, passed by people shouting into walkie talkies.
Someone waves Victor into a parking spot, and once in, he looks back at me through the mirror. ‘Need a moment?’
I nod silently.
And so, Victor makes a very slow million-point turn, manoeuvring the car 180 degrees into the space.
It’s just enough time to get a hold of myself. Yes, I’m late but I’m here, actuallyhere, where I’m going to find a husband.
‘You can do this,’ Victor says softly to me, and I believe him.
‘I think you’re my guardian angel,’ I say, and he winks. I’m going to miss him. Perhaps the only reasonable adjustment I’d be brave enough to request is having an emotional-support Victor on set.
