‘I said no suchthing.’
I gasp. I have been conned! Donna warned me this would happen, and it’s happened on my first day here. I’ve been conned by a creepy rich guy whose door Iliterallyknocked at of my ownvolition.
‘Youdid!!’ I hiss, my head feeling heavy because whatever he’s done to my hair seems to be weighingitdown.
‘Actually, I said I’ll tell you what I know about Chuck. And that does not include his currentwhereabouts.’
I screw my eyes up, thinking back to our earlier deal. Maybe he didsaythat…
‘Fine,’ I huff. ‘Tell me what you know. I really need to find Chuck and, frankly, you are not being very helpfulatall!’
‘I haven’t finished your hair yet!’ Anders points to thechair.
I plonk myself back down into it with a grumble of protest. What choice doIhave?
‘I can’t stay much longer,’ I tell him. ‘I have things to do. Urgentthings.’
‘You’re so tense. Are you sure you don’t want a realdrink?’
I kind of do now, but I feel like Anders might drug me in order to spend more time doing my hair. Or maybe steal my hair and store it in a precious jewellery box under his antique bed. And then use it to weave into wigs for some life-sized dolls that he happens tocollect…
‘No thanks,’ I say firmly, thinking back to the last time I drank and the ensuinghumiliation.
‘What is so urgent?’ he asks. ‘Why are you in sucharush?’
I think about Birdie. Her lovely open face, with skin and lips pale because of organs that don’t workproperly.
I shake my head out of it. It’s best to think of Birdie’s condition in an abstract way. Otherwise I worry I’ll just start crying andneverstop.
I swallow hard. ‘I just do. It’simportant.’
Anders must sense the desperation in myvoice.
‘Okay,’ he says kindly. ‘I will tell you what I know of Chuck while I finish your hair. It will take me another hour to completemywork.’
‘Fifteen minutes,’ I counter-offer.
‘Thirty.’
‘Deal.’
As Anders continues doing whatever the hell he’s doing to my head, he tells me how Chuck was a friend of his in college at Princeton. How they were in the same classes and that he was renting this place from Chuck’sparents.
‘So you know where hisparentsare?’
‘They live in Belize now. I still keep in touch with them – they’re my landlords – but they had a terrible falling out with Chuck over something mysterious and they don’t talk to each otheranymore.’
I sigh, my stomach sinking. This isn’t exactly helpful. I can hardly pop along to Belize to track down his parents and ask them about Chuck’s where-abouts, can I? ‘There’s nothing about him online either,’ I say infrustration.
Anders sniffs. ‘The last I heard, he was working on WallStreet.’
‘I thought rich people didn’t have jobs?’ Ipointout.
Anders laughs. ‘Chuck Allen’s family are mere millionaires,darling.’
My eyes almost pop out of my head. Anders is a billionaire? Wowee. Does he dive onto a bed of money at night like Scrooge McDuck? Does he wear all his underwear once before throwing it away in favour of a brand new pair? So manyquestions…
Focus,Olive.
