‘You fixed it?’ Anders asks as I stare at my blank phonescreen.
‘Yeah.’ I reply with a slight frown. ‘It was all… verysimple.’
Somehow, a little toosimple.
* * *
At Anders’house, we sit down in his grand living room, while his housekeeper, Jan, makes us all breakfast. I go for toast and hot coffee, Anders sips on a strong Bloody Mary and Mrs Ramirez – who cannot stop marveling at the size of Anders’ place – opts for a stack of pancakes with bacon, maple syrup, andscrambledeggs.
‘You only have one life to live!’ she says, patting her stomachhappily.
After breakfast, another coffee and a long, soul-cleansing shower in Anders’ luxurious wet room, the three of us gather at the dining table. Mrs Ramirez is holding a notepad and pen. Anders is poised over his laptop, wearing a headset. I’m not sure the headset is even switched on, I think it’s justforshow.
We spend the next hour or so coming up with plans to get the word out about Chuck. All of Mrs Ramirez’s ideas are small and sweet – hold a raffle, send out leaflets, put a notice up in the window of her local deli, she can email her online friends and see if anyone knows anything. All of Anders’ ideas are outlandish and ridiculous – hire every billboard in times square and put up a picture of Chuck with the words ‘Where are you Chuck?’ or pay for a Kardashian to do a sponsored Instagram post asking for people to just ‘keep aneyeout’.
‘Oh! You can get in touch with the man fromSunday Night Live,’ Mrs Ramirez says. ‘He has access to the biggest show in America. Hemustbe abletohelp.’
‘I don’t think he has that much power there,’ I say. ‘He’s a behind the scenesperson.’
At the thought of Seth my stomach flips happily. I wonder how his audition went? I wonder if he’s upset that I never turned up to his show last night? Is that why he hasn’t texted? He thinks that I stood him up without any notice? Shit, he probably thinks I’m back intheUK!
‘Surely he’ll know some PR people, darling?’ Anders says. ‘The kind of people who know exactly what it takes to hire every billboard in TimesSquare.’
That’s true – the Times Square thing is clearly ridiculous – nobody could organise that – but Seth might have some good contacts in publicity… People who can get the word out about Chuck in a large-scale way that’s also affordable andefficient.
And… I should definitely call him anyway. I don’t like the idea of him thinking I just ignored his invitation. Even it was because I was brieflyincarcerated!
I quickly pick up my phone from the table and press Seth’s number. There’s no answer. And, of course, he doesn’t havevoicemail.
‘No answer,’ I grumble. ‘He mustbebusy’
‘Or he saw you were calling and decided to ignore it,’ Anders points out with a sniff. ‘People do that,youknow?’
‘He must be upset that you stood him up,’ Mrs Ramirez adds. ‘Being stood up for a date is terrible. It happened to me once. Back in nineteen ninety-two. I was backpacking Brazil and I was supposed to be having a date with a man I’d met. Marco, his name was. I’d met him that morning at the market. And when he didn’t turn up I was devastated. I’d dressed up in a beautiful bluedress—’
‘How was your hair styled?’ Andersinterrupts.
‘Loose. It was even longerbackthen.’
Anders nods with approval, a nostalgic smile on his face, almost as if he’d been there in Brazil with MrsRamirez.
‘Anyway, I waited. And I waited. I sat at the bar feeling sadder and sadder. I washumiliated.’
‘That’s awful,’ I say. ‘Oh man. I hope Seth didn’t feel like that.’ I dial his number again. ‘I was in jail. And it wasn’t a date. It was just a casual invite to see his improvtroupe.’
‘Do you know thatforsure…’
‘Well yeah. I live in England. He lives in New York. He stitched me up on television. He… he jumps queues. It can’t have been an actualproperdate…’
Butthatkiss…
‘I haven’t had a date in ten years.’ Anders sayswistfully.
‘Outrageous,’ Mrs Ramirez says. ‘But you are sohandsome.’
‘I know,’ Anders responds. ‘Maybe toohandsome.’
I stare at the pair of them, suppressing a giggle, and stand up. ‘Guys, I’m going to go toSeth’swork.’
