‘Um hi,’ Seth shakes Mrs Ramirez’s hand.
‘Hello, again.’ Anders says, leaning in to kiss Seth on the cheek, much to his surprise.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask. ‘How did you even know I was here?’ I look up to the nearby Rockefeller Center. ‘Did you see us out of the window?!’
‘I just saw you on Evenings with Craig and Diane.’
‘You watch it?’ Anders pulls a face and then leans over to whispers in my ear. ‘Bad taste in TV. Deal-breaker?’
‘I told you it has an audience!’ Mrs Ramirez adds.
‘I don’t watch it. One of the other writers at Sunday Night Live watches it religiously though. He ran into my office and told me you were on.’
‘Oh!’
Seth shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘I wanted to tell you something. I’ve been thinking about it all day and then when I saw you on Craig and Diane I raced over here to see if I could catch you in time.’
‘Give us a second,’ I say to Anders and Mrs Ramirez, indicating that Seth should come and stand by me near a tree. I have a feeling that whatever he’s about to say – good, or bad – is not something I want anyone else to hear. And definitely not if he’s about to tell me about a certain intimate contusion.
‘Hey,’ Seth grins, when we’re out of earshot of Anders and Mrs Ramirez. ‘Nice fanny pack.’
‘Hey!’ I say lightly, trying not to look at him with total heart eyes because my whole body is pinging in his presence. ‘In England we call it a bumbag.’
We smile at each other like a pair of idiots.
‘So… I kind of just wanted to say—’ Seth begins
And then my phone rings. It occurs to me to ignore it, but it could be Birdie calling me back. Or it could be someone who’s just seen me on TV and has Chuck intelligence. Terri promised to direct all calls to my mobile. But then I did just swear on her show so maybe she’s no longer so keen to help. Damn.
‘Just a sec!’ I say, grabbing my phone from my bumbag. ‘Hello!’
‘Hello,’ comes a man’s voice. It’s American and self-possessed. ‘Is this Olive Brewster?’
‘Yes,’ I say, my breath catching in my throat. ‘Who is this?’ I ask.
But I don’t even know why I’m asking. Because I already know who it is. Something inside me just knows. That this, right here on the phone, is the man I came to New York for.
This is Birdie’s Big Sexy Love.
This is Chuck.
‘It’s Chuck. Chuck Allen,’ the smooth voice responds, confirming what my heart already knew. ‘I hear you’ve been looking for me?’
Chapter Thirty-Four
@ElissaJohnson
That’s the key thief/pervert on Craig and Diane! The @NYPD told me she was back in the UK. They #lied! I am so upset.
@ElissaJohnson
She just cursed on live TV! My six-year-old Amber heard it! #fuming
@AmyBNYC to @ElissaJohnson
I didn’t know you had kids!
@ElissaJohnson to AmyBNYC
I don’t. Amber is my dog
‘Chuck! Chuck Allen!’ I repeat back to him. Seth’s mouth drops open. ‘It’s Chuck! The real Chuck!’ I shout to Anders and Mrs Ramirez. They hurry over to me, clutching each other in anticipation. ‘You don’t know how happy I am to hear from you!’ I tell him.
‘I must say I’m surprised. Birdie and I were so long ago,’ Chuck says, somewhat stiffly. ‘And we didn’t end on the best of terms. I’m very sad to hear she’s been so unwell.’
‘I have a letter for you!’ I squeak, barely able to contain my excitement!
‘Yes, I gather. I’ve been reading about the Menace of Manhattan in the paper. And now, having just seen you on Craig and Diane, I realise that you are in Manhattan because of me. I felt I ought to get in touch.’
Did he just do an irritated sigh? No. Chuck Allen wouldn’t sigh.
‘Where are you?’ I ask, concerned that my reception will go and I won’t get his exact location.
‘I’m on my yacht at New York Harbour. Some friends and I are having a party on the river before I leave for Bali tomorrow.’
‘Bali?’ I spit. ‘Well I need to see you now. Right now.’
‘Yeah, the yacht sets sail in about forty minutes. We’re on Pier 78. You’ll spot my yacht. It’s the biggest one.’
‘Okay! I’m on my way. Don’t leave before I’m there. This is so important.’
Chuck sniffs. ‘I’ll do my best, but, as they say, the captain’s word is law.’
I hang up feeling a swirl of disappointment in my chest. Chuck doesn’t exactly sound like the swoonsome romantic hero I’ve been picturing in my head this past week. I shake the thought away. That doesn’t matter. I’ve found him! Birdie will be so pleased!
‘Right!’ I say, shoving my phone into my bumbag and zipping it up. ‘I have to get to New York Harbour, Pier 78 asap.’
‘I could hire a helicopter,’ Anders ponders. ‘It will be a pleasant trip but perhaps a little time-consuming considering…’
‘I think I’ll just catch a cab.’ I walk out into the pavement and stick out my hand.
‘Shall we come?’ Mrs Ramirez asks.
‘I’d be happy to,’ Seth says. ‘I can take an hour out!’
I shake my head. ‘No. No. Thanks for offering, but this is something I need to do alone. I want to sit down and talk to Chuck. To tell him about Birdie. To wait while he reads the letter.’ I look at Anders and Mrs Ramirez. ‘You guys wait back in Gramercy for me. I’ll be there later.’
‘Make sure you give him my number,’ Anders instructs. ‘Tell him that I retain my innocence regarding my intentions with Warner’s face. I was just trying to fix his ends. I did not mean to cut his face with my scissors.’
Four cabs fly past me. I take a deep breath and shout super loudly and, as I’m a dab hand at this now, the next cab screeches to a halt right next to me.
That will never get old!
‘Call me if you need any help,’ Seth says. ‘I guess I should go back to work but… I’ll call you later?’
‘Yeah,’ I smile, getting in the cab and trying not to think about how sad I feel that our destiny was to be nothing more than fling. ‘I’ll speak to you in a little while.’ I close the door of the cab. ‘New York Harbor,’ I say breathlessly to the driver.
He turns around, his dark eyebrows raised. ‘You want me to step on it?’
I break into a massive smile. ‘Yes please!’
So he does. And as he screeches off the sidewalk I turn to see Anders, Mrs Ramirez and Seth waving madly behind me.
My heart lifts at the sight of these three people. People I never expected to meet. People I now really care about and, I think, care about me.
How lucky am I?
I reach New York Harbour exactly thirty-eight minutes later. Handing over a wad of dollar bills to the driver, I dive out of the taxi and race to Pier 78 as fast as I can, praying that he hasn’t left yet. I look around for the biggest yacht, spotting a really ostentatious one right at the end of the pier, lit up with hundreds of twinkling lights.
It’s breezy tonight and all the boats are rocking from side to side. I sprint towards the yacht, thanking heavens that I got here on time, but just as I reach the bow a massively obnoxious-sounding horn blares out and, oh my goodness, the ship starts to move!
Shiiiiit! It can’t be leaving! I’m only two minutes late! Oh no! Nooooo.
‘Stop! Don’t leave,’ I shout as loudly as I can, my voice cracking with desperation. But no one hears me! Argh. I run around in a little circle of panic. Chuck said he’s going to Bali tomorrow. I have to see him now! I can’t let him get away after all this. Fuck! I cannot let Birdie down. I promised her. I promised myself.
I hear Birdie’s voice in my head.
Come on, Olive! Be brave!
And then I do one of the most dangerous, unsafe, ridiculous things I’ve done in my safe little life. I run at the pier, hoping that my legs are strong enough to
jump far enough to land on the hull deck. They have to be! I’ve done so much walking this week!
With all my might and all my strength and every last speck of hope I possess, I make the jump.
And I miss.
It feels like slow motion as I drop into the ocean like a rock.
My whole body sinks deep under the river, the water flooding into my nose and ears. I feel my head start to swirl in panic, my limbs get shaky with fear.
Fuck. This isn’t good. I knew I had a good reason for my fear of deep water!
I hear Birdie’s voice again, as clear as a bell. ‘Don’t be a dick, Brewster. Don’t drown. Swim! You’re so close!’
She’s right. Drowning right now would be a total dick move. After everything, I cannot drown!
I try to relax my limbs and focus my brain like I’ve been practising since Phyllis showed me how. I repeat the words she taught me at Trickys. ‘If I relax, this will pass.’
By not panicking, by allowing myself to relax, my legs and arms start to work. I kick and swim up to the surface of the water, my dress billowing softly around me. Taking in a huge gulp of air, I tread the water as best as I can without falling into freak-out mode again.
Above me, the yacht looms large, blurry from all the water in my eyes. I spot a couple chatting by the upper deck, sipping champagne, completely oblivious to my murky struggle.
‘Help!’ I call out. ‘Heeeeellllp!’
But they can’t hear me over the strains of shit dance music coming from the boat. I can’t quite believe Birdie’s Big Sexy Love listens to such shit music!
Kicking my legs furiously to stay afloat, I wonder what to do. It’s brassic cold in this river, so I need to make a decision very quickly. I can swim back to the dock, risking the chance to ever get Birdie’s letter to Chuck. Or I can…
I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!
Suddenly I see a flash of pink in the water. It’s my bumbag.
I gasp, getting an idea! It’s a long shot, but…
Still treading water, I reach into the front pocket of the bumbag, being careful not to disturb the main zip and damage the waterproof integrity of the bag and Birdie’s letter, and yank out my Rescue Remedy. I haven’t been using it these past few days so the bottle is still almost full!
I focus on the couple I can see on the yacht and, with all my might, I lob the bottle up towards the top deck. I watch as it sails slowly, beautifully through the night sky.
Don’t miss! Don’t miss!
The Rescue Remedy arcs down and – yes! It skims the man’s shoulder!
Yesssss!
All at once the couple lean over the railings of the yacht.
I can’t hear what they’re saying over the sound of the shit music but they are pointing and gesturing dramatically.
Suddenly a bunch of other people appear at the barriers, peering down at me in shock.
One of them throws down a rope ladder so that it hangs over the side of the boat. With the last of my energy, I swim towards it and cling on.
Well, that was a close call.
After one of Chuck’s staff takes me below deck to shower off the river water, I dress in a soft white robe monogrammed with CA initials, and wait in Chuck’s private quarters, a sumptuous room decorated in burgundy and gold.
I’m waiting for fifteen minutes before the door opens and Chuck strides in. Woah. He is ridiculously, preposterously good-looking. I had wondered if, in the years since Anders’ college picture was taken, Chuck might have aged like the rest of us humans. But nope. He still looks like a twenty-one-year-old god. He’s wearing a black party tuxedo and his hair is dark, glossy and slicked to the side like Don Draper in Mad Men. He has a set of perfect white teeth, a tanned healthy face and gorgeous long-lashed brown eyes that put George Clooney’s to shame.
‘Hello!’ I say, standing up and immediately handing him Birdie’s letter, which, having been zipped tightly in the inside pocket of my waterproof bumbag is perfectly intact. Ha! Everyone who laughed at my bumbag can suck it! It totally saved the day!
‘That was quite a risky move out there, don’t you think?’ Chuck says as he sits formally on an armchair opposite me and peers at the envelope. He doesn’t even say hello!
‘Um, well. I had to get this letter to you.’
‘I see. You’ve certainly gone to great lengths.’
‘Birdie is very important to me,’ I tell him. ‘I promised her I’d give you that letter. You’ve been so hard to find! I was starting to think you didn’t exist for a moment there.’
‘I like to live off the grid,’ Chuck sniffs, his eyes running over my damp face. ‘I found myself being locked into a world of screens and social media and the alpha world of investment banking. It was suffocating. It almost ruined my relationship.’
His relationship? Chuck is in a relationship? Huh. I suppose a part of me had been secretly hoping he’d read Birdie’s letter and decide that she was his Big Sexy Love too. That he’d fly back to England with me to reunite with his sweetheart.
I guess not.
Chuck leans back into his chair and crosses his legs. ‘I’m lucky enough to be able to travel the world. I have real adventures rather than watching those of other people play out on Instagram and Facebook. I chose to take it the opportunities my wealth has given to me. To privately enjoy my life with Warner.’
Warner? I screw up my face. Why do I know that name?
Wait. Warner? Anders’ college room-mate Warners?
‘Redheaded Warner?’ I splutter.
Chuck nods, frowning. ‘You know him?’
Wow. Chuck is gay. All this time, Anders thought that they left him out because they disliked him, when really it was because they were actually together?
‘I know Anders von Preen. I believe you and Warner were at college with him?’
Chuck curls his lip a little. ‘Von Preen? Wow, that’s certainly a blast from the past. Anders von Preen! Creepy guy.’
‘Actually he’s a really lovely talented guy,’ I snip. ‘With a great sense of style and a kind heart.’
I cover an irritated huff. Chuck Allen is… not what I expected.
‘Why don’t you open the letter!’ I say quickly. ‘That’s why I’m here, after all!’
Chuck nods. ‘Yes. Yes, all right then.’
I watch, wide-eyed, as he slowly peels open the envelope, pulling out sheets of thick, expensive-looking paper.
I smile to myself as he unfolds the paper and starts to read. I can’t believe he’s here! I found him! He’s here and he’s actually, finally reading Birdie’s letter! I wonder what it says!
Then Chuck’s face turns from cool and serene to absolutely furious. His tanned cheeks flush beetroot red and he stands up from his chair with a gasp.
‘What the hell is this?’ he says angrily, holding the papers up in the air.
I stand up too. ‘Wh-what is it? What’s wrong?’
Chuck shakes his head. ‘You think this is funny?”
I blink, completely confused. ‘I don’t understand,’ I try. ‘What’s the matter?’
Chuck looks me up and down furiously. ‘I’ll have someone call a speedboat to come and collect you as soon as your clothes are dry. You are no longer a guest on my yacht.’
Chuck screws up the papers of Birdie’s letter and throws them onto the floor, storming across the room. Before he leaves he whips around and takes one last angry look at me. ‘You really are a menace. Get out of New York!’
As he slams the door behind him, I bend down to pick up Birdie’s letter with shaking hands.
I start to read…
Dear Chuck,
I just wanted to say that you were a real dick of a boyfriend. I loved you. And you let me love you so that your parents wouldn’t find out you were gay!! If you’d have told me, I’d have been happy to beard for you! I am cool like that. Or I could have helped you to come out to them when you were ready. But you let me fall in love with you. And you let me believe that you wer
e straight. That you loved me too. That we would go to England, to university together. That sucks. And for me to find out the truth by walking in on you with my next door neighbour Quiet Bruce who turned out not to be so quiet at all? That was not cool, Chuck. Not. Cool. You were an asshole. I bet you are still an asshole. I hope not. But I bet you are.
ANYWAY. This whole thing is not about you. Please pass this letter back to my friend Olive who I am assuming is somewhere nearby. The next letter is for her.
Bye bye, Chuck. Be happy.
I half laugh in complete disbelief and quickly pull out the next sheet of paper. It’s covered in Olive’s loopy messy handwriting.
Olive,
There you are.
Hey.
Don’t be mad at me! Oh god, you’re going to be so mad at me, I know. But let me explain.
Okay, so I kind of tricked you into going to New York. But it wasn’t meant to be a mean trick. It was meant to be a magical gift.
As you know, I won’t be here for a great deal more time. I know you get sad when I’m so upfront about it, but I’ve made my peace with what’s happening. I promise you. I’ve had a gorgeous life. I really, really have. I’ve travelled, I’ve loved, I’ve laughed ’til I peed my pants (mostly thanks to you) and cried until my nose was so blocked I could barely breathe, I’ve had heartbreaks and fights and scary times and joyful times. I’ve lived. I’ve really lived!
And I got to know you. I was so alone when I moved to Manchester. I was supposed to be here with Chuck, I was wrestling with this shitty illness and I didn’t have anyone. And then you happened. And you loved me. Right away you loved me. You welcomed me into your life and let me talk at you for hours, helped me plot my adventures, rant about daft men, sat with me in hospital waiting rooms, introduced me to Kit Kats dipped in tea and bought me cool iridescent Band-Aids so that my blood draw marks were stylishly covered. You’ve been my sidekick since the day we met, no questions asked, no mugging for the spotlight. And, I’ll be honest, I’ve loved every minute of it. As you knew I would.
Big Sexy Love: The laugh out loud romantic comedy that everyone's raving about! Page 26
