Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Olive’s recent search history:

Improv ManchesterTips for being on radio interviewHow to suppress burps discreetlyBruised penis painful?Bruised penis common injury?Fleperty

When the cabpulls up outside Anchorage Studios, I’m surprised to see how close it is to the Rockefeller Center. I think about what Seth’s doing right this minute. He told me he was working tonight. He’s probably up there right now. Studiously avoiding my text. Icing his bruise.

Myself and my two unlikely sidekicks march through the door. At the reception desk, the man behind it gives the three of us a confused look. Granted we don’t look quite like the kind of people who frequent radio station studios on the regular. The last-minute nature of this whole thing means that my hair is all big and tangled around my head, my eyes tired and my dress crumpled. Mrs Ramirez looks like she should be sitting on a front porch, rocking in a chair somewhere. Anders looks impeccable as always but, you know, like Anders.

We’re instructed up to the fourth floor and when the elevator doors open we are met by Terri who looks much like she sounds – cropped blonde hair, sturdy athletic figure and stylish no-fuss outfit of black jeans, a white shirt and high-heeled leather ‘don’t fuck with me’ boots.

‘Thank god you’re here,’ she says, grabbing my hand and speedily yanking me down a corridor without even saying hello. ‘You don’t look great but, fuck it, we don’t have many options rightnow.’

Rude!

I look behind me, wide-eyed, as Mrs Ramirez and Anders try to keep up with Terri’s rapid pace but don’t quite manage it considering Mrs Ramirez’s dodgy knee and the tightness of Anders’ jeans. The pair of them look genuinely excited to be here, though, and that excitement ignites a little fire in my belly too. I’m going to be on the radio. Actual radio!

Terri pushes open a big set of double doors and into a huge, warehouse-type room covered in lights and lines of tape over the floors and massive expensive-looking cameras.

‘Ooh it’s a TV studio as well!’ I say. ‘Is the radio studio bitfar?’

Terri throws me an annoyed look for slowing her pace. ‘Excuseme?’

‘The radio studio,’ Mrs Ramirez enunciates very slowly from behind, her Spanish accent making the ‘r’s roll melodically. ‘She said the radio studio.’

‘Who gives a shit where the nearest radio station is!’ Terri barks. ‘Who listens to radio these days! This is Evenings with Craig and Diane!’

‘Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness, Olive!’ Mrs Ramirez squeals, pressing a hand to her bosom. ‘I love Craig and Diane!’ She absolutely beams. ‘I thought I recognised thisset.’

‘This is TV?’ I yelp as Terri grabs my arm again and pulls me across the studio floor, pushing me into a small, bright room with mirrors across the wall, a row of spinny chairs and tons of hair and make-up products laid out on countertops.

‘Live TV,’ Terri corrects, looking at her watch. ‘I’ll be back in five. Hair and Make-up should be with you in two. Your friends can sit in here with you for now. There’s a water cooler over there.’ She points into the corner of theroom.

‘W-wait, what shall I—’ I start, but before I can even finish the sentence Terri hasleft.

‘How exciting!’ Mrs Ramirez sings. ‘Craig and Diane! Craig is my favourite. An Americanhunk!’

‘Live TV!’ I choke, my voice all wobbly. I was feeling so brave before. But that was when I thought I was going on radio! But TV? Live TV? ‘Argh! Live TV? Oh man. I don’t even know who Craig and Dianeare!’

‘It’s a local talk show,’ Anders says dismissively, picking up a hairbrush from the countertop and inspecting it. ‘It’s a five boroughs news TV show. So millions of people will definitely not be watching.’

‘This is all a good thing!’ Mrs Ramirez points out, admiring herself in the mirror. ‘TV has much stronger reach than radio. We have a far better chance of someone who watches knowing where Chuckis!’

I peer at my terrified face in the mirror and think of my best friend. Mrs Ramirez is right. This isn’t about me. It’s about Birdie and I will do anything to make this happen forher.

‘I can do it,’ I say to myself sternly. ‘I can doit.’

‘You can do it,’ Mrs Ramirez says, rubbing my shoulders as if I’m a boxer about to go into thering.

‘You can do it, Olive,’ Anders says, picking up a comb and running it gently through my curls.

‘I can fucking do it,’ I say, taking off my coat and bumbag and brushing lint of my dress. I do some jumps in the mirror and a few karate chops to psyche myself out. ‘I can doit!’

I candoit.

Can’tI?

* * *

I havea little light concealer and powder pressed onto my face and my hair fluffed and combed by a woman who seems perturbed when Anders tells her that she’s not doing it right and nudges her out of the way to do it himself and, after the gorgeous job he did for my dinner with Seth, I let him. Then, as Terri attaches a microphone to my dress, feeding a wire down past my bra and round my back, she, for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, goes over how this is all going to work. I will sit on the studio sofa with the presenters of the show, Craig and Diane. They will ask me about my search for Chuck Allen, why I’m looking for him and how people can get in touch with me. I absolutely must relax and act like I’m having a simple chilled out conversation with two friendly middle-aged people in primary-coloured suits. I absolutely must not curse or look directly into the camera.

‘Got it!’ I promise, my stomach starting to roll and jolt as the commercial break begins and Terri tells me it’s time to go sit on thesofa.

Eek!

‘Cariño, if you get scared all you have to do is imagine everyone in their underwear,’ Mrs Ramirez says kindly.

‘Or don’t,’ Andersadds.

‘I’ve got this,’ I yelp, my nostrils flaring a little. ‘I’ve definitely got this. Live TV! No bigdeal!’

Don’t puke, Olive. Do notpuke.

I hand Mrs Ramirez my bumbag (I had wanted to keep it on, but Terri put a halt to that idea pretty quickly), clutch Birdie’s letter to my chest and, with shaky legs, head across the studio to take a seat on the big purple sofa with Craig and Diane. Craig looks like a fifty-something superhero, with a dark quiff and a matinee idol jawline. Diane is very pretty and bright-eyed, with lovely long brunette hair that’s been so perfectly blown out it shines like glass.

I inhale and breathe out slowly, thinking of all the people who might be watching this show. All the people who might have information leading to Chuck…

‘Hello Olive,’ Diane says with a dazzling smile, as the make-up artist comes over and dabs a shit-ton of powder on her forehead. ‘Thanks for coming to the rescue.’

‘No probs. Thanks for havingme!’

She seems nice. This is going to beokay.

Craig gives me a brief smile, but is mostly busy reading over his paper notes. He’s preparing. I can get on board withthat.

Before I know it, someone I can’t see is counting down from five to zero and saxophone theme music starts toplay.

Goodness me. This isit.

The lights are ridiculously bright. And it’s so warm. Really hot, actually. Why is it so hot in here? I can see the camera! Must not look into the camera.

When the theme music comes to an end, Diane and Craig’s faces magically zing into megawatt super-toothy smiles.

‘Welcome back!’ Diane says into the camera. ‘Next up we have a guest with a very interesting story. This is Olive Brewster who has come to New York from England to find aman.’

Craig does a cheesy laugh. ‘The lengths we go to, huh?’

Diane giggles too. ‘Olive is here to find a man, but not in the way you might expect, Craig. Why don’t you tell us why you’re here in Manhattan, Olive.’

Holymoly.

My throat immediately goes dry. The lights beam down on my forehead making me sweat. It’s sowarm.

I take a big steadying breath and think of Birdie.

‘I’m here for my friend,’ I say to Diane and Craig. ‘Her name is Birdie and she has lupus which, because of associated complications, has become terminal.’

Diane and Craig’s faces immediately switch into sad sympathetic expressions.

‘How awful.’ Diane frowns, pressing a manicured hand to her chest.

‘Yep. It is,’ I say, stealth tears popping into my eyes. Go away, tears! You are not welcome! I carry on. ‘Birdie’s American. She was born and raised in Manhattan, but now she lives in England. Manchester, actually. She asked me to come to New York to deliver a letter.’ I hold up Birdie’s letter and wave it a little, discreetly fanning myself at the same time. ‘She wants me to give it to a man she lost touch with long ago. His name is Chuck Allen and he was the love of her life.’ I frown slightly. ‘Chuck Allen. That’s Allen not Ellen. A L L EN.’

Craig gives a little snicker of mirth at my spelling. I don’t care. I’m not chancing another Chimes Investments wrong Chuck scenario.

‘And why does Bertie—’

‘Birdie. Birdie Lively.’

‘Why does Birdie want to find this mannow?’

‘She… she hasn’t got long left.’ My voice shakes. ‘And she’s been thinking a lot about her life and her past. Chuck was her Big Sexy Love andshe—’

‘Sorry?’ Craig interrupts with a slight frown. ‘Big SexyLove?’

I grin, fiddling with the corner of the letter. ‘That’s what Birdie calls epic love. We used to talk about one day finding our Big Sexy Love – the greatest love known to humankind. I guess it’s kind of a private joke type thing…’

Craig nods, looking slightly befuddled.

‘…And she wants me to deliver this letter,’ I tap a finger to the envelope, ‘so that Chuck can know how she truly felt about him. She never told him when they were younger and she doesn’t want any regrets.’

Diane puts a finger to her chin, a thoughtful expression on her face. ‘It certainly seems a long way to travel to deliver a letter! Is Chuck not on social media? Can she not reach him on the telephone?’

‘Chuck is not on social media. Trust me, I’ve searched, she’s searched. He is elusive.’

‘Not on social media? He sounds like he might be in Brooklyn!’ Craig chuckles.

‘We’ve looked everywhere, handed out leaflets, posted online, offered a reward like in Annie, visited his last-known locations. But we can’t find him. And I have to leave in a few days. Birdie’s having kidney surgery next Monday and I need to be back before that. So it’s… well, it’s pretty desperate.’

‘That sounds very risky,’ Craig says. ‘A surgery when she is already so unwell…’

I bite my lip. It does sound risky. It is risky.

‘Are you scared?’ Craig says, leaning closer towardsme.

‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘Not as scared as Birdie, probably.’

I think of my friend. Her big eyes, her mischievous grin, her filthy laugh, her sweet, kind, failing heart.

I only realise I’m full-on crying when Diane hands me a box of tissues. Craig gives me a satisfied smile and I get the feeling it was his intention to make mecry.

A spark of anger flickers in my chest. This isn’t a game. This isn’t TV fodder. This isserious.

I fiercely wipe my tears away and when Craig starts talking I gather up all of my courage to interrupt him. I turn and look directly into the camera even though Terri told me to definitely not dothat.

‘Chuck Allen, if you are out there, you better blummin’ well get in touch,’ I say, quickly trying to keep my voice steady. ‘If anyone watching knows where he is, they can reach me by emailing [email protected]. Please!’

‘Um. Okay, there are the details!’ Diane says brightly. ‘Thanks for joining us Olive. And please give Birdie all of ourlove.’

That’s it? I did it? It’sdone?

I look around, expecting Terri to come and lead me off the set when Craig presses his hand to his earpiece.

‘Olive… one of our researchers has just informed us that…’ he widens his eyes in glee, ‘…you are the Menace of Manhattan? That you were arrested for stealing a Gramercy Parkkey?’

‘That was you?’ Diane asks, her eyes squinting to get a closer look at me. ‘It is you! You were in the New York Daily News!’ Her expression changes from one of pity to one of absolute disgust.

Shit! No. No. I am not here for this. This is about Birdie and finding Chuck.

My mouth opens and shuts gormlessly. I’m not sure what tosay.

I panic. ‘Um… fleperty.’ Gaaaah. I just said the made-up word I was worried about saying! Oh Olive.

‘Excuse me, did you say fleperty?’ Craigasks.

‘Fleperty,’ Diane repeats slowly. ‘What is fleperty? Is it a British thing?’

‘Do you steal things often, Olive?’ Craigasks.

‘Er… Um…’

‘And do you only take keys? Or are you open to thieving a variety of items?’ Dianeadds.

‘Do you steal so that you can feel something, Olive? Truly feel something. Something more than just the endless tedium of day to day life, staring into a lens, talking to people you will never ever meet and who care not one iota aboutyou.’

Diane gives Craig an odd look. As do I. He turns red, clearly horrified at his little burst of emotion.

‘Back to “fleperty”,’ Diane says, trying to retain an air of professionalism. ‘Is that UK slang for, um… public masturbatory practices? Tell us more, Olive.’

Public masturbatory practices? Okay, this is getting out of hand now. Heart pounding, I stand up off the sofa and march over to the camera. ‘Chuck Allen. I will be waiting for your call!’ I say intensely before jogging off the set, much to the horror of Diane, Craig and Terri, who I jogpast.

Anders and Mrs Ramirez stand on the sidelines just staring at me in absolute disbelief.

‘Holy fucking turd alert!’ I hiss, grabbing my coat and bumbag off Mrs Ramirez. ‘Let’s get out ofhere.’

I feel a huge yank on myback.

‘Ouch!’ I turn around to see Terri, her face flaming, holding wires in her hands.

‘Your microphone was still on,’ she spits, her eyes bulging angrily. ‘You just said Holy Fucking Turd Alert to our entire audience!’

Oh no! This is not good. This is really not good. I really am The Menace of Manhattan.

I gawk at Anders and Mrs Ramirez in panic. Anders grabs my hand and then Mrs Ramirez’s hands and in the highest volume his thin voice can manage, he yells, ‘Ruuuuuuun!’

* * *

We only runabout ten metres because Mrs Ramirez’s knee means we can’t take the stairs and we have to wait for the lift. So the three of us stand there feeling all kinds of awkward as various crew members walk past and throw us dirty looks.

Once we’re outside the studio, Mrs Ramirez gets emotional. ‘When you walked up to the camera and spoke directly to Chuck? Oh, I felt it in my heart, Olive.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Ramirez. I just hope it works.’

I stare at the pair of them and suddenly I start to laugh with relief and adrenaline. They join in. ‘That was bonkers,’ I breathe. ‘I can’t believe they knew about that whole Manhattan Menace thing. There’s been nothing in the papers about me for two whole days now! I thought people were losing interestin—’

‘Olive?’

I turn around at the deep, warm voice behindme.

It’sSeth.

Huh?

‘Seth? Whatare—’

‘This is Seth?’ Mrs Ramirez holds out her hand to him. ‘You are right, Olive. His eyes are turquoise. I didn’t think it possible, but itis!’

‘Um hi,’ Seth shakes Mrs Ramirez’shand.

‘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 Ramirezadds.

‘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 wereon.’

‘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 intime.’

‘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 fannypack.’

‘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?’ Iask.

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 Yorkfor.

This is Birdie’s Big SexyLove.

This is Chuck.

‘It’s Chuck. Chuck Allen,’ the smooth voice responds, confirming what my heart already knew. ‘I hear you’ve been looking forme?’