Page 103 of Big Sexy Love
‘OliviaPope?’
‘FromScandal. She is magnificent. She and all her gladiators in suits put photographs for their investigations on the window. Everyone we have seen was very happy to have their picturetaken!’
‘Oh. Cool. Ithink.’
I peer at the polaroids. Three are headshots of men and two are headshots of women. Written underneath in tiny writing are their phone numbers, email addresses, how they know Chuck and the condition of their hair. One says ‘dry’, one says ‘oily roots’, another says ‘stressed follicles’ and one says ‘soft as feathers –followup’.
‘Why are there notes on here about thesefolks’shair?’
Anders rolls his eyes as if I am an idiot for even asking. ‘Because one can tell everything one needs to know about a person based ontheirhair.’
‘Of course! Right! And these people say they know Chuck?’ I ask. ‘Do you have any information wecanuse?’
‘Nothing concrete… not yet, at least,’ Anders tells me. ‘But there are plenty more people waitingoutside.’
* * *
It takesus six hours of interviewing randomers until we decide to send the rest of the people outside away, asking them to contact us via a specially set up email address if they have any verifiable information. Of the many people we spoke to, only three of them actually knew Chuck. One was friends with Chuck at college but hadn’t seen him in years. And then he scarpered as soon as he recognised Anders and called him ‘the dude who cut that other dude’s face with the scissors’. Which made Anders lock himself in one of his three bathrooms for a whole thirty minutes. The second person was a pretty young woman who fancied Chuck when they’d both worked at Chimes Investments. She didn’t have any info to offer but wanted to be kept in the loop if we found him and he was still, by some miracle, single. The third guy said he had a friend who had been to an incredible party that Chuck had held at mansion in Brooklyn but that he’d never actually met him and he didn’t know anyonewhohad.
‘This Chuck Allen is like the Great Gatsby!’ Mrs Ramirez pointed out, after she had done scolding Anders for hiding out in the bathroom, telling him that ‘grown men do nottantrum’.
Everyone else we saw was a liar, a rubbernecker, or just wanted to get a look inside the beautiful Gramercy Park house they had admired for years and never been able togetinto.
At the end of the day, Anders, Mrs Ramirez and I slump on Anders’ living room sofas. Well, as much as we can slump on stiff, Chesterfield antique settees. I sigh, determined not to be downbeat, despite this feeling like a wasted day. Making an effort to try to see things in a more positive light, to try to relax when I can has made life feel so much brighter. And the search isn’t over yet. There’s still time! Not a lot of it… butstill.
‘All we can do is try again tomorrow,’ Mrs Ramirez says with asleepysigh.
I nod. She’s right. If there’s one thing I’ve realised this past week, it’s that you can’t force things to happen, no matter how much you want them to. But it doesn’t mean you can’t tryyourbest.
‘Anyone care for a tipple?’ Anders asks, slinking over to his living room bar cart. ‘The cognac I had last night was divine. I would highly recommend it for taking theedgeoff.’
‘Yes please,’ Mrs Ramirez says. ‘With iceplease.’
‘I’ll just have…’ I’m about to say I’ll just have water, but hell. If I can’t enjoy a glass of fancy-ass cognac when the opportunity arises, then what am I even doing? And it’s not like I’ve got any other plans tonight. Seth palmed me off this morning and my inbox is still, sadly, all quiet on the Chuckfront.
‘I’ll have one,’ I say. ‘Thankyou.’
I stand up to help Anders make them, but he hisses that I should sit back down immediately because besties bring drinks to besties. I do as I’m told and recline back into my seat. After he’s handed myself and Mrs Ramirez our drinks, Anders lights a small fire and a warmth settles over the grand room making us feel snug and cosy. I think of Birdie, hoping that at least one of the leads we got today comes to something solid. I’ve not got long left to find Chuck and I desperately don’t want to letBirdiedown.
Ramirez gives a happy sigh as Anders turns on his record player and the rich baritone notes of Frank Sinatra glide intotheair.
‘Well, if this isn’t a lovely time then I don’t knowwhatis.’
I smile dozily, watching the flames of the fire crackleandfizz.
I completelyagree.
I wish Birdiewerehere.
OceanofPDF.com
ChapterThirty-Two
Text from Olive to Birdie:Did you get my text, Bird? Whereyouat?!
Three glassesof old cognac later and I amquitetipsy. It’s only early evening, though, so I can drink plenty of water and get the early night I hadplanned.
I text Birdie again and am a little surprised when she doesn’t text back immediately as she usually does. I realise that she didn’t respond this morning either. My stomach kerplunks as I consider how this morning’s text might have seemed to her. She’s stuck in hospital feeling downright rotten and here I am gloating about amazing oyster dinners, sneaking dances in beautiful parks and having the kind of sex that can make a person feelbrandnew.
