Page 90
“So, he remembered we exist, then?” asked Lucy.
“He’s been filming a TV series in Aberdeen. He got the call on November 30, and was on a train three hours later. Showbiz madness.”
“There goes my theory that Naomi had him handcuffed to her headboard. Kinky bitch.” Lucy wiped a smear of gooey cheese from her chin. Alex shot her a dirty look. It flew away in the breeze, unnoticed.
Freddie pointed to a stall three-deep with customers. “Let’s hit that Crosstown Donuts place, get a box, and overdose on sugar in the park.”
Alex tugged the sleeve of his leather jacket. “No donuts will be consumed until we find the Christmas tree guy. I read that Whishy bought his tree here last year, so we’r—”
The Sherlock theme cut her off.
“Hello?…Yes, this is Alex…Hi!” Her eyes opened wide as she mouthed ‘Isabella Archer’ to her friends.
“…You liked it?…” Alex stashed the half-eaten pasty in her coat pocket.
Both Freddie and Lucy stopped eating. When Alex didn’t say anything for twenty-five seconds, they inched closer.
“…Really?…Stamford Street…Will do. Thanks, thanks so much…Bye.”
Alex fist pumped the air. “Fuck, yes!”
“Ooh, rare F-bomb klaxon.” Lucy grabbed Alex’s arm. “What’s so fucking amazing, then?”
“Guess who’s been added to Isabella’s workshop?” said Alex in a sing-songy voice as she bounced in her biker boots.
“How?” said Lucy.
“One of the playwrights dropped out because of a family illness. Isabella doesn’t want to waste the spot. She liked my bridge excerpt, so I’m in! Next Friday night.”
“Bloody hell, it’s alllll happening. Come here, you!” Freddie pulled Alex and Lucy into an awkward embrace of arms, food, and plastic cutlery.
“It’s at the Coin Street Neighbourhood Centre—that’s close to the National—I can walk there after work. Fucking hell! I can’t believe it. I’ve missed the first sessions, but I can catch up. I’m so doing this.”
“Won’t Olivia be there, too?” asked Lucy. “Aren’t you worried about that?”
“What choice do I have? Of course I’ll be annoyed seeing her there—with my suffragette play, but…it’s hers now. I can’t control that situation, so why try? I’ll just burn out from frustration. It is what it is.”
“I’m relieved to hear you finally say that. Enough is enough.” Lucy nibbled her sandwich.
“At least I have something Isabella likes that I can shove back in Olivia’s face. I’m no charity case. I belong there. Enough time has passed, I hope she’ll leave me be and just get on with it. Frankly, I’m too excited to care about all that right now.”
“As you should be. Screw the donuts.” Freddie tossed his empty food container in the trash. “Celebratory drinks—now!”
Thirty-One
“Why the fuck not me?”
– Mindy Kaling
Six days later
Alex arrived at the workshop fifteen minutes early, fueled by nerves, excitement, and too much sugar. The meeting room in the Coin Street Centre was clean and bright with three long tables configured into a U formation. A smaller desk sat in the opening at the end, reserved for Isabella. Alex set up her laptop on the far table in front of the windows, taking the seat closest to Isabella’s spot. Two male playwrights—one ginger, the other bald—followed Alex into the room and claimed their seats at the table across from her. A small Asian guy arrived five minutes later, choosing the lone spot in the bottom of the U; the only seat remaining, beside Alex to her left.
Just before seven, the sound of female laugher reverberated down the hallway and floated into the room. Isabella walked in first; wearing a white turtleneck sweater, black wide leg trousers, and a grey wool cape that draped below her hips. On her heels, chatting a mile a minute and auditioning for the role of Teacher’s Pet, was Olivia in a cobalt blue jumpsuit and over-the-knee black boots, her long camel-coloured coat hanging on her shoulders for dear life. Alex thought the outfit would look ridiculous on anyone else, but the brunette managed to pull it off with style and aplomb. Alex swallowed slowly. She adjusted her red tartan pencil skirt, and the three-quarter length sleeves of her black v-neck sweater, then gripped her keyboard with both hands.
Olivia’s gaze landed on Alex, her heels stuttering almost to a halt. Alex sat up straight and jutted out her chin. With any luck, the trapeze act swinging in her stomach would take notice and dismount.
Alex smiled widely like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, sorry…did I take your place?” She spoke loud enough for Isabella to hear and hoped the irony wasn’t lost on her rival.
