Chloe sighs in exasperation, pursing her pink-glossed lips. “Haven’t you ever heard of puns, Nick?”
“I hate puns,” Nick says, handing the espresso to a regular customer named Gary, an older guy who always wears a beat-up Ohio State baseball cap.
“The Daily Grind! Thanks a Latte!” Chloe shouts.
“Brewed Awakening,” says Tobin. Nick shoots him a dirty look.
“Pizza My Heart,” Gary says as he takes a seat, and we all turn to look at him.
“I mean, you’d have to become a pizza place for that one to work,” he says, taking a sip.
Nick shakes his head. “I trusted you, Gary.”
“I think it’s a great suggestion,” Chloe says, beaming at Gary. With her cute blond milkmaid braid and her flowered apron, she looks like some sort of adorable coffee angel.
“Why are you sitting down, again?” Nick asks. “Instead of, I don’t know, working?”
“I’m on my break!” Chloe says, pulling out her phone. “And hold on, I’m trying to help Annie Cassidy find true love.”
Chloe doesn’t only work at Nick’s, although dealing with Nick’s endearing grumpiness could be considered a full-time job. She also goes to business school, where she’s been taking classes super slowly at night since most of her time and money goes toward her dad and the payments for his memory-care facility. Because I know she’s busy, I try to discourage her from making my quest for love her side hustle, but so far I haven’t had any luck.
“Thank you for your efforts,” I say, “but that isn’t how this works. I’m not going to find my Tom Hanks by actively looking for him, which is why all the dates you’ve set me up on or that I’ve found through whatever app you made me download that week have been miserable failures. I just have to find him, through fate or luck or—”
“Oh, my God.” Chloe slams a hand down on the table, making coffee slosh over the edge of my mug. “Have you read the Dispatch today?”
“Why?” Nick asks, uninterested. “Does it have a headline about Annie’s love life?”
“There’s going to be a movie filming here, in German Village!” Chloe says.
Nick wipes down a counter. “Big deal. Remember when Bradley Cooper filmed a movie here? All that happened was his bodyguards camped out all day to use the Wi-Fi and they never ordered anything. Also they peed on the toilet seat.”
“They were so cool,” Tobin says wistfully.
“Oh, my God, it’s a romantic comedy from Tommy Crisante, and filming starts next week,” Chloe continues, her eyes scanning the article on her phone.
“Was he the guy who directed all those cheesy movies in the ’90s?” Nick asks, because Tommy Crisante is Steven Spielberg–level famous. Everyone knows his name.
“Yeah, that’s him,” I say, my mouth going dry. A romantic comedy filming here, blocks from my house?
“We have to get you onto that set,” Chloe says, and hearing her say the thought I hadn’t yet formed makes me realize how ridiculous it is.
“Why?” I ask, shutting my computer. “I don’t want to be in a movie. I want to write one.”
“Yeah, but,” Chloe continues, “if you could weasel your way onto set, wouldn’t this be such a great learning experience? If you won’t move out of Ohio—not that I want you to leave my side literally ever, but come on, you know this isn’t exactly the cinematic hub of the country—then this could be your chance to actually be involved in a movie!”
I nod, but I’m thinking Sure, Chloe. Because what am I supposed to do? Send a letter to the director that reads, “Rom-com fanatic with zero experience and an unused, dusty film-studies degree seeks literally any job on your film”? That’s, like, the world’s worst personal ad.
Then Chloe lets out a low whistle. “And—whoa, okay, apparently the lead is Drew Danforth, that hot guy from that sitcom. Have you even seen what he’s looking like these days?” She turns her phone so I can see the screen, which is showcasing a picture of a very shirtless, very muscled man.
But I already know who he is. Everyone does.
If there was ever a man who was the complete and polar opposite of Tom Hanks, it would be Drew Danforth. Where Tom Hanks is known for being humble and respectful, Drew Danforth is known for acting like none of his acting success matters and like he’s way too good for Hollywood traditions. He’s always showing up in gossip columns for doing ridiculous things like pratfalling whenever he sees the paparazzi taking his photo. Once, he went on Late Night with Seth Meyers wearing sweatpants and with uncombed hair, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to look presentable. And then there was the time he did an entire day of press while wearing a fake mustache, but never acknowledged it, or the time that he recited the Declaration of Independence on the red carpet instead of answering reporters’ questions.
He’s known for not taking anything seriously, and the last thing this all-too-rare studio rom-com needs is some jerk who probably thinks the entire genre is formulaic and beneath him.
I take another glance at the picture, staring at it a little longer than I need to. Sure, he looks good, but romantic comedy leads are usually more cute than sexy, and they definitely don’t spend a lot of time showing off their abs (unless we’re talking about a rom-com starring Chris Evans, in which case he will be shirtless 90 percent of the time).
“Okay, first of all, rom-com leads don’t have to be muscular. And this guy doesn’t take anything seriously—everything is a joke to him. There’s no way he’s going to treat a romantic comedy with respect.”
Chloe turns her phone back toward her and reads. “Whatever. He could treat me with respect, if you know what I’m saying. I guess after he was in that sitcom, he was in some action movie so he got, like, super ripped.” She looks up at me with wide eyes. “Oh, my God, Annie. What if your life isn’t a Nora Ephron romantic comedy? What if it’s Notting Hill, and you’re supposed to end up with Drew Danforth?”
“That’s not how this works. My Tom Hanks doesn’t have to be a celebrity.”
“But it couldn’t hurt!” Chloe says. “Just think about it . . . Annie and Drew. Your celebrity name would be Andrew.”
“I’m not a celebrity . . . and I’m pretty sure his full name is already Andrew.” I open up my laptop and find the Dispatch’s website.
Gary drains his cup, then stands up and puts on his coat. “You’ll find your Tom Hanks, Annie, just like I found mine. Her name is Martha.”
“How did you meet?” Chloe asks, turning around and leaning over the back of her chair. She may not believe in fairy-tale love for herself, but don’t think I haven’t noticed she loves hearing other people’s stories.
Gary wraps his scarf around his neck. “She was married to my brother, but she decided she liked me better.”
Chloe slumps back in her chair. “Oh. Geez, Gary.”
“Love’s weird,” he says, and with a wave he leaves.
I focus on the article, which runs through all the Drew Danforth facts we already know. He got famous when he was on a long-running sitcom about a restaurant called, creatively, Mike’s Restaurant. Everyone called it the next Cheers, and it was just as popular. He played the sweet restaurant owner who pined after a beautiful waitress for four seasons before they finally got together. He even won an Emmy for it (although, surprise, he didn’t attend the ceremony and had his then-seven-year-old brother accept the award for him via satellite). After that, he bulked up and tried to become an action star in some movie called The Last Apocalypse, which featured a lot of helicopter explosions. It was a huge bomb (the box-office-disaster kind, not the kind that blew up that helicopter), and I guess now he’s trying his hand at rom-coms.