“Maybe I was wrong about you, Red. You’re not so boring after all.”
That’s not the only thing you’re wrong about, I thought.
Because whether he liked it or not, I was going to get him to finish that damn script. No matter what it took.
Chapter 5
The Moral Support
EXT: EVIE’S FLAT, EAST DULWICH—FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 8:30 P.M.
EVIE rushes up the tiled path in her tiny garden and opens her front door, shrugging a canvas bag higher on her shoulder. It clinks. A bunch of basil and a baguette are poking out of the top. Once inside the compact hallway, she wriggles her key into the lock of a second door while hastily scrolling through her phone messages.
MARIA: Evie darling, we have arrived at your flat. We’re just outside
JEREMY: why aren’t you answering? Tell us you’re in there. This weekend is going to be painful enough planning She Who Must Not Be Named’s hen do without having to deal with your flatmate alone
SARAH: did my instructions come through?
JEREMY: oh, hi, Voldemort. Yes, we received the 19-page PowerPoint presentation and reading list. Thrilled to be included in the acknowledgments section
MARIA: let us innnnnnn
YOU HAVE 10 MISSED CALLS FROM MARIA NOWAK
MARIA: hello, it’s your best friends here, who are hoping you are just around the corner because Jane is in and it sounds like she has company. Whoever she’s with is having a VERY good time
JEREMY: we’re guessing it’s not you
MARIA: Evie Doris Summers where ARE you?
JEREMY: don’t do this to us, Evie. Oh, God, Jane is coming
JEREMY: and now she’s heading toward the door
I’d tried so hard to be on time for their visit. When they’d been here last, Monty had declared a Code Red (out-of-town client lost in Underground) and they’d been halfway through dessert by the time I’d made it to the restaurant.
This time I was late because Sam-and-Max had confirmed receipt of the addendum, and Monty had wanted to talk to me about it. He hadn’t hidden his surprise when I’d returned to the office with NOB’s signature on Monday, even holding the (slightly wrinkled) pages up to the light as if checking their authenticity. “You’ve taken on a lot of responsibility, Evelyn,” he’d said eventually, smoothing out the paper. “See that it pays off and in three months’ time, we’ll be celebrating more than the finished script.” He’d smiled at my hopeful expression, then brought me down to earth by giving me half a dozen contracts to check “urgently” before I left.
I entered the living room to see Jeremy, head in hands, his curly hair falling over his forehead and his usually crisp clothes rumpled on his slender frame as if to echo his despair. And Maria, nodding at whatever my flatmate Jane was saying, thick dark hair pulled back into a ponytail as she clutched an empty wineglass like it was the only thing nailed down in a storm. An expression of forced politeness wrestled with wide-eyed horror on her pretty face as Jane finished a particularly animated story that involved the kind of miming you don’t see at kids’ birthday parties.
“—and that’s when it fell out on the floor!”
Maria flinched.
I shook the bag so they could hear telltale clinking, and Jeremy leaped up. “Oh, Evie, thank God, I hate you, you goddess.” He bent to embrace me. “Jane was just explaining why she took so long letting us into the flat.” Jane smiled behind him. I grabbed Maria next, trying not to show the tears that sprang to my eyes at seeing them. I wished Sarah could be here too, but this weekend was for planning the hen do we all had to pretend she hadn’t already planned herself.
I hid my expression from Jeremy, but Maria, being Maria, caught sight of it and held on to me a little longer.
“It’s so good to see you never do this to us again,” she said in one breath. Jeremy had already taken the bag from me and was filling a spare glass.
“Jane,” I said, taking it from him gratefully, “you have a date to get to, don’t you?”
Jane stood in one sinuous movement, her black hair gleaming under the light. “I do. He’s in the bedroom. I’ll see you later.” This last part was aimed at Jeremy, who raised his wineglass.
“Still gay, Jane.”
“Still interested.” She smiled, then slunk out.
Jeremy shook his head. “Does anyone else feel both appalled and slightly confused about themselves?”
“Are you still working late every night?” Maria asked me, her tone casual.
Jeremy poured more wine. “I mean, obviously I’m going to drink enough to forget most of what she just described, but part of me still hopes to be Jane when I grow up.”
“Just tonight,” I said to her.
“Evie,” she reprimanded, seeing through the fib. I knew Maria wasn’t mad at me; she was hurt. We barely saw each other, and I hadn’t been there to greet them on time. Again. I’d promised them a meal after their journey, and now it was after eight and the vegetables I’d bought at lunch were wilting in the bag. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I’d been finishing off the pile of contracts so I could please Monty. She’d insist, again, that I needed to leave the agency. Maria was full of all kinds of love, and her tough love packed a punch.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I insisted.
Out of all my friends, Maria had known me the longest, and at times like this, those years showed. I still remembered the day the little girl with the thick, dark hair and huge gray eyes helped me up when some other kids had pushed me over on the playground. She’s been my protector ever since. Two became three in high school, when we had Jeremy’s acerbic wit to get us through. Sarah joined us when we all started at Sheffield University. She lived with us in student halls and—possibly because no one else could cope with her—she became a firm part of our group. The four of us were close, but Maria probably knew me better than I knew myself.
To my relief, she didn’t push further. She sat down next to Jeremy, and I eased into my favorite chair, hoping that would be the end of it. I rested my wine on the well-worn arm, where it slipped on something. When I wiped at whatever it was, Jeremy let out a gagging sound. I looked over at him, wondering what was wrong as I rubbed my fingers together. My friends both sat there with vaguely guilty expressions. “What?”
Maria grimaced. “Oh, sweetie. You missed the beginning of Jane’s story. The part that took place on that chair.”
Jeremy tipped back his wine. “It was bad. As in burn-the-chair bad.”