Page 107 of Big Sexy Love
‘You can do it,’ Mrs Ramirez says, rubbing my shoulders as if I’m a boxer about to go intothering.
‘You can do it, Olive,’ Anders says, picking up a comb and running it gently through mycurls.
‘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 candoit!’
Icandoit.
Can’tI?
* * *
Ihavea 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 mustnotcurse or look directly into thecamera.
‘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 onthesofa.
Eek!
‘Cariño, if you get scared all you have to do is imagine everyone in their underwear,’ Mrs Ramirez sayskindly.
‘Or don’t,’Andersadds.
‘I’ve got this,’ I yelp, my nostrils flaring a little. ‘I’ve definitely got this. Live TV! Nobigdeal!’
Don’t puke, Olive. Donotpuke.
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 likeglass.
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 toChuck…
‘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 therescue.’
‘No probs. Thanks forhavingme!’
She seems nice. This is going tobeokay.
Craig gives me a brief smile, but is mostly busy reading over his paper notes. He’s preparing. I can get on boardwiththat.
Before I know it, someone I can’t see is counting down from five to zero and saxophone theme music startstoplay.
Goodness me. Thisisit.
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 thecamera.
When the theme music comes to an end, Diane and Craig’s faces magically zing into megawatt super-toothysmiles.
‘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 findaman.’
Craig does a cheesy laugh. ‘The lengths we goto,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’ssowarm.
I take a big steadying breath and think ofBirdie.
‘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 becometerminal.’
