Page 7 of Fast Forward

Ryan scoffed at my technological incompetence and pinched the e-pad, drawing an imaginary line to my ear, just like William had done himself when his e-pad rang. “When you call someone, the screen disappears, remember? Just pinch and flick if you want the menu back again. Geez, Mum, you’re only fifty, not a hundred and fifty.”

I walked back into my bedroom, not only to speak to Selena privately, but to get away from Ryan. It was all too much. He couldn’t possibly be my son, could he? We looked nothing alike and any son of mine would surely have a classier appearance and less burping tendencies.

The ringing on the line persisted, until a click ensued, followed by a stranger’s voice in an American accent.

“You’ve reached Ms Westley, personal assistant to Selena York. I’m currently unable to take your call, please leave a message with your name, access number and reason for your call. Alternatively, please contact Ms York’s agent at The Fulton Agency in West Hollywood, on 555-6772.”

Access number? Reason for my call? I just want to speak to my friend!

Beep!

“Crap!” Oops, didn’t mean to say that out loud. “I mean, hello! I need to speak to Selena urgently, this is Kelli Crawford, er… McSnelly. I seem to have misplaced my access number, but she knows me, we’re best friends, so if you could have her call me that would be awesome, I mean, wonderful.” I tried to change my speech to better reflect a fifty-year-old woman. “It’s regarding a rather pressing matter relating to something that happened twenty-five years ago and if I could only speak to her as soon as possible, that would–”

Beep!

Geez, they didn’t give much time to leave a complete message. And since when do I need an access number to speak to my friend?

“No luck, huh?” Ryan asked, peeking into my bedroom.

I shook my head and slumped onto the bed.

“Well, it was nice of Miss Two-Time Oscar Winner to send flowers; at least Hollywood hasn’t completely swept her away.”

Selena was an Oscar winner? But she was a model. They didn’t have Oscars for models. Maybe they do now, how would I know? “What were her Oscars for again?” I asked.

“Really, Mum, your memory is totally shot today. She won best supporting actress in A Mother’s Choice and then best actress in Glimpse, ten years ago, don’t you remember? You went overboard telling all the parents at my school that she was your friend, even parents you’d never met before; you totally embarrassed me.”

“I did? Well, sorry about that.” Wow. I couldn’t believe my best friend was an Oscar-winning Hollywood actress! I never even knew she wanted to act. How did she end up there and I ended up here? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. Why didn’t I get transported to a future where I was married to Grant, living in Italy, gracing the catwalks in Milan and banking millions of dollars in income? The future I was headed for. The future I wanted. And what could have caused this… cosmic shift thingy anyway? Everything in my life was going perfectly, well, besides the argument with my sister, but I was used to those.

“Anyway, Mum, time’s a wastin’ and I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.” Ryan pulled me up from the bed.

I stood still, unable to fathom getting through this day, unable to accept who I was and what my life had turned out to be.

“Your present’s not here though, I have to drive you to it.”

I wasn’t listening. Desperately in need of a familiar face, I pinched the e-pad and summoned the menu, scrolling through my list of contacts. Grant was nowhere in the list. He was not part of this life. Selena had a personal assistant standing guard like her own secret service, while I was trapped behind the bars of this unwanted future.

“Mum?”

Like a plucked guitar string I shook, the reality of my situation overtaking my muscles with fear, but instead of music, a moan made its way up from my belly to my lungs and out of my mouth.

“What’s happening to me?” I cried. “Why can’t I remember the last twenty-five years?” I brought my trembling hands to my head and clutched at my hair, almost pulling out a few strands.

“You mean, you really don’t remember?” Ryan held on to my arms, his unfamiliar touch only exacerbating my shakes.

“Nope.” I shook my head from side to side.

Ryan looked at his watch/e-pad thing and then up at the ceiling, pursing his lips to one side. “I think I should take you to the doctor, Mum. Just to check things out. I want you to have a fun birthday, not be upset.”

I nodded. “Yes, a doctor is a good idea.” Maybe there was a medical reason for this. Or maybe there wasn’t. But either way, I needed to search for an answer and most importantly, a way to get my life back.

Chapter 3

What’s up, Doc?

“Looking fifty is great – if you’re sixty.” – Joan Rivers

“I need to see Dr Ford right away!” The receptionist’s hair puffed backwards from the sudden burst of air as I practically slammed into the reception desk, knocking a pile of brochures onto the floor.

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