Page 66 of Hello Darling
“Gasp! I've always been your friend first! This is strictly off the record, now dish.”
“Back to theFalloutissue. I'll do a few joint interviews and photo shoots with Georgia, for the big papers and magazines, but that's it. Nothing live except at the premiere, nothing on air.”
“Oooh I love it when you get all bossy and growly.”
“Good, because I’ll be that way a lot more from now on.”
“Please hold while I swap out my knickers. What’s gotten into you?”
I’m quite sure she can hear me smiling through her headset. “More like who’ve I got into.”
“Oh you naughty boy! Tell me tell me tell me! Do I know her?”
“Definitely not, no. She’s from Port Gladstone.”
“Where?”
“Here I am. Right now. We’ve been seeing each other for a bit. I’ve already met her family, had Thanksgiving dinner at her father’s house yesterday, and she and I actually going out together for the first time tonight.”
Silence. The longest stretch of silence I’ve ever experienced with Henrietta—nearly five seconds. “Fuck me—are you telling me you’re going on a date with a normal human girl for once?!”
“There's nothing normal about her.”
“An abnormal human girl?”
“She's quite something, Hen. I think you'd like her. Just please don't do anything stupid like send a photographer over—I want to enjoy this bit without having to deal with that rubbish.”
“Get over yourself, sweetie. There are no paparazzi in Bumfuck, Washington and I’m afraid no one would send anyone there for you.”
“It’s a two and a half hour drive from Seattle.”
“You are neither a royal nor a Kardashian. Unfortunately. Don’t people get more excited about photographing whales and tall trees over there?”
“I suppose you’re right. It’s refreshing. Maybe I’ll have a look into the real estate here.”
“For fuck’s sake—are you still jet-lagged? You sound like a lovesick schoolboy. Who is this girl?”
“Well, that’s the thing, Hen. This girl is a young woman.”
“Oh Christ, Ev. You’re not going to start singing, are you?”
“You should be so lucky. Anyhow, if and when it does get out that I’m seeing her, and the whole thing starts up…”
“You can trust me to handle it with grace and panache.”
I burst out laughing. Those are two words that have never been used to describe this woman’s handling of anything, and she knows it. “Try not to cock it up, is the most I can ask of you. Refer to her as my new friend and request privacy.”
“I hope she’s hot.”
“She’s stunning.” I don’t know why I feel defensive. It’s completely true. “In a very natural sort of way. She’s a yoga instructor, actually.”
“Oh well—Nama-fucking-steto you. I’ve got to jump to the other line, but thank you for confirming theFalloutstuff and good luck with the non-actress fanny.”
Strangely enough, I think I might need it.
When Stella told me we’d be dining at Delilah’s Deli and Café on Main Street, I thought she was joking. She’s not. I’ve passed by here several times, and recall her saying it’s her favorite place for lunch, but never paid much attention to it.
“So this is your location of choice for a last supper?” I ask, as I hold the glass front door open.
