Page 64 of The Second Chance Cinema
But despite the old-school setting Ellie would usually love, she seemed distracted. She stared off into space as Drake explained that he wanted to get home for the ball drop. There was something about the tradition of watching it on TV that made him feel hopeful about the year ahead. Ellie’s phone rang while he was still midsentence. She picked it up, right there at the table. For a person who wanted to live in the past, Ellie was glued to modern technology. Drake’s hand dove toward a basket of warm breadsticks.
“Hey,” Ellie said. “No. Now is fine.” Drake could hear Nolan’s voice on the other end of the phone. It was a really inconvenient time to call. It would’ve been nice, Drake thought, if he had considered waiting until after the holidays.
“What do you mean, they’re not sure?” Ellie asked. Diners poked their heads up as they ate. Ellie needed to lower her voice. Three tables down, the waitress sang “Happy Birthday to You” to a table of white-haired women. They looked like a secret clubor a sorority. How lucky to have a birthday on New Year’s Eve, Drake thought. He swore one of the ladies gestured for Ellie to keep it down, but maybe she was just pushing the candle smoke away from her face. “You said I was aperfectfit,” Ellie snapped. “I have hosting experience, and … I mean, the show wasn’t allthatbad, was it?”
The show, Drake had always felt, was that bad. He was no expert in the arts, but Ellie had seemed physically uncomfortable on camera. She did a confusing thing with her eyebrows where she raised them too high on her head, so she always looked like she’d walked in on someone evading their taxes. The magnetism and cleverness Drake knew her for had been muddled down, which made her come off as pretentious, even to him.
“Well, who is she?” Ellie asked. She reached for a breadstick and snapped it in half.
“Maybe you want to step outside for a minute?” Drake asked. The suggestion had sounded a little rude, so he played it off as helpful. “I mean, because it’s kind of loud in here.”
“Hold on,” Ellie said as she pressed the mute button. Wisps of her hair fell out of her high bun. She didn’t bother to fix it. “It’s Nolan,” she said. “They’re considering somebody else for the show.”
“Well, maybe …that’s okay?” Drake offered. He’d meant that it would be okay either way. They didn’t need the money; Ellie had achieved a good amount of success, and maybe she would find something that was a better fit. His message hadn’t come through, though. Daggers lit up in Ellie’s eyes. “I mean, maybe they’re seeing someone else as, like, a formality,” he backpedaled.
Ellie unmuted her call. She wanted to know what theothergirl was like. Before Nolan could answer, she hung up and occupied herself with the leather-bound menu. Her mouth made cryptic sounds as she scanned the salad section, a tsk here and there, like a cheeky snake.
“This is really unfair,” Ellie pouted. “Nolan made it seem like I had it.” She gave Drake a look that commanded him to do something. He wasn’t sure what that was. He was amazed from the beginning that Ellie was convinced she would land this. It took a certain amount of audacity to assume that a role she had no experience in—hosting home renovations—would be hers. If anything, Drake had more experience in that arena. He wasn’t going to point that out.
“I’m really sorry, Ellie,” he said. She had been through so much recently. He needed to lift her up.
A little later, their waitress, Charlotte, stopped by the table. “Have we figured out what we’re having?” she wanted to know. The old-timey places Ellie frequented were always usingwe, as if the waitress planned to sit down and ask them to pass the asparagus. Ellie said she needed another few minutes to look, even though Drake knew she would order the salmon and an espresso martini. Eventually, she did.
It was almost eleven by the time the food came out. They weren’t getting home for the ball drop. In the lounge behind them, a singer started into a jazz standard. She was striking, in her thirties or early forties, wearing a silver dress that grazed the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said, probably noticing the look on his face as she took her first bite. “I just … I really want this job. Not because I want to be on television. Or home shows. As cheesy as it sounds, I think I would be good at this. I mean, these shows usually tear everything down and make it all new, you know? But I wouldn’t do that. I would give people new appreciation for the things they already love. Make their spaces really work for them.”
Drake softened. He hadn’t heard her talk about the show in that way before. How she felt about this job was howhefelt about his job. At least, the job he hoped to have one day.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Ellie said, reaching forDrake’s hands. “I love it. Martinis. Ghosts with good rhythm. Totally my thing.” Drake smiled. He felt bad for doubting her earlier.
Ellie finished her drink, so Drake flagged Charlotte to get another one. “Uh, no,” Ellie said. “We’re going to go home. For the ball drop. Or, actually …” She grabbed Drake’s wrist and looked at the time on his watch, then moved her head around the room, searching for something. “We’ll take the check and move to the bar,” she told Charlotte. “I saw a TV over there.”
At the bar, there weren’t any stools left, so Ellie and Drake huddled with the rest of the crowd around the TV. As eleven thirty rolled toward midnight, the singer, on break, put two party hats on their heads and handed Drake a kazoo. Drake wrapped his arms around Ellie’s waist, and the countdown began.
Ten! Nine!
“I’ve never liked New Year’s much,” Ellie said.
Eight! Seven!
“It’s gonna be a good year,” Drake told her. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m getting married this year.”
Six!
“You don’t say?”
Five!
“Thanks for doing this,” Drake said. “The ball drop. I thought you weren’t listening earlier.”
Four!
“I’m always listening, Drake. The holidays are just hard for me. But you know what? This year, I’m excited for midnight, too.”
Three!
“You are?”
