Looking for Andrew McCarthy (16 page)

BOOK: Looking for Andrew McCarthy
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‘Hasn’t she left a number telling you where she is?’ Siobhan asked Loxy softly.

‘No,’ Loxy shrugged. ‘At this point I don’t even know if she’s ever talking to me again. I can’t believe I went to the airport.’

‘It was a lovely thing to do,’ said Siobhan, sincerely. ‘Really romantic and honest. There’s not enough people around like you. Most of them are shits.’

‘You should take it as time off, mate,’ said Big Bastard. ‘Go out and get shagging. There’s some right tasty dark birds out there … I’d do that Naomi Campbell. Do you know her? Oww! Owwwww! What the fuck did I say?’

‘Now, unless you want the other stiletto, you shit,’ said Siobhan, ‘and reporting to the Equal Opportunities Commission, I’d recommend you get the fuck out of your own sitting room.’

‘Christ,’ said Big Bastard. ‘I think some people round here need an Equal Opportunities Shagging Commission, so they’ve got a chance of getting themselves fucked out of their DEMENTED MOOD-SWINGS. I’m going off to see what the fairy blossoms have gotten up to.’ He raised himself up heavily and lumbered off to the kitchen. ‘Hey … don’t throw those fucking crispy pancakes away …’

‘I brought a bottle of wine,’ said Siobhan, slumping onto the floor. ‘Want a glass?’

Loxy nodded disconsolately.

‘You know, I don’t think I understand women,’ he said as she poured.

‘That’s because men’s brains are wired to their bollocks,’ said Siobhan. ‘The circulation doesn’t work right. Don’t worry. You’re doing okay. In fact, I wish I had someone …’ She tailed off.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. She’s lucky. At least you’re trying.’ They each took a sip and stared into space.

‘Chilli’s up!’ Arthur, Colin and Big Bastard came into the room, carrying a steaming pot and a motley selection of cutlery, chipped plates, and bread of varying textures and ages.

‘Wine for me,’ said Arthur. ‘Beer for Big Bastard. Shandy for the boy.’

‘I am old enough to drink, you know,’ said Colin crossly. ‘Ooh – did you make jigsaw toast?’

‘Can we borrow a phone book?’

‘Hey!’ said the waitress. ‘You still staying at that fancy place across the street?’

‘Nope,’ said Julia. ‘But you’re the only person in Los Angeles we know well enough to borrow a phone book from.’

‘Apart from C. Thomas Howell. We know him. In fact we had drinks with him only last night,’ said Ellie importantly.

‘Well, shaft me sideways with a saveloy,’ said the waitress.

‘Sorry,’ said Ellie, ‘we only speak English.’

The waitress wobbled off in shoes that surely weren’t in the health and safety regulations for food preparation.

‘Excuse me.’

Ellie turned to see the most achingly beautiful young man she had ever laid eyes on sitting next to her. He was regarding her with a look of puppyish devotion, resembling nothing more than Emilio Estevez sighting Andie McDowell.

‘Oh no,’ she thought. ‘Here I am, ten thousand miles from home, and this poor boy has just fallen hopelessly in love with me. But it can never be.’

‘Hello,’ she said kindly, giving him her best eyes wide open smile.

‘Hey,’ he said, with a melting smile. ‘Look, do you think you could introduce me to that waitress? You look like you know her.’

‘Jeez, I cannot cut a break,’ thought Ellie.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘She’ll only talk to you if you’re in movies.’

‘Hey, wow, are
you
in movies?’ he said, his wide eyes opening even wider. ‘Only, because, well … I’m an actor.’

‘No shit. Well, maybe I could get you into
Animal Hospital
, chipmunk-face,’ said Ellie in a growling voice.

‘Yeah?’

‘Ellie, pay attention,’ ordered Julia. ‘Okay, there are six Andrew McCarthys and another five A. McCarthys.’

‘That could be if he’s trying to hide his identity,’ observed the waitress over her shoulder.

‘In the phone book. Under his own surname,’ said Ellie.

‘Hey! You want my help or doncha?’

‘Did we ask for help?’ said Ellie to Julia.

‘I’d recommend you don’t play smartass with the person you’re relying on to bring you foodstuffs.’

Ellie hung her head. ‘Sorry.’

‘Alrighty then. Are you going to phone them all?’

‘No, just the real one,’ said Ellie. ‘We’re psychic.’

‘You can’t help yourself, can you?’

‘No. Please don’t spit in my pancake mix.’

‘Makes ’em better for you. Well, don’t phone that one,’ said the waitress, pointing out the second name. ‘That neighbourhood, I’m surprised he’s even got a phone.’

‘Handy,’ said Julia, scribbling it out with a pen. Unable to get a grip, she tore the entire page out of the book.

‘Hey,’ said the waitress. ‘We might need that page!’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Ellie, holding up the book. ‘You already let somebody take the “Lowe” page. Oh, and look, the “Clooney” page.’

‘For Rosemary, would you believe. You all done?’ said the waitress, retreating to the kitchen.

‘Can we change some quarters?’ asked Julia.

‘Sure.’

‘Umm … excuse me.’

The young man waylaid the waitress as she went past his table.

‘Ehm … can I … look, do you want to have dinner some time, or something?’ he asked.

‘Are you in movies?’ asked the waitress, waving her coffee pot alarmingly.

‘Well, I’ve got the possibility of a part coming up on
Animal Hospital …

‘Yeah?’

‘To the batphone,’ whispered Ellie, and Julia nodded as they crept out, leaving a massive tip.

With five handfuls of change, procured from a man entirely covered in tattoos, they found a relatively quiet telephone box by the beach.

‘Here goes,’ said Ellie.

‘Please deposit one dollar seventy,’ said a mechanized voice on the phone.

‘Weird,’ said Ellie. ‘What if we just ran away?’

‘Doesn’t your mobile work?’ said Julia.

‘I had to hand it back to work. Actually,’ Ellie thought about it for a second, ‘nothing has rung at me for three days. God, that’s magnificent.’

She enjoyed the thought for a moment.

‘Okay, get on with it!’ said Julia, ‘What are you going to say if he answers?’

‘Ooh!’ said Ellie. ‘I hadn’t really thought about that.’

‘Hedge, this is the point of the whole trip.’

‘Yeh, I know but … Oh, I know. I’ll ask him if he can still get into that ladies bra he wears in
Class
.’

‘… or anything on earth other than that,’ said Julia.

‘Um … maybe we should pretend to be film directors.’

‘Let’s keep the whole disaster-inviting pretending stuff to a minimum shall we? You’ve seen
Weekend at Bernie’s
. Just say hi.’

‘Okay.’ Ellie took a deep breath. ‘First number please.’

‘310–555 … 1796.’

The phone clicked to itself at the other end and rang.

‘Hi!’

‘Hi!’ said Ellie excitedly.

‘Andy and Maggie can’t come to the phone right now … you know what to do!’

‘I cannot believe I fall for that every fucking time,’ said Ellie. ‘I’m like Charlie Brown and the football. What possible reason could people have for trying to make you look stupid when they’re not even there to enjoy it?’

‘Was it him?’

‘Nope, definitely not. Far too jolly and upbeat. Anyway, he’s not an “Andy”. That’s a puppy’s name.’

‘Okay …’

‘Do you want to do the next one?’

‘No, this is your thing. Anyway, it’s not like you’re trying to sell them life insurance.’

Ellie sighed and dialled the next number.

‘This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship
Enterprise
. If you wish to leave a message for my loyal lieutenant Andrew, make it so after the tone.’

Ellie hung up, shaking her head fiercely.

‘Well, if that was him,
this
quest is over.’

‘Hello, this is Andrew’s microwave. His answering machine just eloped with his tape deck, so I’m stuck with taking his calls. Say, if you want anything cooked while you leave your message, just hold it up to the phone.’

‘Jesus, what is WITH the people in this town?’

‘They’re just trying to get noticed,’ said Julia.

‘As MORONS?’

‘Now I lay me down to sleep; leave a message at the beep. If I die before I wake, remember to erase the tape.’

‘Christ, that’s it,’ said Ellie, slamming down the phone. ‘Let’s just assume he’s not in the phone book.’

‘There’s one Andrew left here on this list,’ said Julia. ‘You might as well give it a shot.’

Ellie raised her eyes. The phone rang for a long time, then was sharply picked up.

‘Yeah?’

Ellie froze and shook her hands desperately at Julia, who shrugged emphatically.

‘Hi … hi, is that Andrew?’

‘Who’s this?’

Ellie shook the phone in excitement.

‘Andrew McCarthy?’

‘Do I know you?’

‘No, well, not exactly, but …’

‘Aw, Christ, not this again. Don’t tell me, you want to know if I still have the bra and panties from
Class …

Ellie’s mouth dropped to the floor.

‘Is it him???’ whispered Julia frantically.

Ellie tried to mime ‘maybe’, whilst speaking calmly into the phone.

‘No, no, but, I’m a big fan and …’

‘Just fucking grow up, okay?’

‘Click.’ The phone went dead.

‘Oh my God,’ said Ellie. ‘OH MY GOD!!!’

‘Was that him????’

‘I think so! He was really pissed off at being disturbed and being asked questions about his movies … oh God, it must have been!’

‘Seems like maybe he shouldn’t put himself in the phone book,’ mused Julia.

‘Oh my God … it sounded like him. Well, it was male, and American … Oh, and he was at home during the day! It is him!

‘Do you want to phone him again?’

‘No, he obviously doesn’t like it … and we don’t have to now, do we? We’ve got his home address!’

Say Anything

‘Hey!’ yelled Siobhan, fumbling with her car keys, house keys, three bags of shopping and an umbrella. ‘Where are you off to?’

Loxy turned round halfway down Lavender Hill, padding home to his flat at the bottom. ‘Oh, hi there Siobhan,’ he said. He looked uncomfortable.

‘Shitty day!’

‘Yes, yes it is. I was just out for a walk.’

‘Loxy, it’s pissing down.’

‘Sometimes I like that though.’

‘You’re laughing at clouds,’ said Siobhan, opening her front door. Loxy stopped short and turned around.

‘Ehm. Yes. I suppose … yes I am …’

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘Alright.’

‘Is it just me?’ said Julia, ‘or is this car filling up with dead skin?’

‘I’m
scratchy
,’ said Ellie. ‘That is not a crime.’

‘It should be. This isn’t
Zombienation
.’ Julia squinted at the map again, and compared it to the page ripped out of the telephone directory. They were high in the Hollywood Hills, trying to navigate off a ‘Homes of the Stars’ map. Andrew wasn’t on it, but as Ellie had pointed out, it covered the right area.

‘Okay. I think we’re just about there …’

‘Oh God,’ said Ellie nervously. ‘I think that bacon quadruple cheeseburger I had for lunch might be making a reappearance.’

‘Well, if you will immerse yourself in local customs and traditions …’

‘Are we really here?’

They were facing a low whitewashed villa, behind a low fence. Pink bougainvillaea flourished in the garden and there was an expensive German car in the driveway.

‘1134. That’s what it says,’ said Julia, backing up the car nervously.

‘Oh my God,’ said Ellie. ‘Are we really just going to march up to his door and demand …’

‘… satisfaction? Your call, sweetie.’

‘He’s going to think we’re weird.’

‘We are weird. Well, you are, Cornflake Girl.’

‘Aaah,’ said Ellie. ‘I’m really nervous.’

‘We don’t have to, you know,’ said Julia. ‘We could just go to Disneyworld or something.’

‘No,’ said Ellie. ‘No no no. How would we ever explain it to Colin? I’m going to do something positive, goddamit, and ring that doorbell.’

She looked in the sunvisor mirror. ‘I look like the Singing Detective.’

‘I know, but we’ve already agreed you’re not going to try and have sex with him, so it doesn’t matter. Now, get out the car.’

Ellie emerged into the bright sunlight, took a deep breath and moved towards the door. Just before she got there, it was pulled open abruptly.

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