Chloe rolled her eyes skyward, then hung up and strode off toward the station, still shaking her head. Speaking to Wendy had only made her feel more confused. Wendy was a normal person. She sounded happy, radiant even. Was that really all down to having a BoiBot boyfriend?
Well, just because it worked for Wendy, it did not mean it was going to work for her. Yes, she had enjoyed Rob’s company. Sure, he was undeniably handsome, but that didn’t negate the fact that he wasnot real. Then she thought of Tom and all the awful “real” men she’d dated lately.No, no, she was not considering this.Just because your toast is burnt doesn’t mean you eat the toaster.
At work, Chloe found a mountain of scripts on her desk, waiting to be shredded. Perfect. She booted up her computer and, stalling, checked LinkedIn. She’d been tagged in a post, an update about the reunion, with people commenting, saying they couldn’t wait to catch up. She felt a pang of longing. If only she could go as a fly on the wall, not as someone who’d have to explain what she’d been doing—or not doing—for the last ten years. She scrolled through the post, half-curious, then froze when she saw Sean’s name.
Sean Adler:I’m in the UK that weekend, so I’ll be there.
Sean was going? That was a surprise. She clicked on his page, something she’d done more times than she’d like to admit. In his profile picture he had the same floppy black hair, same boyish grin. He hardly looked older, just better groomed. She didn’t hear McKenzie come up behind her until he spoke.
“How do you know Sean Adler?”
Chloe jumped, tried to close the page, but it was too late.
“Oh, he…he went to university with me,” she said.
She clicked back a page and the reunion post now filled the screen.
“A reunion?” McKenzie said, reading over her shoulder before she could click away.
“No one goes to those things,” Chloe said quickly.
“And Sean Adler is going?” he asked, leaning a hand on her chair.
She was about to lie, but Sean’s comment was central on the screen. Damn.
“You should go. Put the script forWelcome Risingin front of him,” McKenzie said, already scheming. He was always looking for ways to back-channel scripts into the hands of actors and directors. But he was reaching new levels of delusion if he thought someone with Sean’s profile was going to consider one of his low-budget projects.
“Reunions aren’t really my thing,” Chloe mumbled, feeling herself starting to sweat.
“Chloe, it’s your job to network. Honestly, I’m disappointed you didn’t bring this connection to me yourself. Do you know what a coup it would be if we got Sean Adler?”
Chloe felt sick. Not just a flicker of nerves, but a full-body wave of nausea that rolled up from her stomach and settled behind her eyes like searing-hot stones. Because there would only be one thing more mortifying than going to the reunion alone: going aloneandhaving to ask Sean Adler for a favor. Plus, circumventing agents was unprofessional. The thought of it made her whole body cringe inward, like she was trying to retreat from her own skin. She twisted her chair back toward her computer, trying to escape the conversation.
“I’m not sure, Mr.McKenzie. It feels like a long shot.”
“I’ve heard you on the phone, you’re good at pitching,” McKenzie added. Was that a compliment? “But I can’t have an executive assistant who isn’t prepared to hustle when hustling is required. Am I making myself clear?”
Chloe nodded, jaw clenched. McKenzie waddled back to his office. She groaned, sank into her chair, and flicked through the comments on the LinkedIn post.
Lorna Childs:Wow—doesn’t Oxford seem like yesterday? I guess time flies when you’re having fun!
Lorna was now a successful interior designer with two million followers on Instagram and a gorgeous tennis pro husband. She posted reels like “How to color-contrast your cornices with your couch” and “Fifteen morning rituals that changed my life.” Chloe didn’t even own a couch, let alone cornices, and she struggled with just the one morning ritual, getting dressed and leaving the house. The next comment was from Harriet, Lorna’s best friend.
Harriet Townsend:So psyched for this! If anyone wants some of my organic jam, let me know!
According to Kiko, Harriet had given up law to become a trad wife in the Cotswolds. She’d married some rich hedge fund guy, had three beautiful children, and now lived a “fully organic lifestyle” drinking raw milk and making her own cheese, jam, and bath salts from scratch. She sold them online under the brand name Happy Harriet.
Chloe had attempted to make jam once, when her grandmother had a glut of strawberries. She ended up with an inedible saucepan of burned goo and a painful burn on her arm.
Colin Layton:I’ll be there. Driving down in the Maserati if anyone needs a lift from up north?
LinkedIn told her that Colin had made a fortune inventing some wine-trading app. Then there was Thea Bankole, partner in a law firm by thirty. Mark Patel, who’d already won half a dozen prizes for his work in medical research. The list of astonishing achievements went on and on, only serving to cement in Chloe’s mind what she already knew: she would not be able to face this reunion alone.
Then she thought of Rob. Charming, eloquent, handsome…undeniably impressive.Hmmm.Okay, so she might not want a robot boyfriend, but what about a robot fake date? Just for the reunion weekend…
“People would suspect, wouldn’t they?” she asked Morgan Treeman.
“You couldn’t tell, so how would they?” Morgan replied. “Plus you’re currently taking life advice from a desk plant, so…”
