Looking for Andrew McCarthy

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘Christicles!’ she shrieked, on attempting to stand up.

  Julia’s eyes blinked open immediately in alarm

  ‘What? What is it? Ohmigod. Chuffing hell.’

  She clasped her head tightly.

  ‘What the Jesus fuck is going on?’

  ‘I don’t exactly know,’ said Ellie, hopping about on one leg and yelping, ‘but I’m hoping they’ve got plenty of Red Bull in the minibar.’

  Julia shook her aching head.

  ‘Oh, Jesus Christ. Where are we?’

  ‘We’re in America.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, I remember that much. Ouch.’

  Ellie put the kettle on, and examined the china cups tentatively.

  ‘We’re in LA …’

  ‘God, I must have fallen asleep in the cab. Jet lag.’

  Ellie snorted loudly.

  ‘Jesus. And what the hell am I wearing?’

  ‘Magic pyjamas,’ said Ellie quickly.

  ‘Did you get me changed?’

  ‘Umm, yes, that would have been more logical.’

  ‘Into pyjamas that say …’

  Julia gradually took in her surroundings.

  ‘This is a bit bloody nice for a Holiday Inn,’ she said slowly.

  ‘I didn’t realize it was such a different chain over here.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ellie.

  She winched back the curtains a little and, sure enough, the sun was starting to come up. Over the ocean. The famous view of endless palm trees stared back at them through the sunny windows of the thirty-fifth floor.

  ‘Well … welcome to America.’

  Julia was staring miserably into space. Ellie would have been staring miserably into space had she not just been distracted by the largest plate of pancakes she’d ever seen in her life being set down in front of her.

  ‘So you’re telling me,’ said Julia slowly, pulling on her fourth orange juice, ‘that we just spent half our allocated holiday budget on the best hotel in the world and we don’t remember a thing about it?’

  ‘I think,’ said Ellie carefully, licking maple syrup off her fingers, ‘that that shows a certain amount of style.’

  ‘I think,’ said Julia, ‘that that shows we have just burnt hundreds and hundreds of dollars.’

  ‘Well, it’s not like it’s real money,’ said Ellie. ‘That’s probably only about a fiver.’

  ‘It is a bit more than a fiver, Hedgehog! Jesus. Why the hell couldn’t you have learned the name of the hotel we were supposed to be staying at? Why couldn’t you just have barked out “Holiday Inn”? That would have been at least logical.’

  ‘I don’t know. Why couldn’t you have kept yourself from passing out in the gutter, like the first time we ever got into Fat Sam’s and you discovered Cinzano and lemonade and thought you were being chatted up by one of A Flock of Seagulls?’

  They had found a diner across the road, after realizing that having breakfast at the Ritz would cost the same as their car hire. They had, however, had to hail a taxi to get them across the road. The suited bellboys had given them knowing looks as they stumped in crushed combats through the sumptuous lobby.

  ‘Oh my God,’ whispered Ellie. ‘Do you think they took photographs?’

  ‘I know they took photographs,’ Julia whispered back, ‘what’s worrying me is, do they sell photographs?’

  Colour mounting, they walked through the held-open doors into warm sunshine and waving palm trees. Beautiful blonde people were rollerblading down towards the sand. The sky was a hazy blue.

  ‘Ow,’ said Ellie. ‘The sun’s hurting my eyes.’

  ‘And I wish all these people would get the fuck out of our way,’ said Julia.

  Now they were sitting sulkily in the little diner, trying to see at what point the waitress’s indefatigable good will would be tested beyond endurance with their endless free coffee refills.

  ‘This your first time in LA?’ she had asked when they came in. They had nodded, trying not to disturb their hangovers too much.

  ‘This the first time you’ve tasted a cup of cwaffee?’ she asked now, testily, after being summoned to refill Ellie’s mug for the seventh time.

  ‘What are those funny stars up there that look like tiny suns and yet shine in the day?’ asked Ellie, pointing to the overhead lights. Julia kicked her hard on her sore ankle and smiled winningly at the waitress.

  ‘Are you an actress?’ she asked, interested. The woman looked like the type who goes out with footballers and sells their stories to the tabloids. Her fingernails were frightening and her hair a candyfloss-textured blonde. Every time she leaned over to refill their coffee cups, her breasts stayed where they were.

  ‘No, I really am your waitress. Years of college. It’s a wonderful job.’

  ‘I thought Americans weren’t supposed to have a sense of irony,’ said Ellie.

  ‘You’re using irony in the wrong sense. Ironic, isn’t it? And that’s your last cup of coffee,’ said the waitress. ‘Now, excuse me. I’ve just got to go and schmooze those disgusting middle-aged men over there, because yup, lucky me, I am indeed an actress.’

  The table-full of overweight guys in sunglasses grinned and waved, pointing out the waitress’s breasts to each other.

  ‘Whatever happened to dumb blondes?’ said Ellie.

  ‘They just write the parts that way,’ said the waitress. ‘Coming, sweeties!’ she cooed to the men’s table.

  ‘Well, well,’ said Ellie. ‘We’re learning already.’

  ‘We have to check out of that hotel,’ said Julia. ‘We’re going to be here a long time. Our credit cards might not hold out.’

  ‘I think mine is looking a bit wobbly already.’

  ‘Well you shouldn’t have bought all that stupid shit on the plane then. You don’t even wear perfume. And you don’t need two watches.’

  ‘Course I do. London time and LA time. I’m international.’

  ‘And what about the aeroplane-shaped pencil case …’

  ‘Okay, okay.’

  ‘And we’d better pick up a car. I have a funny feeling their underground system might not be up to much.’

  ‘Then we can start our quest!’ said Ellie excitedly.

  ‘Or go lie on the beach …’ said Julia.

  ‘Quest! Quest! Quest!’

  ‘Oh, well, okay. We should get hold of a phone book.’

  ‘A phone book?’

  ‘Yes. How else are we going to find him?’

  ‘A phone book?! That’s … the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard. Anyway, I don’t think big movie stars are in the phone book.’

  ‘No, big movie stars aren’t. He probably is though.’

  ‘Don’t be mean. I think we should go to somewhere cool, where the stars hang out. We’ve got to let this happen naturally. Ehm, excuse me?’ Ellie beckoned the waitress over.

  ‘No,’ said the waitress. ‘That much caffeine can’t possibly be good for you.’

  ‘Not that,’ said Ellie. ‘Although, now you mention it …’

  The waitress sighed. ‘Well, it’s your coffee breath …’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want to be kissing you. Unless you’re a producer … ?’

  Ellie shook her head.

  ‘No, I didn’t think so. You said “excuse me”.’

  ‘Um,’ said Julia, self-consciously. ‘Where do the movie stars hang out?’

  The waitress barked with laughter. ‘Planet Hollywood, where d’ya think? Or at my place, of course. Why, who are you after?’

  They explained.

  ‘That’s the dumbest idea I ever heard.’

  ‘Yeah? You’re the one who took a job as a waitress,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Have you thought about trying the phone book?’

  ‘Yes, yes we have.’

  ‘Okay. Well, you could try The Sky Bar I suppose. On Sunset. Although I’m telling you, you’re going to need to wear a bit less clothing than that to have a hope of getting in.’

  ‘How much less?’

  �
�I’d say eighty, eighty-five percent.’

  ‘That only leaves my swimming costume,’ said Ellie.

  ‘You haven’t got a bikini?’

  ‘Ever seen a sand dune collapse? That’s what I look like in a bikini.’

  ‘Better make it the bathing suit. And put some make-up on. You both look like ghosts.’

  ‘Don’t they go for “pale and interesting”, out here?’

  ‘No, they go for “slutty and obvious”.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Ellie. ‘Let’s phone up Caroline “Snotface” Lafayette.’

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ said Julia.

  ‘Not at all,’ said the waitress. ‘If you were looking for Rob Lowe I’d come with you.’

  ‘See?’ said Julia to Ellie. ‘Everyone says that.’

  ‘Yes, well, if that’s what we were doing it would just turn into a sad little fan hunt,’ said Ellie. There was a silence.

  ‘Well, have a good day y’all!’ said the waitress.

  The hotel receptionist looked at them sniffily, even though Ellie was loudly declaiming their plan to ‘just drop by the SKY BAR’.

  ‘I’m sure he’s really nice inside, like in Pretty Woman,’ she whispered to Julia, who was trying to quietly check them out without drawing any attention to themselves.

  ‘I must ask that if you come here again you book in advance,’ said the receptionist.

  ‘… or Norman Bates, perhaps.’

  Julia had on her best ‘I check out of five-star hotel receptions all the time’ face on as she handed over her credit card, crossing her fingers tightly behind her back.

  ‘Thank you ma’am.’ Relieved, they headed for the waiting cab.

  ‘Oh, and ma’am … you left these.’

  And he held up the two half-empty gin miniatures.

  ‘Well, this is nice,’ said Julia, looking around their new tiny dark hotel room tentatively. They’d already seen one gigantic cockroach skitter across the floor.

  ‘Jules, I can hear gunfire.’

  ‘That’s not gunfire, it’s … well, I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s just get changed and go …’

  But Ellie was passed out on the bed, snoring rather more like a warthog than a Hedgehog.

  Pretty in Pink

  They stood outside the roped-back entrance feeling entirely stupid. After waking up at stupid o’clock again that morning, starving hungry, they had wandered out of the grotty hotel and finally made it to the car hire centre after waiting two hours for a cab.

  ‘They have cab companies here?’ the reception guy had said.

  ‘I thought you were meant to be the most advanced nation on earth,’ sneered Ellie.

  ‘We are, ma’am. That’s why we all drive our own cars.’

  Then they’d picked up their little Toyota, which looked like somebody had taken a real car and chipped out the inside. They both immediately got in the wrong side. They did this every time they got in a car for the entire trip.

  ‘Okay,’ said Julia, once they’d swapped over, examining the layout. ‘At least it’s got gears.’

  ‘Those are gears? They look more like lollipops.’

  ‘Shoosh. I need to concentrate.’

  Outside the dusty, hot car hire place were ten lanes of freeway steaming from somewhere they didn’t know to somewhere they didn’t know either. And Julia had forgotten to buy a map, and Ellie was continuing to have a mental block about the name of their hotel. The sticky plastic seating was already adhering itself to the backs of their thighs and secretly they both wished they were back at home.

  ‘Well, faint heart never won fair movie star,’ said Ellie finally, and shook the keys gently in Julia’s face.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Julia, her face grim. She fired up the puttering little engine and gradually shifted the car away from the door. The owner watched them with marked trepidation.

  ‘How far is it to San Francisco again?’

  ‘Oh, about half an hour I think,’ said Ellie. ‘It’s in the same state.’

  ‘Well, let’s just take a pootle around town, get acquainted. We’re not going out till tonight.’

  Almost instantly, a truck as big as the side of a house came tearing down the freeway, almost landing on top of them. Next, an actual house came tearing down, white, wood framed, securely fastened to a flatbed truck.

  ‘SHIT!’ screamed the two girls, Julia clenching the wheel.

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Ellie as the danger passed. ‘Maybe we should have planned this trip on bicycles.’

  ‘Yes, bicycles would be a lot safer on this road,’ said Julia, still white and breathing hard. ‘It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re sitting in a tin can balanced on a hairdryer built by people who’ve never had the slightest reason to like Americans. We’re going to be fine.’

  She turned on the radio. Thankfully, out came some familiar 80s chords. Ellie turned it up.

  ‘Now THIS,’ she said, ‘is beginning to sound like Los Angeles.’ And a lost Los Angeles band blared back,

  ‘TAKE YOUR BABY BY THE HAND. AND DO THE NEXT THING THAT YOU PLANNED …’

  Ellie turned down the windows, so they could let their hair flow out of the gaps and, loudly and happily, they puttered West, into the heart of Los Angeles.

  Unfortunately, as they started to discover an hour later, Los Angeles doesn’t have a heart, physically or metaphorically.

  ‘How on earth can this still be the same street?’ said Ellie. The radio was now playing ‘Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow’. Julia hadn’t relaxed her grip any, and they still didn’t have a map.

  ‘It’s not a street, it’s a boulevard,’ said Julia grimly. ‘With, so far, 11,000 houses on it.’

  ‘Wow. That must be crap if you get off at the wrong end. And what about the postman … I’ll shut up now.’

  The sun squinted through the window.

  ‘Is that the sea?’ said Ellie finally, pointing to a shining line, ‘Or am I going blind?’

  ‘It is! It’s the sea!’ shouted Julia excitedly.

  ‘Woo hoo! We’re … actually getting somewhere!’

  ‘Woo hoo! God, I suppose we are still in LA, aren’t we? What if the whole of the West Coast is actually really built up and we’ve just driven to Seattle?’

  ‘No, look, there’s a sign. This is Venice beach!’

  ‘I didn’t think we’d made it as far as Venice … oh my God!’

  They drew up on the seafront. Stretched out for miles in front of them were endless acres of golden sand, blue sea, and hordes of utterly fabulous-looking women and utterly ridiculous-looking men. And some you couldn’t tell which were which.

  ‘Look at all that muscle,’ breathed Julia.

  ‘They’re all so shiny,’ said Ellie, stepping out of the car.

  She caught sight of her own reflection in the car window and looked at the shimmering tanned dancing girls on the beach; playing volleyball, rollerblading, wandering around slowly in bikinis and tossing their hair a lot, or simply lying on the sand, revelling in their own bronzed, toned fabulousness.

  ‘Jules, am I fat?’ yelled Ellie.

  Julia locked up the car.

  ‘Of course not.’ Then she took in the whole scene.

  ‘Oh. Well, compared to what?’

  ‘I am. I’m locally fat,’ said Ellie, glumly, a cheerfully British mismatched uppy/downy person on the whole. ‘Oh no. Do you think they’ll throw things at me?’

  ‘Do you throw things at people you think are fat?’

  ‘No … well, there was that early morning DJ …’

  ‘Come on,’ said Julia. ‘Let’s get changed. FINALLY I feel like we’re on holiday, and not trapped in some screaming nightmare.’

  ‘If you scream one more time I will just walk out of here and drive away,’ Julia was saying threateningly, four hours later.

  ‘But it’s so sooorrre.’

  They were back in the hotel room. Julia was helplessly trying to apply E45 to Ellie’s third-degree burns.

  ‘
How many times did I tell you to get out of the sun?’

  ‘But I can stay out longer than you – you’re a blonde!’

  ‘You’ve known me twenty years, and you know my hair colour isn’t really blonde, Hedge.’

  ‘OUCH! Oh, yeah. I wasn’t sure how that worked.’ Ellie writhed in pain. ‘Could you just fill the entire bath with cream and I’ll just go lie in it?’

  Julia tried to smear the cream as gently as she could.

  ‘God, Hedge, what were you thinking?’

  Ellie screwed up her eyes.

  ‘Umm … I was thinking, “every year I burn myself really badly so I must remember to get out of the sun in time this year.”’

  ‘And …?’

  ‘No, that was genuinely what I was thinking. Then suddenly it was too late. Argh.’

  ‘But you have two watches!’

  ‘I’ve got an entire sense of touch, and if that can’t save me, nothing can. Ooh!’

  ‘Do you really still want to go to this Sky Bar place tonight? I’m worried you might get a little feverish. Plus, you screamed all the way back in the car.’

  ‘That car is holding onto several layers of my skin, I’ll have you know. We’re not exactly friends.’

  ‘Well, do you want to just stay in tonight, and we’ll go tomorrow night?’

  ‘No,’ groaned Ellie, standing up. ‘What am I going to do in this shit hole, play stomp the cockroach? I think I feel better now. As long as I don’t come into physical contact with anything.’

  ‘Well, given that we have to wear the skimpiest clothes we have, that’s going to work out just fine.’

  Ellie, with much wincing, slipped into a red shift dress she’d brought from French Connection before they left.

  ‘That … doesn’t look too bad,’ said Julia, as they peered into the dark mirror. In fact, Ellie was the same colour as a big lobster, and the dress made her look as if she was on fire.

  Ellie gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘You know who I look like here?’

  ‘Somebody who’s very, very embarrassed?’ said Julia.