Cumberbatch
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Hot, wet nether lips.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Fuck, babe. Fuck. Oh my Godddd. Fuuuuuuuck.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Wow. You’re really good at this. And it really is easier for me to do this on the burner phone for some reason. For now, anyway. Thank you. I think you know me better than anyone else too. Better than I know myself sometimes, maybe.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: I look forward to getting to know you even better. Inside and out.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Front to back!
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Go on…
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Wait. Nope! Never mind.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: What I really want to tell you is this…
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: I thought about you while touching myself too. After the froner-y nipple slip incident. I mean, the friendly bonerific tits-outscapade.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: The platonic boobtastic half-mast-fest.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: You know the one.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Look at you, breaking all the rules.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Guidelines.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Whatever. It’s hawt. Keep talking.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Yes sir, Mr. Secret Valentine.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Yes. More of that.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: And I may have also accidentally thought about you while touching myself prior to that too…
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Let me know when you’ve figured it out.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Okay, I definitely did. But you made unscheduled appearances. It was really annoying.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Oh yeah? Did you pleasure yourself in an angry way when I made those unscheduled appearances?
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Affirmative.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Attagirl.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: And I want you to know that I did notice you around campus before that first day in American Lit. I was just better at hiding it than most women are.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Interesting. Continue.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: I noticed your butt first. I mean, first I noticed your butt. Because you were walking in front of me. And then I noticed the back of your neck. Which is very pleasant. And then I heard your voice because you were talking on the phone. And I don’t have to tell you how very agreeable your voice is.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: You do have to tell me, actually.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: It’s hot, Eddie. Your voice is hot.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Pleased to hear it.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: I especially like how you sound when you come.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Spit take.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: It’s really cute.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE:
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: In a really hot, super masculine way, of course.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Anyway, I noticed your voice. And then I noticed your hands. Your big, beautiful hands.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Was this when you were still walking behind me?
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Yes. I then continued to stare at your butt for a while. However, I do want to be clear that all of your physical attributes pale in comparison to your personality and the way you have always treated me and your talent.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Okay, they don’t pale in comparison, but you’re the whole package.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Nobody has ever called me that before. The whole package.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: I think maybe you’ve been saving your whole package for me.
YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: I mean, I know a lot of other women have seen your package, but…
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: You are the only woman who gets the whole package. You’re right.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: BRB
EDDIE: Hey. I’m at O’Hare. I’m on standby for a flight that leaves in two hours and they said there’s a good chance I’ll be on it. So I’ll be in NYC in like four and a half hours. I’ll start looking for a hotel for tonight, I guess. I’m assuming you’ll let me crash with you when you get there…
EDDIE: Or if I can find a more baller suite last minute, you can cancel your room and stay with me.
EDDIE: Guess you’re in a dead zone.
EDDIE: You’d better not be busy talking to Lord Vader.
EDDIE: Forget I said that. He’s not cool enough for a Star Wars reference.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Hi. In case you’re not checking your other phone, your secret valentine would like you to know that you should check your other phone.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: I dunno… Is this getting complicated? Are you ready to commit to our original phone numbers yet?
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: I’ll just sit here and think about your sweet, delicious pussy while I wait for you to get a signal or stop talking to Sir Rupert Snoredon.
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Man, I am not on my game. I should probably get something to eat.
EDDIE: Okay, I’m boarding the flight to JFK now. Message me when you get a signal. I love you.
EDDIE: Shit. Sorry. Is it okay that I said that with this phone? Whatever, gotta go. Talk to you when I’m in NYC. Xo
EDDIE: P.S. Tell Lord Froofy McSnootypants the third that I got mobbed by fans when I was in line at Chili’s.
EDDIE: Wait, tell him I was at a bar and grill.
EDDIE: Never mind.
22
Eddie
The One with the Texts from an Unknown Number
I am fortune’s fool.
I’m here in New York.
It’s snowing lightly outside, which makes the gray February slush look slightly less horrible.
I’m here with my brand-new warm winter coat, and I would give anything to be freezing my ass off, naked on a train with Birdie.
As Declan had warned me weeks ago, there isn’t a single fucking hotel room available in Manhattan or Brooklyn. So here I am at my brother’s badass penthouse, collapsed on his badass leather sofa. Birdie hasn’t called or texted in hours, so they’re probably still in a dead zone. I’m going to stay here reading Infinite Jest all night because I don’t want to miss a call from her if I go out.
And I can’t wait for Declan to get his smug handsome lawyer face out of here because I don’t need him to tell me he was right. Again. About the hotel rooms. About Alana. About Birdie.
“I’m just saying—you’re not stupid.” He saunters out of his bedroom, having changed out of his Hugo Boss suit into a Hugo Boss sweater and jeans. He used to wear Italian suits to the office when he worked in Big Law, so he thinks he’s being casual now that he’s a general counsel for a real estate firm. In German suits. “You’ve had twenty-six years to figure out that I’m right about everything, every time, so why don’t you listen?”
“Don’t you have to be at Maddie’s place for dinner or something?”
“I told you I’m meeting her at her sister’s place for dinner. You sure you don’t want to come? It would make Piper’s year. Especially if you show her your butt.”
“Piper’s her sister?”
“Her niece.”
“Right. The thirteen-year-old. I’m good, thanks. I’d just come off as rude if I’m staring at my phones all night instead of talking to people,” I tell him…while staring at my phones.
“She’s obviously just not getting a signal. You’re not actually worried, are you?”
“Yeah, no. I just can’t believe I missed the train. I can’t believe how much I miss Birdie.”
He gets a far-off look in his eyes. “Yeah. That’s what it’s like, when you’re in love with a woman. One minute without her feels like a fucking year. Every day with her is the best day of your life. Even when she spends most of the day thinking you’re an asshole.” He snaps out of it and then fixes me with his penetrating asshole lawyer gaze. “Or an idiot, in your case. It’s problematic.” He messes up my hair, like he has my whole life ever since I’ve had hair, and
then gets up and goes over to the open kitchen. “But you’ll live. You’re on the right track now, at least.”
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Well, this is the least idiotic you’ve been in years. Despite the problematic issue of you missing a train that the love of your life is on. Who does that? You’ll just have to make it up to her once she gets here.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t fuck it up.” He stares into the refrigerator. “I’ve got leftover Chinese from a couple of days ago, frozen borscht from Maddie’s landlady, and about ninety bottles of Italian sparkling water. I can order something to be delivered if you want. The doorman will bring it up for you.”
He still treats me like I’m twelve. “I know how to order food.”
“I just don’t want you to forget to eat when you’re staring at your phone and pretending to read a book that nobody actually reads all the way through. I don’t want Ma finding out you’re starving on my watch.”
“She won’t know.”
He gives me a look. Because our ma always knows. “I’ll eat the leftover Chinese. You can go.”
“All right.” He puts on an awesome wool coat and beanie. He’s a dick, but the guy knows how to dress. “You remember how to start a fire in the fireplace if you feel cold?”
“Yes, Declan. I remember how to start a fire in a fireplace.”
“Well, you’ve been living in LA for almost a decade. You want me to start a fire for you, so you don’t burn the place down?”
“I will burn this place down right now if you don’t get out of here.”
And now he tilts his head at me like I’m an adorable, impetuous four-year-old. “Awww. Okay, poopie head. You got the spare key I gave you, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be at Maddie’s overnight, but I’m always reachable. Except when I’m busy blowing my hot fiancée’s mind in bed.”
“’Kay, buh-bye.”
“Have a good night.”
“Thanks for letting me stay here,” I offer reluctantly.
“You’re welcome.” He pauses as he’s halfway out the front door. “Shit. I told Nolan you’re here, so you’ll probably hear from him.”
“Great. So he’s in town? Can you tell your doorman not to let him up if he comes by?”
“My Irish doorman? The one Nolan gave a bottle of Jameson to the first time he came over? Suuuuure. Lemme just ask him.” He winks and disappears.
Now he disappears. Leaving me with the added sense of dread about being kidnapped by my beast of an Irish cousin on top of the anxiety of waiting to hear from Birdie. I stare down at my phone, just in case I missed a notification, even though I have the volume turned all the way up.
I didn’t miss a notification. I have four bars of reception, an empty stomach and no dignity left when it comes to Birdie Beckett.
ME: Hi. Still here in NYC. Still wish you were here. Lemme know how you’re doing as soon as you get a signal!
YOUR SECRET VALENTINE:
I’m pretty sure I was a cool guy once. Possibly even up until yesterday.
I feel sick. I can’t stop picturing her with the Brit. It’s not that I don’t trust her. It’s that I don’t trust any other men to keep their grabby hands and long skinny fingers off her. But I guess I’ll have to either get over it or get used to this feeling, since I work in a different city from her for six months a year.
I’ll just fly in on the weekends more. Fly her up to visit. She’ll be okay with flying now, I’m sure of it. We’ll be seeing each other more than we did as friends ever since I started working in Vancouver, and our relationship has always been solid. I’m not worried.
But it would be so great if I book that movie in LA in the summer, whatever it is.
And now I’m nervous about my upcoming meeting with the casting director, like a total fucking badass.
Probably just hungry. I get up, take the leftover Chinese food out of the fridge. After putting it in the microwave, I check both my phones, like a boss.
Nothing from Birdie. But as I’m staring at my iPhone, Nolan Cassidy comes up on my Caller ID and I get a shiver down my spine. The bad kind. The kind that you get when you’re watching The Exorcist or Rosemary’s Baby or The Omen or any of those movies that my ma made us watch growing up to get us to go to church with her.
Pretty sure I’m still hungover from when I saw him at New Year’s, not that I’d ever admit that to him. But against my better judgment, I find myself answering the call. Because while my cousin may in fact be possessed by the devil, he is really fucking cool, looks like a young Colin Farrell, and I’ve always had a man crush on the guy.
“Please tell me you aren’t downstairs.”
“Well now, how’s that for greeting a loved one?”
“’Sup, Nolan? Dec said you’re in town.”
“I am indeed. Thanks for ringin’ to let me know you’re here.”
“I just got in.”
“Yeah, did ya now? Thought I’d welcome you to the great city of New York and have you over to my flat for a pint or two—unless you’d care to invite me over to Declan’s for some of that twenty-five-year-old single malt Glendalough he keeps in the top shelf like an old biddy.”
“He does? That shit’s like five hundred bucks a bottle.”
“Aye, it’ll change yer life. For the better, and then for the worse, and then for the better again. Shall we head on over, then?”
“We?”
“Hey, kid, how are ya?” my cousin Billy O’Sullivan aka Billy Boston shouts out in the background. “Put it on speakahphone, will ya?! Lemme talk to that cocksuckah, come on!”
Shit. What’s he doing here?
“Get yer face away from my face and I will put it on speakerphone, ya eejit.”
“Don’t be a dick, Paddy Magee. This guy loves me, right Eddie?”
“Sure. How’s it going, Billy?”
“It’s goin’ wicked awesome, that’s how it’s goin’. Get your ass ovah heah or we’re comin’ ovah theah.”
“I can’t hang out with you guys tonight. I’m waiting for a call from my girlfriend.”
“What—that sick nasty chick from the Gram? I thought Dec told your ma and she told my ma that the Gram chick dumped your sorry ass for the guy in that movie that my ex was obsessed with last yeah. Whatsisface who was on that show? Chris? Or Jack somethin’?”
“What? I have no idea who you’re talking about, but no. That is not how it went down.”
“Whatevah. Have one drink with us. Come on, don’t be a dick.”
“Yeah, I can’t tonight, but why don’t we meet up for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Breakfast? What are we—the Golden Girls? Fuck that. Don’t be a tool, come on.”
“Why are you even here, Billy?”
“Where the fuck else am I gonna be? Cassidy’s heah, Dec’s heah, you’re heah. What am I gonna do? Stay at home and let you skeezahs get into trouble without me? Get outta heah.”
“All right, that’s enough outta you.” And now Nolan plays the Good Cop. I know this routine. Not falling for it. “Our William’s just hidin’ out from a bitta fluff who turned out to be a nutter. I heard you got yourself a fine mot. I do too.”
“Yeah, why aren’t you with her tonight, then?”
“She’s traveling. For work. I am well acquainted with the particular torment of missin’ a good woman.”
“Well then, you’ll understand why I don’t want to miss my woman’s call.”
“She gets in tonight then, does she?”
“She gets in tomorrow evening. Or she’s supposed to, anyway.”
“Right, then. You spend tonight with us. If ya don’t want to invite us over like a proper sham, then pull yer socks up and get over here. I’ll text ya the address.”
“I really can’t. I want to see you guys, you know I love you, but I can’t. We’ll meet up tomorrow. I w
ouldn’t be any fun tonight anyway.”
“Boooo!” Billy yells from the background. I can hear him opening up a can of something. “Listen to this guy. You think you’re bettah than us, Cannavale? Whatevah. Yeah, we’ll see you tomorrah whethah you like it or not.”
“Best of luck to ya, friend,” Nolan says, and I can’t tell if that was menacing or not, but he hangs up.
So that’s dealt with.
Except, when I look at my phone screen, I see that I have a missed call and a message from Birdie.
WHAT THE FUCK?
How did I not hear the call waiting?
Probably because Billy Boston kept yelling in my ear.
February 11th, 7:27 p.m.
“Hey! Finally got one bar of service! The Wi-Fi is not working on this train. At all. It’s Birdie, by the way. Rupert has a Wi-Fi booster that he brought, but it’s not helping. Too much weather, I guess, or maybe it’s the… Anyway, I’m glad you… to New York and I’m glad you… place to stay. You’re probably out gallivanting around town and that’s… I’m fine… Shoot, I think it’s cutting out, I better… I just wanted to say… And I wish you were here, but Rupert’s going to…”
That’s it. That’s the end of the message, and it kept cutting out.
WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS RUPERT GOING TO DO!?
I’m on the phone with my asshole cousins when I could have been talking to Birdie, and now Lord Fucknut is going to do something with or to her?
Oh hell no.
I call her back, but it immediately goes to voicemail.
“Hi, it’s me. I can’t believe I missed your call. I am definitely not out gallivanting around town. I’m at my brother’s place and I’m going to stay here all night waiting to hear from you. I was just on the phone with my asshole cousins, so I didn’t hear the call waiting. Anyway. Call me again as soon as you can. I miss you.”
I hang up and I’m about to hurl my phone at the wall when I hear the ding of a text notification.
A Very Friendly Valentine's Day Page 14