Chapter Thirteen Clara
Chapter Thirteen CLARA
There are twenty-four Milo Samuels on Facebook.
So yeah, sure, the likelihood of a famous TV actor having a Facebook page is slim but I’m!
Staying! Positive! After all, he’s v v v new to being a famous TV actor, and he might’ve forgotten he even had this profile.
He may, like the rest of us, have forgotten Facebook exists altogether.
And it’s not like Instagram or TikTok are any use.
Sure, there are fan accounts for Milo – which yes, I spent an hour scrolling through in slow motion, analysing his every red carpet facial expression – but every other possibility is majorly locked down.
I wonder again about the woman he’s often seen out and about with in photos. She’s in quite a lot of fan shots, always at his side, always standing too close. There’s a kind of intimacy there. But you’d have that with a good friend… wouldn’t you?
She’s pretty, I can admit that without feeling threatened.
She’s all delicate dark features and expensive-looking black clothes.
Is she his girlfriend? Surely he’d have mentioned her in an interview if she was.
I’m assuming he’s single because – I don’t know – wouldn’t you be gushing about it to everyone if you were in love?
I would. But maybe she’s the reason he keeps storming out of interviews.
I can totally imagine him being really overprotective and jealous.
Or maybe they are together, but it’s all a sham for the cameras. A publicity stunt! Like Jemma said about celebrities like my faves, Greta and Indiana.
I roll over on my bed, cracking my back and trying not to smell the duvet. It’s been a nice twelve hours, let’s not ruin it by remembering I need to grow the fuck up and change my sheets from time to time.
Last night was fun, reading Jemma’s notes and helping her compose a new one.
I feel like the house is starting to accept me living here – that my sister has started to accept me living here.
It’s been really great, having this mysterious note thingy to talk about.
I think – I hope – it’s bringing us together.
But now it’s time to focus on my love life.
I stayed up late into the night narrowing the list of twenty-four Facebook Milos down to a handful of possibilities, and I’m pretty excited about one of the accounts in particular.
This one has a cartoon avatar, which could vaguely be a caricature of him, yellow Simpsons -skin aside, and the about section says he lives in London.
The rest of his profile is locked down but I can see his likes , which include the Imperial War Museum – I’ve never been but I bet I would love it.
He also likes the Crystal Maze Experience, which is a thing I’ve heard of and would probably be open to trying.
He also likes a few bands I don’t know, a mid-price face cream and TV.
I like TV! It’s a match made in streaming heaven.
I can’t see much else but! But! But! He has recently posted on Facebook Marketplace, offering up a very cheap old chest of drawers – for collection in North West London. Which is where he lives! I’m convinced this is my way in. I just need Harry’s help.
I check the time – he won’t have left for work yet – and slip out of bed. Pulling on my dressing gown, I pad down the hallway and knock on his bedroom door, calling out his name in my best helpless girl voice. He’s a posh lad from an all boys’ school. He won’t be able to cope with what’s coming.
‘Come in,’ comes the muffled voice, and I do so, bracing myself for boy stink.
‘Hiya!’ I say happily, trying to sniff subtly.
It’s surprisingly fine and I relax, heading in and throwing myself onto his bed.
How does his duvet smell so nice? I’d been led to believe all boys did in their bedroom was relentlessly wank everywhere.
This duvet has no crusty patches and smells like fabric softener. What a shocker.
‘Er, you OK?’ he asks, eyeing me warily. He’s obvs not used to women in his room, never mind ones that throw themselves onto his bed in their pyjamas. I bask for a moment in making him uncomfortable. Then remember I need his help.
I sit up, folding my hands on my lap primly. ‘As you know, Haz, me and the actor from Book Boyfriend are very much soulmates. Very much meant to be .’ I nod with authority at him and, after a second, he nods back slowly.
‘Um, right,’ he says.
‘So, all I need to do to is find a way to cross paths with him. He lives in London. I figured, how hard can it be to track him down?’
This time Harry shakes his head co-operatively. ‘An absolute doddle,’ he says, and for a moment I think he might laugh.
I ignore it. ‘Sure, a, er, doddle . Anyway, it just so happens that Milo Samuels is potentially selling an item of furniture on Facebook Marketplace.’
Harry regards me, his mouth twitching. ‘You think actor Milo Samuels is selling furniture on Facebook in the midst of promoting his new TV show?’
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s definitely taking the mick. ‘I’m just saying it’s a possibility , Harry. And you have to take chances when it comes to love, don’t you? You have to risk it all—’
‘With Facebook Marketplace?’ he interrupts, and I scowl.
‘No! With love , Harry.’ I wave my hands.
‘This is destiny, my friend. And I happen to believe in fate and the universe. They will find a way to bring Milo into my life, so he can realize that I am The One. I just have to open myself up to the chances and grab onto these opportunities with both hands. I’m going to buy this piece of furniture, and put it out into the universe that acting superstar Milo Samuels will open the door when I go collect it.
’ I shrug. ‘And even if it’s not him, it just so happens that I am in my upcycling life phase right now, so I can take this chest of drawers and turn it into something stunning .
It’s the start of my new business, if not the start of my new relationship with Milo Samuels. ’
Harry smiles widely. ‘Gotcha. So what do you need from me?’
I grin sheepishly. ‘I need investors and help with collecting the drawers.’ He frowns so I continue quickly.
‘I haven’t got the funds to, er, fund this endeavour and I can’t borrow any more off my mum or Jemma right now.
’ I pout. ‘Stingy fucks. So I was wondering if you would be able to buy this chest of drawers from Milo for me? And then drive me to get it?’ I speak even faster.
‘I’m going to triple its value within days and you’ll get your investment back.
’ I pause. ‘With three per cent interest.’
Harry nods seriously. ‘Make it three and a half per cent and you’ve got yourself a deal.’ I can see he’s trying not to laugh, but I don’t care – he said yes! He’s such a sweetheart! I jump up to give him a hug and breathe him in. He smells like the fabric softener, too.
You know… he really would be so perfect for Jemma, I don’t know why she’s so weird whenever I’ve hinted about them getting together.
Maybe she’s scared about it not working out – that she’d ruin the friendship and make things awkward in the house?
But, like I was just saying to Haz, you have to take risks for love, right?
That’s it, I decide, if things don’t work out for Jemma with this mysterious book note person – or they do turn out to be a Karen after all – I’m going to make it my mission in life to get her and Harry together.
It would be an adorable match and they’d totally thank me for helping them get over their nerdy shyness.
‘Er, Clara?’ He interrupts my matchmaker plans by pulling out of the hug.
‘Yes?’ I look up at him, wondering why the atmosphere in the room has shifted. His eyes are large and dark as he regards me solemnly.
‘Um,’ he hedges, looking embarrassed.
‘What is it?’ I say encouragingly, reaching out to squeeze his arm. ‘You can say anything to me. I am a safe space. We’re business partners now, we should share everything.’
He nods, then gestures at my dressing gown, which I realize now is making a very loud buzzing sound. ‘I was just wondering what that noise was?’
I know immediately that it is my vibrator.
I am in the wanking-constantly stage of job searching, and unfortunately – I’m remembering now – I’d casually slipped the bullet into my dressing gown pocket earlier after a particularly enjoyable session.
The on button is sensitive and it seems our hug has engaged protocol.
‘Oh!’ I say in a sort of forced casual tone.
‘Right, yeah, ummmmm, that is… that is…’ I search for a solution and pounce on the obvious answer.
‘That is my phone!’ I tell him with relief.
Harry wrinkles his nose and looks pointedly towards my left hand – where I am, in fact, holding my phone. And it’s not vibrating loudly.
‘This?’ I ask, holding it up. ‘Right, yeah, this is actually my… personal phone. The phone you can hear… ringing right now in my pocket is… my business line . For… the upcycling business that I’m launching.
’ I pause to flick my hair over my shoulder in what I imagine is a businesslike move.
‘Yeah, I just think if you’re going to start your own business and be an entrepreneur, you need to take it seriously , Haz.
Y’know? Invest in yourself. Get your ducks in a row.
Grab that low-hanging fruit. Get your boots on the ground.
Throw it up and see what sticks…’ I mentally search for more shit office jargon, ‘… synergy,’ I finish lamely.
Harry gives a half nod, then says, ‘Well, as your brand new business partner, I feel like I should be privy to any new phone expenses incurred.’ His voice is smooth.
‘I should at least make a note of the number, shouldn’t I?
For contacting you about the three and a half per cent?
’ He gestures at my pocket, waiting expectantly, eyebrows raised.
‘Um, no, there’s really no need at this stage.
’ I shake my head carefully. ‘No need at all. If our… business arrangement continues beyond this one… chest of drawers, then yes, sure, obviously I will pass along my new business number for you to use. But for now, I’m going to suggest we table this and, um, blue sky… the conversation.’
Harry has been getting pinker and pinker as I speak, from what I had assumed was embarrassment, until he fully bursts out laughing. Tears spill out of his eyes and pour down his cheeks as he howls with hysteria.
‘It’s not funny,’ I tell him hotly, and he shakes his head.
‘It fucking is,’ he tells me, barely able to breathe through the peals of laughter. It’s funny to hear him swear – and actually kinda sexy when it’s in such a posh accent.
The vibrating in my pocket continues as I turn on my heel and stomp towards the door.
Harry calls out behind me in a voice shaking with mirth, ‘Don’t you think you should answer your business line, Clara?
Someone is really, really keen to get hold of you.
’ As I enter my bedroom and yank the offending bullet out of my pocket, I hear Harry yell down the hall, ‘Don’t you have voicemail? It’s been ringing for ages!’
I flick off the device and feel my breath slow.
OK.
For my first ever business meeting, I actually think that went pretty well.