45
45
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Happy Birthday!
Happy birthday, Rhys! I can’t believe how fast time is passing. Twenty-eight. You’re so old. It’s just been a month or two since last year’s present reached you, and I’m already wrapping the next one. (I’m trying to be funny. Next time you’ll keep me informed of major dates.) I bought you something I hope you’ll like. Have a good day. Spend it surrounded by friends.
Lots of kisses (real ones, with feeling).
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: How are things?
I guess you must be crazy busy. The song’s a hit! How many streams have you gotten? All the times I’ve listened to it on Spotify must have boosted your numbers a lot. Seriously though, it’s so amazing to search for you on Google and see you pop up like that. I’m so proud! Everywhere I go, I tell people Rhys Baker is my best friend. When I go through the checkout lane at the supermarket I’m like, “Give me a discount, because I’m friends with Rhys Baker. That’s right, the one with the song.” Sorry, I’m rambling. I just want you to know how happy I am that everything’s going so well, and I hope I hear from you soon. I miss your daily messages, even if I get that you’re super busy now.
Take care, okay? More kisses.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Stress
Sorry, Ginger. Seriously, I feel so bad for being absent these past few weeks. Everything’s been complicated, Owen and Alexa have more contacts in LA than I thought, and I don’t know how, but they’ve gotten the song streamed more than three hundred thousand times. It’s pretty incredible when you keep in mind that no one even knows who we are. It’s cool and all, but at the same time, I didn’t expect this, and I’m sort of freaking out. They want me to go there and do promo with Alexa, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.
You know what I really want to do?
This. Go out on the porch with my laptop and a beer, read your messages, and write back to you. Watch the night fall. Look at the moon and imagine the impossible. Look at this book you gave me, which I’ve reread probably more times than you have…
But let’s stop talking about me. Tell me how things are going with you. How’s work? Better? Have you adapted after those first few months?
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: Stress
I get you, Rhys. I love imagining you there on the beach relaxing. It’s very you. But I also get that the Goldbergs want to squeeze everything they can out of this moment. The song’s amazing. And I’m not surprised so many people like it. If you released “Ginger,” it would be every bit as successful or more, even if, obviously, you’d have to change the title. Anyway, don’t do anything you don’t want to. I’m telling you this from experience. Sometimes I think if I could turn back time, I’d do everything differently…
But this is my reality now, right?
Things are fine at work. No real changes. The good thing is I don’t care anymore if all my coworkers blow me off because I’m the boss. At least this girl Sue has been talking to me a lot lately.
Dean continues to knock everybody out, of course. Can you believe my father listened to his suggestion about how to package the drawers? It was stupid (it’s just that the corners get scuffed sometimes), and I’ve proposed way more interesting things he hasn’t even paid attention to. I don’t know, Rhys, I feel like I’m just posing here. I do the billing and other basic stuff, and it goes without saying, this isn’t why I spent four years in college.
I don’t want to bore you though.
Your life is so interesting…
I will tell you one funny thing. The other day I opened the bathroom door without knocking, and you know what I saw? Michael, our roommate, masturbating. It was so…embarrassing. First because I couldn’t not look. I’m human, you know? And he’s…um…big. XXL, as my sister put it. Second, I spent days avoiding him at home. I’m still doing that, actually. I’m scared he’s going to come talk to me, and then I’ll get nervous and say something stupid. Like if he said, “Hey, are you the one who finished the milk?” I’d probably just respond, “Dick, dick, dick, DICK,” like a crazy person. I don’t know how long I can live with him without crossing paths. If only I could get that image out of my head, aargh.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Bad girl
Come on, admit it. You liked it. You noticed how big he was, right? That must mean something. I’m cracking up right now. I’ve told you that you’re the funniest chick I know, right? And a bad girl to boot…opening the bathroom door without knocking… Remind me never to be your roommate.
As far as work—you’re not just posing.
I hate you feeling that way, I really do. I hate it.
I’m going to have to go to Los Angeles after all. I guess I can deal with it for a while. I’ll do the promo, and I’ll spend Christmas with my mom before returning. Moving is the last thing I’ve felt like doing these past few months, and now look at the irony. It must be karma or something.
Even if I did release “Ginger,” I’d never change the title. Why should I? I could never call it anything else. But I feel… I don’t know, I think it would make me feel weird to share something of mine, you know? Something of yours, actually. Or maybe it’s something of ours.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: It must be karma
I like the sound of that, something of ours .
I’m sorry you have to go to Los Angeles. When do you leave? I noticed you keep getting more and more streams. Amazing. I’m so, so proud of you.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Just what I needed!
You won’t believe it! Like it wasn’t enough that everyone thinks I got a leg up when Dean and I got our jobs the exact same way—thanks to my dad—now it turns out Dean is going out with our director of marketing. They told everyone last Friday at the end of the workday, when we were all gathered in the boardroom. Since then, they’ve spent the whole week clinging to each other like leeches. How sweet. So not only does he get treated better because of his fake smile and because he isn’t actually related to the boss; he’s also found true love. I know I sound hateful, frustrated, and jealous, but I am, sort of. It’s terrible to admit these things out loud, but… I guess that’s what we human beings are like. In theory, I know I’m being unfair. But in practice…that’s just it. Practice is a whole different story. I spend the day shut up in my cubicle eating sandwiches from the machine. (They’re awful and I’ve put on five or six pounds from that nasty sauce they have on them.) Then I go home and I’m exhausted. And I take it out on Donna. That’s the worst thing. Or on Michael. (We did run into each other; I told him to lock the door, even though I know it’s partly my fault for not knocking.)
I hate myself a little these days.
Tell me what’s up with you. Kisses.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: You still there?
Hello! Rhys! Are you alive?
I’m starting to worry…
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: [No subject]
Sorry. Dammit. It’s just been chaos these days…
I’m in Los Angeles, and I haven’t had a minute free since I got here between meetings and parties where I keep getting introduced to people with weird names I’ve never heard before. I think I need time to absorb all this. I don’t know, I just didn’t see it coming. That’s the bad thing. I miss the slow life I had in Australia, the ease, the sea, not having to get dressed in anything but a bathing suit and a T-shirt to go outside (if that); it’s almost like time’s stopped there sometimes. The good thing… I guess I can’t say I’m bored. That’s the least applicable word to my situation. Here I have something to do every day. Big things. I barely have time to think before I’m thrown into some new situation. Tomorrow, for example, I have a radio interview at eight in the evening, on a channel called Xdem, I don’t know what time that is in London or whether you’ll be able to listen to it.
As for Dean…it’s normal for you to feel that way, isn’t it? Who wouldn’t? You spent your whole life getting ready for something, then he seems to be doing better at it than you. Don’t take that the wrong way. All I want to say is, maybe your place is somewhere else. Didn’t that ever occur to you, Ginger? I know it scares you even to think about, but it is a possibility. Who knows? Look at me. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be here, getting dressed to go to dinner with some pop singer.