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”“Yes, of course. I’ll purchase a ticket and be right there. Why am I doing this? Oh, well, I’m bloody well doing it, damn ... there, I’ve booked the flight. So, I’m not reserving a suite, just showing at this flat? Okay, that’s ... different. And who are you, anyway?” Emilia asked me now.“My best friends call me ‘Frank,’ but you can call me, ‘Uncle Frank,’ okay? Just like my niece, who requested your presence, you see,” I smiled as I gave those instructions to the Game of Thrones actress.“Oh, okay, so it’s for your niece. How sweet! But you’re a Yank, judging by your accent. You have a British niece?” Emilia seemed loathe to hang up with me for some reason, getting rather chummy.“That I do, ma’am. That I do. Until then, best wishes and thank you,” I hung up on Emilia Clarke, a subtle way of asserting myself with someone used to others hanging on her every word.“So, just like that, you have a new lackey, dear. What will you do with her?” I teased Tammy, well aware of what she had in. Maybe I was missing something important. Maybe their lives weren't mundane? Could their emotions and circumstances be as tangled as mine and Lyn's? Didn't hardly seem possible; but then, they were people too, right? What were their hopes and dreams? Fears? I was learning about fears.I reread more of the story, looking for hidden agendas, secrets. Well, Elliot was a clever dude, I thought. They were there in aplenty, I'd just never thought to look for them. Was that the point? Mildly curious I read the part in the start of the book about the author. He was a she? A pen name? I fell asleep, wondering about it and everything else of this week. Nothing was as it seemed.That night I dreamed Lyn, Rachael and I were walking down the street, three abreast. I couldn't remember who was where, but I remember walking past a place where the sidewalk was narrow, and we had to go single file. On the other side, Rachael ended up between us, and we had our arms around each other. We walked like that.
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