Page 10 of One Snowy Day
‘Sorry, what?’ Oh God. Oh God. This was what it must feel like when a radio station called to say you’d won a cash prize or a tumble drier.
Bonnie Katowski repeated the important part. ‘Ollie. Chiles.’
Georgie had heard correctly the first time, but just wanted to make sure. Earlier she’d wondered if the damned universe was playing games with her and now she knew it definitely was. She plumped down on the nearest chair, ironically, the same one that Ollie Chiles – actor and a bit of a superstar – had sat in on his last visit. Yes, that was correct. The man who had achieved worldwide fame as the star ofThe Clansman, a show about sixteenth-century rebellious Scots, had first found his way into this non-celebrity neck of the woods when his mother, Moira, had moved into the village six months before.
He’d dropped Moira off for her weekly shampoo and blow-dry with Jessie, and when he’d come early to pick her up, asked if Georgie, who was sitting at reception, having a quick break and reading the latest edition ofVogue, could fit him in for a quick trim. Georgie had almost fainted when she’d realised who was standing in front of her. There had been an emotional chain reaction that had gone something like: shock, disbelief, momentary thrill, panic, fear, knee-jerk reaction.
‘I’m sorry, but no. I’ve got my Aunt Cathy for a violet toner in ten minutes and if I’m not ready for her, she could run riot and wreck the place.’
‘Really?’ he’d asked, with a grin that she’d only ever seen on the telly.
Georgie had winced as she shook her head. ‘No, but it was the best I could come up with at short notice. I’m actually just terrifiedthat I’ll see your photo on TMZ this weekend and there’ll be snarky comments under it asking who gave you a dodgy haircut. I’m good, but I’m not used to that level of public scrutiny, and I don’t think my nerves could take it.’
He’d taken a pause to consider her objections, and she’d thought about how he might be the most attractive man she’d ever clapped eyes on. Not that he was available. Moira gave them a running commentary every week about his girlfriend, Stevie, who, in another non-celebrity twist, was a radiographer up at Glasgow Central Hospital.
‘Okay, well, how about if I handle your Aunt Cathy…’
‘You’re a brave man.’
‘And if my hair turns out dodgy and anyone comments, I’ll tell them that I let Ben Affleck cut it for a dare.’
Georgie had jumped to her feet. ‘Done.’
And that’s how a Hollywood TV star, and a thoroughly nice guy, had become her regular client and ended up in this very chair every fortnight for a trim and sometimes a few highlights too.
It had all been perfectly lovely and surprisingly easy until last week, when he’d opened a conversation with, ‘You know, I don’t want you to get too big-headed…’
‘Too late,’ Georgie had told him over the sound of the clippers. ‘I’m already insufferable now that I’m having regular brushes with fame. But carry on.’
That had made him chuckle. They’d got entirely comfortable with each other over the last few months, and he loved the fact that here he was just another customer. Although, they did pull the blinds down and keep his appointments strictly confidential so that he didn’t get mobbed by the lunchtime bingo crowd coming from the church hall.
He had looked at her reflection in the mirror. ‘I wish I could take you with me.’
‘Where?’
‘My work. On to the set. I’m just about to leave to leave this tropical paradise…’ The torrential rain outside had been almost horizontal. ‘…to go film the new series ofThe Clansman, and my regular guy has been poached for the nextMission Impossible…’
‘They did ask me, but I wasn’t available,’ Georgie had gone along with the joke.
‘Georgie, I’m serious. Would you be interested?’
‘In what?’ She couldn’t quite get her head around what he was saying.
‘In coming to America to work on set as my hairdresser. I know it’s a big ask. It would mean at least six months away from your family, and it could be even longer if we get the green light on future seasons. Would you consider it?’
She had almost taken his left ear off with the clippers. Thankfully, Jessie had been over at the dryers discussing the price of cocktails in Tenerife with Moira, and out of earshot. ‘I don’t know. I mean, yes! But no…!’ There was a sudden realisation of what that would mean. She’d have to leave Copper Curls. Just when her mother was handing it over to her. Jessie’s life’s work. Her legacy. One that Georgie should be dedicated to preserving. But… oh wow, it sounded incredible. She’d groaned, and circled back to, ‘I don’t know.’
The lovely Ollie hadn’t appeared fazed by her conflicting responses. ‘Look, I don’t want to pressure you, but how about I get production to contact you with all the details and an official offer. If you’re interested, great. If not, no worries.’
No worries. So of course, she’d worried about it ever since.
The only person she’d told about all this was her brother, Grant, who’d asked her five times a day ever since if she’d heardanything, and who wasn’t even here to be her emotional support crutch.
Now the call had come.
‘Sorry, yes. Ollie did mention that you might call.’ This wasn’t happening. Flynn had spiked her coffee or she was high on some crazy hormonal orgasmic afterglow, and she was imagining this whole thing.
‘Great. I’m actually calling from LA – it’s 2a.m. here – but I wanted to catch you early in your day. Okay, so the bottom line is that we start filming in Colorado in one week – December eighth. Not great timing, just before Christmas, but we need the snow.’
