Page 36 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“Red,” I repeated. “You’re going to call me Red?”
Sean nodded.
“Fine,” I said, turning away from him and heading out of the door again. “Just don’t ask me to repeat what I’m calling you inside my head every time you do.”
***
As we traveled down silently in the lift together, for the first time ever it was bugging me that the person I was with reminded meof an actor in a movie. This was one of my favorite games usually. But today, because he was dressed the way he was, Sean was looking much too like Brad Pitt inOcean’s Elevenfor me to deny any resemblance. I didn’t like it one little bit.
Luckily my mind soon had more important things to worry about than my Brad/Sean dilemma, when after twenty minutes our taxi had still failed to appear.
After Sean had to complain twice at reception—and once to “Barney”—the cab driver, full of apologies, finally screeched to a halt outside the front entrance of the Radisson.
“Apologies for the hold-up, folks,” she called from the driver’s seat as we piled into the back of her cab. “There’s a protest march in the city center, so the roads are a pure nightmare. I dinnee know what clown was given the job of arranging the diversions—but he disnee know Glasgow one wee bit!
“Don’t yez worry though,” she assured us, as we plugged our seat belts in and finally pulled away from the Radisson. “I know a wee short cut—I’ll have yez both there in no time at all.”
We headed off at such speed that for the first few minutes of the journey we could do nothing but sit bolt upright like statues on the backseat as we both silently prayed for our lives. Then we relaxed a little as our “torturer” had no choice but to slow down, while she twisted and turned in and out of the side streets and back alleys of Glasgow city center.
When she finally had to slow right down because of traffic lights up ahead and I could finally catch my breath enough to speak, I leaned forward in my seat a little so not to disturb her concentration (or her foot on the accelerator pedal) too much.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen a movie calledTaxi, have you?” I asked. “It stars Queen Latifah?”
“Queen who, hen?”
“Queen Latifah. She plays this feisty, wise-crackin’, speed-demon taxi driver in New York, who gets caught up helping this police detective out with a gang of bank robbers.”
“No, hen, never seen it. I like a nice wee horror film meself, something that scares the shit out of me.”
Likeyoudotoyourpassengers?I wondered. “You should try and rent it sometime. I think you’d like it.”
I glanced at my watch as we sat bumper to bumper in the traffic that crawled along the road. It appeared to stretch way out in front of us too. “At this rate we’re never going to make it on time. Is it much further, do you know, Sean?”
“I don’t think so.” Sean now leaned forward to speak to our own speed queen. “How much longer to the church?”
“At this speed, hen, ’bout another twenty minutes.”
“Sean, the wedding is in ten!”
Sean pulled a wad of notes from his wallet.
“Look, this should cover the fare so far—we’ll walk from here.” He turned to me. “Is that OK with you?”
I looked down at my high heels and sighed. “I don’t think we’ve much choice.”
We climbed out of the taxi and began to walk along the pavement on the side of the road.
“Do you think we’re going to make it at this speed?” I asked, trying hard to keep up with Sean’s great lolloping strides and finding I was having to break into a jog to do so.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Sean asked. Then he glanceddown at my heels. “No, I don’t suppose you can.” He looked quickly around him, then suddenly darted out into the traffic.
“Sean!” I cried. “What the hell are you doing?”
Sean dodged in and out of the vehicles that still crawled along the road. Horns beeped, and obscenities were shouted from car windows, but he kept going until he reached the other side. Two delivery boys standing outside a pizza restaurant having a cigarette idly watched him.
Sean approached them and words were quickly exchanged, and then some money. The boys put on their helmets and climbed aboard their mopeds. Sean climbed onto one of the bikes too, perching on the back where the pizzas usually sat.
Ohno, you can’t be serious, I thought, as they wove their way back across the traffic toward me.
