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Instagram Reel: Hollywood Dish with Ferris Biltmore
The video starts showing Ferris looking totally bored behind his desk. “Oh hey, me again. Ferris. But you might as well call me Where Is, because that’s the start of my every thought. As in, where is Hudson? And yes, I know he’s still at that alien hunter place up in Mountain View, but seriously, where is he? The mystery grows by the hour. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has any intel on him for me. I’ve checked with everyone I know, including that bitch down at the car wash who I used to date, and you know for a fact that if I’m sliding into his DM’s, I’m straight-up desperate for news. And yet … nothing. TMZ caught him going into the library but other than that, Hudson’s only posted twice in the last three weeks, once when he got out of the hospital and one quick, careless shot of him studying in some drab, dark office that looks like my nightmare come to life. But in that second shot, he looks happy in a way I haven’t seen him, which leads me to my next segment: Did You Find Someone to Love?”
The words appear on the upper left-hand corner of the screen, and Ferris sighs wistfully. “Hudson, did you find someone to love? Did you? Because there’s a sparkle in your eye that’s been missing for years. It’s back, so I’m guessing you’re perhaps falling in love with some fabulously chic babe. Maybe some up and coming popstar or maybe a slightly older female tech billionaire who’s had all the right work done so she looks both twenty-five and human? It certainly can’t be because you’re enjoying all that fancy book learnin’,” he says, putting on a Southern accent. “No way are you lit up by learning about radio telescopes and quasars. You’re far too hot for that. So I need to know, what is going on with you? Seriously. You need to call me immediately and spill the tea! Spill it! Because there’s no way I can wait another three weeks for you to come back to Hollywood. I can’t survive it! I cannot. It’s too hard. I need you to make a public appearance. I need real footage of you moving and smiling and talking. Some sort of proof of life because what we’re getting is not going to cut it.”
He lets out a long sigh, then says, “That’s it. I’m going back to bed. I can’t do today.”
"It's 6 o’clock. Time for a hydration break," I tell Allie, setting a cold glass of lemon water on her desk.
She thanks me and sips it without taking her eyes off her screen while I go back to my desk and slide my headphones on. Over the last three weeks, we've gotten into a routine. She works while I spend my days watching whatever videos I can find on the internet about astronomy, SETI research, and radio telescopes. There’s a surprisingly sparse amount of info on David Peck Todd, but Allie found a copy of the textbook he wrote a hundred years ago in Keenan’s office. So far, I haven’t cracked it yet, even though I know likely nothing will get me into his head like that would. But just the sight of it makes me break out in a cold sweat because as busy as she is, there’s still a chance she’d realize it’s taking me forever to read each page.
So for now, I’m doing what I do best—avoiding and distracting. I’m also spending half of my days just watching Allie work, which I honestly think I could spend the rest of my life doing quite happily. I love the way she sticks the tip of her tongue out of the right corner of her mouth when she's concentrating extra hard, or the way she pushes her glasses up her nose with her index finger. I love how hard she works and how driven she is, and I don't mind taking the back seat on this, not even for a second.
When I’m not ‘observing her like Jane Goodall,’ I've been going along on any and all school tours with whatever unlucky person’s name got drawn. My goal is to learn enough to be able to give one of the tours before I leave, because, according to Allie, if I can explain what they do here to a group of kids, I’ll be ready to play David Todd.
Other than that, I help Allie in the only way I can. My contribution to her project is to use the extensive knowledge I've gained from working with trainers and nutritionists to keep her brain operating at peak levels—electrolytes, the right mix of protein, carbs, fats and micronutrients, all spaced out at the optimal times throughout the day. Since I really don't know what she was capable of before I started feeding her, I have no idea if she has more energy, but at least I know I'm saving her time she would otherwise have to spend hunting down something to eat.
Since she's supposed to be spending her time teaching me, we figured out a system with Gwen, who’s in the office across from Keenan. Gwen sends a red alert text to both of us whenever he leaves his office, which prompts me to pause my video, remove my headphones, and slide my chair over to her desk, where we embark on a fake conversation. The whole thing is a little childish, very fun, and comes with an added bonus of me getting to sit right next to her, so close that our arms occasionally brush against each other, and I can smell her shampoo. It's something fruity and delicious, and it makes me want to bury my nose in her neck.
And that whole train of thought cannot leave the station because there is no way I can do anything even the tiniest bit physical with this woman. Not only did I promise her dad, but in a few weeks, I’ll be leaving here to go back to my life and it won't be with someone who goes by doctor. There's also no way in hell I'm going to lead her into thinking this is going to turn into something, only to hightail it out of here. Is it tempting? Yeah. Would it be amazing? Hell yeah. Do I think about it about a thousand times a day? Yes, I do.
But it's not going to happen, which is a fact that I have to accept. She's going to meet the right guy, and when she does, they're going to have little genius babies together, and I'll try really hard to be happy for her. At least we'll have one epic date, tomorrow night at the opera. I've arranged for a limo so we can arrive in style. And no, I didn’t hire a hair and makeup team. I asked her out because I like her the way she is, and I like seeing her actual face, not some makeup artist’s rendition of what they think a woman’s face should look like.
Allie sits back and cracks her knuckles, then turns to me. “Well, that’s about all I can do for tonight. I need to let Frank do his thing.”
“What’s he doing?”
“I just fed him 115,000 snippets of signal recordings, including the subset of fake alien signals. He’s going to have to pick out the fakes, and if he doesn’t, it’s going to be off to the scrapheap for him.” As soon as she says it, she puts a hand on her PC, “Just kidding, Frank. I’d never recycle you.”
She gives me a sheepish look. “I know. I sound insane.”
“Not at all,” I answer with a wry grin. “But it may not be a bad idea for you and Frank to have a little break from each other, just in case.”
Allie laughs, then purses her lips. “I can read the subtext there. You think I’m losing it.”
“Anyone would lose it if they were working themselves this hard,” I tell her.
She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Yeah, I could use a break. I honestly don’t even know what day it is.”
“Friday.”
“Already?” She stretches her back a little while I do my best not to let my eyes drift down to her chest.
Whoops. There they are. Wow. And … eye contact time. “Yup. Say, speaking of breaks, do you think you’ll still have time to swing by the opera with me tomorrow night?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Yes. Oh, unless you found a real date.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You are a real date.”
“Oh well, sort of, but only because I’m the only single woman you know here.”
“That’s not why I asked you.”
“Yeah, you asked me because my family pressured you into it,” she says, putting on her glasses and standing up.
I get up too and swipe my keys and phone off the desk. “Even if they hadn’t suggested it, I definitely would have wanted to go with you.”
