Page 23 of Filter This
‘Maybe don’t tell any more people about my little situation?’ she sniped at Amy, who handed over her morning glass of lemon water and followed her into the adjoining bathroom where she perched on the bath while Shelly washed her face. She didn’t look even remotely concerned that she’d pissed her boss off.
‘Carlson had to be told.’ Amy shrugged. ‘He’d be screaming at you for not doing all the core moves. Anyhow, it’s not safe to not tell your trainer you’re preggers.’
‘Still, I can do it myself, Amy.’ Shelly could feel the low-lying rage that had plagued the early months of her first pregnancy returning and taking up residence. What was with her? Even Carlson’s ridiculous tirade hadn’t cheered her up for long. Sometimes she was like this after big influencer events. Being around all the fans could be draining – not to mention chatting to the other influencers: that was another game of perpetual one-upmanship. She always came away feeling like she wasn’t doing enough for the SHELLY brand. Hazel was doing an app, she’d said. Do I need an app? wondered Shelly.
Also, she’d felt almost jealous at Ali Jones’s news. Which was crazy. She was bloody pregnant herself – there was zero reason to be jealous. Still, she envied the uncomplicated life Ali probably led. It was all so easy when you were young and didn’t have so many people relying on you. Ali probably wasn’t endlessly second-guessing herself or wondering if she was doing the right thing. Or if she’d married the wrong person. The thought stole across Shelly’s brain unbidden and she quickly tucked it away, filing it under ‘Things Not To Be Dwelt On’ deep in the recesses of her mind.
Amy was already tapping away on her phone, going through the schedule for the day, while Shelly pulled on her workout gear.
‘Today is swag day,’ Amy said in a bored voice. ‘So I’ll be getting on with unboxing and what not.’
Swag day used to be a major slog in the early days of SHELLY. It had been amazing when Amy had first come on board and taken over unboxing the daily onslaught of freebies. On swag day, while Shelly did her workout or ran lines forDurty Aul’ Town, Amy would repaint her nails nude, ditch the industrial-looking rings she favoured and put on Shelly’s wedding and engagement rings. Then she’d film her hands unboxing everything, so all they needed were generic reaction shots from Shelly and a few bits of ooohing and ahhhing audio, and Amy could cut it together for Instagram. It was the perfect solution – there was, after all, only so much Shelly to go around and, a couple of minor continuity glitches aside, it worked perfectly.
‘We have a beauty lunch in the Dax,’ Amy droned on. ‘And then it’s on to that charity afternoon tea. I have your speech in Drafts – I’ll forward it to you to familiarise yourself. Amanda will be here at eleven for hair and make-up so you can cast the eye then. I’ve also pencilled in some park time with Georgie at 4 p.m., which will be perfect for that #realmom campaign we’ve got running next month with the VitaPro supplements.’
Shelly nodded along as she texted Dan:
Hey Boop, I’m sorry I missed you this morning. What do you think of trying for a little break away just the two of us? How’re you fixed workwise? We could head away Monday for the night? My parents would love a couple of days with Georgie …
Shelly carefully read over the wording and took out the apology, changing it tothanks for the lie-in this morning. Amy was still hectoring about various commitments coming down the line as Shelly reconsidered ‘Boop’ – it was a pet name that dated back to their early days, but maybe in light of their run-in yesterday morning, he’d see it as manipulative.
‘So as I was saying,’ Amy continued, ‘I think it’s paramount that we bump the pregnancy reveal up as soon as possible.’
‘Wait, what? Amy, no. We agreed we’d wait. I’m asking Dan to pencil in a night away right this second.’
‘Well, sorry, Shelly, that may have been all well and good yesterday but that Ali Jones thing was big news last night. Brand managers are already putting campaigns together for the year and, frankly, she is a pretty exciting prospect for them. She’s young, she’s new, she’s fresh. I’m concerned she’s gonna clean up in terms of partnerships. All that’ll be left for you will be some haemorrhoid cream sponcon.’
‘She has a fraction of my following, Amy. I really don’t think she’ll be much of a threat.’
‘Well, you’re being naïve in that case.’ Amy remained infuriatingly blasé, absorbed in tapping away on the phone. ‘She may have a fraction of your following but she’s also a fraction of your age.’
Shelly rolled her eyes. ‘Nine years, Amy.’
Amy shrugged. ‘Also the micro-influencer thing is becoming a much more attractive option for brands – the engagement is higher with a smaller following. Shelly, you know that.’
She glared at Amy, who serenely held her gaze, raising her eyebrows and looking completely unruffled. The most annoying thing was that she was right – she always was. Shelly felt mutinous, Am I being bullied by my own assistant?
‘When were you thinking?’ Shelly finally asked peevishly.
‘As soon as you sign off on the post, boss.’ Amy flicked through the phone and brought up a picture of Shelly taken at an event a couple of days ago. It was an #OOTD pic, and she looked good. Amy had captioned the pic:
Dress by @HouseOfFermina; shoes by @louboutin; bag by @Zaraofficial and BUMP (that’s riiight, Shell-Belles!) by the one and only @DivineDanDevine. #HereWeGoAgain #pregnancyjourney #instabump
‘Cute,’ said Shelly sullenly. ‘Look, I know we need to get this out there, I just –’
‘Can’t tell Dan?’ offered Amy.
Shelly bristled. They never talked about Shelly’s marriage but she could see Amy meant no malice – she had a look that was hovering about as close to sympathetic as was possible for Amy to muster.
‘Look, I’m saving the post in Drafts so it’s ready to rock as soon as you sort your shit out with Dan,’ said Amy in her best I’m-trying-to-be-reasonable-and-you’re-not-making-it-very-easy-for-me voice. ‘But I am strenuously advising that you launch this sooner rather than later. Now you’d better get down to Carlson before he fully gives himself an aneurysm.’
‘Fine.’ Shelly left Amy to her unboxing and jogged downstairs. She paused outside the door to the weights room and could hear Carlson griping away inside.
‘Now she’s fucking late. Thinks she can maintain an Instabod with a few acai bowls, a bit of Barbie foot and FaceFix – she’s starting to believe her own bullshit.’ He sounded breathless and Shelly figured he was lifting while bitching – his Lift ’n’ Bitch method, which most of the influencers swore by. He was completely mad but he was also discreet and had a good understanding of what the Insta-life demanded.
‘You can’t shift a mom gunt with a few green juices,’ he carried on. ‘“Oooh, Shelly, how do you stay in shape? What’s your secret?”’ He mimicked the daytime TV host who’d asked her this very question last week. ‘“Oh gosh,”’ he’d switched to his breathy Shelly impression, ‘“I don’t do anything. No diets or training. I’m just running around after Georgie all day, you know.” Ha! Laughing my fucking ass off.’
He’s batshit, thought Shelly as she pushed the door open and prepared for some light torture.
