Page 33 of Filter This
Him actually wanting to be involved and, worse, being excited about the prospect was, frankly, scuppering her. She’d been intending to blackmail him into participating, therefore retaining control over the plan. Him playing an active and willing part just seemed dangerous. She really needed to keep him at arm’s length, she thought, watching him make his way back to the table, especially given how hot he was.
As he settled himself across from her, Ali delivered a silent micro pep talk. Ali, she sternly told herself, get the fuck over it, this is business. Stop looking at his shoulders and very, very nice arms, and smile and nice face.
‘So …’ Tinder Sam was smiling across at her. ‘Can you believe the due date? I mean, crazy or what?’
Ali blanched. ‘I have to go. For a minute.’ She stood up abruptly, grabbing her bag and knocking over a stool in the process. ‘I need some air. Stay here. Don’t come after me,’ she said, sounding way more bonkers than she’d intended.
He held up his hands as if to say ‘who – me?’
Ali hurried outside to the cobbled street that was already beginning to fill with people clustered around the heaters, smoking and drinking pints. Liv was not the ideal person to be burdening with this stuff, she thought, but there was absolutely no one else.
She pulled up WhatsApp and embarked on a garbled voicenote: ‘Liv, he fucking knows the due date. I don’t even know the due date. He’s into it, which is weird. It’s weird, right? And even worse he’s hot, way hotter than I remember. This was not the plan.’
Anxiously, Ali sent the voicenote and stood watching as the tick went blue and she pictured Liv listening in the library – at this time she was usually working late in college – shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
Ali felt jangly all of a sudden. This was advanced-level lying, way bigger than a caption on Instagram. She was basically lying directly into Tinder Sam’s face and it didn’t feel good. Liv’s response appeared in the WhatsApp thread; Ali hit Play and put the phone up to her ear.
‘The due date, wahey, that’s some advanced mathsing out of Tinder Sam – he could play a brilliant but tortured mathematician who exclusively communicates ideas by writing on window panes and falls for Jennifer Connelly. Tangent, but I for one am worried about Jennifer. She’s starring in the newTop Gunsequel, it seems like a cry for help …’ Ali laughed in spite of her mounting anxiety – that was the most Liv response ever. The voicenote continued. ‘Anyway, TBH I’m not seeing the problem with this. It sounds like everything is going great, oh wait, except, hang on … Isn’t that a fictitious baby you’re gestating there, Ali?’
Suddenly the sound went funny – Ali could hear Liv fumbling with the phone and then distant voices. Ali strained to make out what was being said.
‘I got your email, Liv, and I do think you’re much more engaged with this idea. It’s timely and provocative. I can see it in print – if you give it the work.’
‘Yeah, I’m really glad you like it. It means so much to me that you’re into it …’ At this, the woman – who Ali now realised was none other than Emer ‘Still Has It at Fifty’ Breen – interjected.
‘Liv, that’s not what this is about. You can’t be doing this for the wrong reasons. Trying to win my approval will undermine the rigorous research this paper is going to require. If you’re trying to impress me because of whatever shared history we may have, well, that would be perhaps an indicator that you need another adviser.’
Ali scowled – she sounded like a fucking robot. And Liv, if the impassioned ‘No, I’m not even thinking about us at all, I swear’ was anything to go by, was still firmly in the throes of Emer-mania.
The voicenote ended there. Poor Liv. Emer had been Liv’s first serious relationship, though Ali had wondered if it was all a bit too much on Emer’s terms. Liv had been touchy any time Ali had suggested this and, given Ali’s track record with guys, she didn’t exactly have much to offer in terms of advice. This was probably the first ‘second date’ she’d had in a year and, obviously, certain elements of the encounter would probably preclude it from being considered a bona fide date. At this, Ali’s focus snapped back to the situation at hand.
She flicked into the Insta app and noted her following had swelled by another few hundred. In her notifications she spotted that she’d been included on a list of Hot New Mamas-to-Be to Follow on Instagram from Notions.ie. This thing was getting bigger, whatever about what telling Tinder Sam might mean. The fact was she was in now. Plus, given her performance on set today, she was relying on Insta for a lot more than a few freebies now – she needed this to pay off. A few deep breaths and Ali headed back in to Tinder Sam.
14
‘Oh my god, Shelly! I love you!’
Shelly looked up to see a girl, about twenty-something, phone-in-hand, standing by their table.
‘I am fully wearing the Shelly Contour Palette right now.’ She leaned further in to the table, turning her head to better display her expertly applied make-up and Dan, who’d been tucking into a huge steak, dropped his cutlery with a pointed clatter and folded his arms.
‘I have your book too, I love it, read it every night. And I’m wearing the Shelly Corn Protectors right now!’
At this Dan snorted and Shelly winced. She knew she’d been right not to tell him about that particular brand collaboration. It was a couple of years ago, just before Amy had come on board and devised clearer guidelines for the company.
Shelly smiled. ‘I’m so thrilled to hear you like, well, everything. Your contouring is fab.’ She was uneasy – it made her realise how little she was ever out with Dan anymore. She hadn’t had to do a meet-the-fans moment in front of him in a long time and it made her extremely self-conscious. Also, she was petrified this random gushing girl would ask him something related to his Instagram which, while he was aware of its existence, was a serious sore spot.
Amy had been adamant about setting it up, but Dan had refused to so much as engage in a debate about it. The argument had seemed to be at something of an impasse until Amy (without Shelly’s permission) emailed Dan a twelve-month profit projection of @DivineDanDevine’s potential earnings and he grudgingly acquiesced. His participation was minimal – brands were happy to be associated with Shelly in any way, and they rarely minded that Dan wouldn’t talk about the brands in Stories and, for the most part, just posed in the distance with whatever product was writing the cheque. As part of the agreement, Shelly would usually give them a mention too to sweeten the deal. Between them, the Devine family had virtually every demographic in the market covered.
‘Your dress is gorge – where’s it from?’ The girl’s brow furrowed slightly. ‘You haven’t posted it yet, have you?’ She was rapidly tapping on the phone, apparently checking her Insta even while Shelly was sitting right there.
‘Ah no, thanks for reminding me – I must pop the date-night outfit up.’ Shelly smiled.
‘Oh, it’s date night, is it?’ Dan’s tone was unmistakably snarky but the girl didn’t seem to notice.
She turned to him. ‘Oh my gawd, your poem on Valentine’s Day. I died. Died. I sent it to my fella and was, like, See – this is a Valentine’s Day post!’
‘Right.’ Dan’s jaw was set and Shelly tensed.
