Page 39 of Just Like You
Iunderstood. Of course I did, because in a way? I felt it too. The way I could relax, back in my own surroundings, if only for a minute or two. But I had an event tonight, and I looked wrecked. Which is how Gina greeted me two hours later, despite me being freshly showered, shaved and dressed exactly as per her instructions.
“On time. Impressed.” She smiled. “But you look awful and your skinis a disaster.”
Was it? I couldn’t tell, but Gina was Gina, and she gifted me a peck on the cheek before instructing her makeup artist to give me an overhaul.
The life of a well-paid celebrity influencer. She probably earned more money than me, and I honestly didn’t care, sat here with a glass of champagne in my hand as some poor girl feathered my face with bronzer to apparently even out my blotchy skin tone.
“We need to do a red carpet, and I will need you to hang around for a bit. Can’t be seen standing on my own like some Billy-no-mates, Kieron. Keep up and don’t smile. We need that chiselled look, stern and stoic, living the dream.”
I had no idea what she was on about, but I did as I was told. I always did.
“So where you been?” she questioned, still with her phone pressed to her ear.
“Maldives.” I grinned.
“Wanker.” She tutted, yet looking suitably impressed. “Assuming you didn’t go on your own.”
“Nope.” I took another sip of the bubbles. Nice. Vintage. Gina might look like a total airhead, but the truth was: Underneath the ridiculous dress and the caked-on make-up? Was one smart chick.
Which was why I was here and why she wasn’t married and popping out babies somewhere in a suburb. Not that that kind of thing had ever been on the cards.
I shuddered, then had to smile to myself. Which of course Gina picked up on.
“Spill,” she demanded. “Who’s the girl this time?”
“Gina,” I whined. “Not a girl.”
“Oh.” She knew. Of course she did. We had no secrets here. “Now I am interested. Who’s this guy who’s caught your eye, eh? Little twink again?”
“Actually.” I leaned forward, making her lean in. We did this. Creatures of habit, the two of us. “I might keep this one under wraps for a bit. See where it goes.”
“Serious,” she mused, raising her glass, letting it clink against mine. “I like it.”
“It’s a nice one,” I said quietly. “Worth something.”
“Just don’t leave me.” She did that thing, where her face softened. It wasn’t often I got to see her like this, allowing the real her to shine through. Most of the time she was so plastic even I struggled to see past the ginormous breasts she was currently trying to contain within the polyester gown she was strapped into.
“Never,” I promised. “How are the lips?”
“Sore as fuck. Boobs are killing my back, but they look perfect right now. I’m a bit concerned that I’ll have to get them redone again because it’s either constant painkillers or really unattractive bras.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a bra,” I said, letting my finger stroke down her shoulder. “You’re a woman. It’s expected.”
“But no bra is going to win me the Lads Mags perfect breasts competition. I’ve won three years in a row. I can’t suddenly show up in a bra.”
“Gina.” I sighed. “You’re perfect.”
“I know. I have the awards to prove it.”
“So, chill.”
“Can’t. I have next year’s income riding on these girls holding up in a dress. I need you to keep an eye on the straps. Don’t let anything slide. I’ve got everything taped down, but you know.”
“I know. You’ve trained me well.”
“Kieron.” She cocked her head. “I want you to be happy. You know this, don’t you?”
“Shut up.” I smiled.
