Rachel McIntyre - This Careless Life

There were times when Duff made Liv laugh until her lungs ached and tears poured down her cheeks. Now was not one of them.

‘Fashion is my life,’ he squeaked breathlessly.

‘Shut up.’

‘Shoes! Handbags! Make-up!’

‘Shut up !’

Liv rammed a velvet cushion in his face, not quite muffling his falsetto cries.

‘Cut me and I bleed lip gloss!’ Fending her off he emerged red-faced, choking on stray feathers and his own hilarious words. He wrestled the cushion from her, threw it along the sofa, narrowly missing Jez, and strolled up to the mirror.

‘Cass, don’t be fooled by this vapid display. Liv’s not dumb. And she’s not that shallow.’ He dragged his fingers through his mussed-up hair and continued thoughtfully. ‘Well, obviously she is shallow, but she’s not that shallow, if you get my drift.’

Liv blew out her cheeks. ‘Cass, everyone, please ignore Idiot Boy,’ she said, more harshly than she’d intended.

‘Hey, I’m defending you here,’ Duff protested, tucking in then re-tucking his shirt.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jez said, handing her the cushion. ‘You can get your own back when it’s his turn.’

‘She loves me really. She just can’t admit it. Can you, Liv?’

‘Yeah, sure I do. Totally,’ she deadpanned in return, crossing her legs.

Duff slumped back on the sofa, putting an arm around her. ‘I’ve known Liv since she was four years old, Cass. And I can tell you she’s got hidden depths. Very secret depths.’

What?

She recoiled, pushing him away. ‘What are you on about?’

‘Take no notice of him,’ Hetty said quietly, placing a gentle hand on her knee. ‘He’s winding you up.’

‘You know what I mean. Hidden depths.’ He straightened himself, tipping her an overblown wink. ‘Or hidden shallows at least.’

Liv paused a beat to steady her voice. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Cass quirked her lip, placing her pen on top of her notebook, and Liv cringed. What she must think of them, this bunch of so-called young adults bickering like kids in a playground? But Cass remained apparently unfazed by the commotion. Positively enthused in fact.

‘Great banter. Sparky. Gives a flavour of your personality, Liv. Passion, conviction . . . qualities I love to see. If you can channel that, I think we’ll have a fantastic result today.’

Really?

‘Thank you.’ Liv masked her surprise behind a neutral expression. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she wedged the cushion back on the sofa, hoping her posture suggested a professional attitude. And a more camera-loving nose.

‘Right then, the next thing is the individual interview, so you guys . . .’ Cass’s eyes swept across the sofa. ‘Can you sit on the floor or find a chair out of shot, please? Liv, can you sit closer to the middle?’

Shoulders back and down. Don’t fidget. Liv shifted along the sofa and placed her not-at-all-shaky hands under her thighs while the others relocated. Duff back to sprawl across the rug; Hetty and Jez neatly propped either side of the floor lamp, a pair of human bookends. When Hetty crossed her legs at the ankles, Jez did the same.

‘You’re certainly entertaining to watch,’ Cass murmured, adjusting the laptop. ‘Perfect. OK. Liv, remember to keep your head up so the cameras have you the whole time. Ready?’

Deep breath. Swish back hair. Nod.

‘Great. So my first question is: there are hundreds of TV shows available, why would watching your life grab the audience?’

Yes!

Over the last three weeks, Liv had absorbed Louis the acting coach’s advice: pitch, pace, intonation, gesture, eye contact , preparing and polishing every pause, every giggle, every expression for maximum impact. And yes, Dad would probably have a fit if he saw the final bill, but the sessions had been worth every penny. Because along with his years of TV audition experience, Louis had brought a list of possible questions.

And Why you ? had been right at the top.

Liv’s shoulders softened and she set her mouth to automatic, starting the well-rehearsed monologue to rave about the outrageous nights with friends, the exclusive clubs, crazy shopping sprees, glamorous beauty launches, amazing holidays . . .

And yet . . . she couldn’t shake off that wink. Secret depths , and now, propped up on his elbows on the rug, why the hell was Duff still smirking?

What did he know?

Halfway through gushing over her insane clothes allowance (‘I’m such a Daddy’s girl, he can’t say no! It must be more than some people earn in a year!’) she faltered before tailing off into an apology.

‘Don’t worry, you’re doing great,’ Cass said, pressing the tips of her fingers together. ‘Let’s try a different tack. Your beauty channel . . .’

‘ Miss Olivia Loves .’

‘Fab name,’ Cass commented, jotting on her notepad. ‘ Miss. Olivia. Loves. What are you most proud of with that?’

Liv faked a confident smile and twisted her torso slightly to avoid catching Duff ’s eye again.

‘I’m so grateful to the subscribers. Even when it was just me waffling on about a few products I’d bought in Selfridges, the feedback was phenomenal. And then, when brands started putting me on their mailing lists, it snowballed. The audience figures kept rising and so did the positive comments. Then, after the blog was featured in Grazia . . .’

Louis’ advice echoed: Don’t forget to pause when you name-drop the mag.

Right on cue, Cass looked up. ‘ Grazia ? Impressive.’

Liv grinned. ‘Yeah, it went mad after that. I got nominated for the National Beauty Blogger Awards; went to the ceremony in London nearly a year ago. It was surreal, you know? Actresses, models . . . all famous people. And I got to meet loads of other bloggers and the goodie bag was to die for. Chanel. Dior. Tom Ford . . .’

‘It certainly sounds like a night to remember.’

‘It was.’

But thinking about it now, the standout memory wasn’t rubbing shoulders with celebrities, or the food, or the pulse-racing thrill of being part of a major industry event. No, it was the moment when she’d looked up to see HIM leaning against the bar, watching her with those blue, blue eyes.

Instant heat had rushed up in a wave from her feet. She’d forced herself to count the foil stars sprinkled on the table. Don’t look.

When he strolled over and placed a bottle of champagne in front of her, her heart almost tore through her dress. She watched beads of condensation slide down the sides of the glass.

Up on the podium, the award for most life-enhancing lip product was accepted by a company representative whose lively speech contained enough witty one-liners to ramp the atmosphere from cheerful to hysterical.

But Liv barely noticed. Pulling up a spare chair to the table, he’d wedged himself closely between Liv and her neighbour, his thigh deliberately pressed against hers. He still didn’t speak. She could hardly breathe.

To loud cheers and applause, the speaker descended the steps. Some sombre music started and behind the equally sombre presenter, a slideshow lit the screen. The audience hushed and Liv stared straight ahead, barely registering the miserable grey girls who, frankly, had no business being the focus of a beauty industry award.

He was running his fingertip up and down her arm, and even though she continued staring at the montage of misery, her subconscious had hopped in a cab and raced through the busy streets back to the hotel. Only unlike when she’d checked in two hours earlier, she wasn’t alone.