It sounded exhausting. Fun, but exhausting. Ramona was going to bring her fifty thousand followers through the whole getting-ready process.
‘Do you seriously feel like going out on a chilly Monday night when it’s starting to rain?’
‘Babe, I have responsibilities. I do it so they don’t have to.’
She waved her phone in Cassie’s direction. When did we all pull back on our own lives and end up watching other people live? she wondered. Ramona was doing reality TV for the tiny screen.
‘Where are you meeting him? Or .?.?. Is it a him?’
‘It’s a them, but all right, them’s a him. The Blind Pig at ten. I’ll give them two drinks and after that I’ll put it to the vote with my crew. That is, unless I really like them or really hate them, in which case I decide and everybody else can fuck off.’
‘So, if you’re “ish” the viewers can decide.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Sounds fair.’ If a bit baffling, Cassie thought. She couldn’t imagine her life witnessed by fifty thousand people, who all felt they owned a piece of you. Trying to live just for herself was stressful enough.
‘Anyway, you keep watching tits and abs onEx on the Beach, and I’ll go get ready.’
‘Don’t dare leave without showing me your outfit. Do they get to vote on that too?’
‘Are you kidding me, there’d be chaos. I’m an influencer not a dress-up doll.’
Half an hour later Ramona sashayed in, wearing loose flowy trousers and a skimpy crop top that revealed an enviably defined midriff over which she’d thrown an aviator jacket. The effect, along with her white-blonde hair, was stunning. Cassie could imagine an army of women on sofas round the country frantically doing searches for her gear.
‘Opinion: shades or no shades?’ She stuck on a pair of round John Lennon sunglasses.
‘It’s dark out.’
‘So?’
Cassie shrugged. ‘Go for it .?.?. Wait, you’re meeting this person for the first time, late night, in a bar? Are you sure it’s safe?’
‘That’s kind of sweet that you care about my safety, but you actually sound like a public service announcement. Get out of your comfy pumps and live a little, because being good all the time’s not going to earn you shit, trust me.’
With that, she swung out the door, which slammed behind her, all the while talking confidentially to her phone. Cassie wondered if she too wasn’t a character in Ramona’s world by now. Hardly. She wasn’t nearly cool enough to feature in Ramona’s story.
Chapter 20
The following morning Cassie pulled into her parking space, reminding herself that she was only a lowly assistant and her wings had been clipped.
At 8.40 a.m. there was still no sign of Miss Upton, so Cassie threw on her spring jacket and trudged out to collect class 4B.
The column was ready to snake indoors when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Marie, looking more hassled than the previous day and holding the hand of a little girl. There was something familiar about the scene and it was only as they came into focus that realisation dawned. The child was Cici.
‘Mummy, look, it’s our babysitter! Hi, Cassie!’
There was no avoiding it. Weakly, Cassie raised a hand and returned the wave. Oh crap.
The pieces fell into place. What sort of a mess had she got herself into?
She met Marie’s gaze and realised she seemed to be having a similar epiphany. Marie, it was obvious, was Marisha, who used her maiden name for work. Of course, she’d already spoken to her on the phone that night in Finn’s apartment, without realising it. But more than that, Finn must’ve realised that she’d be working with Marisha and, for some reason, had chosen not to warn her.
What the hell? That explained why he’d seemed cagey about her excitement at getting the job. She didn’t even have the thirty seconds necessary to fire off a text demanding an explanation. Now she was going to be stuck in a room for what felt like all eternity with Marisha and the thorny question of just why her ex-husband had chosen Cassie to babysit for her kids at the last minute.
Cici had joined her Senior Infants’ class and trundled off happily in the opposite direction.
Struggling to look calm and professional, Cassie tried to focus her attention on the children. From behind her, Marisha’s voice hissed in her ear. ‘We need to talk. At break time.’
