“Do you?” he said, and there was that blush.Dear child. I sounded like someone’s granny. “What’s your handle?” he said, digging for his phone in his pocket only to realise it wasn’t there. Spinning nervously around, looking lost.
I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t.
“No,” I said instead. “Whatever you’re asking, it’s a no.”
“Calm down, Jacobs.” She tutted. “Is there tea, Peter? I have things to say.”
“There’s always tea for you.”
Kindness. Even when she was here to stab us in the back. Threaten us with all kinds of things and offer us money… And now Gina DeSanto was taking a seat at the kitchen table, and Cal was sliding onto the chair next to her, his eyes all spaced out in awe.
“Tea?” Peter asked the room, like we were all in on this. Normal? Absolutely not.
“Yes please, Dad,” Cal said sweetly, as Gina smiled.
“You’re very cute. Last time I saw you, you were just a spotty teen. You’ve scrubbed up well.”
Cal made some kind of sound at the back of his throat. It made me laugh. Poor kid. She was probably my age. Perhaps even older. What did I know?
“I left the production,” she said matter-of-factly. “Management pulled me after the shitstorm rolled in. The parent company came in a bit heavy-handed and slashed my fee in half before shutting us down. I was already walking anyway, but the cheek of them was…unbelievable.”
“Really?” I said, taking a seat and looking for my own glasses. Perhaps I needed a reality check because this was not a company meeting and I was not…signing shit. Whatever it was, she was taking it out of her large handbag and throwing it onto the table.
“Rumour is that they’re in deep shit because the whole thing was a giant liability. Lawsuit from one of the brand deals and several grievance reports. Also? Ofcom had over a million complaints about episode five. The bigwigs were in a tiff. Easier just to make it all disappear.”
“Really?” Peter said calmly. “Not surprised. It was…a disorganised soup.”
“Soup.” Gina laughed. “That’s one way to describe it.”
“There were a few good croûtons on the production side. A few. I may have put a few to the side. And before I left, I got Rupert and Robert intoa taxi. Made them call their mother so I could speak to her. I told her to get real and get them sorted. I wasn’t going to have their lives ruined for cheap laughs.”
“Good for you,” Peter said calmly.
“That Kirsten woman was abusive. Her ethics were completely non-existent.”
“Misguided, perhaps,” I filled in. Like I knew what I was talking about. “Some of us are. Sometimes.”
“No excuse for exploiting fellow human beings.” Gina tutted. “Anyway.” She slapped her hands onto the table.
“I have plans. I’ve had this under wraps for a while, but now I suddenly have time as well, so I’m going to run with it. There are things I want to explore, and I think on the back of this latest…what shall we call it?”
“Shitshow,” I added. OMG. She was Gina DeSanto, and I was an addict with issues. What the hell was I playing at here? I’d brought that shitshow on myself, and now I was sat here behaving like a clown?
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she said sternly. “Peter, sit down. I need you on board with this because I think this is where you and I can actually make a difference. You should never have been on that show. And I should have walked out the first day when they thrust that goddamn script in my face.”
“I agree,” Peter said calmly. Like he knew what was going on.
“I have a business plan, a projected timeline and ten episodes of real talk.”
“For what?” I had to ask.
“Real Talkwith Gina DeSanto. The show where we blow the lid off reality TV fame and the influencing trap. Where real people tell real stories and where we fucking don’t script a fucking thing.”
“Language, Gina.” Peter. And the bloody ceiling didn’t even make a sound.
Damn it.
“What are you saying?” I had to smile. No idea what was going on here.
