‘No, itcan’twait,’ he says starkly. ‘Jools, put the mascara thingy down.’
‘I’ve only got one eye done!’ I protest, feeling suddenly afraid. What is so urgent? Why can’t I finish? Why does the head producer need to talk to me anyway? We mostly justignore one another. Honestly, I don’t really ever like to get too close to Spencer because he smells of too much cologne. It’s inescapable, clinging to me all day long, making me gag whenever I catch another whiff.
‘Two minutes, Spencer.’ Jools does not do as instructed with the mascara thingy. She is an institution around here – she’s been head make-up artist for twenty-five years. She doesn’t back down to snivelling little grotbag gnomes with daddy issues. She begins coating my other eyelashes and I watch Spencer carefully through my one available eye.
‘Liv, you know what this is about!’ Spencer cries, his voice raising an octave. ‘You don’t want me doing this in front of everyone!’
His threat gets the attention of the room, and the reality star spins in his chair to face us, rudely knocking over Andi’s face powder. She tuts but he doesn’t notice – or care.
‘Oooooooh, you’re in trouble,’ the boy says like a small child delighting in a sibling scolding. He leans closer. ‘To be fair to you, babe, I thought you werewellfunny in that video. And I’ve had loads worse from my crazy bitch exes! One of them once threw a shoe at my head just cause I cheated on her with her sister.’ He scowls. ‘And, like, I’ve never actually had tiramisu – I don’t know what it is actually – but it was well annoying that they wouldn’t get you some. It really pisses me off when I ask for a protein shake in one of those restaurants and they’re too up their own arses to get it.’ He scowls. ‘I mean, likewhodoesn’t have protein powder? Uptight knobheads.’
I stare at him, some of his words penetrating my fog of confusion. Crazy exes? Tiramisu? Video? Somewhere at the back of my brain, something jangles. An alarm bell.
Tiramisu.
The taxi driver mentioning myInstagram readynails.
Tiramisu.
The reality star is grinning at me.
It’syou!
Oh god no. What –no. It couldn’t be.
‘Liv?’ Spencer says impatiently, and it is at this moment that my phone springs back to life on the table before me, vibrating aggressively as notifications start coming in. Message after message – missed call after missed call.
Ding ding ding.
Oh god no.
The tiramisu.
CHAPTER THREE
Spencer sits across from me in his office, squatting there balefully like a pouty toad. Except his pond would be overflowing with horrible Dior Sauvage.
He waits for me to speak first – a move I know he’s gleaned from some awful advice article on being an alpha male – and so I do.
‘Is everything okay? What’s, er, what’s going on?’ I feel a little trembly, squeezing my phone in my right hand, feeling it vibrate again and again.
I haven’t looked yet. I’m still trying to convince myself this isn’t anything serious. It can’t be to do with my Justin break-up last night. It can’t.
‘The video,’ he says at last, and we stare at each other some more. I still don’t understand what he means but my heart is thumping like mad. It’s pounding in my ears as I fight waves of nausea.
‘What video?’ I ask in a quiet voice, and he sighs abrasively.
‘Liv, for fuck’s sake, don’t pretend you don’t know. Don’t make me say it. You know what I’m talking about. The meltdown video? It’s all over TikTok. The internet is having a field day. They’re calling you The Tiramisu Girl.’ He tuts. ‘Someone’s made T-shirts! Even though half of them can’t spell tiramisu and the other half don’t know what it is. Everyone’s sharing it. It’s everywhere! TheDaily Mailhave fucking called us for comment! They want to know howMorning Tea’s relationship expert – known for being cool, calm and collected, for advising women to be rational and balanced in their relationships – how she could go all Will Smith at the Oscars.’ He pauses, looking exasperated, then half shouts, ‘For fuck’s sake, Liv, your mantra is Keep Calm and Carry Condoms!’
My heart is pounding wildly now. Heistalking about last night. My break-up with Justin. Someone was… filming us? The video’s gone… viral? But it can’t. Why would it…? Why wouldanyone…? Oh my god.
I feel my breathing pick up as I try to get a handle on myself.
Okay. So, someone in the restaurant filmed Justin dumping me – and my reaction. But it wasn’t even that bad, was it? I held it together for the most part. I was just blindsided and desperately needed some sugar. It wasn’tthatbad…
Spencer watches my expression curiously. After another moment, he swivels his monitor to face me. He clicks on a tab and presses play on some bright but grainy footage from inside last night’s restaurant.
Fuck, it’s me. I recognise us both – Justin and me – sitting at the table at a distance, our finished dinner plates in front of us. I can just about make out the half-finished mushroom pie I’d pushed around for half an hour, waiting for the big moment I was so sure was coming. There were onions in there I didn’t want to eat before our post-proposal snog.
