Chapter 16 #2
I have started a whole host of bickering. I am a slutty British villain in the making, and it is all my own doing.
* * *
A phone pings while I am putting the finishing touches to my make-up.
I have gone for a natural, clean look. My hair is hanging in soft waves, framing my face.
I’ve added a swipe of mascara to my already full Tatti Lashes and clear gloss to my lips.
I might just sweep some powder over my chin as it is looking shiny in this heat.
‘I got a text!’ screams Amber, causing me to drop my pot of powder. ‘Can all the Islanders meet at the firepit?’
This causes an almighty and unnecessary kerfuffle, with all the girls leaping about squealing excitedly before they realise they have run out of time to finish getting ready.
‘What will we do? What will the boys think? Destiny needs to see us all at our best!’ Mimi yells in panic.
‘Libby, you haven’t even started on your look yet!’ Amber howls, coming at me with brushes and her massive palette. She swishes the brush over my face, smudges some sticks of foundation down my nose and starts rubbing furiously. ‘Someone, do something with her hair!’
In an about-turn, we are suddenly all banding together.
Time pressure and a race against the clock have created an unexpected camaraderie.
A fashion collective. Women supporting women.
Girl power. Sisters doing it for themselves.
Buying our own flowers and holding our own hands.
Because we need to look nice for our men. Who we barely know.
Another phone pings. More squeals.
‘Get ready for fireworks hashtag recoupling hashtag dumped from the island hashtag bombshell,’ Kassy says, her voice petering out.
We all take a moment to let this digest.
‘What? Another one of us is going to get dumped from the island? This is brutal. I bet it’s me,’ cries Binky. ‘Libby’s going to steal my man.’
They all turn slowly to pin me to my seat, staring at me like zombies out of a horror movie. Just then my phone pings. I gingerly open the message hoping for better news, while we all hold our breath.
I get ready to bellow it out just like we’ve been told to do. As soon as I see the first line, the words die on my lips and I exhale noisily instead.
It is from Porscha.
DO NOT READ THIS OUT LOUD.
My eyes flick to the girls and back to my phone.
Meet me in the outside kitchen food cupboard now! Do not tell anyone where you are going.
‘What does it say?’ asks Mimi.
I shrug. ‘Nothing.’
‘It can’t be nothing,’ says Kassy. ‘Come on, girl. What does it say?’
Under the confused gaze of the girls, I rise calmly from the carousel and leave the room in silence.
I can hear them frantically gossiping as I make my way to the outside kitchen and slip through the door marked ‘PANTRY’.
The light is on, highlighting the fake snack food and fake tins lining the shelves.
The back wall suddenly opens and Porscha drifts in looking immaculate.
I pretend to look shocked as though I had no idea about the secret door.
‘Well, well, well. Don’t you scrub up nicely?
I wonder where you found that?’ she says, looking and sounding disingenuous.
I’m not sure what to say to her. Cam packed me a spectacular orange and pink shift dress to wear and some pretty pink matching sandals.
My hair is newly straightened and spritzed to look glossy and swishy.
My make-up is professionally applied because Amber is a beautician and loves a challenge. It took her under ten seconds.
‘Pick Giovanni,’ she says before disappearing back through the door.
I emerge from the PANTRY, deflated. I have my instructions. I will be stealing Mimi’s man, and my actions will possibly cause her exit from the show. I’m immediately distracted by a deafening clanging sound. It’s an alarm.
‘Oh, my God! Where’s the fire?’ I yell, leaping into action.
I know every fire exit and location of every extinguisher in the near vicinity.
I yank the red canister from the outside kitchen wall and run onto the fake grass lawn.
‘Follow me!’ I scream at the contestants as glammed-up men and women emerge from opposite sides of the villa.
This is basic school fire drill practice.
I’ve done it a thousand times. ‘This way, people!’
They stop briefly to glance over before choosing to completely ignore me.
Instead, I see them running in the opposite direction towards the firepit.
The male Islanders and female Islanders instinctively run towards each other to pair up as though they’ve been separated by a great war and are reuniting for the first time in years.
There is no fire.
It is merely the firepit klaxon.
I am distracted by some shaking in a nearby bush and the stifling of laughter coming from inside.
Oh, my effing word.
Feeling ridiculous, I plonk the fire extinguisher on the kitchen bench and take five to calm down.
Adrenaline is charging through my veins.
I need to be better than this. I take my time to wander over to the firepit because I don’t want to risk falling over in my heels.
And I’m in no hurry to be the cause of someone’s misery.
Destiny, the presenter, indicates for me to stand back on the spot I was on earlier, leaving Marcel to sit alone on the bench with the others.
I stand tall and smooth down my dress. I take the opportunity to smile shyly at the Islanders.
They can’t believe the transformation. This time the men are taking notice of me.
They are sitting up straight. They are smiling and winking at me. They are nudging one another.
The girls are looking frostily at me before batting their eyes and smiling ferociously at their men, clinging to them like they are about to be kidnapped.
I slide my eyes along to Giovanni. He is the only man who hasn’t looked at me.
He is looking adoringly at his forceful blonde companion, Mimi.
She is touching his face and now they are snuggling noses like an old married couple and giggling.
Every now and then, he glances down at her bountiful cleavage and licks his lips.
She crosses her well-oiled, shiny legs suggestively, and I watch, mesmerised, as he instinctively reaches out a hand to run the length of one. They have such sizzling chemistry.
My soul sinks. This is going to look so bad on camera.
‘Islanders,’ Destiny says. ‘Are you ready for your first big test? Libby, it is time to play Switcheroo. You can either keep Marcel or swap him out for one of the other guys. Which man are you going to choose?’
I avoid making eye contact with any of them and look straight to Destiny for help. I’ve not even had so much as a conversation with any of them due to the catastrophic downpour of rain that has been going on since my entrance. Not that any of the men came looking for me.
A huge lump forms in my throat, causing Destiny to repeat the question.
‘Remember, Marcel is the guy that said he wasn’t interested in you to Ella, before she got dumped.
He made that quite clear, didn’t he? He said – we have the quote here – he’s “not in the slightest bit interested in you”, remember? ’
Marcel is looking very sheepish now.
‘Please make your choice,’ instructs Destiny. Then a runner comes over to whisper in my ear that I am to stand for seven seconds staring straight ahead looking as though I’m worried sick, then I have to give two reasons for choosing Giovanni.
‘Any reasons will do. We don’t care. Then smile apologetically at Destiny and we’ll pan back to Mimi. Okay? Do not move off this spot until we tell you.’ The runner runs off.
Luckily for me, I have plenty of reasons to help with looking worried sick.
I stand counting sheep, while staring into the middle distance, and think about my new credit card bill, my disastrous entrance and the fact that everyone I know at home will be watching me on TV.
I hear a ghostly voice floating on the air, hissing, ‘Action!’
I snap back to the task at hand. ‘I, erm, I am choosing this man because he is tall, dark and handsome. And he seems like a hopeless romantic, because he says that he is writing a romantasy novel in his spare time when he’s not working in construction or feeding the homeless or saving blind donkeys. ’
I cannot look him in the eye. I cannot. I’m sure we’ve all told untruths to get here, but blind donkeys?
‘So, erm, the man I’d like to couple up with is… Giovanni.’ One quick glance tells me Giovanni is pretty fudging furious before he slaps a fake smile on his face and gets up to come over.
Mimi looks knocked for six.
Then it is my turn to be shocked because Mimi yells, ‘Giovanni, no!’
We watch as she leaps to her feet, grabs his arm, yanks him back dramatically and kisses the sweet baby cheeses out of him. Right in front of me.
Destiny can’t decide which of us to keep an eye on.
But as the kiss lengthens into an alarmingly long and uncomfortable clash of veneers, we are forced to watch Giovanni hoick Mimi’s leg up so that it is practically wrapped around him.
Then he really goes for it, his tongue probing her mouth, his hand almost but not quite cupping her breast, the other almost but not quite cupping her left buttock.
Her hands reach for his hair and tangle themselves in it while she thrusts her pelvis at him.
When they finally part, after an eternity of squelching sounds, they look dishevelled and breathless, and the other Islanders all look very feckin jealous.
Like an apex predator, Mimi whips her head round to face me, fixing me with a triumphant look.
Fair play to her. That was a genius move guaranteed to make it on to the show. She has basically staked her claim. Giovanni is her man whether I like it or not.
I can’t help myself. I start giggling and begin a slow clap. Soon everyone joins in the slow clap with me, even Destiny.
When both Mimi and Giovanni realise what is happening, they instantly relax. Giovanni has the good grace to put Mimi down, looking embarrassed when he walks over to stand next to me at the firepit.
‘I hope you’re not expecting me to do the same,’ I joke, and after a long minute, where he works out if I’m serious, he throws his head back and laughs like a drain.
Thankfully, everyone starts laughing, even the mardy Mimi.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say in a playful tone. ‘I’ll return him in one piece.’