Chapter 6 #2
‘He won’t leave me alone about how much, or how little, I speak to my dad. He’s always done it, tried to make me look like the bad guy compared to his squeaky-clean bloody hero persona.’
‘Right.’
‘And his mum laps it up. She thinks the sun shines out of him. Like he can do no wrong.’
‘Is it a persona?’
I frown, taken aback by her question. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, is he actually a bad guy pretending to be a good guy? He seems like a pretty cool person to me. Everyone here seems to like him too, apart from you that is. And you know, calling someone performative is another way of saying you find them threatening, right?’
I fold my arms and cock my head. ‘Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side here.’
‘Am I? I don’t remember signing a contract promising that. I’m just here as a neutral observer.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Dude, if you were looking for some simpering yes-woman you should have paid an actor to come with you or something. It’s not my style to just agree with everything everyone says.
I feel very strongly about making up my own mind about things.
And honestly, it seems to me you like to be challenged, even if you pretend you don’t.
It gives you something to fight against.’
‘You’ve got me all figured out, huh?’
‘Looks like it, yeah.’
I let out a snort of amusement and shake my head.
‘The main reason I clash with Darian,’ I say, lightening my tone now, ‘is because we run our lives in very different ways. He’s really family centric. I’m work-centric.’
‘And you’re clearly proud of that.’
‘Well, yeah, sure. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. Darian and I just have different priorities in life.’
‘And you choose to prioritise a big pile of cash over your relationship with your family?’
I let out a deep sigh. ‘When you put it like that, you make me sound like a total arsehole.’
She holds up both hands in surrender. ‘Hey, that’s your word, not mine. I’m not here to judge. I’m just an innocent bystander.’
I can’t help but smile at that. ‘I’m not sure “innocent” or “bystander” are words I’d use about you.’
‘No, well, I’m not a wallflower, that’s true.’
She’s still looking at me intently with that intelligent gaze of hers and I feel a deep, swooping sensation in my stomach.
It’s like she’s trying to see inside my head and it’s making me nervous.
This is such a crazy situation. It’s no wonder I’m feeling messed up.
Especially since we’re both clearly attracted to each other, but I’m guessing, like me, she probably thinks we should keep things simple and not complicate this week with sex.
Which is sensible.
Sitting up straighter in my seat, I say, ‘Anyway, enough about my family. Tell me more about your show. What’s your USP?’
She sits up a bit straighter in her seat.
‘Games. I get my interviewees to play a game – usually a computer game of their choice – against me while I interview them. We’re playing to win, so the adrenaline is up, which seems to make people open up to me when we’re chatting.
It’s like they’re not entirely focussed on what’s coming out of their mouth because they’re concentrating on the game, so conversation flows more easily.
They often tell me things they wouldn’t normally say to a journalist. I’ve got some pretty good scoops that way. ’
‘Sounds dangerous for anyone being interviewed.’
‘I’m really kind with it though. My aim isn’t to make anyone look stupid. I just want to see flashes of them as real people because they’re often hiding behind a wall of privacy.’
‘And their publicists are okay with this?’
‘Mostly. The show’s got big and popular enough for them to actually want to get their clients onto it now, so I have free rein.
They trust me not to do any damage to my interviewees’ careers and I make a point never to do that.
It’s a fun, bouncy, enlightening show. It’s two people having a laugh and a bit of banter while they game.
I say right up front that I never let anything too damaging to that person go out on the show.
I’m not a monster. I’m in this for the fun of it, not for nefarious purposes.
My interviewees would dry up pretty quickly if I was. ’
‘So you’re getting some big names onto it then?’
‘Yeah, I am now. I got lucky about six months ago when Calum Farrell, the actor who got famous for being in Rage of the Machines—’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard of him. He was in pretty much every film that came out last year.’
‘Exactly. He got in contact to say he was a fan of my show and asked if he could come on it. I said yes, of course, once I’d peeled myself off the ceiling.
We had great chemistry and it turned out to be a really funny interview that went viral.
After that I started getting loads of requests from publicists and the rest is history. ’
‘That’s amazing. Kudos.’ I take a breath before saying, ‘You know, if I’d known I was bringing such a “cool celebrity” with me I’d have made more of an effort to bring my A-game to this wedding.’
Her eyebrows pinch together with mirth. ‘Are you jealous that I’m more famous than you?’
I snort with amusement. ‘No.’
‘So you actually want to be seen as this enigmatic billionaire who’s just beyond everyone’s reach, whilst secretly basking in their attention and adoration?’
Closing my eyes, I shake my head and give a stilted laugh, a little uncomfortable about how that observation makes me feel. ‘Wow. That’s a bold accusation.’
‘But I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t want their attention outwardly, but inside, the lonely, black sheep child in you is craving their love, attention and respect?’
My smile drops away and takes my stomach with it. ‘You know what, I’m not really up for talking about this any more right now,’ I say.
‘Why not? Because I’ve hit a nerve?’
I push myself up from the sofa and rub my hand over my hair, a rush of anxiety making me twitchy. ‘Look, it’s late. I’m tired. Let’s talk more tomorrow once we’ve slept, yes?’
She looks surprised by my sudden change in tone. ‘Oh. Err, yeah, okay. If you like.’
‘Feel free to stay in the living area and chill. I’m going to answer some emails in my bedroom.’
And with that, I vacate the room, the echo of the flash of hurt I saw on her face burned onto my vision the whole time I’m trying to read my emails, until I finally give up, get into bed and fall into a restless sleep.
* * *
Ida
The next morning, I wake up with an underlying feeling of unease.
Sitting up, I scrub at my eyes with the heels of my hands and try to focus on what it is that’s making me feel this way.
Hmm. I probably pushed things a bit too far last night when I tried to inexpertly psychoanalyse Raffa’s relationship with his family and ended up insulting him instead.
A bit too much alcohol obviously made me overconfident in my counselling skills.
Time to cut back on the cocktails, I think.
I was fascinated by how uncomfortable they all seemed to be in each other’s company last night though, and a bit sad for Raffa to be honest, so I was desperate to find out what happened in the past to produce such an atmosphere between them all.
But from the stony look on Raffa’s face, it clearly wasn’t the right time to pursue that line of questioning.
I suspect it’s going to take a bit of time for him to fully trust me with his truth.
After a quick shower, I pull on a pair of shorts and vest top and make my way to the kitchen, wondering whether Raffa is up yet.
I suspect he kept working long after I fell asleep, so I’m surprised to find him sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee in his hand and a plate of beautifully arranged fresh fruit, toast and smoked salmon next to him.
The rest of the surface is laid out with plates of delicious-looking breakfast food, including three different mueslis, cold meats, yoghurts and tiny pastries.
My stomach rumbles at the sight of it all.
‘Hope you don’t mind. I arranged to have our food brought over so we didn’t get swarmed at breakfast,’ Raffa says as I pad over to where he’s standing.
‘Not at all. Good call,’ I say, pulling out a bar stool from the counter to sit on.
‘I checked out your show on HelSkel,’ Raffa says, when I’ve made myself comfortable.
‘Oh yeah? What did you think?’
‘I think it’s fantastic.’ He closes his eyes and shakes his head at himself. ‘How the hell did I miss a show as big as that?’
‘I dunno. Head too far up your arse?’ I wink at him.
He grin-grimaces at me. ‘That’s harsh.’
‘Only because you know there’s some truth in it. You work too hard, no wonder you miss things.’
‘I work because I have to.’
I slide a plate of pastries towards me. ‘No, you don’t. You’re rich already.’
His expression turns serious. ‘Yes, okay, but I want to stay top of my game. No one talks about how it’s actually harder to stay on top than to get there in the first place.’
‘I know it, dude.’
‘Yeah, I guess you do, now your show’s so popular.’
I select the biggest croissant from the plate and tear a piece off it, pop it in my mouth and chew and swallow it before saying, ‘Look, I get why you strive so hard to be successful. I’m like that too.
I have been from a really early age. I was sick of being ignored and shoved into last place in my family and it made me determined to do better than them. On my own terms.’
He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. ‘Huh. Yeah, that does sound like me. I guess we’ve got even more in common that we realised.’
‘It seems so. I think we were destined to be friends,’ I say, pointing the croissant at him.
There’s a heavy pause where the word ‘friends’ seems to ring in the air around us.
Folding his arms, he dips his chin and looks at me from under his brows. ‘So, how did you come up with the idea for the show in the first place?’