How ridiculous.
‘I doubt I’ll manage that,’ I say, watching them all glam up. ‘I mean, look at you all. You’re all gorgeous.’
Just saying the words reminds me of how I felt when Cam told me I was gorgeous. I melted inside like an ice cream in the hot sun.
‘We are, babe,’ says Mimi, noticeably pleased at the compliment. ‘We so freakin’ are! We are so freakin’ GORGE!’
Bit much.
‘Anyway, beauty is only skin-deep,’ I remind her before she gets carried away with her own reflection.
‘But you could still steal our guys from us,’ says a small blue-haired woman. ‘Is that what you’re planning?’
‘That’s right, Binky. She could,’ says Mimi. ‘I’d watch your man when he’s around Libby. I saw him giving her the eye.’
‘I’m hardly a man-eater. Besides, you’ve only had your men for five minutes. You barely know them. You,’ I say, pointing to the weakest-looking girl at the back. ‘What’s your fella’s name?’
She looks shocked, like she has no idea. ‘It’s Germaine. Or Germanji.’
‘No, Kassy. My one is called Germanji, your one is called Brid,’ says Mimi.
‘It’s not Brid. It’s Brad. He’s Australian,’ says Amber.
‘Is he?’ says Kassy.
‘Not Germanji. I meant Giovanni. That’s right. He’s half Italian and from New York. So, now, who doesn’t know her man?’ Mimi says, her voice full of ‘I told you so’.
The atmosphere has turned on a knife-edge over absolutely nothing.
‘Just because I can’t remember who I’m coupled up with doesn’t mean we don’t share a deep connection,’ Kassy argues back. ‘Besides, I like Marcel. I might be in with a chance now because he obviously didn’t like the look of Libby.’
‘All I know is that I have fantasised my whole life of being on this show. It is my absolute dream to become an influencer, and if being in a couple with Giovanni is the way to make it happen, then that’s what I’ll do.’ The girls look at Mimi smiling, until she says, ‘So hands off. Everyone back off my man. He’s mine.’
‘Doesn’t that rather defeat the object of the game?’ I ask.
The girls look at me, nodding, before they pounce on Mimi.
‘Hang on a second, girlfriend,’ says Amber. ‘I am open. So don’t tell me to back off anyone.’
‘I am very open too,’ says Binky. ‘Wide open.’
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.