‘Mimi. The frozen-foreheaded girl who is staring right at us, looking like someone just drowned her newborn kitten.’
Giovanni bursts out laughing again and looks over his shoulder at Mimi, who has gone from smiling adoringly at him to stalker vibes in under six seconds. She is not loving watching the two of us do ‘banter’.
Giovanni strokes his man-stubble. ‘Oh yeah. She looks like she’s about to scream her hair out, man. That’s sick. She’s a real live wire.’ He blows her a kiss and Mimi instantly softens. ‘I have that effect on women.’
‘Oh, my God.’ I’m almost choking with laughter now. ‘What’s with the horrendous mixed metaphors and non sequiturs? Are they forcing you to speak like that? Have they given you a script?’
Giovanni looks momentarily panicked but keeps smiling at me. ‘Are you speaking English right now, bro? I have no idea what you just said to me. Are you, like, from Britain?’
My words have flown straight over his head.
‘England, yes. And it’s Libby.’
‘Man, that accent is so sexy. Are you, like, from London?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ He looks taken aback.
‘There are… other cities,’ I say.
He glazes over. He has lost interest. He looks me up and down again and then casts his gaze over to Mimi, who still has her eyes trained like a sniper’s rifle on both of us.
‘Man. You are both smoking hot. If only there was a way the three of us could… you know.’ He waggles his eyebrows at me.
I blink rapidly. ‘Okay. That’s enough for me. I’ll leave you and Mimi to it.’
I don’t care that I’ve been told not to move, I start walking towards the outside kitchen when Porscha barks, ‘Cut!’
She storms over to us and demands that Giovanni takes me to the terrace to ‘talk’.
‘But it’s wet,’ he complains, looking down at his chino-style shorts. Then he backtracks immediately when Porscha’s eyes grow wide with disbelief and she looks at him as though he has suggested that he take charge of filming and directing. ‘But that’s okay. Can Mimi come with us too?’
Giovanni turns to wink at his forceful blonde, standing a few metres from us, hands on hips, head tilted, eyes like a psychotic prowler.
‘Certainly not.’ We watch Porscha stomp over to Mimi and whisper in her ear. To my surprise, Mimi’s face lights up. She nods her head and immediately flies off in the direction of the main villa.
‘I need a drink,’ Giovanni says. ‘It’s pretty tense in here, huh?’
‘Yep. It certainly is.’
‘Want one?’ he asks me. ‘I’ll bring it up to the terrace.’
That’s the first nice thing he has managed.
‘Thank you, Giovanni. That’s very kind of you. I’ll have…’ I lean down towards my tiny microphone head. ‘Can you get me a pineapple juice, please?’
Giovanni heads for the outdoor kitchen.
‘I’ll just go to the Beach Hut first. I need to get some things off my chest,’ I lie. ‘I’ll meet you up on the terrace.’
Once he is out of sight, I make for the blind spot via the Beach Hut, under the pretence I am going to confide my deepest thoughts to the nation. But when I get there, Mimi is coming out with a huge grin on her face. ‘After you,’ she says, pointing to the entrance. She waits for me to go in.
Crap.
‘No hard feelings?’ I say to her.
‘Why would there be hard feelings? It’s just a game, girl. You do what you’ve got to do.’