Page 25 of Bad Influence


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‘Yup, I’m not quite sure how I pulled this one off either.’ I grabbed a piece of cut baguette and added an extra dollop of butter on top, before tossing it into my mouth. I hadn’t eaten anything bar a couple of sticks of celery and some raspberries at the Corinthia. There had been no time for thepastry course, plus I wanted to make a good impression on Coco. ‘But trust me – it works.’

He filled two warm plates with scrambled egg, bacon, a spoonful of baked beans, fried mushrooms, and grilled tomatoes, plus two slices of black pudding, declaring, ‘The full monty.’

We sat at the small dining table in our kitchen.

‘There’s going to be a nutritionist living in the house with us, and she seems militant, so I had better make the most of this meal. It feels like the last supper. Which reminds me’ – I paused to chew a mouthful of delicious egg and bacon – ‘Mandy wants me to move in on Monday.’

‘As in, the day after tomorrow?’

I nodded and tried to assess his gaze, which looked disappointed.

‘I wasn’t expecting it to be this soon either, but Mandy moves fast. I suppose the sooner I start, the sooner I’ll finish though,’ I offered, as a softener. And it was true.

He nodded sceptically. ‘Yeah, I guess. I just thought we’d have a bit longer to get used to the idea.’

Knowing I would need to spend most of the following day packing for my three months away, I needed to use this time to talk about what was going on with Rob too.

Since he had started as a director at Serious Global – the TV production company with the world’s worst name – Rob had seemed less enthusiastic than ever about his line of work. The television world was having a difficult time. Following a boom in commissioning, and career highs like the Angel Wear documentary Rob had directed in NewYork, things had cooled off and fewer shows were being made. It wasn’t a reflection on his skills, but a market trend – audiences were becoming less loyal to streaming platforms and commissioners had had their budgets cut. Rob’s most recent pitch, about the inside world of influencers and their relationships with fashion brands, had failed to make it past the development stage because of the extortionate fees the influencers required to consider taking part in it – they could simply upload a sponsored image of themselves relaxing in their garden sporting some new sunglasses for ten times the money Serious Global could offer.

It meant that, as a stop gap, Rob had been seconded to a less senior role assisting the production of the long-running daytime reality show calledBag a Bargain. The problem was that the show was currently in the middle of a media storm following the dismissal of one of its lead presenters, whose extra-marital relationship with a much younger colleague had recently been revealed via a photo sent toThe Sun, thus making front-page news across three continents. To be fair, ‘Bag Another Woman’ made a really good headline. It didn’t help that said presenter was also one of the stakeholders in Serious Global.

None of this looked particularly great on Rob’s CV, so he had taken a pause on applying for other roles while this played out. Unsurprisingly, it was getting him down.

‘Did you get a chance to chat to Rory about your work last night?’ I asked, feeling glad to have a level of food in my stomach that made me feel human again.

‘Not really, Rory seemed too preoccupied with his own work dilemma,’ Rob replied.

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yeah, it sounds like your sis has designs on taking over the PR world, so Rory may look at reducing his days when the baby comes.’ He paused. ‘You Greens are strong women.’ He looked across to me, his green eyes shining, yet I couldn’t quite work out whether it was in awe or contempt. He was hungover, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

On a practical level, I hoped that my news about the bonus might cheer him up. ‘Anyway, The Divorcee had Girl Friday over last night,’ Rob offered between mouthfuls of food. ‘You slept through it.’

‘And did they get to fourth base?’

‘Yes, twice, they kept me awake.’

Damian, known affectionately to us as The Divorcee, lived in the flat above ours, and the paper-thin ceiling did nothing to muffle the sounds of him having sex with his girlfriend, whom we nicknamed Girl Friday, because we had worked out they had an arrangement, whereby she – presumably also divorced with children – came to stay over every other Friday, the weekends when they were both child-free. And they always had sex, loudly, several times that Friday night or Saturday morning.

Rob and I probably knew their habits between the sheets better than they did.

‘They were out until late last night,’ Rob said. ‘I vaguely recall having a chat with them in the corridor at about onea.m. I think I might have invited them in for some pasta and a nightcap.’ He cringed. ‘Thankfully they didn’t take me up on it.’

This was typical Rob, he was definitely the friendliest drunk you could hope to bump into, on the rare Friday evenings when his alcohol intake was higher than mine.

‘Excuse me!’ I exclaimed. ‘You actuallysawGirl Friday? This is major!’ Over the past six months that we had heard the shagging, we jokingly questioned whether she actually existed, because neither of us had witnessed her enter or leave the flat. All we had ever heard was the screaming noise she made at orgasm and the howl he returned shortly after. ‘I don’t think I could look her in the eye,’ I continued, ‘so …?’

‘She seemed nice.’

‘Oh, come on, Robert, you can do better than that,’ I teased. ‘Name, looks, hair colour, approximate age – do you rememberanydetails?’

‘Afraid not, I was drunk. Anyway, stop interrogating me, my eyeballs hurt. Tell me more about Mandy.’

‘She was nice actually, and I met the rest of the team.’ I talked Rob through my first impressions of Blair, Lola, Jimi, and Coco, my comrades for the next three months.

Nursing a mug of tea, I spent the afternoon carefully reading through the contract from Julie-Ann. In signing it I was also relinquishing my right to withhold any video or social media content that included me, my image, voice, or actions, if it was taken during the filming schedule at the house. And although I wasn’t expected to play a major partin any filming, it clearly stipulated that I needed to sign the accompanying release to waive all of my rights.

It’s standard, Julie-Ann had assured me in the covering note.