style="font-size:15px;"> Cass pressed pause, leaving Liv’s cherry-red lips suspended mid-pucker on the screen.
Just out of shot were the lamps fitted with diffusing bulbs she’d bought from a theatrical accessories website. Insanely expensive, but judging by the results, worth it. The slight golden tone cast a filter-free I-just-got-back-from-St-Tropez glow on her skin and popped her green eyes; added a glossy sheen to her long dark hair.
Totally worth it.
The air fluttered around her: Duff had risen to his knees and was flapping both hands in mock-hysteria.
There were times when Duff made Liv laugh until her lungs ached and tears poured down her cheeks. Now was not one of them.
‘Fashion is my life,’ he squeaked breathlessly.
‘Shut up.’
‘Shoes! Handbags! Make-up!’
‘Shut up !’
Liv rammed a velvet cushion in his face, not quite muffling his falsetto cries.
‘Cut me and I bleed lip gloss!’ Fending her off he emerged red-faced, choking on stray feathers and his own hilarious words. He wrestled the cushion from her, threw it along the sofa, narrowly missing Jez, and strolled up to the mirror.
‘Cass, don’t be fooled by this vapid display. Liv’s not dumb. And she’s not that shallow.’ He dragged his fingers through his mussed-up hair and continued thoughtfully. ‘Well, obviously she is shallow, but she’s not that shallow, if you get my drift.’
Liv blew out her cheeks. ‘Cass, everyone, please ignore Idiot Boy,’ she said, more harshly than she’d intended.
‘Hey, I’m defending you here,’ Duff protested, tucking in then re-tucking his shirt.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jez said, handing her the cushion. ‘You can get your own back when it’s his turn.’
‘She loves me really. She just can’t admit it. Can you, Liv?’
‘Yeah, sure I do. Totally,’ she deadpanned in return, crossing her legs.
Duff slumped back on the sofa, putting an arm around her. ‘I’ve known Liv since she was four years old, Cass. And I can tell you she’s got hidden depths. Very secret depths.’
What?
She recoiled, pushing him away. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Take no notice of him,’ Hetty said quietly, placing a gentle hand on her knee. ‘He’s winding you up.’
‘You know what I mean. Hidden depths.’ He straightened himself, tipping her an overblown wink. ‘Or hidden shallows at least.’
Liv paused a beat to steady her voice. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Cass quirked her lip, placing her pen on top of her notebook, and Liv cringed. What she must think of them, this bunch of so-called young adults bickering like kids in a playground? But Cass remained apparently unfazed by the commotion. Positively enthused in fact.
‘Great banter. Sparky. Gives a flavour of your personality, Liv. Passion, conviction . . . qualities I love to see. If you can channel that, I think we’ll have a fantastic result today.’
Really?
‘Thank you.’ Liv masked her surprise behind a neutral expression. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she wedged the cushion back on the sofa, hoping her posture suggested a professional attitude. And a more camera-loving nose.
‘Right then, the next thing is the individual interview, so you guys . . .’ Cass’s eyes swept across the sofa. ‘Can you sit on the floor or find a chair out of shot, please? Liv, can you sit closer to the middle?’
Shoulders back and down. Don’t fidget. Liv shifted along the sofa and placed her not-at-all-shaky hands under her thighs while the others relocated. Duff back to sprawl across the rug; Hetty and Jez neatly propped either side of the floor lamp, a pair of human bookends. When Hetty crossed her legs at the ankles, Jez did the same.
‘You’re certainly entertaining to watch,’ Cass murmured, adjusting the laptop. ‘Perfect. OK. Liv, remember to keep your head up so the cameras have you the whole time. Ready?’
Deep breath. Swish back hair. Nod.
‘Great. So my first question is: there are hundreds of TV shows available, why would watching your life grab the audience?’
Yes!
Over the last three weeks, Liv had absorbed Louis the acting coach’s advice: pitch, pace, intonation, gesture, eye contact, preparing and polishing every pause, every giggle, every expression for maximum impact. And yes, Dad would probably have a fit if he saw the final bill, but the sessions had been worth every penny. Because along with his years of TV audition experience, Louis had brought a list of possible questions.
And Why you ? had been right at the top.
Liv’s shoulders softened and she set her mouth to automatic, starting the well-rehearsed monologue to rave about the outrageous nights with friends, the exclusive clubs, crazy shopping sprees, glamorous beauty launches, amazing holidays . . .
And yet . . . she couldn’t shake off that wink. Secret depths, and now, propped up on his elbows on the rug, why the hell was Duff still smirking?
What did he know?
Halfway through gushing over her insane clothes allowance (‘I’m such a Daddy’s girl, he can’t say no! It must be more than some people earn in a year!’) she faltered before tailing off into an apology.
‘Don’t worry, you’re doing great,’ Cass said, pressing the tips of her fingers together. ‘Let’s try a different tack. Your beauty channel . . .’
‘Miss Olivia Loves.’
‘Fab name,’ Cass commented, jotting on her notepad. ‘Miss. Olivia. Loves. What are you most proud of with that?’
Liv faked a confident smile and twisted her torso slightly to avoid catching Duff ’s eye again.
‘I’m so grateful to the subscribers. Even when it was just me waffling on about a few products I’d bought in Selfridges, the feedback was phenomenal. And then, when brands started putting me on their mailing lists, it snowballed. The audience figures kept rising and so did the positive comments. Then, after the blog was featured in Grazia . . .’
Louis’ advice echoed: Don’t forget to pause when you name-drop the mag.
Right on cue, Cass looked up. ‘Grazia ? Impressive.’
Liv grinned. ‘Yeah, it went mad after that. I got nominated for the National Beauty Blogger Awards; went to the ceremony in London nearly a year ago. It was surreal, you know? Actresses, models . . . all famous people. And I got to meet loads of other bloggers and the goodie bag
