‘You should have let it tear,’ Lily said.
‘What?’ Amanda asked.
‘Her dress,’ Lily said. ‘This is supposed to be a competition. We’re not here to make friends.’
‘Whatever you say,’ Amanda said half-heartedly, looking out the window.
‘All of you need to be quiet now,’ Murray said. ‘I have to listen. We can’t have any background noise pick up in the intros, or we’ll have to refilm them.’
‘Get out of the way,’ Lily said, leaning over him. ‘I want to get a look at the Romeo.’
‘Lily, sit down!’ Murray snapped. ‘And for the love of God, shut up.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me to shut up,’ Lily said. Her voice was calm and even, but so cold it could burn. ‘Don’t you dare.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Murray said. ‘But—just—please, I need you to be quiet. All of you. I have to think.’
The furrow between his brows grew deeper.
‘Go. Now. Out,’ Murray ordered me.
They were the fourth, fifth and sixth words he’d said since he’d told us to be quiet (one, two and three were the exact same words, but uttered to Amanda). The furrow between his brows was now a chasm.
The limo door opened. I slid awkwardly along the black vinyl seat and got out.
My stiletto heels immediately sank into the gravel of the driveway. If it weren’t for the guy who opened the limo door catching my arm and steadying me, I probably would have been swallowed up in it like quicksand.
‘Thanks,’ I said, rubbing my arm. I was so used to social distancing that being touched casually felt alien and strange.
‘Don’t mention it,’ he said. If he felt the same way, he didn’t show it. ‘Head that way. Package number three is en route. I repeat, package number three is en route.’
It wasn’t like I needed directions. The driveway stretched out before me, cobblestones dark and glistening. The bushes alongside it were studded with fairy lights. Lanterns hung from every branch of every tree, lights flickering inside them. At the end, the Juliet Villa loomed, white and bright against the dark of the night sky. There were people silhouetted in front of it, figures in black rushing back and forth. In front of them was a man in a grey suit, standing perfectly still.
Oh my God.
That was the Romeo.
This was happening. Really. Truly.
I was actually, really, truly onMarry Me, Juliet.
And if I didn’t make the man in the grey suit fall in love with me – if I didn’t make him at least like me enough to keep me around for a few weeks – then I was actually, really, truly fucked.
Cece, you know we both love you, Flick would say,but we can’t afford for you to live here if you can’t pay the rent.
I know you don’t have anywhere to go, Ayo would say,but neither do I if we lose this place. We need someone who can pay their own way. We love you, but you have to leave.
My mouth went dry. Everything was riding on this. Everything. If I didn’t get this right – if I didn’t make this man like me – if I didn’t make the audience like me enough to want to buy teeth-whitening strips off me on Instagram, then… then… then—
‘That’s a lovely reaction shot, but we need you to hurry it up, love,’ someone said. ‘We’re on a schedule here.’
I looked over. There were three cameras trained on me. Five or six people were clustered together, all looking right at me.
‘I, um, yes,’ I said. ‘Uh. Sorry.’
I closed my eyes for a second. Flick and Ayo and I had got into a YouTube yoga channel called Jenifer’s Yoga right when the pandemic started, and she was very big on the calming power of breath.Breathe out anxiety, I imagined her saying in my mind.Breathe in calm.
Don’t you dare fucking waste this golden ticket, James, a much more me-sounding voice said.
