The door to the hotel room swung open and Amy ploughed in, head buried in her phone, headphones blotting out all but the, judging by the volume, highly stressful conversation she was engaged in.
‘I realise that, but do you realise that your goofs are none of my responsibility? Now, I have two hundred bovine bitches coming in to be gussied up by Shelly in an hour and we have actual work to do.’ She took a deep, steadying breath, evidently attempting to summon patience. ‘We’ll see you at the #MamasMorning tomorrow and, for God’s sake, I presume you’re giving your staff the day off.’
Amy hit End on the call and shook her head, looking profoundly irritated. Shelly was loath to say anything in front of Amanda, but equally was dying to know what Hazel was bitching about now.
‘Mandy,’ Amy snapped. ‘Can you get the clothes rail? We need to run through the outfits.’
‘No probs, hun. You’re done for now, Shelly. I’ll just top up the highlighter and do your lips once you’re dressed.’
Amanda bustled out and Amy shoved the door closed behind her. Oh God, what was coming? Shelly tried to compose herself, pulling her silk robe tighter over her special SHELLY bump shapewear and recrossing her legs, careful not to disturb Amanda’s leg contouring work.
‘Right, Hazel is up to high doh because she’s convinced one of her Jennys is a plant. Apparently, she was slow to sign the NDA and Hazel forgot to chase it until this podcast business started up. The Jenny in question’s been AWOL since last Wednesday and when Hazel took out the NDA to double-check, she realised that instead of a signature, the Jenny had actually scribbled “Haha Fuck you”.’
‘Oh Jesus.’ Shelly stifled a laugh. ‘Sorry, it’s not funny.’
‘Oh, it is,’ Amy said grimly. ‘And so deserved. But she’s been up my arse about everything for days. Paranoid that this is the perfect loophole for OG Jenny to finally reveal the truth about Hazel’s one hundred per cent fake life for the ’gram on the podcast. I can’t cope with her. She’s so intense and she’s also not getting that she’s not my client, ergo she’s not my problem. Appara she has some new guy leading her team but is still on to me endlessly.’
Amy shrugged and Shelly noticed her mini dress, which was red gingham and uncharacteristically demure.
‘Love this,’ she enthused.
‘Oh. Thanks! Me too.’ Amy did a little spin, revealing a plunging back held together with three leather belts and showing off a large tattoo of a tiger pouncing on a busty naked woman.
Shelly winced.
‘Right, couple more things before Mandy comes back. We’ve the playdate tomorrow. Hazel is calling it the Insta-mums Emergency Summit. She’s doing the big W Y N D hard sell, shooting some of the promotional materials and appara we’ll be discussing how to counter all the negative press focus in the last few weeks.’ Amy rolled her eyes.
‘Ugh, I can’t bear to read any of it.’ Shelly sighed. She had enough depressing things crowding her mind without hearing the thoughts of Deborah Winters and the rabid commentators on Notions.ie saying that she and her ilk were a toxic influence and promoting an unrealistic lifestyle.
‘Speaking of.’ Amy was scrolling away on her phone. ‘The jury is in on Ali’s comeback post.’
‘I saw the post. It was very …’ Shelly searched for a diplomatic way to put it ‘… very her.’
‘Oh, I know. She basically pissed on my script. But,’ Amy continued grudgingly, ‘I kind of do have to hand it to her. She went with her instinct and I think it’s paid off.’
‘Oh?’ Shelly straightened up as Amanda returned with the rail of outfits. Six looks for a two-hour show was a lot but each retailer she wore paid a handsome fee and the shops were near guaranteed to sell out of any piece once Shelly wore it. Plus, if the Shell-Belles shopped via the swipe-up on Shelly’s Insta, as they would be aggressively encouraged to do, she made a tidy percentage on the affiliate links. Every cog in the SHELLY machine was monetised and now, with the goal of buying Dan out of the house and ultimately divorcing him – seriously, if people knew the going rate for a divorce, they would skip the whole bloody wedding – she felt more invested in SHELLY than she had been in a long time. She’d even been letting Amy put together a sponsorship package for the birth of baby number two until the leaked footage of @MamasLittleMissus had scuppered them. The optics weren’t great in the wake of that backlash, they had decided.
‘Oooooh, are you talking about AlisBaba?’ Amanda loved the goss.
‘Yeah, what’s your take?’ Amy asked.
‘I think she did a great job. No pretend crying, which you’d usually see. And no makey uppy excuses, just a straight up, sincere apology.’
‘Hmmmm.’ Amy was nodding and jotting a couple of notes into her phone. ‘And what are your WhatsApp groups saying? General vibes?’
‘Well, my school gals were all mad about her, so they just hope she keeps up the page now that she’s put it behind her. The book club group think the apology was fair enough. She can’t go around apologising for the rest of her life. And compared with that yoke @MammasLittleMissus and her antics, lying about a fake baby doesn’t seem so bad, better than endangering a real one for a discount card and a bit of attention. And now Ali’s really pregnant! You couldn’t make it up!’
‘You couldn’t,’ Amy agreed. ‘And she definitely isn’t. I’ve seen the bump with my own eyes.’
‘What are they saying on Notions?’ Shelly was pulling on the first look, a pair of white skinny maternity jeans with a flowing silk shirt and blazer in taupe.
‘“Shamed Blogger Makes an Unexpectedly Heartfelt and REAL Social Media Mea Culpa”,’ read Amy. Amanda kneeled down to help Shelly step into the towering rose-gold strappy stilettos. ‘Deborah Winters is commending her brave honesty,’ Amy continued. ‘Her.ie has “Did This Blogger Just Pull off the Most Perfect Social Media Apology of all Time?” The consensus seems to be yes,’ Amy added, shaking her head incredulously. ‘I knew it’d make waves but I did not think it’d go over this well. The lie detector lads are thrilled with the eyes on their website in the last twenty-four hours.’
‘Good for her,’ said Shelly, heaving the thick, stretchy waistband over her bump. ‘I wonder if she’ll keep going? Sam didn’t seem too happy about any of it, and she could end up with a real struggle on her hands with him. Not sure #custodybattle would go down that well on the ’gram.’
‘Oooh, I’d watch that,’ Amanda piped up, giving Shelly’s cheeks a final dust of highlighter. ‘The things I end up watching on there. Sure, I was watching yer man, the influencer fella Blake Jordan, giving his cat a bath the other day.’
‘My contract with her is up now so who knows.’ Amy shrugged. ‘It’s deffo been a nice little boost to my holiday fund, so I know she won’t be stuck for money for a while. Still, I feel like she’s coming out of the whole Insta bubble a bit.’
‘Lucky her.’ Shelly sighed as Amy stepped forward to mic her up.
‘Now, now,’ she admonished. ‘We want too-blessed-to-be-stressed Shelly, not some moany cow who is forgetting how good she has it. These Shell-Belles are your bread and butter and don’t you forget it.’