The Last Resort(13)
‘Proud to be a snake-oil salesman, are you?’ James says, raising his eyebrows.
‘Wow. Just wow,’ Scott says. ‘You think I’m worse than her?’ He points at Brenda. ‘Duping her own dying stepdaughter?’
She gives him a hard stare. ‘Don’t start on me. At least I’m not a hypocrite. I set out to make money and that’s what I do. You sell people cures for conditions they don’t know they have, or convince them you can make all their worries disappear with an overdose of vitamin C that will only get pissed out the next time they go to the toilet . . . and your greatest fear is extreme pain? Don’t you have some kind of pseudo-pharmaceutical drip for that?’
‘Guys, guys . . . come on.’ Giles stands between them and holds a palm out to each of them. ‘Like we said, we don’t know if any of this is true. It’s clearly all being set up to cause friction here – and guess what? It’s working. Right then,’ he says, turning to Tiggy. ‘Tigs, you go next.’
Tiggy gives him a quick smile, then stands up. ‘What’ve you got on me, then?’ she says. She smiles nervously, lays a hand on Giles’s arm, giving his biceps a quick squeeze. ‘Babes, can you read mine out?’
Amelia is surprised that Tiggy has seemingly forgiven Giles so quickly – but she doesn’t know these people, or what their relationship is all about, so who is she to judge?
Giles grins, then leans in and kisses his girlfriend on the forehead. ‘Course I can, babes. Right . . .’
NAME: THERESA ‘TIGGY’ RAMONA
He puts an arm around her. ‘Theresa. That always makes me laugh. My little nun, aren’t you, babes?’ She smiles at him, and he carries on.
AGE: 25
NATIONALITY: BRITISH
CURRENT RESIDENCE: CHELSEA, LONDON, UK
MARITAL STATUS: IN A RELATIONSHIP
JOB: TRAVEL AND DESIGNER CLOTHING BRAND INFLUENCER
He pauses again. ‘Doing well too, ain’t she?’ No one reacts.
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO VALIDATE THE BRAND-SELLABILITY OF THE GAME
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: BEING ALONE
He stops, pulling her closer. ‘Is it, babes?’
She nods, casts her eyes down.
‘What, even more than spiders in the bath?’ He prods her on the shoulder. ‘And getting fat?’ He laughs, but she doesn’t look at him. He turns to Amelia and rolls his eyes. ‘Only kidding. Anyway . . .’
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU TOLD THE MANAGER OF A WELL-KNOWN HOTEL CHAIN THAT HIS LATEST HOTEL IN PARIS IS THE BEST HOTEL YOU’VE EVER STAYED IN. YOU TOLD YOUR BROTHER THAT THE BEDS WERE TOO HARD AND THE BREAKFAST WAS ‘NO BETTER THAN A PREMIER INN’. IS ANYTHING YOU PROMOTE AS GOOD AS YOU SAY IT IS?
Giles starts laughing. ‘To be fair, Tigs, despite this being the most lame lie I have ever heard, it’s spot on. You do tell a few porkies when it comes to your reviews.’
Tiggy frowns. ‘Just because I don’t always like a place doesn’t mean someone else won’t love it.’
‘You lie, then,’ James says. ‘They give you a free stay and you give them a good review? No doubt they ply you with other freebies too.’
‘So what if they do?’ Tiggy says. ‘It’s all fake, isn’t it? Surely everyone knows that?’
‘God, this is depressing,’ Lucy says. ‘I suppose I’ll go next.’
James stands up. ‘No, let me. Reveal all,’ he says, tapping his device. ‘You can read it out if you like?’
Lucy looks startled for a moment, at the cheek of him. Then she huffs out a breath and starts to read aloud.
NAME: JAMES DEVLIN
AGE: 31
NATIONALITY: BRITISH
CURRENT RESIDENCE: HACKNEY, LONDON, UK
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE
JOB: FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO TAKE PROMOTIONAL SHOTS
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: BEING BURIED ALIVE
Lucy pauses. ‘Interesting—’
‘Just finish it,’ James says.
She huffs again, then continues.
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU SOLD A PHOTOGRAPH OF A WELL-KNOWN GIRL-BAND MEMBER TO A TABLOID FOR SEVERAL THOUSAND POUNDS – A PHOTOGRAPH THAT NOT ONLY REVEALED THE SUBJECT IN A CAREER-JEOPARDISING SITUATION, BUT THAT YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY TAKE. YOU STOLE THIS PHOTOGRAPH FROM THE PERSON WHO DID TAKE IT, WHO SENT IT TO YOU FOR ADVICE – YOU TOLD THEM NOT TO USE IT, BUT TOOK CREDIT FOR IT YOURSELF. NOT ONLY UNSCRUPULOUS, YOU’RE TOO LAZY TO DO YOUR OWN WORK.
Lucy sneers. ‘Nice.’
‘Ha,’ Brenda says. ‘A lazy, unscrupulous paparazzo. What a shocker.’
‘Whatever,’ James says. ‘We all need to pay the bills.’
Lucy bites her lip, then stands up. ‘OK,’ she says, ‘tell them who I am.’ She looks around at the group. ‘And before any of you start, I’ll read my own.’
She puts her hands on her hips and begins to read.
NAME: LUCY DE MARCO
AGE: 38
NATIONALITY: SCOTTISH ITALIAN
‘Italian? With that hair?’ Scott looks her up and down, fixing his gaze on her with a barely disguised leer. ‘Does the carpet match the drapes?’
‘You’re a pig,’ Lucy says, her face wrinkling with distaste. ‘Anyway . . .’ She continues: CURRENT RESIDENCE: SOUTHEND, ESSEX, UK