Page 6 of I Knew You Were Trouble

My face goes blank.

‘Did you ever watchGrowing Up Rich?’ Meredith asks. ‘It was a reality show from a few years back.’

‘More reality TV,’ I comment drily, and I probably should work harder to disguise my contempt. ‘Never heard of it.’

Meredith doesn’t seem bothered by my complete ignorance. ‘Okay, so, this one was a series about the lives of four different American teenagers, all born into money. It was something like… one was the California Countess, one was the Alabama Duchess, one the Minnesota Empress, and Bianca Lawson was the New York Princess. It got cancelled after two seasons, but Bianca went on to do some modelling and became a social media star. Two years ago, she was at an after-show party in Manhattan, after the boys had played Madison Square Garden. She was pictured kissing Cal and the story got into the news. But after, she totally rebuffed him when she tweeted, “Shame about the face”, and the tweet went viral. So then #shameaboutthefacebecame, like, this global thing. Now Cal hates her. He wants revenge. He even wrote a song about her, about how much he despises her. About how vapid she is.’

I pucker my lips. ‘Sounds like a nice girl.’ I lean forward and take the papers about Caleb Whitlock. Meredith is right about his body. He actually isn’t bad looking at all, though perhaps compared to his fellow band mates his face is rendered a little more ordinary. His hair is a mass of curls, though I consider him anything but ugly.

‘Okay, who’s next?’ I ask.

‘You pick.’

‘I’ll take the French one.’

Meredith shuffles through her papers. ‘Jean-Baptiste Peltier. More commonly known as J.B. His mother is from Morocco but he was born and raised in France. He’s now twenty-three. He became a father last year.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘He has a baby boy, Xavi, who recently turned one. Lives in the Loire Region with his mom and her parents.’

‘Jesus. Are J.B. and the mother still together?’

‘They were for a while. Not anymore. She’s beautiful. He’s known her since childhood. Audrey’s her name.’

I nod, reserving judgment. The man looking back at me in the photograph wears his shirt open to the navel, has a smooth chest and pillow lips, piercing eyes and dark, closely-shaved hair with a chiselled jawline. Of all of them, physically, J.B. is the most model-like.

‘Alright, next one. You choose for me.’

Meredith goes to the top of the pile. ‘Danny Miller. Everybody calls him Miller. He auditioned in LA but he’s from Phoenix, Arizona. Raised by a single father and then his older brother when his father passed. The judges loved his confidence and charisma. Incredible dancer, a real gymnast. Some people say he’s rude and arrogant, but really that’s not true.’

I study his photograph. He’s smaller than J.B., but the most masculine of the bunch, oozing rugged sex appeal, brown hair sticking out in all directions, tattoos snaking all down his right arm. His muscles are impressive. He’s obviously spent most of his spare time pumping weights in the gym. I turn the photograph around to show Meredith. ‘Let me guess, this is the one all the girls out there go crazy for.’

Meredith blushes again. ‘He has a huge fan base and the biggest social media following of any member of Rebel Heart.’

Perhaps it’s his facial expression, but I decide that Miller looks arrogant. ‘Does he have a girlfriend?’

Meredith shakes her head. ‘Oh, no. None of them do.’

‘Wait, they’reallsingle?’

‘Right now, they are. Their schedule is intense; it doesn’t leave a lot of room for serious relationships.’

I hadn’t thought about it from that angle. I sip my champagne. ‘Right, hit me then, last two.’

‘Ravi or Aidan?’

I shrug. ‘Guess I’ll take Ravi.’

‘Okay, Ravi Bala. Real name Ravi Balakrishnan. Auditioned in New York but he’s Canadian-Indian. Born in Canada to Indian parents; they own a couple restaurants in Toronto. He’s the youngest of seven siblings. He’s known to be the shyest member of the group, but some fans argue endlessly that he’s the best dancer over Aidan or Miller. People say Ravi and Miller don’t really get along.’

‘Why’s that?’

She shrugs. ‘Personality clash, I guess.’

‘Nothing to do with Ravi’s Indian heritage?’

Meredith frowns. ‘Miller would never judge someone by the colour of their skin. No, they’re just not very alike.’

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