Page 21 of Filter This
‘What?’ Blake was clearly exasperated with her monosyllabic answers.
‘I’m … ehm …’ Ali felt like she was teetering on the edge of something momentous. This was a bit more than lopping off chunks of her arse with FaceFix or lying about #DateNight and #proats. But then again, she deserved this. Things had been sucky and look at how many people had liked her maternity-wear post.
The silence had gone on for too long – it was now or never. The whole place was staring at her, waiting for her to speak.
‘Ali, Ali?’ Blake clicked his fingers in front of her face and then shouted at her crotch. ‘You dilating, hun?’ The room erupted in hysterical laughter.
‘Sorry, sorry! I was saying I’m gonna … ehhh … double in size, LOL!’
Blake looked irritated at her lack of cooperation on the bantz front and was clearly unimpressed with her belated and poor effort. ‘Yes, well, anyway, we have our fab finalists and now to select our wild-card winner and the micro-influencer who’ll get the chance to become a mega-influencer, please welcome our favourite mega-influencer herself, Shelly Devine!’
Ali’s heart was thumping. What the fuck are you doing, Ali? screamed Rational Brain. There had to be two hundred people in the room – any one of them could find out she wasn’t pregnant. On the other hand, pregnancy content would be about a million times better than sitting-around-the-depressing-home content, which was the way her life felt like it was going right now.
Shelly hugged Grace and Dara, then when she came to Ali, she gave her an extra squeeze and whispered, ‘It’s such an exciting time,’ giving her a kiss on the cheek.
For a split second Ali pictured bump shots and packing the hospital bag and really did feel a warm glow of excitement in her tummy. Almost without thinking, she placed her hand on her belly and smiled back at Shelly. ‘You’re glowing, ya know,’ Shelly enthused.
She took the microphone and began a long account of how hard it had been to narrow the list down to these three ‘extraordinary women’.
Ali looked around, finally taking in that she had made it to the stage. So many times she’d been in the crowd at – or worse, not even invited to – these events and now here she was on the other side. The niggle of anxiety was still scratching at her. ‘It’s a very big lie’ that prick of a Rational Brain insisted. It was a lie that was underway now, reasoned Ali. It wasn’t her fault everyone took her up wrongly.
‘And the wild-card finalist of 2019 is … Ali Jones!’ The room erupted. ‘Follow Ali’s Glossies wild-card journey on her Instagram account, @Ali_Jones, and we can follow her journey from bump to baby there as well.’
Shelly went to hug her new rival but stopped upon seeing her face. ‘Wait, are you OK?’ She looked concerned.
Ali had blanched at the mention of the word ‘baby’. Oh god, somehow with all the pregnancy talk she’d forgotten that key element. A baby.
Shelly peered at a pale-looking Ali before turning back to the crowd. ‘Well, enjoy the bubbles and the nibbles and thanks for joining us for this gorgeous evening.’ Shelly hustled Ali off the stage. ‘Are you feeling alright? When are you due?’
Ali was still reeling from the B-word. ‘Ehm … yes, I need to figure that out still,’ she replied, slightly dazed.
Shelly looked bewildered but before she could answer, an excitable PR burst into the conversation.
‘Ali!’ She hugged and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Mags McEvoy. I rep Baby Got Bump, a gorgeous new maternity-wear line. Have you got any ambassador deals in the works yet? We’d love you to consider us for your maternity wardrobe – how does a lunch meeting sound?’
Ali’s anxiety began to recede at the mention of ‘ambassador deals’. ‘Well, it’s all still pretty new,’ she began. Ali could see Kate just beyond, trying to get to her through the throng.
Just then another PR swooped in. ‘Congratulations, Ali! I’m Penny from Classy Communications. One of our clients, Baby Bazaar, would love to set up a meeting to discuss how best our two brands could coalesce, integrate and define a mutually beneficial goal.’
‘Eh …’ Ali was still sorting through the individual words of that rather baffling sentence when she was spirited away by two official-looking women.
‘We need some shots for the social channels and then Emily, our social manager, will do a bit of chat for the Instagram, OK?’ said the taller of the two, steering Ali towards the red carpet.
Ali turned back, trying to find Kate in the crowd. ‘Sorry! Call you later,’ Ali mouthed when she finally spotted her friend, an oddly sour expression having invaded her heavily made-up face. Kate just nodded and disappeared back into the throng.
As the crowd parted before her, Ali could feel envy radiating off the girls she passed, girls with more followers than her but it was Ali about to be interviewed. Being at the centre like this was intoxicating – though maybe that was the Prosecco on top of all the taxi gin. Ali snuck a look at her phone and gasped at the rate that messages, comments, likes and new followers were pouring in.
‘OMG.’ She stopped dead, her head still buried in the phone.
Amy Donoghue, Shelly’s assistant who had been following behind, caught up with her and leaned in to check out the screen. ‘That’ll be the baby boom.’ She smirked, falling into step with Ali as they resumed walking towards the red carpet.
‘Jeez, hardly,’ said Ali, disbelieving.
‘No, seriously,’ insisted Amy, glancing back to make sure Shelly was following them. ‘I’ve seen this before – they just love a baby bump. Between this and the wild card, I’d say you’re poised for big things in the next few months. If you play it right.’
Ali chewed her bottom lip nervously as they reached the red-carpet area where the two organisers were arranging the photographs and beckoning Shelly forward.
‘We’ll do you after, Ali. Then everyone together,’ called the taller one.
