Page 13 of Filter This
‘But—’ Ali tried again, however the call had already ended. ‘How about “Are you free today, Ali? Would you mind going up to your dad, Ali?”’ she hissed venomously at the silent phone, which then buzzed back to life, giving her a fright. It was Mini again, as though she’d heard Ali’s words.
Ali hit Accept and Mini’s voice rang out once more. ‘I’ve forwarded you an email with questions for the consultant.’ Then she was gone again, no hello or goodbye.
Ali felt like crying. The day had kicked off to a great start. She’d prepped outfits, and even nicked a roll of coloured paper the evening before from one of the studios at work to use as a backdrop so her outfit would really pop. Now she felt completely ambushed. It was hard work sometimes just getting into a good mood and then trying to preserve it. How would she do the Glossies wild-card post now?
She placed the phone on her dressing table and tried to compose herself. A single two-minute exchange with her mother was basically the equivalent of cardio and Ali’s heart was pounding furiously. The slight queasiness she experienced any time she had to visit her father in the nursing home was also kicking off in the pit of her stomach. Frustrated, she brought her fist down on the table, causing her phone to jump. It hurt a lot. And somehow that felt better.
‘Ali?’
She started at the sound of Liv outside the door. ‘Yeah, yeah, come in,’ she said, trying to sound normal.
‘Are you OK?’ Liv poked her head around the door, squinting as she peered into the semi-darkness.
Ali felt a shiver of slight self-consciousness – she really should tidy up; there were empty Bulmers cans on the floor right by the door. She hoped Liv wouldn’t look down. ‘All good, just Mini completely screwing me as per usual,’ Ali said, laughing lightly, hoping to distract Liv from the state of the place. ‘She says I have to go up to the home and sit there all day waiting for the consultant to come by, probably just to say all the stuff we already know.’
‘Aw, Ali.’ Liv made to come over for a hug but luckily caught her foot on a partially concealed bag on the floor and stumbled, the threatened hug mercifully scuppered. Ali was relieved – it was harder to keep it together when people were nice to her about Miles.
‘It’s fine, I just need to figure out how I’m going to do this outfit of the day pic.’ Ali started gathering up bits of clothes and make-up and stuffing them into a bag.
‘What? You’re still …?’ Liv looked mildly disturbed. ‘Maybe you just need to go and be with Miles and, you know, focus on the important stuff.’
‘This is the important stuff too. Hey, will you come with me for a bit and just take a few shots? It’ll only be an hour, I promise.’
‘Ali. Do some sponcon in a nursing home? That’s a bit … dark, like, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not sponcon – I wish.’ Ali laughed. ‘Come on, please! There are no good mirrors there to do it with myself.’
‘Eh …’ Liv looked deeply uncertain. ‘It seems creepy as fuck, no?’
‘It’ll take literally two minutes – nobody’ll notice even,’ argued Ali, pulling on jeans and a jumper over her stained pyjamas.
‘Well, I’m really sorry but I’m glued to the desk today, remember? I told you I have to go back to Emer today.’
‘Sure look, grand, I’ll swing it one way or another. Maybe I can ask one of the nurses.’ Ali swept the contents of her dressing table into a large make-up bag.
‘Is that a joke? I feel you’ve drifted far from reality here!’
‘You don’t understand. If I can just get this wild-card entry it’ll be a springboard to the next level.’
‘You sound brainwashed,’ Liv said flatly. ‘And I feel like you’re ignoring your dad—’
‘Liv!’ Ali’s voice momentarily hit a higher register before she collected herself and tried to breathe slowly. ‘I’m not ignoring him. I don’t mean to ignore him. Look, this is a healthy outlet for my creativity.’ Ali was trying to reassure herself as much as she was Liv. Liv didn’t understand the terrible guilt she felt any time she thought of Miles. ‘Good luck with Emer and stay strong. Remember, she made a huge mistake ditching you – you’re a hot bitch and she’s old as fuck! I’ll see you later and don’t forget to like my outfit of the day pic!’ Ali did some jokey air kisses, grabbed her bag and headed down the hall and out to the car.
Ali spent the drive to Ailesend enthusiastically bitching on speakerphone to Kate and layering on ever-more-bonkers amounts of contour crayons when stopped at traffic lights. Kate was the only one of the school gang who was in any way interested in the Insta-world. She was hatching her own Insta-takeover that would come into effect whenever Darren/Dave/John (was it bad that Ali couldn’t keep track of the various boyfs’ names?) coughed up the ring. Kate had recently secured the handle @ShreddingForTheWedding and was set on capitalising on her #WeightLossJourney to the tune of a sponsored wedding.
Nothing mad, she’d pointed out, just a mid-size boutique festival-vibes wedding with glamping and strict Coachella dress code. Darren/Dave/John had actually already proposed in an impressively elaborate spectacle comprising a rowboat, a string quartet and fireworks. However, Kate had dispatched him to improve on the ring (a perfectly nice solitaire) and tone down the proposal. ‘It’s all about the bride-chillah this year,’ she’d scolded him. ‘I can’t feckin’ Instagram thisPride and Prejudicereenactment – the proposal aesthetic needs to match the wedding, which will be Norfolk bohemian with desert influences.’
Ali wanted to be supportive so hadn’t pointed out that the bride-chillah theme seemed strongly contradictory to the ‘shredding for the wedding’ buzz. It seemed likely that Darren/Dave/John would be returning with an improved ring any day now.
‘So have you seen the Crystal Doorley pics?’ Kate’s voice sounded gleeful.
‘No! Spill,’ demanded Ali as she inched forward in the morning traffic. She felt better already, even with the unscheduled Ailesend visit taking up most of her day off. With the Glossies wild card she actually felt like she had a purpose. Maybe she could do Insta-content up at Ailesend more often – it’d be a good use of the time there.
‘So you know how Crystal never shuts the fuck up about being so totally natural, and never uses tan and only uses products that are cruelty free? Well, someone sent vintage posts of hers to Bloggers Uncovered showing her coming out of some tanning boutique – so much for all natural,’ Kate brayed.
Bloggers Uncovered was an anonymous account that specialised in calling out the lowly crimes and mid-level misdemeanours any influencers might be engaged in.
As Kate read captions from old Crystal Doorley Insta-posts in which she had foolishly gloated about being able to tan naturally, Ali mused on the wedding and what would be her inevitable relegation to the singles’ table. Relationship content was a pretty un-mined area for Ali. She hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since college, she’d wasted most of her degree mired in an angst-ridden on-again off-again relationship with Harrison – a tortured thesp she’d met in Players. In the last year, she’d briefly seen a guy called Ian who worked in lighting on the show but things had been busy, with long days on set, visits to Miles and attending any and every PR event in a bid to keep her perfect record of appearing in the diary pages of every Irish glossy intact.
