Dating a comedian, it transpired, wasn’t as funny as she thought it would be, especially one who turned out to be married. It was a tough lesson but at least one good thing had come from it: Meagan’s meticulously thought-out life plan. While other women stumbled into domestic captivity, knee-deep in carrot and leek baby mush, yoking themselves to someone they barely knew, Meagan was patiently moving through her five-phase plan. The first phase, which she’d inventively titled Phase Fun was about exactly that. Parties, parties and more parties. But it had ended the minute she turned 20 and phase two had kicked in. The aim was simple: crush it at work. And the best – indeed only – true measure of her success was when all twenty-four of her clients were employed. Currently there was only one outstanding: Simi. Meagan smiled at the thought of her mate earnestly throwing everything into becoming an actor. If only she’d give stand-up a try. If she got good, Simi would fly off the shelves. Meagan just knew it, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Simi wanted pathos and dramatic pauses, mystery and suspense. However, with no agent, she was a million miles away from her dreams. Meagan often wondered if she’d done the right thing, taking Simi on as a client. Comedy was her wheelhouse, not acting. She preferred its immediacy and, frankly, straightforwardness. But if she hadn’t signed Simi, how else was she going to progress? All Meagan needed to do was find one great role for Simi and she’d be flying high just like her comedians. How hard could getting acting work be? Occasionally casting directors would enquire about her acts. One even auditioned to be the next Doctor Who. As long as Simi did everything Meagan told her to, her career would transform in no time, which meant Meagan could move on to phase three of her plan: a relationship. Everyone had her pegged as anti-love but she wasn’t. She was simply pro-chronology. And though she was deeply ensconced in phase two of her plan – getting it on at work – it didn’t mean she couldn’t get it on with Todd every now and then.

She peeked over her pillow barrier. He was dozing, mouth open. She smiled despite herself then picked up the carpet swatches and started from the beginning. As wintery afternoon rays spilled in through the half-open curtains Todd draped his hairy arm across her waist and let out a contented sigh. Meagan looked down at him. Of late, he’d got a lot more… snuggly, which was absolutely not part of their deal. In fact, in the beginning, he’d been more vocal about the no-strings thing than she had.

Just then, Meagan’s phone rang. Her long chestnut weave tumbled over her shoulder as she grabbed for her phone. Todd reached over and began massaging her neck.

‘I’m on the phone, knobhead,’ she said, batting his hand away.

‘I should report you,’ he said as he lay back down.