‘That’s even worse!’ Marty insists. ‘Buddy, you can’t do this shit without me around to manage you. People have cameras and they’ll have their own interpretation of what you’re doing. We need to control the narrative.’

‘There’s no narrative. It’s just a bit of fun,’ Freddie replies.

Marty massages his temples for a moment, recomposing himself.

‘I hate to sound like your mom, but I gotta… You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to go home.’

There’s a knock on the door.

‘It’s probably Ali,’ I tell Freddie. ‘I’ll go.’

‘Do I need to pay this one off too?’ Marty calls after me.

‘Probably, if you want to live,’ I say to myself under my breath.

As I open the door the sunny warmth outside pushes its way in. With the air con on, it’s easy to forget just how hot it gets outside. Ali isn’t far behind it.

‘What’s the plan today, sweet cheeks?’ she asks me as she pushes past me.

She’s wearing that ridiculously obscene swimsuit with all the cut-outs again, the kind you usually only see Victoria’s Secret models wearing on Instagram, and you’re always certain they don’t spend much time in them. If I went swimming in that thing I would emerge from the water with a boob poking out of each armhole. I suppose Ali’s are made of stronger stuff – she doesn’t have to compete with nature giving them a mind of their own.

‘You and that sort, Freddie, wanna grab some lunch?’

Ali realises that Freddie and Marty are also in the room.

‘Oh, hi,’ she says.

‘Hi,’ Marty blurts in a real slow, breathy voice. His jaw is hanging heavy as he stares at my friend.

‘This your dad?’ she asks Freddie.

Freddie cracks up.

‘No, this is my manager, Marty,’ he tells her.

‘Nice.’ She turns back to me. ‘So, lunch? Max asked me if I wanted to grab something with him before work but… I think that’s run its course now, don’t you?’

‘Judging from the timescale I’d say, yes, you are usually bored of them by now, but you two seemed great together,’ I reply.

‘Nah,’ she corrects me. ‘Anyway, we’re going home in a few days, aren’t we?’

‘Yeah. Well, I can do lunch, but I’m not sure about—’

‘Lila,’ I hear Marty call from behind me.

‘Yeah?’

‘You got a minute?’ Marty asks with stiff movements of his head, beckoning me over.

I feel my face scrunch with bafflement at what they would possibly want from me.

‘Give me a minute,’ I tell Ali.

‘What?’ I ask them in the hushed tone it feels as if the situation requires.

‘Who’s your friend?’ Marty asks me.

‘Ali,’ I reply simply. I'm not sure what else he wants to know.

‘I want to go on a date with her,’ he tells me.

‘Erm, aren’t you married?’ Freddie reminds him.

‘Separated,’ he insists, showing us his blank ring finger – except it isn’t, he’s still got his wedding ring on. He quickly removes it. ‘Force of habit. Freddie, tell her I’m separated. Just trying to get a divorce deal that doesn’t involve handing over my testicles.’