Free Famous by Kate Langdon Page B

movie being filmed?’
    She really couldn’t have cared less, but every successful networker knew the inherent value of small talk. Every successful networker was also an expert in subtle facial movements, such as the attentive and encouraging nod of the head, the yes-I-am-listening-to-you wide eyes, the O-shaped mouth, and the trusty raised eyebrows. All choreographed at appropriate intervals and matched accordingly to the right tone of voice. A successful networker did not actually have to listen to what was being said - it was quite possible to apply the various facial movements and approving comments whilst also listening attentively to other conversations in the vicinity and ingesting all relevant information (more commonly known as multi-tasking). After listening attentively, or at least appearing to, to Jasper’s very in-depth and thoroughly boring account of the differences between stage and camera acting, she finally managed to broach the subject of his famous friends.
    ‘Mands daahling, I’ve told them all about you,’ said Jasper. ‘Nic and Russell are waiting for your call.’
    With that comment Mands’ networking for the evening was complete. But mine was yet to begin. I spotted Sean on the other side of the table, talking to Jenna and Samuel, and made my move.
    ‘So Sean, how is the advertising world treating you?’ I asked, pulling my chair up beside him.
    ‘You should know, Sam. Working like a bloody dog for fourteen hours a day without the slightest possibility of forming a lasting relationship, or even getting a shag, just because there’s a million twenty-one-year-olds out there with more energy than a six-pack of Red Bull waiting for you to yawn so they can pounce on your clients and watch you packing up your office while trying not to cry in front of your staff.’
    Bloody hell, Sean had really lost his spark, I thought to myself. He could do with a dose of Tony Robbins.
    ‘How about you?’
    ‘Oh, you know, working hard too. Never a dull day.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘So how’s Becketts going then?’ he asked. ‘Hit the slump yet?’
    ‘No,’ I replied. ‘Not yet anyway.’
    ‘We have. Going to have to lay off three account managers this month. Bloody disaster.’
    Bugger! I’d be hard pushed to be headhunted when heads were rolling.
    My networking didn’t appear to be working at all. Plus, Sean was beginning to depress me. He really should try to be a bit more positive if he wanted to get himself a girlfriend, I thought. Negativity was a bona fide sex-repellent.
    Thankfully it was time to serve dinner so I excused myself and moved into the kitchen with Mands and Lizzie. We placed the individual entrée plates of poompkin-und-ginger-ravioli-in-zer-vite-vine-zauce into the oven and heated them up. While they were doing their thing, the three of stood with our glasses of wine and watched.
    ‘Done,’ declared Mands. I thought she was referring to the food.
    ‘What’s done?’ asked Lizzie.
    ‘My schmoozing.’
    ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I saw you. But,’ I warned, ‘just make sure he remembers that you had the conversation.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Mands.
    ‘Because he’s off his head. Haven’t you seen how many times he’s been to the loo?’
    ‘I thought he just had a weak bladder,’ replied Mands.
    ‘I’ll be sure to follow him next time.’
    ‘How’s yours going?’ I asked Lizzie.
    ‘Not very well,’ she replied. ‘All I really feel like doing is killing Simon. And his stupid wife.’
    ‘You’re not allowed to kill her,’ said Mands. ‘I want the honour.’
    ‘Me too,’ I added.
    ‘Be my guests,’ replied Lizzie. ‘Just be sure to make it painful.’
    ‘How about you?’ asked Lizzie.
    ‘Terrible,’ I replied. ‘Sean appears to be a manic depressive and the agency is laying off.’
    I went to seat everyone in their allocated places and then returned to the kitchen to help the girls carry out the entrée plates.
    ‘Looks bloody delicious gals,’ declared