Zigi

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"Babe," Zayn's soft Yorkshire accent curved around the white room divider. "Babe, what's this DVD? Didya buy it?"

Gigi was chewing on dry bread, clad only in a string bikini and cropped tee, as she swayed on one foot like a ballet dancer on the split-level bar area above the lounge in Zayn's disarmingly white, disconcertingly open-plan house. "Mmmm?" she hummed. The structure of the vast room ensured that the sound travelled with ease, bouncing off the flat, reflective surfaces, to reach Zayn, who was seated some distance away on the leather couch below. But he had already become distracted, an e-mail washing his phone screen white and black.

There was a moment's silence. Gigi had the bread in one hand, her phone in the other and was swiping through Instagram with a model-length thumb. Zayn made a cameo appearance in her thoughts again. "Whadya say, hun?" she sing-songed through her mouthful.

He looked up from his phone. "The DVD... that French one, babe... " he tossed the plastic case onto the glass coffee table. "You didn't need to buy it... cuz like, we can get everything streamed now, can't we?"

Gigi inhaled deeply and frowned at the information which overrode Instagram for a moment.

"Oh..." she said. "Ok."

A minute's screen-time later she looked up. "Yeah, but... Last time I tried to make that new system work I just couldn't. I don't know how to download things from it." She bit a chunk of crust off the bread and spoke through it: "It's lame".

Zayn sighed. He picked up a remote control and pointed it at the rectangular mirror which stretched above the wide, glass-fronted fireplace. The mirror turned black, then spun with colour. The Netflix logo appeared. Then disappeared.

He sighed again and rolled his eyes. Why was it the more money you had, and the more stuff you had, the more seemed to go wrong?

"I'll get Tony to look at it." he said, louder this time.

"Ok," Gigi called down, "So until then, DVDs, huh?"

"Ah guess." Zayn rubbed the back of his neck.

*

Tony was a thick set, charming New Yorker who Zayn guessed was in his fifties. A handyman and all-around fixer who had moved into the adjoining smaller house which had clearly been built to accommodate "help" for Zayn's newly-acquired mini-mansion. Zayn hated when people had to come into his house but at least he trusted Tony. Biebs had passed Tony on when he moved; he swore to Zayn that you could trust the guy with your life.

Tony had unscrewed the screen and wedged it against the wall as he fiddled with various cables. Zayn watched, a mug of coffee in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. Tony reattached the loose wires and sat back on his heels.

"Sorted?" Zayn said, between gulps.

"Well... I wish I could tell you it was. But this type of electronics ain't my thing. Too complicated." Tony got up and took a drink from his own coffee cup. "I'll call Brad. Think you'll need the installation guys back."

Zayn sighed and raked a hand through his grey-tipped hair. He lit the cigarette and took a drag, watching as Tony struggled to fix the screen back onto the wall. "Dyou wan' some help, man?" Zayn said.

"Nah, I'm good,"Tony puffed, the screen back in place. He stepped back as if to check it was straight, then put his hands on his hips and looked around, catching his breath. His mouth closed and he nodded at Zayn, then raised his eyebrows. "Know what you need?"

Zayn smiled. "What?"

"A decorator".

*

"Well, hun, I think he's right."

"Wha?" Zayn shifted in his seat. He and Gigi were out for dinner at a private dining club. Pretty much celebrities only. They had already spotted Jay-Z with a party of about ten people on their way to their booth.

"You only have those couple of pieces in the entrance hall. I mean, you love art. But you don't have time to source everything. I really think a decorator with a good eye could help. My mom can lend you hers?"

Zayn coughed. "Er... no thanks babe." He looked around. "Anyway, what d'you mean I only have those pieces in the entrance hall? Wha' about the graffiti wall? And that upstairs living...room?"

"Oh yeah, but that doesn't really count. I mean the graffiti wall doesn't count. You did that. And it's amazing by the way." She flashed a wide smile. "But the upstairs...ok, yeah, I'd forgotten... that room is gonna look really special when you've finished it... "

Zayn looked around. He chewed on his lower lip.

She carried on: "Actually we're gonna have to use that room now. There's a screen in there that's working, isn't there? It's kind of a cinema room isn't it?"

Zayn picked at a loose piece of thread on the table cloth.

Gigi continued. "We can just ignore all that old band stuff you've still got piled up in the corner!!"


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