Two-Faced (24 page)

‘Spur of the moment,’ Mia admitted, shrugging as she added, ‘I just thought the dress needed a bit of spicing up.’

‘Indeed,’ Gloria murmured, her tone giving nothing away. ‘And did it not occur to you that your actions could cost you dearly were word to spread that you sabotaged your designer?’

Wondering where this was headed, because Gloria was neither an agent with a vested interest in keeping Mia in work nor a potential client who might have been considering hiring her in the future, Mia gazed coolly back at her. They couldn’t refuse to pay her, because, apart from the finale, she hadn’t put a foot out of line in the entire five days. And if Fabrizi intended to sue, it would be between him, Sammy Martin, and their respective solicitors.

‘Fortunately,’ Gloria went on, ‘it seems that your reckless behaviour may actually have drawn dividends for you, because I’ve just been approached by one of the designers, requesting your agent’s contact details.’

‘
Really?
’ Mia blurted out, sounding every bit as surprised as she actually was.

‘Yes,
really
,’ Gloria affirmed patronisingly. ‘Which is quite remarkable, considering you almost caused a disaster. Think yourself lucky there were only a few minor stumbles because, believe me, if any of the models had fallen off the runway and hurt either themselves or an audience member, I would have held you entirely responsible.’

Feeling like a child being reprimanded by the head for disrupting class, Mia shifted in her seat and pursed her lips sulkily.

Gloria shook her head, but a faint trace of a smile had appeared on her lips.

‘You, Mia Delaney, are what is commonly known as a loose cannon. But remember that bravado can be a gift or a curse. Allowed to run free, it will sink you without trace. Used wisely, however, and kept
rigorously
under control, it has the potential to carry one to great heights.’

A frown of confusion flickered across Mia’s brow. Was she in trouble, or wasn’t she? And had Gloria just insulted or praised her? Either way, Gloria knew her name – which was incredible, considering she hadn’t called
any
of the models by their own names all week, referring to them instead as
Fabrizi’s girl
, or
Nanito’s boy
, or whatever. Mistake or not, at least her actions had got her noticed.

‘Anyway, I do have everybody’s details, but as you can see –’ Gloria gestured with a nod towards the heap of papers ‘– it would take hours to locate any in particular. So, if you could just give me your agent’s name, I’ll pass it along to the interested party.’

‘Er, Sammy Martin.’ Clearing her throat, Mia sat up a little straighter. ‘I’ve got his number, if you want it.’

‘Sammy Martin?’ Gloria repeated quietly, writing it down. ‘I don’t think I know him. Who does he work for?’

‘He doesn’t work for anyone,’ Mia told her. ‘He runs his own agency.’

‘Really?’ Glancing up, Gloria frowned. Then, ‘Ah, yes, of course. Sammy. I’ve met him several times; decent chap. Although, I have to admit I’m surprised he managed to get you included in this show, because he’s very small and we usually only deal with the majors.’

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat when Gloria peered at her as if waiting for an explanation, Mia said, ‘I, er, think he might have mentioned having a contact on the committee.’

‘I see,’ Gloria murmured. Then, after raising and lowering her eyebrows, she shrugged and said, ‘Oh, well, I shall pass the information along. But if I were you, I would seriously consider changing.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Agents, my dear. You’re young, you need somebody more cutting-edge to represent you.’

Simone was waiting at the end of the corridor when Mia came out of Gloria’s office a short time later. Whispering, ‘I nicked you one,’ she thrust one of the two fancy red goody bags she was carrying into Mia’s hands. ‘Just in case they decided not to let you have one.’

‘Why wouldn’t they?’ Mia asked distractedly, still reeling from the conversation she’d just had with Gloria. It was great that a designer had asked for her agent’s details, but it didn’t necessarily mean that anything would come of it. And, right now, she was more concerned about the loose-cannon reference, and Gloria’s inference that her actions might be viewed as sabotage. In which case, she might very well have just shot herself firmly in the foot.

‘None of us knew what was happening,’ Simone said, linking arms with her as they made their way out into the entrance hall. ‘And Bruno reckons Fabrizi will sue you for damaging his reputation.’

‘So I heard,’ Mia muttered. ‘But he’s forgetting that the little shit didn’t
have
a reputation before I came along. Well, not for his designs, anyway. And if he tries to sue me, my agent will have him straight in court.’

‘What did Gloria want you for if you’re not in trouble?’ Simone asked, looking at her quizzically.

‘Nothing, really,’ Mia lied, unwilling to discuss what had really been said, because she needed to get it straight in her own head first. ‘She was just, um, warning me about the press.’

‘What about them?’ Simone’s eyes widened. ‘Is something happening? They haven’t asked to interview you, have they? Oh, God, you’re so lucky!’

‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ Mia told her irritably. ‘I wasn’t really listening. Anyway, I don’t want to think about it right now.’

Sure that Mia would tell her everything later, Simone let go of her arm and waved to Henry when they got outside. Then, whispering, as if she thought he might actually be able to hear what she was saying from that distance, she said, ‘I’m so glad we’re not allowed to take partners tonight. There’s bound to be loads of really fit guys there, and it’s been absolutely ages since I shagged someone famous.’

‘Dirty bitch,’ Mia laughed.

‘Takes one to know one,’ Simone retorted, struggling to keep a grip on her bags as a gust of wind whipped her hair across her eyes. ‘Anyway, can we meet up and go in together tonight? Anjeta’s just asked me to go with her, but her breath stinks like dog shit.’

‘I know, it’s
rank
,’ Mia agreed, wrinkling her nose as she buttoned her jacket up. ‘I had to hold my breath every time she walked past me today in case I puked.’

‘And we don’t want to be doing
that
in public, do we, dear?’

‘No, we do
not
.’

Laughing, they arranged what time they would meet up outside the club. Then, waving over her shoulder, Simone skipped down the steps and hopped into the car while Mia went off in the opposite direction and flagged down a black cab. She gave the driver the address of the dress agency she wanted to go to and told him to put his foot down.

It was a tiny shop tucked away on a backstreet in Didsbury, but it stocked some of the most fantastic reasonably priced vintage designer gear that Mia had ever seen. She’d been going there for a while now, but nobody else on the circuit seemed to have discovered it – which was great, because it meant that she never had to admit how little she acually spent on clothes. And she was always guaranteed to be original, which was important if you wanted to stand out from the crowd – especially so tonight, when Mia suspected that the rest of the lame-brain models would turn up sporting the cast-offs they had scrounged off their designers today. And if it turned out that she
had
signed and sealed her modelling death warrant with her actions today, she intended to go out in fine style.

Kim had the catalogue open on her knee when Mia arrived home. She smiled and turned the list she’d been making face down so that Mia wouldn’t see all the stuff she was about to order and have a go at her about wasting money again.

‘How did it go?’

‘Okay,’ Mia said, slinging her jacket and bags onto the chair and carefully hanging the dress bag on the door frame. ‘It was absolutely packed, and there were loads of press there.
Sooo
 . . .’ she added, unable to stop herself from grinning as she walked into the kitchen, ‘expect to see plenty of pictures of
me
in the papers tomorrow!’

‘Why, what happened?’ Kim asked, following her.

Mia took a bottle of water out of the fridge before giving her mother a brief account of the stunt she’d pulled.

‘Oh, you didn’t!’ Kim gasped.

‘I did! And it was worth it just to see the look on Fabrizi’s ugly face. He had an absolute
fit
. But like I told him, at least it got his stupid dress noticed. And he’s lucky, because they were all raving about this other designer before that.’

‘What exactly did you do?’ Kim was greedy for detail.

‘Turned the dress back to front,’ Mia told her. ‘Then walked to the top of the runway and back as if I didn’t even know. The cameras were all flashing like crazy, so it’ll definitely be me they’re all talking about tomorrow.’

‘Ooh, you are clever,’ Kim said proudly. Then, sighing wistfully, she added, ‘But I wish I’d been there to see it; it’s been ages since I’ve seen you working. Which reminds me . . . I was talking to Sammy earlier, and he reckons you should have had a special ticket for me.’

‘I did,’ Mia admitted, leaning back against the ledge. ‘But I didn’t want you there, so I didn’t tell you.’

‘Eh?’ Kim’s face wrinkled up quizzically. ‘Why not?’

‘Why do you
think
?’ Mia took a sip of the water and looked her mother up and down.

‘Oh, I see. You’re ashamed of me because I’m a bit overweight – is that it?’

‘A
bit
? Have you actually
looked
in a mirror lately?’

‘Oi, there’s no need for that. You know it’s harder to shift when you’re going through the change.’

‘Not that old excuse again. You’ve been using that one for years; can’t you come up with something more original?’

Kim tutted, then folded her arms and changed the subject. ‘By the way, Sammy mentioned something about another catwalk thingy in Prague.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it. Sammy was practically having kittens.’

‘He’d get excited about an extra slice of bread in his loaf,’ Mia retorted dryly. ‘But there’s no point
you
getting your hopes up, because, whatever it is, you won’t be going.’

Kim frowned deeply and said, ‘Oh yes, I will. I’m not letting you go to a foreign country on your own. It’s too dangerous.’

‘Like to see how you’d get on the plane without a passport,’ Mia reminded her smugly, determined that Kim would
not
be going.

‘That’s easily sorted,’ Kim argued, equally determined that she damn well
would
. ‘It only took a few weeks for yours to come through, so it’s just a matter of finding the money. Which reminds me . . . I need your keeps.’

‘Sorry, I’m broke,’ Mia lied, heading for the door. ‘You’ll have to wait till Sammy releases the money from this job.’

‘Mia, that could take weeks, and I need it
now
,’ Kim complained as she followed her. ‘You must have
some
thing. You haven’t given me anything in the last three weeks, and you can’t have spent all the money you got off that last job, because it was more than two grand.’

‘Course I haven’t,’ Mia lied, knowing exactly how badly her mum would react if she realised that she had blown most of that money on clubbing and clothes. Since meeting Steve she’d hardly had to pay for anything, so she’d had a couple of hundred left in the bank this morning. But she’d just spent one-forty of that on the dress and shoes, and she couldn’t hand over the sixty she had left, because, without Steve, she needed that for taxi fares and whatever.

‘I’ve only got one cig left,’ Kim told her. ‘And there’s nothing in for dinner, so you’ll either have to go to the bank or give me your card and I’ll go.’

‘I don’t
think
so!’ Mia snorted, snatching up her handbag when she saw her mum’s eyes drifting towards it. ‘It’s
my
account, and I’m not having you dipping into it whenever you feel like it.’

Incensed, Kim said, ‘Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, Mia? You might think you’re the bee’s knees, swanning about with your fancy man in his flash car, but you’re not too old for a flaming good slap! And I wouldn’t mind, but you wouldn’t even
have
anything in that account if it wasn’t for me bankrupting myself. So either hand the card over, or get your arse down to the bank, but either way I want my money!’

‘Oh, chill out before you give yourself a hernia,’ Mia drawled. ‘I’ll go. But is it all right if I have a bath first?’

‘So long as you don’t take too long about it,’ Kim grumbled.

Mia snatched her bags and marched upstairs. She was eighteen, not eight, and considering she was the only one who was earning any kind of decent money around here, her mum had a damn cheek trying to lay down the law about when, where, and on what she could spend it. She was just glad that she had full control over her earnings now, because if that fat greedy cow could still get her hands on it she’d have blown the lot by now on bingo, booze, and all that cheap shit she was so fond of ordering out of the catalogue and thought Mia didn’t know about.

Mia put her bags down on her bed and was heading across the landing to set the bath running when she heard the phone ringing below.

‘Mia, it’s Sammy,’ Kim yelled up. ‘He wants a quick word.’

‘Tell him I’m busy,’ she called back.

‘He says it’s important. Something to do with one of the designers from the show wanting to set up a meeting. And he’s talking about that Prague thing again.’

Mia closed the bathroom door without answering and punched the air in silent victory.
Oh, yes!
It looked like Gloria might have been right and this was going to turn out to Mia’s advantage, after all. But she wouldn’t spoil it by making herself appear too eager. If they wanted her badly enough to come looking for her, then they could wait until she was good and ready to get back to them.

Kim apologised to Sammy, explaining that Mia was exhausted and had gone for a lie-down, and promised that she would have her call him back as soon as she was fit to talk.