Two-Faced (23 page)

After parking up, Vern opened Steve’s door before coming round to open Mia’s. Smiling when he winked at her as if to say
You’re one of us now, we’ll look after you
, she took Steve’s arm and strolled into the hotel between them, feeling ridiculously proud when people turned to look at them as they were shown through to the restaurant.
Oh
, yes . . . she could definitely get used to this.

14

The next two weeks flew by, and before Mia knew what had hit her the day of the final show was upon her.

Since meeting Steve, she hadn’t slept in her own bed once, only going home after work in order to get ready to go out with him, then returning in the morning only to get changed to go back to work. She’d always been a party animal, liking nothing better than to go out with her friends for a night of drinking, dancing, drugs and casual sex. But Steve’s world was that touch darker and more exciting than anything she’d ever experienced before, and she was really enjoying being involved in it all, from the expensive restaurants to the clubs and casinos, to his enormous bed in his Quayside apartment. She even loved going to his own club, because it was a whole different experience to go there as the boss’s woman, being given unlimited drinks – and coke – and treated like the lady of the manor by the staff and customers alike.

Tonight, however, she’d be sleeping alone, because there was a VIP end-of-show party being thrown at a nightclub in town, and it was a strictly no partners or uninvited guests affair.

All the other models were buzzing about the party, dying for today to be over so they could really let their hair down. But Mia was dreading the thought of waking up in the morning with no more shows to look forward to. From the moment she’d stepped out onto the catwalk for the first show proper and seen real faces packed into the previously empty seats she’d been in heaven: the heavy music seeming to vibrate through her body, the spotlights beaming onto her from every direction making her feel like the brightest star in the sky. She’d found her true niche, and now that it was about to end she didn’t know if she was ever going to feel that same kind of rush again.

So far today, everything had been going smoothly. There were journalists and photographers from all the major magazines and newspapers, and three separate TV crews out front, plus a host of specially invited mega-celebrities who were lending an added air of glamour and excitement.

Backstage, after two weeks of working together as harmoniously as a bunch of self-obsessed divas could, the models had suddenly revealed their true competitive colours and, as if their masks had been stripped away, the petty bitching which had been going on throughout had suddenly flared into outright backstabbing and vicious slanging matches. While onstage, they desperately tried to outshine each other, hoping that it would be their face shown on the news bulletins that evening and splashed all over the front pages tomorrow.

When the finale finally came around – the last big parade in which they would each take their final stroll down the runway, wearing their designers’ most outlandish and eye-catching creations – they were all crackling with nervous energy as their dressers manhandled them, and make-up artists and hairstylists struggled to add their finishing touches where they stood.

With the madness going on all around, Mia smiled serenely to herself as she was prodded and pushed and dusted and painted. There had only ever been one outfit in Fabrizi’s collection that she actually rated and she was thrilled to be wearing it now, because it was certain to capture the attention of the press. Made of shimmering gold material, it had a halter neck that plunged down to just about cover each breast, and the front was split at crotch level, fanning out to reveal a flash of gold panties beneath. The sleeves, which hung in soft pleats when the arms were down, flared out like exotic wings when they were extended. At the lower back the skirt flowed out in a long train, while the upper back consisted of almost invisible wisp-thin laces, which criss-crossed like a golden spider’s web and ended at the base of the spine.

Mia had had her heart set on that dress from the start, and had shamelessly sucked up to Fabrizi in order to make sure that she was the model he chose to wear it in the finale. And, sickening as it had been to have to kiss his fat arse, it had worked. So now she was standing in line with the rest of her team, looking like a golden goddess as they waited for the final call.

With tension running so high, the designers had been in a frenzy all day. Fabrizi, however, had been relatively calm – which Mia had thought quite strange. But he’d obviously been saving his biggest tantrum until the very last moment because, with just minutes to go before they were due to go out for the final walk, he suddenly went on the rampage – swearing at his models, insulting them, and physically pushing them around. But when he made the mistake of calling Mia a fish-faced tramp who ought to be stacking shelves at Aldi, she snapped. It was time somebody taught the jumped-up little shit a lesson, and as this was the last time she was ever going to work with him she didn’t see why
she
shouldn’t get the pleasure.

Still smiling now, she stood in line, waiting for the final call to move into the wings. When at last it came, she waited until her team began to move forward before she darted behind one of the clothes racks.

Running to catch up with her team when she re-emerged, safe in the knowledge that as last in line nobody would see what she had done until it was too late, Mia composed her face into her trademark ice-goddess expression. Then, relaxing her shoulders, she jutted out her hips, and strolled out onto the catwalk.

An audible gasp went up in the audience, and cameras began to flash like crazy. Maintaining her composure, with the skirt-tail draped over her left arm and her right ‘wing’ extended, Mia pranced gracefully down the catwalk as if she wasn’t aware that most of the cameras were now focused squarely on her.

‘Oh, my good fucking
God
!’ Fabrizi’s hysterical voice rang out from the shadows behind her. ‘It’s back to front!
IT’S BACK TO FUCKING FROOONT!
’

Sensing that something was happening behind them, Mia’s team-mates glanced at her out of the corners of their eyes as they made their turnarounds at the end of the runway. Momentarily losing concentration, Bruno’s eyes widened and his step faltered, causing Anjeta, who was right on his heels, to crash into him.

‘You’re
crazy
!’ Simone spluttered, clutching at Mia’s arm when they came off stage and started jostling their way to their station. ‘You nearly made me fall flat on my face!’

Eyebrows raised in innocence as Anjeta fled past in tears, Mia said, ‘What . . . ? Did I do something wrong?’

‘I just can’t
believe
you!’ Simone laughed, her eyes dancing with envy and excitement. ‘There was no
way
you had that dress on the wrong way round when we set off. But how the hell did you manage to turn it round without breaking something?’

Thundering up with Francie hot on his heels came Fabrizi. His fat cheeks wobbled with fury as he jabbed a finger at Mia’s face. ‘You
she
-devil!’ he screeched. ‘I made you my golden lady, and you turned me into a fucking laughing stock!’

‘Oh, chill out,’ Mia drawled, her breasts still clearly on display through the spider’s web which should have been adorning her slender back. ‘I made sure it got noticed, didn’t I?’

‘
Chill out?
’ Fabrizi repeated in a strangled tone, glancing around to make sure that everybody was listening. ‘Did you all
hear
the stupid slut? She dares to tell
Arni Fabrizi
to chill the fuck
out
!’ Glaring at Mia again now, spittle flew from his lips as he hissed, ‘You are finished . . .
fin-ished
!’

‘Get over yourself,’ Mia jeered, gazing down at him with fearless eyes. It was done now; there was nothing to gain from pretending that she gave a shit what he thought.

‘Take it off!’ he snarled through clenched teeth. ‘You’re not fit to
look
at it, let alone wear it!’

Still holding his gaze, Mia slowly snapped the straps and let the dress slide to the floor. Then, stepping out of it, she kicked it aside as if it were worthless.

‘There you go,
Arnold
. But before you start congratulating yourself when you see it splashed all over the front pages tomorrow, remember that
I
’m the only reason it’s getting talked about.’

‘
I
designed it!’ Fabrizi squawked, pounding his chest with a fistful of gold rings. ‘
I
’m the talent here!
You
– you are
nothing
!’

‘You’re
shite
, and everyone knows it,’ Mia told him bluntly. ‘And in case you hadn’t noticed, everyone was talking about
Nanito
before I did what I just did, so you should be kissing my feet, never mind having a go at me. And as for me being finished, I don’t
think
so.’

Almost breathing fire now, Fabrizi clenched and unclenched his fists. He had never wanted to punch anybody so much in his entire life, but the thought of the adverse publicity and the inevitable lawsuit stayed his hand. That, and the glint in Mia’s eyes which told him that she would probably retaliate – and possibly get the better of him.

‘You’re wanted out front,’ Francie hissed at him just then, clicking her little radio receiver off. ‘The press are asking for you.’

Saved the indignity of having to climb down to an unknown model whom he would normally be smearing across the floor right now, Fabrizi raised his chin proudly.

‘Sorry,
who
do they want to interview?’ he crowed smugly, cupping a hand to his ear and turning in a circle as if listening. ‘Is that
her
name they’re calling?’ He waved his hand at Mia in a dismissive gesture. Then, immediately answering his own question, ‘No! Because they do not want
her
, they want
me
!’

Snapping his fingers at Francie now, barking at her to pick up his dress, he turned on his heel and strode away.

‘That was
terrifying
,’ Simone gasped when he’d gone. ‘I thought he was going to go absolutely mental on you.’

‘He wouldn’t dare,’ Mia sneered, snatching up her T-shirt and pulling it over her head. ‘Guys like him think they’re tough, but they’re
nothing
compared with the guys I grew up with.’

‘I wish I could stand up for myself like that,’ Simone sighed, gazing at her with respect. ‘I’m a gibbering wreck when he shouts at me. Guess I should stick with you in future, huh? Let you be my bodyguard.’

‘Wonderful show, everybody,’ Gloria Ford called out just then, her shrill voice easily carrying over the noise. ‘And to show our appreciation for your magnificent contributions, we have goody bags for you all, which my assistant will be handing out as you leave.’ Holding up her hands now when the excited models began to speculate about what could possibly be in them, she added, ‘The party will begin at ten, but you may arrive at any time after nine. Don’t forget or lose your tickets, because you won’t get in without them – no exceptions. And, as you already know, no partners or friends are allowed!’ Finishing, she said, ‘Be safe going home, and I look forward to seeing you all later. And, again, thank you all so very much!’

Turning now as some the models applauded, Gloria scanned the faces. Locating Mia, she cocked a finger at her before turning and walking back the way she’d come.

‘Oh, dear!’ Bruno said grimly, stepping out of his suit trousers. ‘Looks like Mizz
Thang
’s about to get her ass whupped!’

‘Oh, so what!’ Mia scoffed, as if she couldn’t care less. She stared at Bruno’s penis as she slipped into her skinny jeans and said, ‘You got a licence to have that out without a muzzle?’

‘Ex
cuse
me!’ Gordy squawked possessively.

‘Hey, if he didn’t want anyone to see it, he wouldn’t whip it out every chance he gets,’ Mia told him bluntly. ‘But don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal him off you.’

‘Oh, believe me, I’m not worried about
you
,’ Gordy retorted, flashing a hooded glance in the direction of a young Dutch model on a nearby team.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Bruno demanded, puffing his skinny chest out as if he was getting set to fight.

‘You know
exactly
what it means,’ Gordy snapped. ‘Or do I have to spell it out?’

Mia smirked at Simone when they started bickering and snatched up her handbag and jacket. ‘See you all at the party,’ she said, setting off after Gloria.

‘If they don’t bar you!’ Bruno called after her, momentarily forgetting his argument. Turning back to the others when she’d gone, he shook his head. ‘Fabrizi’s gonna sue her ass, for sure.’

Hearing this, Mia felt sick as it occurred to her that that might be what Gloria wanted to see her about. Managing to smile despite the apprehension, she kept her composure as she made her way out of the changing area. A few of the other models congratulated her as she passed, but most flicked dirty looks her way – a sure sign, in her mind, that they were all as jealous as hell that they hadn’t thought of doing what she’d just done.

Although they might not be quite so jealous in a few minutes, depending on what Gloria had to say.

For a woman of such meticulous personal appearance, Gloria’s makeshift office was an absolute mess. Seated at the desk now, sifting through a ton of paperwork, she waved her hand when Mia walked in, gesturing for her to take a seat.

Thoroughly clued-up on the correct etiquette of such occasions, Mia did the exact opposite and sat sideways-on to the desk instead of the more formal straight-on, with her legs crossed and her arm draped casually over the back of the chair. She might just have made the biggest mistake of her life, but she was damned if she was going down with fear in her eyes.

When she didn’t find what she’d been looking for, Gloria tutted, clasped her hands together on the desktop and looked at Mia. ‘That was quite some stunt you pulled back there, young lady. May I ask if it was spontaneous or planned?’