Two-Faced, page 8
‘So, is that a yes or a no?’
Gazing up at him, Michelle took a deep breath. This could be a wind-up, and his friends might well jump out of the bushes as soon as she opened her mouth. But if she didn’t take this chance, she might never know.
‘Okay,’ she said, tensing for the piss-taking that she fully expected to follow.
But Liam didn’t laugh. He tipped his head to one side, and said, ‘Really?’ as if he couldn’t quite believe that she’d agreed. Then, grinning when she nodded, he said, ‘Great. When?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she told him quietly, already wondering how she was going to manage it when her mum kept insisting that she stay in to guard the house.
‘Tell you what, I’ll give you my number,’ Liam offered. ‘Then you can ring when you’re free.’
‘I haven’t got any credit,’ she admitted – too embarrassed to add that she wasn’t likely to get any top-ups any time soon, because her mum had been spending every spare penny on Mia lately.
‘Okay, I’ll take yours instead,’ he suggested, taking his own phone out of his pocket.
Michelle rushed inside when she got home a few minutes later, leant back against the door and hugged the books tightly, slowly replaying in her mind what had just happened. She still couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous as Liam wanted to go out with her. But he really did, and he’d followed her not just once but twice in order to ask her.
The only problem now was how to make it happen without Mia finding out, because if Liam saw her he’d take one look and realise he’d picked the wrong sister.
But she wouldn’t worry about that right now. She would just hold her secret close and wait for Liam to call – and pray that he didn’t change his mind in the meantime.
Across town, Kim and Mia had just arrived at Sammy Martin’s office. A far cry from the plush city-centre offices of the bigger agencies they’d visited so far, this was situated in the middle of a row of mostly boarded-up terraced houses on a gloomy backstreet off Ancoats. And if Mia had been reluctant before, she was positively determined not to even get out of the taxi now. But Kim was having none of it.
‘Move,’ she hissed, paying the driver and elbowing Mia out. ‘And don’t even think about making a show of me, or there’ll be trouble.’
Kim straightened her clothes when the cab had gone, patted her hair to make sure it was still in place, then walked up to the door. Pressing the buzzer, she announced herself and waited for the door to be released. She pushed Mia into the dingy hallway, most of which was dominated by an uncarpeted staircase, stepped in behind her and waited for a receptionist. But a voice called down for them to make their own way up.
Hissing one last warning at Mia to behave herself, Kim held her head up and forced a smile onto her lips as she ascended the stairs and came face to face with Sammy Martin.
‘Very nice to meet you,’ Sammy said and pumped her hand. Then, turning to Mia: ‘And hello to you, young lady.’
Getting a scowl and tightly folded arms in return, he waved them through to his office.
Sulkily following her mum, Mia flopped into one of the visitors’ chairs and stared pointedly at the floor.
‘Thank you so much for seeing us at such short notice,’ Kim gushed, handing the portfolio across to Sammy as he took his own seat on the other side of the desk. ‘I’ve been meaning to call you for ages, but we’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance.’
Smiling without comment, Sammy unzipped the faux-leather case and flipped it open. Nobody’s fool, he knew that Kim would never have contacted him if she weren’t desperate. It had been some five or six weeks since Tim Leece had rung to let him know that he’d recommended his agency to them – and having seen the expression on both their faces when they’d got their first sight of him just now, he’d bet they were wishing they hadn’t bothered.
He couldn’t really blame them, because in an industry where appearance was everything – whichever side of the camera you graced – Sammy was hardly the finest specimen of modelling manhood. But he was a self-confessed lazy bugger when it came to exercise, and the older he got, the more of a losing battle it became to even be bothered ironing a shirt in the mornings. And having reached the grand old age of fifty without learning how to cook – or sparing enough time to find a decent woman to do it for him – it was a case of junk food or no food.
It frustrated Sammy sometimes that he hadn’t made more of an effort to play the image game, because he’d always had – and still did have – a keen eye for spotting undiscovered talent. But he’d long ago reconciled himself to the fact that top models would rather eat a proper dinner – and keep it all down – than be associated with a fat agent. Still, he’d managed to carve out a respectable niche in the middle market of catalogues and toilet-paper ads. And he had a great little stable of regular, reliable models – none of whom the big boys could be bothered to steal from him, because they had nothing remarkable enough about them to warrant it.
So, no, Sammy was under no illusions about his limitations. Any more than he was under any illusion about why Kim and Mia Delaney were sitting here now. And looking over the photographs, he could see exactly what the problem was.
Despite her mother’s seeming conviction that she was the next Kate Moss in waiting, Mia didn’t display that certain something that was essential for the catwalk. And her face was nowhere near quirky or outstandingly gorgeous enough for the high-fashion glossies.
Thanks to Tim Leece’s wizardry, the pictures were of excellent technical quality, but even he couldn’t magic X-Factor into a subject’s eyes. That was born, not created, and Mia just didn’t have it.
And she obviously found it hard to follow directions, too, because Tim would undoubtedly have told her how to stand, where to look, and what to do with her mouth, etc . . . and yet she had over-posed in every shot. And the self-satisfied I’m-too-gorgeous-for-words smile was bordering on sickening.
But Mia apparently thought she looked the business, because she’d tried to replicate the exact same look today – oblivious to the fact that harsh domestic bulbs didn’t soften the effect like professional lighting did.
Glancing up at Mia now, only to see her still staring into space with a sullen expression on her over-painted face, Sammy sighed. Despite their only experience coming via the TV modelling shows they were all addicted to, these young girls all seemed to think that being a diva was the way to get ahead. But nobody in their right mind would waste time and money on a moody uncooperative novice when there were thousands of equally pretty girls to choose from.
Kim was beginning to fidget. They’d been here for almost twenty minutes now, and she’d been watching Sammy’s face the whole time, desperately trying to read what he was thinking as he studied the photos. But his expression was giving absolutely nothing away. Unable to bear the heavy silence any longer, she cleared her throat loudly.
‘So, what do you think?’
‘They’re okay,’ Sammy replied, giving a tiny noncommittal shrug.
‘Okay?’ Kim repeated incredulously. ‘Oh, come on, they’re better than okay. She looks really pretty in them.’
‘Pretty’s not enough, I’m afraid.’ Sitting back, Sammy looped his hands together on his belly. ‘From what you told me when you rang, I gather you’re expecting huge things for her. But if you want my honest opinion, she just hasn’t got what it takes.’
Already irritated, having thought that a little backstreet agent like him would bite her hand off for the chance to represent an obvious star like Mia, Kim’s nostrils flared.
‘Look, she’s bloody gorgeous, so don’t be telling me she hasn’t got it. And these cost a fortune, so you can’t say they’re not good enough.’ She jabbed her finger down on the photographs. ‘So let’s not waste any more time. You either want to be her agent, or you don’t. And if you don’t, just be honest and say it, ’cos there’s plenty who’d jump at the chance.’
‘Maybe so,’ Sammy conceded. ‘But I’m figuring you’ve already been turned down by all the good ones, so you’ve got to ask yourself if those who are left are the kind of people you’d want handling your daughter’s career.’
‘Yes!’ Kim shot back without hesitation. ‘At least I’d know they had faith in her – like I have. But if you can’t see what she’s got to offer, it’s your loss.’
Amused when she began to scoop the photographs together furiously, Sammy said, ‘I’ll tell you what, mum, she’s lucky she’s got you in her corner.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kim glared at him.
Nodding towards Mia, Sammy said, ‘Be honest, is that the face of a girl who looks determined to do whatever it takes to make it? And if you say yes,’ he added quickly, knowing that that was exactly what Kim was about to say, ‘then you’re either lying, or fooling yourself. In fact, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that you want it more than she does.’
‘That’s not true,’ Kim shot back defensively. ‘You want to do it, don’t you, Mee? Tell him.’
Rolling her eyes as if she really couldn’t give a toss, Mia issued a bored-sounding ‘Mmmm.’
‘Oh, well, you’ve got me convinced,’ Sammy murmured.
‘No, she really means it,’ Kim insisted, tears of desperation beginning to glisten in her eyes. ‘This was her idea, I swear to God.’ Turning on Mia now, her voice shaky, she said, ‘You know how much this means to me, so stop playing funny buggers.’
Glowering back at her mother, embarrassed that she was falling apart like this in front of a complete stranger, Mia hissed, ‘I told you I didn’t want to do it any more.’
‘Only ’cos you’ve realised it’s not going to be as easy as you thought,’ Kim snapped back, her voice rising to a squawk as the anger and frustration overwhelmed her.
Feeling sorry for her, because it was obvious that she was really struggling to hold it together, Sammy cleared his throat to remind her that he was actually hearing all this. Smiling apologetically when she jerked her head around, he said, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m interfering, but do you really think there’s any point trying to force her if she doesn’t want to do it?’
Sensing that he was about to tell them that the interview was over, Kim’s chin began to wobble uncontrollably. She’d come here with such high hopes, utterly convinced that Sammy Martin would sign Mia up without a second thought. But even he didn’t want to know.
Sammy sighed when the tears that Kim had been struggling to hold back began to trickle slowly down her cheeks. He shoved his chair back and stood up.
‘I’ll make some coffee,’ he said, lumbering around the desk and heading for the door. ‘Then we’ll have a chat, and I’ll let you know what’s wrong from my point of view.’
Grateful that he wasn’t going to turf them out right this second, Kim pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose loudly.
‘Do you have to?’ Mia hissed when they were alone. ‘Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed me enough already without bursting into tears?’
‘I can’t help it,’ Kim hissed back. ‘You can’t pick and choose when you start going through the change, you know.’
‘Ew!’ Grimacing, Mia shuddered exaggeratedly. ‘Do you have to tell everyone about it?’
‘You’re not everyone,’ Kim reminded her. ‘And it’ll happen to you one day, so I wouldn’t be screwing my nose up if I was you.’
‘Pfft!’ Mia snorted, determined that she would never let herself go through something as disgusting as that.
A little more in control of herself now, Kim wiped her nose one last time and slotted the tissue back into her pocket. ‘I’m doing my best for you,’ she muttered. ‘And you’d best get that slapped-arse look off your face before he comes back, ’cos you’re lucky he hasn’t already told us to sling it.’
‘Lucky?’ Mia repeated scathingly. ‘Are you kidding me? This place is a dump. I bet he’s not even a real agent.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Kim hissed, glancing nervously back at the door. ‘That photographer wouldn’t have given us his number otherwise. Anyway, just behave and let’s hear him out. You’ve hardly got much choice, have you?’
Exhaling loudly, Mia swivelled her chair from side to side. Her mum could say what she liked, but Mia had no intention of listening to a word that Sammy fat baldy bastard Martin had to say.
Coming back just then, carrying a small tray bearing three steaming cups and a plate of biscuits, Sammy laid it down on the desk between them.
‘Sorry, I’ve run out of coffee so it’s tea, I’m afraid. And there’s no milk. But I have got sugar and sweeteners, so take your pick. And help yourself to biccies.’
‘No, thanks, we don’t take sugar,’ Kim lied, reaching for one of the cups.
Resisting the biscuits, even though the sight of them made her stomach grumble because she’d forgotten about dinner before they’d come out, she sat back in her seat and forced herself not to grimace when she took a sip of the hot bland liquid. She couldn’t wait to get home for a fag and a lovely sweet cuppa. And then she’d be straight on the phone to order herself a kebab – but only when Mia had gone to bed, because she didn’t want to go putting temptation in her way.
Looking serious now, Sammy said, ‘Look, I’ve been having a good think about this, and I reckon there’s a chance we could work something out.’
‘Really?’ Kim gasped, immediately cursing herself for sounding so grateful.
‘If,’ Sammy said, emphasising the word as he looked straight at Mia, ‘you can convince me you’re willing to drop the attitude and really work at it.’
Arms still folded, Mia flicked him a yeah, whatever glance.
Giving her a chance to climb down off her high horse, Sammy sighed when she didn’t do so after a few moments. He gave Kim a defeated shrug. ‘Oh, well, I think we have our answer.’
Furious, Kim glared at Mia.
‘What?’ Mia said sullenly.
‘You know bloody well what. He’s offering us a chance here, you silly little cow. And if you blow it, that’s it – you can forget about being famous.’
Shrugging as if she didn’t give a toss, Mia scowled when Kim gave her a sharp prod in the arm.
‘This isn’t a game, lady, so sort yourself out, because this is important.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Mia argued. ‘He’s hardly Mr Super-Cool, is he?’
‘Let me guess,’ Sammy interjected perceptively. ‘You don’t know why your mum’s dragged you here, because you’re obviously too good for me, and I obviously don’t know anything about anything.’ Taking the twitch of her eyebrows as affirmation that he’d hit the nail on the head, he smiled slowly. ‘Did you see the silver car across the road when you got here?’
Wrinkling her nose, Mia said, ‘Yeah – so?’
‘It’s a Bentley,’ Sammy told her, not sounding in the least boastful. ‘Now, I don’t know if you’ve any idea how much they cost but they’re not cheap. So, ask yourself this, if you’re so good, and I’m so bad, how come I’ve got one and you haven’t?’
‘Er, ’cos I’m only fifteen,’ Mia reminded him sarcastically.
‘And do you think you’ll be any better off by the time you’re my age?’ Sammy persisted smoothly. ‘Because I guarantee that you won’t be if you carry on like this.’
‘Says you.’
‘Well, I won’t knock your self-belief, my love, but I doubt you’d be here if Nemesis or Boss or any of the other agencies you’ve already seen had said any different.’
Licking her lips, sensing that Mia was on the verge of blowing their chances, Kim said, ‘Look, Mr Martin, I admit we haven’t had much success so far, but I still think she’s got something special and we’ll do whatever it takes to get her there. You said you thought we could work something out, so just tell us what we need to do and we’ll do it – I promise.’
Sammy believed that she meant it and he nodded thoughtfully. Under normal circumstances, he’d have shown them the door by now, because, as he’d already said, there was no point trying to force someone to do something they blatantly didn’t want to. But Mia must have wanted it to start with or she wouldn’t have bothered posing for the photos, and he could only assume that her present truculence was due to the rejections she’d received so far. She was only young, after all, and rejection wasn’t easy to swallow at any age.
Looking at Mia now, he said, ‘All right, let’s cut to the chase, young lady. We know how important this is for your mum, but I need to know if you want it as well – or are we just wasting our time? And before you answer,’ he added quickly, ‘let me just tell you about some of the models I represent. I take it you watch TV?’
‘Oh, she does,’ Kim blurted out. ‘All the time.’
‘So you’ll have seen all the adverts for Slimma-Soup, with the young girl floating down the high street in a bubble? Well, she’s one of mine. And the one about razor blades, with the young lad having his first shave before going on a date?’
Despite her determination to retain her scowl, a hint of interest flickered in Mia’s eyes. She’d seen both those ads, but whereas she’d paid no heed to the Slimma-Soup one because she had no need of it, she’d definitely noticed the lad on the other ad.
Catching the shift in her demeanour, Sammy smiled. ‘His name’s Jonathon, he’s just turned sixteen, and he’s been with me for ten years. Although I doubt he’ll be with me for too much longer, because this is his breakthrough job, and I imagine he’ll be whipped out of my hands by one of the big boys any day now. But, hey ho.’ He sighed resignedly and flapped his hands. ‘Anyway, I can tell you’ve already noticed him, but I bet you can’t tell me where you’ve seen him before, can you?’
Mia shrugged again, but Sammy noted that there was far less aggression in her expression now.
‘Well, you might be surprised to hear that he’s been in lots of TV ads. He was the Jelly-Tot tot, for example; and the Rainbow-Lite boy; and the kid who cut his knee falling over his dog and had to get plastered – pardon the pun – in those new padded Elastoplast strips.’
