Angel by Katie Price Page B

walked out of the studio
together, they swapped numbers. 'You'll have to
come out with me and the girls one night,' Andrea
said. 'Not all models are like that pair of witches!'
Angel was glad for the invite. Apart from Cal, who
she wouldn't have dreamt of phoning, she didn't
know anyone in London.
    But she didn't want to be bullied into socialising
by Carrie. Now, she shrugged, looking at Carrie
across her desk. Going out and clubbing was one
thing with Gemma, in a place where she knew
people; it was another thing entirely to do it in a
huge city, without friends nearby.
    Carrie fixed her with her piercing blue eyes
(which Angel was convinced were blue contact
lenses) and said, 'This is non-negotiable, Angel, I
really need you to get out there.'
    She didn't need to add, or I'll drop you , but her
meaning was clear.
    'Okay, I'll do my best,' Angel replied, irritated
that Carrie had started attaching conditions to their
working relationship. But she owed her so much,
she quickly reminded herself. Surely it wouldn't be
too much to ask to go to a few parties.
    'You don't have to do anything,' Carrie
answered. 'One of my girls can't make it to the film
premiere of the new James Bond movie tomorrow
night, so why don't you go? And there's an after-party.
Turn up, get yourself photographed, I'll be
happy.' And she thrust the invitation at Angel. 'It
will be very good for your profile.'
    Angel spent the run-up to the event worrying
about what to wear. She wasn't earning that much
money yet so couldn't afford to blow it in designer
shops. In the end she scoured the second-hand
boutiques in Camden and found a sexy black silk
Chinese-style dress, which fitted her perfectly and
emphasised all her curves, with splits up each side
showing off her tanned slim legs. Angel reasoned
that she was known for showing off her breasts, so
tonight she'd keep them covered up and show off
her legs instead.
    That done, she had her hair cut and coloured.
She was still brunette, but now had gold and bronze
highlights running through her hair. 'Just to give
you a bit of a lift, darling, and your hair some extra
depth. Not that you really need it, because you look
sensational,' said Jez, a seriously camp hairdresser
and a complete sweetheart, recommended by
Danni.
    Then it was off to get her nails done – Angel's
least favourite part of grooming as she was a closet
nail-biter. The glamour models she'd met so far all
had nails that were nearly as long as Tanya
Turner's, which Angel thought was hilarious and
not her at all. She couldn't imagine how they
actually did anything like put on a pair of tights
without laddering them or inserting a tampon
(ouch, best not to think about that one), or why any
man would want a set of talons like that near his
tackle . . . She preferred her nails short and natural-looking,
but today she made an exception and had
them painted scarlet.
    Finally, back home in the bath, came the removal
of practically all her body hair. In her line of work
it would have been career suicide to show off
stubbly armpits or even a hint of a pube. When she
first started Angel had tried waxing, but she
couldn't wait for the hairs to grow back, plus having
a Brazilian wax, however good the results, was one
of the most excruciating experiences of her life, and
one that she never wanted to repeat – she couldn't
imagine childbirth to be any more painful than
that. Finally, a hair-free (well, practically, except for
a landing strip) Angel called up Gemma in a panic,
worrying about going to the event on her own.
    'Pull yourself together!' Gemma told her, just a
few minutes before the car was due to pick her up.
'It'll be a laugh.' But Angel didn't feel much like
laughing when the car dropped her off at the end
of the red carpet and she was confronted with
having to walk down the whole length of it to get
into the building. She hung back a bit, temporarily
overwhelmed by the crowds of people waiting
behind the crash barriers, shouting out the names
of