Free Angel by Katie Price

as Angel traipsed up three flights of
stairs to the photographer's studio, she tried to
hold onto Gemma's wise words. She had been
expecting to walk into a modern, luxurious studio
and instead found herself in a run-down building
somewhere in West London. At last she arrived at
the door and, mustering all her courage, she rang
the buzzer. It was flung open by a jolly-looking man
in his fifties, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt and
in the middle of an animated conversation on his
mobile. He mouthed 'Angel?' and gestured her in. He doesn't look like a serial killer or a pervert , thought
Angel with relief, then scrapped that thought
because what was a serial killer supposed to look
like? He would hardly be wearing a sign on his shirt
advertising the fact that he liked to kill people and
chop them up into tiny pieces, then eat them for
dinner washed down with a glass of Chianti!
    As the man talked on, Angel took in her
surroundings. She was in a large studio with a
camera set up on a tripod at one end in front of a
large white screen. Everywhere she looked the walls
were covered with pictures of women, or, to be
more precise, topless women. Angel had never seen
so many pairs of breasts all at once. She panicked.
These women all looked so beautiful and
glamorous, she suddenly felt incredibly selfconscious.
And intimidated. How could she
possibly compete with those perfect tanned bodies,
groomed hair and immaculately made-up faces?
And, she couldn't help noticing, bigger breasts. She
turned round and looked at the door. She still had
a choice: she could go now, right this minute, back
to Brighton, back to Julie and her job as a lifeguard.
Back to a life without possibilities. Or she could stay
here and see what happened. For a split second she
was tempted to run, but just as she started moving
the man finished his phone call and came rushing
over to give her a huge hug and kiss her on both
cheeks.
    'Angel! I'm Richard. And you've saved my life.
Thank you so much for coming in at such short
notice, darling.'
    Angel had to smile at his exuberance; he was so
over the top and flamboyant.
    'Now, I've got Danni coming in to do your hair
and make-up any minute now, so why don't we
have a coffee while we wait?'
    Angel rarely drank coffee but she felt too shy to
say so, so she forced down the stuff quickly. Her
stomach gurgled loudly in response. She'd been too
nervous to have breakfast or lunch. She hoped
Richard hadn't noticed.
    'Hungry?' Richard asked kindly.
    Angel nodded.
    'No breakfast, no lunch?' he asked again.
    Angel nodded again. He sighed. 'You girls, what
are you like! We're going to be working hard for
the next couple of hours and I don't want you
fainting on me. I'd better make you a sandwich.'
    As Richard busied himself in his tiny kitchen,
situated in a corner of the large studio, Danni
arrived with a large make-up case. Angel had been
praying that she would be someone friendly, someone
to put her at ease. Luckily, Danni couldn't have
been nicer. She was an attractive twenty-something
Aussie, with a dry sense of humour and a laid-back
attitude. While she unpacked her case, unhurriedly
getting out pots and tubes, pencils and lipsticks,
Angel felt herself starting to relax. These were nice
people, so open and friendly, so normal . Surely
nothing bad was going to happen. Richard presented
her with the sandwich and watched her as
she ate it, ordering her to finish every last crumb.
She was only too happy to obey – she really was
starving and never usually skipped meals. When
she had taken the last bite and the last sip of water,
Danni got started on her face.
    'People like you make my job so easy,' she joked,
smoothing foundation onto Angel's skin. 'You've
got such a perfect complexion, you lucky girl!'
    Angel blushed; she still wasn't used to getting
compliments from strangers. As Danni expertly
worked on her face, Angel sat back and enjoyed the
feathery strokes on her face. There was something
very soothing about being