Page 70 of Angel

SOPHIE

Okay, I’m a mess. A sticky whorish wreck of a woman who strolled in through those studio gates marked by a masked stranger.

The guard smiles. “Good morning, ma’am.”

“Sophie. Please.”

I smile, feeling almost lightheaded as I glide through the gates.

“Are the family well, Kevin?”

He nods, his smile wide. “Thank you for asking, um, Sophie. They are good, thanks.”

I throw him a blinding smile and continue toward my block. As I head inside my dressing room, Brandy smiles. “Hey, Sophie. Bad luck being hauled into the precinct earlier.”

I say nothing, wondering how Angel does this. Because of him, I’m confident my cover story will be watertight and there will be no repercussions for being two hours later to class.

“So, what did I miss?”

She thrusts my usual coffee into my hand. “Wardrobe fitting. You’re to report there, immediately.”

The blood must drain from my face because she appears concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I, um, I need the loo.”

I head quickly to the bathroom and, as I raise my eyes to the mirror, I gasp in shock at the horrendous mass of red skin adorning my neck. It’s as if I was attacked by a wild animal and I gasp, my fingers flying to my throat as I struggle to deal with this.

It’s as if I was attacked by a vampire in the night. I can’t believe it.

I quickly glance around the small area for anything that will help me with this.

Not a tub or tube of makeup in sight. I’m fucked.

Despite the horror of my situation, I can’t prevent the huge smile on my face. Why do I love that man so much? He’s wild for sure and an Angel definitely not, but he forces life into me when I have been walking in a daze since I arrived in LA.

“Five minutes, Sophie.”

She knocks on the door and I call out, “Brandy. Um, I could really use your help.”

I open the door and the shock on her face breaks a giggle out of me and before I know what’s happening, I’m bent double with laughter.

“Oh my God, Sophie. Were you attacked?”

Her laughter joins mine and for a second we can’t speak.

Then she groans, “This is actually a disaster. Whatever will wardrobe say?”

It’s not wardrobe I’m concerned about because it’s suddenly dawning on me that this beauty will be coming home with me later on tonight and Jason will probably want some kind of explanation.

“I can’t help being a little jealous. Would it be rude of me to call you a lucky bitch?”

We dissolve into more fits of laughter and after a while, she wipes her eyes and attempts to breathe.

“I’ll call Honey from makeup. She’s discreet and can help you.”

“Please don’t make me late for wardrobe” I beg hating how this is becoming normal for me.

“I’m on it. Drink your coffee and leave this with me.”