Sugar Secrets…& Ambition

by Mel Sparke

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said dryly to Anna as she passed by the window booth on her way to the front door, “I’ve got to see a boy about some photographs.”

  Anna peered out the window and saw Billy and Joe crossing the road, heading towards the second-hand record shop next door. They, along with Ollie and Andy, were going to have a band meeting with Nick there at five, Anna remembered her boss telling her.

  As she sighed and picked up Sonja’s empty mug, it struck Anna that all Sonja’s boy mates were about to get the low-down on her modelling ambitions, whether they were interested or not.

  She hoped for their sake that they were more “encouraging” than she and the girls had been…

  CHAPTER 9

  SONJA’S SECOND OFFENCE

  “Yoo hooo!”

  Cat, clattering along the path in a pair of ankle-strapped chunky sandals, couldn’t see the tiny headphones that Sonja had slipped in her ears while she waited on the park bench for Billy and his camera to arrive.

  Sonja, lost in a world of loud dance music to get her vibed up for the afternoon’s photo shoot, couldn’t hear her cousin caterwauling at her from along the rose-lined path.

  “Oi!”

  Cat’s powdered and perfumed face loomed down right in front of Sonja’s and made her jump out of her skin.

  “Cat! Don’t do that! You frightened me to death!” Sonja yelled too loudly, unable to gauge x the volume of her own voice above the track that was belting out.

  “Don’t yell! Anyway, why are you sitting there in a dream with those blasting in your ears?” Cat chastised her. “I could have been anyone! A busload of perverts could have been creeping up behind you and you wouldn’t have noticed!”

  “What - at 11 o’clock on a Saturday morning with half of Winstead’s happy families out strolling around and feeding the ducks? I don’t think so,” Sonja answered back at something more like her normal level, now that she’d pulled out the headphones and turned off her Walkman.

  Cat huffily plonked herself down beside her cousin on the bench.

  “And don’t lecture me,” Sonja continued, staring at Cat’s cropped top, exposed midriff, cropped silky trousers and bare toes in her sandals. “Look at you: you’re dressed like it’s July. It’s nearly November and there was frost on the ground this morning!”

  “Oh, shut up, grandma!” pouted Cat, rocking one of her crossed legs up and down in irritation. “Just ‘cause you don’t keep up with fashion!”

  “And what’ve you done to your hair? Is that supposed to be fashion too?”

  Cat fingered the ends of her bleached-blonde hair, the tips of which were now dyed dark brown.

  “D’you like it?” Cat preened, unaware of - or just plain ignoring - the sarcasm in Sonja’s voice. “Alison on my course did it. It’s really trendy at the moment.”

  Cat had started a two-year beauty therapy course at Winstead College of Further Education in September and seemed to spend most of her time trying out the treatments on herself.

  “It’s like having roots in reverse!”

  “What do you know?”

  “What I know is that if you’re on your way to the End just now, you’d better be prepared to get the mick ripped out of you when the lads see that,” muttered Sonja, pointing at Cat’s bizarre new hair-do. “Try telling them it’s trendy!”

  “Is everyone in today then? Have you been down there already?” asked Cat blithely.

  The sparring that went on between her and Sonja was such a long-standing tradition that generally neither of them took umbrage at any of the mutual sniping. Unless they were in the mood to make something of it - as their other friends had been witness to plenty of times.

  “Yeah, but you’ll just have Joe to speak to: Kerry and Ollie are being all lovey-dovey as usual, and Matt’s there with Gabrielle. When I left, they were gazing into each other’s eyes and feeding each other crumbs of carrot cake…”

  “Yeurgh!” shuddered Cat. “And of course, Maya’ll be off on holiday today.”

  “Mmm, lucky her,” said Sonja enviously, looking down at her watch. “I think she said their plane was due to take off about eleven-ish.”

  Automatically, the two girls gazed up into the steely-grey sky and scanned the darting fluffy clouds for any sign of a plane bearing their friend away.

  “So,” said Cat, “how come you’re here? And what’s that?”

  She nudged the well-packed sports bag at Sonja’s feet with her chunky, sandalled foot. “Running away to join the circus?”

  “No.” Sonja drenched the word in yet more sarcasm, widening her eyes and shaking her head. “I’m waiting for Billy. He’s doing some shots of me - remember?”

  “Remember? How can I remember? You haven’t told me in the first place!” snapped Cat. “What photos? What for?”

  Sonja suddenly realised she hadn’t seen her cousin all week - Cat had been busy with a lot of course assignments and assessments (not to mention getting the tips of her hair dyed in weird ways).

  “Well, I’ve decided to give modelling a go at last and Billy said he’d do some promotional photos of me.”

  “Yeah?” said Cat in surprise. “What got you thinking about that?”

  “After talking to Natasha on Sunday,” Sonja shrugged casually. “Do you remember her telling me once before that I could be a model?”

  “How could I forget? I thought you’d given up on the idea until you left sixth form. So what now - are you going to approach agencies in London?”

  “No. I thought I’d join something more local first, so I’m going to get in touch with an agency up in the city, once I get these shots done.”

  To be honest, Sonja expected a slagging from Cat as a matter of course (“You? A model? You must be joking!”), but Cat stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

  “So?” Sonja pushed her for a response. “What do you think?”

  Ignoring the question, Cat looked down at the sports bag once again.

  “Got a few changes of clothes in there, have you?” she asked in a serious tone of voice.

  “Yes…” said Sonja.

  “Make-up? Got some make-up in there? Even though you don’t normally wear much, you do need it for the camera…”

  “Yeah. I know that,” said Sonja irritably.

  Cat tutted abruptly, folded her arms defensively across her chest and stared off in the opposite direction.

  “What? What’s up?” asked Sonja, wondering what had got into her cousin.

  Cat’s head whizzed round and she stared accusingly at Sonja.

  “And what about me?” she hissed.

  “What about you? What?” asked Sonja. “You’re not making any sense!”

  “Why didn’t you ask me to style you?” snapped Cat, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. “It’s only part of what I’m training to do - make-up, hair, looks… And I’ve always done make-overs on you all!”

  Whether we wanted you to or not, thought Sonja darkly.

  She hadn’t deliberately avoided getting styling help from Cat - it hadn’t occurred to her to ask in the first place. But Sonja didn’t want to be her guinea pig for the day either. Being plastered with so much make-up that her own mother wouldn’t recognise her wasn’t quite what Sonja had in mind. And from past experience, she knew that Cat was capable of anything.

  “Look, I never thought…” she began to say and then realised she’d made a mistake. By sounding half-way apologetic, she had given Cat hope.

  “Then I still could be your stylist?” her cousin whimpered, her angry expression instantly switching to little-girl smiles. “I could just nip home and get my make-up box and—”

  “No!” interrupted Sonja, nipping Cat’s suggestion firmly in the bud.

  Back came the quivering lip, but Sonja only saw it for a split second before Cat stormed off down the path, her heels clack-clacking defiantly.

  CHAPTER 10

  STRIKE A POSE

  Sonja wriggled out of her combats, trying (unsucc
essfully) not to trail them through the pool of water on the concrete cubicle floor.

  Her sports bag was balanced on the loo (lid down) and, with her feet half-wedged in her trainers, she rifled about in search of her knee-length, blue chiffony sundress and cute little suede Converse mules.

  I’m as bad as Cat - dressing like it’s midsummer, she smiled to herself.

  Moments later, pulling the dress on over her head, the smile was wiped right off Sonja’s face.

  “Oww!” she yelped indignantly as her elbow grazed the rough plaster of the cramped cubicle wall.

  “What happened in there?” asked Billy, watching Sonja come out of the park toilets rubbing her elbow.

  “Scraped half the skin off my arm trying to change!” she moaned, holding her arm out for his inspection.

  “When I heard you cry out, I was going to come and see if you were all right,” said Billy, looking at the slightly grazed patch on Sonja’s elbow. “But I thought that anyone spotting me sneaking into the Ladies might think I was a bit dodgy!”

  “‘Specially since you’re carrying a camera!” Sonja managed to grin.

  “Right! Are you OK to do some more shots now? Or is your injury fatal?”

  “Oh, I think I’ll survive,” she said, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms to warm them up. “God, I bet real models don’t have to get changed in grotty public loos!”

  “Yes, they do. If they’re doing outside shots, anyway,” Billy informed her, rising to his feet. “I mean, sometimes they’ll get a location van they can use as a changing room, but from what I’ve heard, often they have to get changed where they can - and that includes public toilets!”

  “Hmm,” Sonja responded, furrowing her forehead. “I think I’ll stick to studio photo shoots when I’m modelling!”

  “Hey, Son - don’t forget that bag with all your clothes. You left it in there…” Billy pointed towards the small brick building behind her.

  He was a little surprised by Sonja’s last remark, he realised, as he watched her disappear back into the loos. She seemed so sure that she would be snapped up by an agency. There seemed to be no ‘ifs’ in Sonja’s head: just solid ‘whens’.

  “OK, got it,” she shouted, marching towards him, lugging the bag. “Where now?”

  “I thought we could go over there,” Billy suggested, indicating the nearby Victorian granite fountain. “You could walk around the edge, trying to keep your balance and stuff, and I’ll just snap away fast. It’ll look good - really animated.”

  Sonja was pleased with the idea. They’d done one ‘look’ already - Sonja in her combats and a long-sleeved fitted T-shirt chucking bread at the ducks - and she really liked what Billy was going for. The natural, unstaged look was just how she saw herself on the pages of her favourite magazines: no cheesy grins or posing-by-numbers.

  She took the hand he gallantly held out to help her step up on to the wide rim of the fountain - even though she hardly needed it, considering it was barely a metre high.

  “Thanks!” Sonja smiled down at him warmly from her newly elevated position.

  She felt a flutter of excitement. The touch of Billy’s hand had automatically kick-started the flirt reflex in her. It wasn’t that she fancied him; not at all. He was quite nice-looking, in a sort of muscly, sporty way, but he didn’t give her that little buzzy feeling she got when she was sure she liked someone that way. Someone like Owen…

  But it’s fun to flirt all the same, she told herself. Just to prove I’ve still got it.

  “You can’t see my bumps, can you? My goosebumps, I mean!” she laughed cheekily as she wobbled her way around the fountain.

  “Nah, you’re fine,” answered Billy matter-of-factly, his face obscured by the camera.

  “Oops! I didn’t realise my strap had fallen down!” Sonja exclaimed, looking at her shoulder. “Should I, uh, just leave it like that?”

  “Nope,” said Billy, walking backwards as he snapped and ignoring her coquettish tone. “Looks like you’re trying too hard.”

  Sonja pursed her lips for a second and hoisted the strap back up where it belonged. It seemed like Billy wasn’t playing. She decided to change tack.

  “So. Billy,” she began mischievously, giving her blonde hair a little toss, “we’ve never had a chance to have a proper chat, just the two of us. You’ll have to tell me all about yourself…”

  “What’s to tell?” he responded casually. “I play football every chance I get; I want to be a professional photographer - unless of course The Loud gets famous first!”

  “Well,” Sonja persisted, “what about girls? What kind of girls do you go for?”

  “Come on, Son; you’re smart!” he laughed, lowering the camera for a second. “You must know the answer to that!”

  Does he mean me? she thought frantically for a second. Has my flirting paid off that quickly?

  Then it came to her, lightning quick.

  “Of course!” she exclaimed. “It’s Anna, isn’t it? You’ve been hanging around her loads recently!”

  “Anna?” Billy replied. “No, it’s not Anna. I mean, I did quite fancy Anna for a bit - still do, I guess - but she’s not THE girl.”

  “Go on then,” she teased, “who is the lucky girl? Is it someone at your college?”

  “Nope,” Billy shook his head and gazed straight at her. “It’s Maya.”

  “Maya?”

  Sonja was taken by surprise. She knew Billy had been into Maya when they first got to know each other at photography club, but they’d had one date that flopped like a punctured Lilo, and that had been that. They’d been nothing but friends ever since and both seemed quite happy to keep it that way. Or so Sonja had supposed.

  “But you never act like you fancy her! You’re always just matey-matey!” Sonja protested, stepping down off the fountain rim. This new revelation suddenly seemed much more important than posing for pictures.

  “Son, I am her friend,” shrugged Billy.

  “I don’t get it!” said Sonja. Whenever she fancied someone, she believed in letting them know about it.

  “Well, maybe she’ll fancy me back one day,” he tried to explain. “But in the meantime, I’ll settle for being her mate.”

  It was just about the saddest, most romantic thing Sonja had heard in ages - and it was real life, not some slushy video she’d rented from Blockbuster.

  Billy spotted her sympathy-filled stare and started laughing.

  “Don’t go all soppy on me, Sonja - and don’t feel sorry for me! I’m not going to be pining away in my room waiting for her to fall into my arms!” he hooted, throwing out his arms for dramatic effect. “I am willing to go out with any gorgeous girl who wants me, y’know, while I’m waiting!”

  “What?” said Sonja, catching on to silliness, but still slightly disappointed that it wasn’t some grand, unrequited passion she’d stumbled upon. “Some poor girl’s got to be second-best?”

  “Look,” he winked at her, “you don’t tell and I won’t!”

  “Deal,” Sonja grinned back.

  “Hey, look at you!” Billy suddenly exclaimed, coming over to her and putting his arm round her in a brotherly way. “You’re shivering! Time to stop off for a coffee, I think.”

  Sonja let him scoop up her bag and lead her off towards the wooden booth by the lake that sold tokens for the rowing boats, ice cream, and - most importantly - hot drinks.

  As they hurried over, it occurred to Sonja that she hadn’t realised what a fun, sweet person Billy was. Or that she could be so jealous of Maya. Or whoever that second-best girl might be.

  “I did think about asking Anna out just a couple of weeks ago - y’know, try to wean myself off Maya. But she wasn’t up for it, I could tell and, to be honest, I was pretty relieved when I thought about it. Anna’s a really cool girl and it wouldn’t have been fair to go out with her and still be drooling over Maya.”

  Sonja - who was now wearing the entire contents of her bag in an effort to get warm - took another s
ip of hot chocolate while she ruminated over what Billy had been saying. He’d been totally honest with her; telling her how thrilled he was to join The Loud, not just because of the music, but because it gave him another excuse to be close to Maya.

  “Yeah, well, Anna wouldn’t have gone for you anyway - you’re too young for her,” she joked. Teasing came as second nature to Sonja and it was often the only thing she could think to do when she didn’t know what to say.

  “Anyway, that’s enough of my life story. What about yours?”

  “Mine? Well, let’s see: my friends you know - some better than others,” she shot him a knowing glance before continuing. “My family are cool, apart from the fact that my older brother’s forgotten where we live since he moved out a couple of years ago, and my sisters are horrible to me. But I’m horrible back, so it kind of evens out.”

  “What about boyfriends, Sonja? Got anyone special? Hey, weren’t you seeing Anna’s big brother a while back?”

  “No… no, that was nothing,” she said, skimming over the subject hurriedly.

  Billy sensed he might have touched a raw nerve and knew when to leave well alone. “And, of course, you’re into the idea of modelling,” he responded, diplomatically.

  “Mmm, not that I look much like a model right now, do I?” Sonja laughed, holding out her arms and regarding her odd but cosy outfit that included green combats, her blue sundress, a grey fleece and a black denim jacket hauled over the lot.

  “Y’know, Sonja, modelling’s not all that reliable a job,” Billy tried to caution her.

  “Oh, I know that. That’s why I only want to do it for fun, not as a career. Long-term, I want to get into PR.”

  Billy knew he still wasn’t getting his point across.

  “It’s like being in a band,” he said, hoping she might just get it if he used a different example. “Like us in The Loud. I mean, we don’t know how good we’re going to get, but even if we turn out to have the potential to be the next Oasis or something, we might still not make it. We might still not be seen at the right time, or have the right luck, or have the sound that record companies want to sign right at that minute. You see what I’m saying?”