Diamonds Are A Teen's Best Friend - Plot & Excerpts
Within minutes, he’s sorting through some more papers (he leads such an exciting life – dinner and then other people’s sex lives). I flick on the TV and throw myself down onto the bed. ‘I’ve got quite a few interviews to do tonight. Will you be okay watching TV?’ ‘Um, sure.’ I’d been ready to argue long and hard about why I should be allowed to go to the disco, but maybe I won’t need to do much arguing at all. Fine by me! He plants another kiss on the top of my head (seriously, I’ll be getting a bald patch to match his soon) and is gone. It takes me a good half-hour to sort out something ’80s, including begging a steward for a pair of white cotton gloves and snipping the fingers off (I knew I should have bought a bedazzler during the recent ’80s revival). And, after a lot of eyeliner and hair teasing and spending a good five minutes piling all my jewellery on, I’m ready to go. The clothes aren’t great – just plain and black – but it’s all I can do with such short notice.
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