Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Langhorne, Karyn (general ebook reader .txt) 📕

this straight. He said he’s going to call

you, but he doesn’t even have your phone number?

Gimme a break, Audra!”

“I said I didn’t know, Shamiyah,” Audra ex-

ploded in frustration. “He might have it. Just be-

cause I didn’t give it to him doesn’t mean—”

“Did he look you in the face this time?” Shamiyah

interrupted. “Did he look you in the face . . . or did

he spend most of the conversation staring over your

shoulder, or at your chin—anywhere but dead on?”

Audra sighed. She would have given anything to

be able to contradict her—to offer evidence in Brad-

shaw’s defense. But there wasn’t any. She could

count on one hand the times Bradshaw had shown

her his eyes in the course of their conversation, and

those had been startlingly brief.

“You’re doing the right thing, Audra,” Shamiyah

said in the silence, her tone returning to calm reas-

surance. “You are absolutely doing the right thing!”

There was another short pause before she continued

with a slight giggle. “And even if you’re not, you’ve

signed a contract, so that’s pretty much that. Now,

get yourself over to the gym, sweetie. When your Art

Bradshaw sees you again, he’ll be eating his heart

out with regret!” She paused a moment and when

she spoke again, her voice had assumed a very dif-

ferent tone. “How’s your mother? How’s Edith?”

Audra rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask.”

Chapter 14

June 24

Dear Petra,

It’s my last day here in New York. Tomorrow I fly to Los

Angeles and the process begins.

I’m a little nervous, but mostly, I’m ready to go. Ma’s

been driving me crazy—scolding me one minute for

being a fool, and pleading with me the next. She

knows the only chance of stopping me now is to come

clean, but she still won’t do it. I’m beginning to think

she never will.

And Shamiyah was right: I haven’t seen Bradshaw

since that day. He hasn’t even called. She seems to

think he just needed someone to talk to that day, and I

was convenient. Just like he needed someone to

buffer for his daughter on the night of her party . . .

and I was convenient. That’s me: Miss Convenient.

Shamiyah’s really becoming a good friend—almost

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

167

like another sister. I would buy her explanations for

AB’s behavior lock, stock and barrel if it weren’t for the

movies. It’s weird he watches the same TV I do. It just

seems like we’d have so much in common . . . if only

he’d take the time to find out.

But anyway, on the whole, I’m ready. The only

person I’ll really miss is Kiana. I haven’t talked to her

about it much, but I think she understands.

I’m using up all my accrued vacation and sick time

and taking an extended leave from work. I won’t miss

it. I don’t think I want to be a model when all this is

over, but I wonder how much longer I want to work in

corrections. I feel pulled to try something new . . . but

I don’t know what. Maybe when I look into my own

eyes in a new face, I’ll know.

Sounds like you’re going to be on the move soon

yourself. Maybe things will have settled down in the

southern part of the country by the time your detail has

to make its deliveries. Keep emailing me—I bought a

laptop computer to take with me to L.A. just so we

can stay in touch.

Be careful out there,

Audra

Shamiyah stood at the baggage claim when Audra

arrived, looking fresh and fashionable in a red

top with delicate flounces of lace hanging low

enough to be seductive but high enough to avoid be-

ing too sexy for everyday, another pair of low-slung

jeans and high-heeled red-tipped slides. Audra

took her in from tip to toes, deciding in an instant

that when she was finished with her makeover, she

168

Karyn Langhorne

would adopt Shamiyah’s exact style, right down to

the dangling earrings hanging from her perky

brown lobes.

The woman was staring intently at her. “My God!

You’ve lost another what? Twenty pounds?” she

asked, nodding her approval.

“Only ten,” Audra admitted. “I followed the diet

to the letter but”—she grinned sheepishly, donning

a Southern accent—“I loves Ma’s fried chicken.”

Shamiyah laughed. “Well, you won’t be getting

any of it out here.” She appraised Audra again, this

time with the cool eye of her profession. “It defi-

nitely looks good. For real life, I’d say this is the

perfect weight for you. But for television, you’ll have

to lose about thirty more,” she added, her inspection

continuing. “And you really are lighter. There’s a

lot more red in your skin now than there was

when we shot the New York footage a few weeks

ago.” She squinted as if that would make the differ-

ences more plain. “You’ve definitely gone from

dark chocolate to milk chocolate . . . but it’s not as

dramatic as I would have expected. From what

Dr. Jamison said, I thought you’d be”—she shrugged

a pretty shoulder—“graham cracker brown or some-

thing by now.”

“I was a little worried I might be white chocolate,

myself,” Audra joked. “He says he’s going to up the

dosage a bit now that I’m here and he can watch for

side effects.”

“Good.” Shamiyah nodded, shaking her mountain

of springy curls. “We want this makeover to be as

dramatic as possible. That’s the best way to ensure

that all the sistahs from Maine to Honolulu tune in.”

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

169

She squeezed Audra’s arm, showing a few tastefully

manicured fingers, then flipped her sunglasses

down from the top of her head and started walking

and talking at a speed many a New Yorker would

have envied. “And that gives you the strongest

chance to be voted Top Three,” she said, leaning to-

ward Audra conspiratorially, and Audra felt like the

two of them were united in a common, secret mission.

“I wouldn’t count on winning the whole enchilada—

that’s probably going to go to one of the white girls—

but