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

just finished view-

ing it. She hates it. Says it’s all wrong . . . lacks

drama and interest.” She sighed. “So I’ll have to re-

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edit the sequences tomorrow. Put in a bunch of stuff

about the rape—”

“The woman was raped?”

Shamiyah nodded. “Yep. She’s kinda pitiful,

actually,” she said sounding almost casual in her fa-

tigue. “But she had a beautiful Reveal.” Her mouth

stretched wide as she bit back another yawn. “God,

I’m tired,” she mumbled. “Camilla’s a real slave

driver.”

“Slave driver?” Audra shook her head. “Honey,

that woman sounds like a first-class bitch to me.”

“No doubt.” Shamiyah sat up. “But she’s also the

best at what she does. She created this show out of

nothing, found the backers, got it on the air. That’s

not easy.” A bit of ambition glinted in Shamiyah’s

weary eyes. “I intend to learn everything there is to

learn from her. But that’s not why I came to see

you.” She focused on Audra, suddenly alert. “I saw

the tape from your session with Dr. Goddard to-

day.” Her eyebrows shot heavenward. “You were

awfully coy. Why didn’t you tell her anything?”

“Tell her anything?” Audra frowned. “Like

what?”

Shamiyah frowned. “Don’t play that with me, Au-

dra,” she snapped, in a hard, cold voice Audra

wasn’t used to hearing come from her mouth. “You

know I need that footage.”

“Footage? What footage?” she asked. “Remember

me, Shamiyah? Audra from the golden days of film?

I don’t speak TV.”

Shamiyah did not appear amused. “The stuff you

said on your audition tape,” she said impatiently.

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“About what your father said. About the stuff the in-

mates call you at that prison. About what that girl—

your friend Bradshaw’s daughter—what she told

you. All of it. I want that footage for the actual

episode. I need it.”

Audra waved her comments away. “I’m not com-

fortable talking to the doc about that stuff.”

“Why? You’ve got something against psychia-

trists? Don’t like shrinks?”

“I’ve got no problem with psychiatry—”

“But you think you don’t need one, is that it?

Because—”

“I might need one,” Audra muttered. “My mother

certainly thinks so . . . but then, she’s a fine one to

talk.” She lifted her fingers to her face as though

holding an imaginary cigar. “Takes one to know

one,” she offered in her best Groucho Marx imita-

tion. “Right?”

Shamiyah must not have ever heard of him, be-

cause she didn’t even smile. “I need that footage,

Audra,” she repeated in a voice sharp as steel.

“You’ve already got it,” Audra reminded her.

“Like you said. On the audition tape—”

“The audition tape is crap!” Shamiyah glared at

her, sounding annoyed that Audra had even both-

ered to mention it. “We can’t use that!”

“Crap? Wait just a second,” she muttered, not re-

ally liking Shamiyah as much as she had. “You’ve

spent the past few months telling me how great that

tape was, and now—”

“What’s on the tape is great, but we can’t use it.

The production quality isn’t what I need to make

this show look right. And besides, I need to feature

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193

Dr. Goddard in this episode or she won’t renew

with us for next season.” Her eyes narrowed as

she fixed another determined glance on Audra.

“You were the perfect candidate to put her skills

and abilities to use . . . and what do you do? You

stonewalled—”

“I didn’t stonewall—”

“You didn’t tell her anything! You just pulled out

some tired old jokes—”

“Tired?” Anger crept into Audra’s voice. “Whose

jokes are you calling tired?”

“Honestly, Audra. I don’t know what kind of mo-

rons you deal with at home, but it’s patently obvious

to everyone here”—and the way that she spoke

made it perfectly clear that in her mind, L.A. was

the hub of the civilized world—“that you’re using

humor and fantasy to compensate for what you lack

in self-esteem.”

A vein ticked in Audra’s forehead. “First of all, it

isn’t that obvious, since clearly you had to watch

Dr. Goddard on tape to come up with it,” she told

the girl, hearing her voice rise with her emotions.

“And second, my self-esteem isn’t as low as you

seem to think it is. And last, even I were willing to

put myself out there and discuss my dirty laundry

with the world, what makes you think I’m gonna do

that to my family, huh?”

Shamiyah wagged her kinky-curled head. “I

thought you were ready, Audra. That’s why I lob-

bied so hard for you. I really stuck my neck out, you

know? Put it all on the line with Camilla.” She

paced away from Audra, gathering up her things as

if preparing to leave. “She really didn’t want you on

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the show. She didn’t think you had what it took. But

I insisted that you did. That you were worth the

thousands of dollars in surgeries and consulta-

tions . . . that you were willing to stand up and be a

real example to millions of women—”

“Shamiyah . . .” Audra sighed. “There are things

here that I’m not sure I want to share with the whole

world—”

“Then why are you here?” Shamiyah snapped, ir-

ritation palpable in her voice.

For an instant the two women stared at each

other: irresistible force and immovable object.

Shamiyah’s face had lost its usual cheerfulness and

in the blank expression she presented, Audra read a

grasping hardness she’d never noticed before. Then,

just as suddenly as she’d glimpsed it, the hardness

was gone. Shamiyah stepped close to Audra and

took her hand. For a second, Audra thought that the

gesture was one of support, one of solidarity, but in-

stead, she studied the skin on the arm carefully,

then lay her own arm beside it, comparing skin

tones.

Audra followed her eyes. When they’d first met,

Audra’s skin had been the color of molasses—deep,

rich and dark—while Shamiyah’s was a tawny red

brown. But now, Audra’s coloring had brightened to

match the girl’s almost exactly. It was the most strik-

ing evidence of the changes the drug had wrought

that Audra had seen, and she stared at the two arms,

as if understanding for the first time the process

she’d set in motion.

“If you’re willing to do this,” Shamiyah said, ges-

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195

turing toward their still-touching skin, “then you

sure ought to be willing to tell the world at least

some of the reasons why.” Her eyes found Audra’s.

“Talk to the doc,” she said calmly. “We need that

footage . . . or the audience