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

way. Yes, I have her.” She cast a

sidelong glance in Audra’s direction, then continued

into the phone. “She says she has her own stylist—

her mother.” She gave the word stylist a dubious em-

phasis, but paused again for the caller’s next

comment. “Oh, all right. I suppose it’ll be all right.

We’ll be able to tell during full dress on Wednesday,

anyway. Yeah, see you in a bit. Bye.” She turned

back to Audra. “You’re in luck. The stylist we hired

to work with you was in an accident, so now we’re

in a little bit of a bind. You can have your precious

mother backstage . . . but your look’s got to pass

muster on camera, or we’re going to use one of the

professionals.”

“It’ll pass muster. And I bought my own dress.”

“Now wait just a minute, Audra—”

“Do I have to read the contract to you or—”

“But what about—”

“Don’t worry about your precious ratings,

Shamiyah,” Audra muttered. “Even I see how you

can spin this to your advantage. You tell the press

something dramatic, like, ‘One contestant refuses

the help of professional and goes it alone,’ or some-

thing cryptic like that. Hell, tell them it was me, if

you think it makes a better hook. Doesn’t matter to

me . . . besides, you all own me for a few more days.

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Right until America votes, right?” And Audra tried

to smile in a way that would engender confidence

and certainty.

Shamiyah wasn’t paying attention to either Audra

or the smile. Audra could almost see the wheels in her

brain turning, trying out Audra’s suggestions, testing

their marketability and finding them acceptable.

“Okay . . .” she said at last. “We’ll try this your

way.” She waved a delicate finger under Audra’s

nose, shaking her head until her black curls swayed.

“But I’m not stupid, Audra,” she hissed. “I know

you’re thinking up some kind of sabotage . . . espe-

cially given what I—what you think I did.” She

wagged a finger under Audra’s nose. “But you won’t

get away with it, so don’t—”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of sabotaging

you, Shamiyah,” Audra said with so much sweet-

ness, her teeth began to ache. “You can see my gown

ahead of time, and I’ll be in full makeup, as prom-

ised for both dress rehearsal and the Big Reveal,”

Audra told her.

Again, Shamiyah’s expression conveyed such a

depth of doubt that Audra expected her to back up

and reevaluate the whole plan. Before the other

woman could speak, Audra fluttered her fingers

dismissively as though the clothes and hair and

makeup were the least of her concerns. “Now, on to

more important matters. Disney?”

Shamiyah studied her for a long even moment,

sighed, then whipped out the phone and dialed.

After checking in to the hotel, Audra was shuttled

off with two other women to a small theater where

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

363

the Big Reveal would be held. Camilla Jejune was

there, along with Shamiyah and a couple of other

young women Audra recognized as producers but

was uncertain of their names. None of the doctors

was present, nor were any of the other experts.

“They’ll be present for the Big Reveal,” Camilla

said, “though they won’t be featured as they were

for each of your episodes. Now, this is how this is

going to go.”

She launched into a long overview of the pro-

gram. A short clip of each woman’s “journey”

through the Ugly Duckling program would be

shown, then each woman would be re-Revealed.

“You’ll walk down the runway behind me, pose,

pause and turn, giving our judges a chance to evalu-

ate you on your runway presence. Then you’ll return

up the runway, branching off to stand upstage

here,” Camilla demonstrated. “Next, our host for

the evening—we’ve got a commitment from Josh

Nash, the singer—will ask you a question about life

after your Ugly Duckling experience, and you will

respond with the appropriate enthusiasm. The au-

dience will clap and then you will exit, here, where

you’ll immediately change for the bathing-suit

segment—”

A woman with a thick wave of russet tresses

raised her hand. “Do we have to do the swimsuits? I

mean, is it necessary?”

“Of course it’s necessary,” Camilla snapped. “Do

you know how much confidence in your body you

have to have to walk around on stage in a swimsuit?

When you step out in a bathing suit, you’re saying

you’re proud of your body . . . proud in a way that

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never would have been possible before the show.”

She glared at the redheaded woman in a way that

made it clear she hadn’t appreciated the interrup-

tion. “Okay, when all the contestants have been pre-

sented . . .”

Audra sighed. She knew what she had to do . . .

but that didn’t make it any easier. She’d be out there

half-naked as far as clothes went . . . but fully naked

in terms of her heart and soul.

The dress was a black sheath with a halter collar

made of cowrie shells, which would have been stun-

ning on any woman, whatever her height or weight.

It fitted snugly on Audra’s bottom—the first place

the weight seemed to be returning—giving her fig-

ure a bottom-heavy curvaceousness.

Audra grabbed the flesh on her behind and

squeezed it. “I like you, bottom,” she whispered,

thinking of Art and the odd therapy they’d been en-

joying. “I like you, thighs.”

“What are you doing, there?” her mother called.

“Talking to yourself?”

“I guess you could say that,” Audra agreed. “I

love this dress, Ma. Thank you.”

Her mother beamed. “I didn’t do nothing,” she

said, but her thin face flushed with pride. “You look

like a queen,” she said, helping Audra roll gloves up

her arms, covering some of the darkest browning,

then grabbed a heavy pot of beige pancake makeup

and started smoothing it into the exposed skin on

Audra’s face, shoulders and neck.

“This might bring a whole new rain of trouble

down on your head,” the older woman muttered.

“These show people gonna be plenty mad, us tricking

DIARY