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arrangements, can you

catch the last flight out of LaGuardia tonight? I’ll set

up all your meetings for tomorrow and we’ll put you

on a plane back to New York tomorrow night. Can

you do it?”

“What do you mean you’re going to California?”

Edith said slowly. She’d already slipped off her

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

91

shoes and dug into the plate of beef noodle casserole

Audra had left for her. “You don’t know anybody in

California—”

“You don’t know who I know,” Audra told her.

“Besides, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m a

grown woman. I’m telling you: I’m going to Califor-

nia and we need to work out how we’re going to

take care of Kiana while I’m gone.”

Edith quirked an eyebrow at her and frowned.

They weren’t getting along any better, but at least

things were no longer alternating between yelling

and screaming and frosty silence.

“I suppose I can ask the Quintanas to watch her

until I get home from the salon,” she muttered, her

eyes still fixed dubiously on Audra. “How long you

gonna be gone?”

“Call them.” Audra waved the phone under her

mother’s nose and glanced at her watch again.

“What’s the hurry? What’s going on?” She sur-

veyed Audra. “You’re not running out to Holly-

wood for some old-time movie fantasy bullshit, are

you?”

“No, Ma—”

Edith peered at her, taking in her faded sweats and

comfortably ripped T-shirt before asking, “You ain’t

going out there to meet a man, are you? You’re on the

computer all the time these days. You meet someone

on the Internet? Is he out in California? Because if

that’s what’s going on, you need to watch yourself.

Just because you lost a few pounds doesn’t mean

you’re some Hollywood diva, ready to handle your-

self around some man you’ve never even met—”

92

Karyn Langhorne

Audra slammed the phone back down and

whirled on her. “You were always nagging on me to

lose some weight. Then when I lose some, you ac-

cuse me of being full of myself?” Audra rolled her

eyes. “What do you want from me? Make up your

mind, Ma!”

Edith frowned. “Well, sure, the weight loss looks

good, but—you know what I’m saying.” She hesi-

tated. “After that fiasco with that guy from your job

I’d think you’d learn your lessons about pinning

your hopes on men you hardly know.” She crinkled

her nose into her forehead with the effort of mem-

ory. “What was his name? Art something—”

Audra stiffened. She had barely seen Art Bradshaw

since that night, now that she’d been reassigned to

another shift. He hadn’t made any efforts to get in

touch, either.

Which was just fine, Audra told herself. One less

distraction. And thinking about his daughter, Es-

meralda Prince and that awful night at that cavelike

bar made it easy to wolf down lettuce leaves and

fruit instead of cookies.

“This has nothing to do with Art Bradshaw,” she

told her mother.

“I knew it!” Edith proclaimed, nodding vehe-

mently. “Some Internet guy—”

Audra shook her head. “No guys, Internet or oth-

erwise. I’ve sworn off.”

“Then why you gotta go to California?”

Audra gave a noncommittal shrug that she knew

would drive the older woman absolutely crazy.

“You got your secrets . . . I got mine.” She picked up

the phone again. “Now, if you don’t mind, please

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

93

dial the number. I’m leaving right now. There’s a cab

waiting for me downstairs.”

Which was how Audra ended up on a late flight

from LaGuardia to LAX, ensconced in a first-class

seat with only her little black bag and a stack of

fashion magazines as companions. Inside the bag

were a change of panties and a toothbrush.

Audra pushed any thoughts of Art Bradshaw or

her mother to the back of her mind and focused on

the magazines in front of her with the diligence of a

law student preparing for the bar exam. Shamiyah

had given her an assignment—to find the image or

collection of images that would make up her ideal

face and body for final “Reveal” . . . and she was de-

termined to show the folks at Ugly Duckling exactly

what kind of diligence they’d get if they picked one

Audra Marks for their television show.

The plane touched down only minutes before

midnight. A man in a black, liveried car service uni-

form and holding a small sign bearing the words

a. marks stood waiting at attention as though ex-

pecting royalty.

“That’s me,” Audra said stepping up to him. “I’m

Audra Marks.”

The thin man looked her up and down, from her

short, scraggly hairdo to her rumpled black pants as

though he considered her highly unlikely in every

aspect of the word. Audra stored up the look,

adding it to the stockpile of images that was her

daily fuel and waited for him to get himself together.

“Your luggage?” He asked in a voice like the ob-

sequious servants in Audra’s ancient movies. Audra

94

Karyn Langhorne

couldn’t help but wonder if he spent hours listening

to himself on a tape recorder to get that sound.

“This is it,” Audra patted her little black duffel.

“I’m all set. I mean—” She attempted a jovial smile

just to see if this little man would answer it with a

smile of his own. “Hey, it’s just one night, right?”

“Of course,” he agreed blankly, reaching for the

black duffel.

“That’s okay. I got it,” Audra told him, tugging

the thing just out of his reach.

Once again the thin man looked her over with an

expression of indifference mixed with disapproval.

Apparently, he preferred women to arrive with a full

set of luggage for him to carry and a toy poodle yap-

ping in a handbag. But all he said was, “Very well,

madam. Follow me, please.”

It was after midnight Los Angeles time and even

later in Audra’s mind when they drove off the

grounds of the sprawling airport and hit one of the

city’s many freeways. Grateful not to have to navi-

gate her way to the hotel on her own, Audra sank

back in the dark leather seat of the car and closed

her eyes. Perhaps tomorrow she’d have a few min-

utes to herself to see something of the sights of L.A.,

but for now she wanted nothing more than to lay

her head on a soft pillow somewhere and sleep.

When at last they pulled

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