Diary of an Ugly Duckling Langhorne, Karyn (reading rainbow books txt) 📖

you do?” she asked Jamison in a low

voice.

The man shook his head. “It’s your decision, Ms.

Marks,” he said in his rumbling radio voice. “No

one else can make it for you.” His eyes rolled toward

Shamiyah. “No matter how much they might like

to—”

“Great, so what’s the word?” Camilla snapped

134

Karyn Langhorne

impatiently. “You gonna stay fat, black and ugly . . .

or do you want to do light, bright and beautiful? Be-

cause if you’re not gonna do it, then I’m pretty sure

Shamiyah’s got a stack of tapes of other homely sis-

ter girls who’d jump at the chance—”

“I’m in,” Audra announced. “I’m in.”

Shamiyah’s face broke into a big, happy smile

tinted with more than a little relief, and even

Camilla looked satisfied. Only the bespectacled psy-

chiatrist didn’t meet her eyes; she was too busy

scribbling in her notebook.

“Besides, you said controversy’s good, right? Me,

I’m down with that. I live with people saying all

kinds of nasty things about me right now . . . so

what’s the diff?” Her eyes found Dr. Jamison’s. “So,

doc. When do we start?”

“Immediately.” And the man slid another clump

of papers at her. “You’ll need to sign those—”

“More signing?”

“It’s a consent to the dermatological treatments

that will lighten your skin, as well as an explanation

of the various side effects and precautions—”

“Side effects? Precautions?” Audra frowned.

“What—”

“Nothing serious,” the doctor said easily, rum-

bling over her objections in his calm, melodious

voice. “You have to spread it over your entire

body—everywhere, if you want the tone to be even.

And you have to avoid the sun. Completely. Hat,

gloves, sunglasses, long sleeves. Completely, un-

less you want to look like a checkered tablecloth,”

he said, his eyes pinioning hers. “I’ll provide you

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

135

with a prescription for the hydroquinone, which

you will use faithfully on your entire body from

now until I tell you otherwise.” He glanced at

Camilla. “Even on an accelerated dosage, it will

take several months. Can you schedule her surger-

ies for last?”

Camilla consulted her clipboard and nodded.

“She’ll be last. Scheduled for surgery in late June.”

She shook her head. “But that’s the latest we can go

and leave time for editing and distribution for

shows scheduled to air in October.”

Dr. Jamison nodded. “That’s long enough to see a

significant difference . . .”

“I’ll give you a diet to follow,” piped in the nutri-

tionist. “If you could lose another twenty pounds

before we start the process here—”

“Without sacrificing any muscle mass, of course,”

interjected the trainer.

“No, of course not,” the nutritionist said, sounding

peeved. “I’ll fax it over to Dr. Jamison’s office this af-

ternoon.”

“Great, great.” Camilla was all bustle and energy

again. “Thank you all. This has been very . . . in-

formative. I’ve got to get with our marketing folks

and give them the go-ahead on the promos for this

color-consciousness stuff, but I believe we’ve all

made a good choice, so—”

“And Camilla,”—Shamiyah’s voice had a new

edge of confidence in it, as though she’d conquered

something—“since it looks like Audra’s in, I think

I should take a crew and go to New York next week.

Shoot the ‘surprise selection’ segment. You know,

136

Karyn Langhorne

catch her off guard, at home. See her with her family

and friends. Maybe even a couple of shots at the

prison, if that can be arranged. That way, we’ll have

some good shots of her in present life . . . and in her

present look, before Dr. Jamison’s treatments take

hold. It makes for a more dramatic before and

after—”

“All right,” Camilla agreed, but her voice had lost

some of its nastiness, as if she, too, knew something

had shifted in the power and energy of the room.

Her steely eyes fixed on Audra again as she jabbed a

finger at her in admonition. “And, you’d better act

surprised. I’m talking Academy-Award-winning

surprised. You got it?”

The woman clearly didn’t know who she was

talking to.

Audra summoned tears of gratitude to her eyes

and grabbed Camilla’s hand.

“Thank you . . . thank you so very much,” she

said in a hoarse whisper, straight out of Ann Bax-

ter’s acceptance speech in All About Eve. “You don’t

know what this chance means to me . . .” She mur-

mured, and then, right when Camilla seemed about

to buy it, she smiled. “Psych!”

The room exploded with laughter, but Camilla

didn’t seem amused in the slightest. “Yeah, exactly

like that,” she muttered, slamming her notebook

shut. She barked to the cameras to wrap for the day,

then she turned back to Audra, her voice sicky

sweet. “I’m Camilla Jejune, executive producer for

Ugly Duckling.” She leaned close. “You belong to us

now—and don’t you forget it.”

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

137

“Sure,” Audra said glibly enough. But the truth

was, this woman wasn’t nearly as scary as the con-

versations waiting for her back in New York.

Chapter 11

May 31

Dear Petra,

When we heard about the bombings in Basra, we were

scared to death. Things actually thawed out enough

for Ma to talk to me, she was that scared. I can’t tell

you how relieved we all were to hear that Michael is

still safe and that you’re still in Baghdad, far from that

tragedy. The minute we learned you all were okay,

Miss Frosty came back out. I don’t think she’s said

more than “pass the peas” in three days.

I don’t know what she’s mad at. If anyone should be

mad, it’s me. I’m not the one with some deep, dark

secret . . .

Okay, I guess I do have a secret.

I know, I know, I really should tell her. But after

talking to Shamiyah about it, we felt that it might be

better to just let her find out when they shoot the

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

139

“surprise” footage of me being notified that I’ve been

selected. Since I’m not supposed to know I’m going to

be on the show anyway, Shamiyah thought it would be

better if I didn’t tell anyone (except you, of course).

And all that’s fine with me: I don’t want to hear Ma’s

mouth until I have to. She’s not stupid,