matter—beautiful.”
Audra stared at him. “Is—is that from a movie?”
“No. Sorry,” he murmured into his big hands
as though too embarrassed to meet her gaze. “I
shouldn’t have said that.” He pulled a few crumpled
bills from his pocket, threw them on the table and
rose, suddenly as nervous as a geeky band nerd. “I
have to go. Gotta make sure Penny gets to school
okay.” He turned toward the street, then turned back,
eyes on a spot just under Audra’s chin. “You’re . . .
good to talk to, Marks. I mean about stuff other than
movies. D—do you mind if I call you sometime?
Maybe we could . . . do something?” And the re-
markable amber eyes slid upward from her chin until
they captured her eyes.
Audra’s heart skipped, irregular and undisci-
plined, doing a sweet-and-low-down in her chest.
“Sure . . .” she said breathlessly. “That would be
great.”
He nodded, and gathering up every millimeter of
his handsomeness, he strode out of the diner and
into the Manhattan morning, disappearing into the
foot traffic of the beginnings of the traditional work-
day.
It took Audra a solid twenty minutes to get herself
together, processing everything she’d learned about
Art Bradshaw, Esmeralda Prince and Penny. When
she finally slid out of the booth, thrust her baseball
cap on her head and stepped out into the cool light
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of dawn, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of
her too-hot-for-the-weather jacket to conceal them
from the bright morning sun rays, a new feeling had
crept into her heart.
Chapter 13
“Shamiyah . . . it’s Audra.”
It was about 5 a.m. in California, and the
young producer seemed to take calls on her cell
phone no matter what the hour.
“Hi Audra.” She sounded sleepy, but not even a
little annoyed. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to wake you . . . but . . . there’s some-
thing I want you to do for me, if you can,” Audra
said softly into her cell phone. “Someone else, I
want involved with this show. Someone other than
family I want on my contact list . . . and to be invited
to the Reveal—”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” the woman said pertly,
and Audra could imagine her dark curls waving
over her face as she nodded. “Go.”
“His name is Art Bradshaw . . .” she said, sud-
denly hesitant. “He’s a guy I work with—another
corrections officer—”
“Consider it done,” Shamiyah said, and Audra
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could almost see her scribbling away in that note-
book that seemed to be joined to her body at the
binding. “Bradshaw . . . sounds familiar. Didn’t you
mention him in your audition tape? Wasn’t his
daughter the one who—”
“Yes,” Audra interjected before they could go
tripping down that path again. “But it turns out
there’s a whole lot more to that story. But I’m sure
it’s way too early—”
“Never too early for you, Audra,” Shamiyah said,
sounding fully awake. “Tell, tell, girl. I want to hear
it all.”
With a sigh of relief, Audra spilled the story from
start to finish, sparing no detail. She spent some
time describing the picture of a much heavier
Esmeralda—she felt like she’d memorized every
detail of the woman now—to Art’s compliments, to
his last remarks about getting together. Shamiyah
listened, interrupting only for questions of clarifi-
cation, and when the story was told in its entirety,
she absorbed it in silence for a long moment before
asking, “Anything else?”
Audra hesitated. “Tell me I’m doing the right
thing again,” she said, a little surprised by the
plaintiveness of her own voice. “Tell me I’m doing
the right thing . . . by becoming an Ugly Duckling.
words. “Maybe I’m okay the way I am . . . maybe I
shouldn’t be doing this after all.”
There was a second’s hesitation on the other end
of the phone, then Shamiyah said, “Why? Are you
having second thoughts?”
“Well, yes,” Audra admitted. “I mean, he said I
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163
was beautiful. He said I had grace and humor. Me!
Maybe—”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Shamiyah said re-
assuringly. “You’re building yourself a brand new
future, Audra. I mean, look at the confidence you’ve
gained already. A few weeks ago, would you have had
the nerve to invite this Bradshaw guy to the show?
Would you?”
Audra considered. “I don’t think so . . .” she said
at last. “No.”
“See what I mean? The changes you’re making on
the outside are giving you the courage to make
changes on the inside!” she enthused. “Imagine what
you’ll be like when you’ve completed the whole pro-
cess. You’ll be a powerhouse, Audra! An absolute
powerhouse!” Audra imagined her nodding so hard,
her head full of springy curls were dancing a jig.
“Don’t let any of this stuff he said confuse you.”
“But maybe he’s right. I mean, I have lost weight.
It’s been really hard, but I know I look better. Be-
sides . . .” She swallowed. “This lightening thing
makes me nervous. Maybe I’ve done enough al-
ready. Maybe I should just quit.”
“All because some guy said you were ‘beautiful
just the way you are,’ ” she said, pitching her voice
in a mincing imitation that made the words sound
shallow and lifeless. “Come on, Audra. That one’s
right up there with a ‘good personality.’ It’s code for
‘not my type.’ ”
Audra frowned. “But he asked if he could call me
sometime—”
“He asked you to his daughter’s party, too. Had
he talked to you since? No.” Shamiyah answered
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herself before Audra could get her mouth around
the word. “Heck, he wasn’t even looking for you to-
day. You said yourself he just happened to work a
double shift. If it hadn’t been for that, you still
wouldn’t have heard a word from him—”
“But he’s been dealing with a lot of family prob-
lems. With Esmeralda and—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got some things to learn about
men, Audra.” Shamiyah sounded like she was
rolling her eyes. “Let me lay some knowledge on you,
sister girl.” She paused for dramatic effect, using the
silence as well as in any movie scene. “When a man
is really into you, he can find his way to your tele-
phone and your workplace and your front door. It
doesn’t matter what else is going on his life. When
he’s really interested, he’ll find a way to make sure
you know it.” She let that sink in a second before
adding in her worldly, know-it-all way, “I bet when
he first met Esmeralda, she didn’t have to spend
three months guessing what was going on with him.
I bet she didn’t have to wait until she happened to run
into him at work. No way. I bet he was sniffing
around after her with his nose wide open!”
“What you’re saying makes sense, Shamiyah,”
Audra agreed. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. I believed
him, I guess—”
“You believed him,” Shamiyah repeated the
words, her voice heavy with skepticism. “Well, I
guess we’ll just have to wait and see what he does
next, then, right? We’ll have to see if he calls. He’s
got your phone number, right?”
Audra squirmed a little. “I don’t know,” she ad-
mitted. “I don’t think so.”
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165
“Let me get 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
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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.”
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169
She squeezed Audra’s arm, showin
g 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 I definitely think we can make the Top Three, if
you keep working it. Now,” she said, resuming her
normal voice, “I’ve got a car waiting. Let’s grab the
rest of your stuff ”—she grabbed the black duffel out
of Audra’s fingers and slung it over her shoulder by
its strap—“and I’ll take you where you’ll be living for
the next three months, and then—”
“Girl, we can go to the car now. There’s no more
luggage,” Audra interrupted. “There’s nothing of
my old life I need with me that didn’t fit in this little
bag—underwear, toothbrush, deodorant and work-
out clothes—that’s it. When the surgery is over and
we have the Reveal, the first thing I want to do is go
on a shopping trip. Already set aside a budget.”
Shamiyah draped her slender brown arm around
Audra’s shoulder. “If we play the marketing right,
someone will be giving you that wardrobe when
we’re finished. Promise me you won’t spend a dime
without talking it over with me, okay?”
Audra nodded.
“Good girl.” Shamiyah gave her another girl-
friendly grin, then reached into the little red satchel
slung casually over her other shoulder. “And
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speaking of gifts . . .” she pulled a little black case
out of it. “Here you go.”
Audra accepted the package, her mouth open in
surprise. “What is it?” she asked the box, inspecting
it from all angles.
“Open it, silly,” Shamiyah laughed. “That’s the
best way to find out.”
Audra pried open the case. Nestled inside were a
pair of sunglasses identical to the ones Shamiyah
wore.
“Wow—”
“They’re really hot right now. Everyone’s wearing
them.”
“Shamiyah.” Audra shook her head. “I don’t
know how to thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” She leaned close. “The com-
pany is one of the show’s sponsors, so I got them for