Diary of an Ugly Duckling (18 page)
When Edith spoke there was a sadness in her
voice that hadn’t been there before.
“Fine. Do it,” she said tersely. “It’s your body,
your skin, your life. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be
better off.”
Audra stared at her, her heart sinking deep in her
chest with disappointment. Clearly, her mother in-
tended to take her secrets to the grave.
“She’ll be in California for the surgery from the
end of June through September,” Shamiyah said
when the silence became loud and unbearable.
“You—the whole family—are invited to the Reveal
at the end of the process. We’re already working
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with the Army to get permission for your other
daughter and son-in-law to join us and I’m opti-
mistic. But that’s just the taping. You won’t see the
episode on TV until the end of November. If Audra
gets enough audience votes, she comes back to do a
special show with the other top three Ugly Duck-
lings,” she continued, grinning again as if the
power of her smile alone could diffuse the tension in
the air. “That’s a real cool show. The UDs—the Ugly
Ducks—will get a crash course in modeling and take
a screen test. We’re going to be using this really cool
interactive tool to let people vote online and use cell
phones to crown a winner that very night—”
“So you’re gonna be gone.”
Audra shrugged. “Three months. I only go back if
the audience votes for me—”
“They will,” Edith muttered. “You got a black
woman turning herself into a white woman? They
will . . . just so they can keep talking about you.”
Audra opened her mouth to object, but her
mother changed topics before she could speak.
“And just what are you gonna tell Kiana about
this?” she said at last. “She looks up to you. She
thinks you’re the strongest, most wonderful person
in the world—and she always has.” Edith studied
the floor as though the effort of paying Audra this
compliment had cost her something. “I sometimes
think she loves you more than she does her own
mother. Or me.” The woman’s smoky eyes pinned
Audra’s in query. “How do I tell her that her beloved
Auntie A is actually a shallow, superficial mess?”
The words stung, but Audra did her best not to let
her hurt show. “You give with one hand and take
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Karyn Langhorne
with another, Ma,” she said, as a wry smile lifted
her lips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, don’t tell her anything,” Audra
replied. “I’ll tell her myself. In my own way, in my
own time. Probably the next time we read
The Ugly
Duckling
.” And she leveled her most penetrating
gaze on her mother again. “Anything else?”
Edith gathered herself up like an affronted
Queen. “Else? What else is there? You made up your
mind. Me and Kiana will get by those three months
somehow.” She turned, head up, lips turned down,
and marched toward the doorway, batting at the sur-
rounding cameras. “Get away from me, now. I’ve said
all I’m gonna say about it, so you can turn those
things off.”
“You realize we may end up showing some of this
on television, Mrs. Marks—” Shamiyah began.
“Yes, I realize that,” Edith snapped. “But I ain’t the
one who’s done something she ought to be ashamed
of,” and she swept herself from the room.
June 5
When I get back—if I come back—I’m moving out. I
know I’ve said it before, but this time, I mean it. Even if
I have to move to one of those tough-girl neighbor-
hoods where you need a switchblade to go out for
your morning newspaper. Or maybe I’ll stay out there
in Los Angeles and live among the “beautiful people.”
Maybe I’ll even be one of them!
And no, I’m not avoiding your questions about Art
Bradshaw. I just don’t have anything to report. I haven’t
seen him at all since his daughter’s party and I don’t
plan to—not until after the surgery. Then I might just
call him up and treat him—and his daughter—to a nice
meal. I guess I owe them “thanks.” If it hadn’t been
for their one-two punch I probably wouldn’t have
called UD.
But then, again, maybe I would have. I don’t
know . . .
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Karyn Langhorne
Anyway, it’s great news that you might be given leave
to come to the Reveal—and even better news that one
or both of you might be home for good in December. Is
Michael seriously considering re-enlistment? Is he
insane? You’re not going to re-up, are you? Kiana
needs you guys.
So do I.
Be careful out there,
Audra
“Marks!”
His voice rumbled through the air toward
her, low and smooth as the bass line of a soul groove,
and Audra stopped short, struggling with the com-
peting emotions that welled up inside her.
Bradshaw.
She sighed. It was bound to happen, she knew it
as soon as she saw his name on the duty roster. For
whatever reason, Bradshaw was working the grave-
yard shift tonight, and Audra knew that tonight, af-
ter all these weeks and months, the thing that had
been opened with movie flirtation and the invitation
to his daughter’s party would finally, at last, be
closed.
She turned around slowly, searching her mind for
the angle, the character, the stance to play this
scene, feeling the need of the protection of a role,
the safety of an imitation.
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she
drawled, slewing out a foot and lifting her chin,
dead diva style. “How are you, Bradshaw?”
He was as handsome as ever, every tall, muscled
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inch of him. There were smudges of fatigue under
them, but his amber eyes glittered a little and a bit of
a smile twitched the corner of his still-delectable lips.
“Heard you were cleared,” he said, as though that
answered her question. “Woodburn make you
switch to nights?”
No, you did
, Audra thought, but kept the words in
her mind. Instead, she shook her head. “My idea,”
she said quickly. “How about you? What are you do-
ing here?”
But he appeared not to have heard.
“You look different, Marks.” Art Bradshaw
squinted down into her face, a puzzled expression
on his handsome face. “New makeup?”
Audra ignored the question, though she knew it
was true: She did look different. After some initial
irritation, Dr. Jamison’s dermabrasion, along with
her continued efforts with dieting, seemed to be
fading the acne and its scarring. And the daily ap-
plication of the doctor’s lightening cream was defi-
nitely beginning to show its efficacy. Her skin had
more browns and reds in its tone than blacks or
charcoals.
But unlike the weight loss, which brought com-
ments almost daily, to most people, the skin changes
weren’t really noticeable yet—only people who
paid regular attention to her face had commented
on it: her mother, mainly, and to a lesser degree,
Kiana. Audra was a little surprised that the tall
man had commented first on it and not on the fact
that there were nearly forty-five pounds less of
her—especially since she hadn’t seen him in over
two months.
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Instead of launching into a detailed explanation
she wasn’t sure he needed or deserved, she pulled
the cool mantle of an aggrieved dame around her
and quirked an eyebrow at him, lifting her foot off
the rickety break-room seat so the man could settle
into it across from her. “You’re the disappearing
man, Art Bradshaw,” she quipped, sounding exactly
like wisecracking Eve Arden in her own ears. “I
haven’t seen you since . . .” she furrowed her brow
as though trying hard to remember, as if the whole
incident weren’t as fresh as today’s bread. “Since . . .
Penny’s party . . .”
Bradshaw’s tawny skin seemed tinged with red.
“Penny’s party . . .” he grumbled, lowering his lu-
minous eyes from her face. “Sorry, Marks. About
Penny and the way she acted that night,” he finished
quickly. “Been meaning to make her apologize,
but . . .” He sighed. “We’ve been dealing with so
much shit lately—”
“No need to apologize. Doesn’t really matter
much now anyway, does it?” she said lightly, man-
aging to sound almost like she meant it. “Actually, I
guess you and your daughter did me a favor that
day. It was the last straw . . . just the last straw. I
mean, I’ve heard all that stuff before . . . but to hear
it from a sixteen-year-old girl . . .” She shook her
head. “It helped me to decide to send in my audition
tape. And now look what’s happened . . .”
“What stuff?” Bradshaw stared at her, puzzlement
creasing his face. “Audition tape? What did Penny
say?”
Audra quirked an eyebrow at him.
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“She didn’t—didn’t you just say you wanted her
to apologize—?” she began.
“I heard her being rude,” he said slowly, frown-
ing at her inquisitively. “Was there something
else?”
Audra opened her mouth to explain, then closed
it. There was no reason to get the girl in trouble with
her father for telling the truth—a truth that had
sparked so much change in Audra’s life. Instead, she
smiled at him and said, “No, of course not. You
haven’t heard my news? You must be the only one in
the whole prison—”
“I had a—a family emergency.” Bradshaw’s brow
curled into a frown of concern. “Had to take a few
weeks off to try and deal with it. Just got back today.”
“Emergency?” Audra sobered immediately, drop-
ping the aggrieved routine to stare up at him in con-
cern. “What’s happened? Nothing with Penny, I
hope?”
Bradshaw shook his head. “Not Penny. Her
mother. “
Audra blinked at him in surprise. “Her mother?
She showed up?”
“Showed up?” The frown deepened. “No, she’s al-
ways been around.”
“But I thought it was just the two of you. You and
Penny.”
“It is, for all practical purposes,” he muttered,
sounding bitter and defeated. “We’ve been di-
vorced for years. I take care of Penny. But she’s
around . . . when she wants to be. Like the birthday
party.”
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Karyn Langhorne
“She was at the party?” Audra said in surprise.
“Penny’s sweet sixteen?”
Bradshaw’s face scrunched together like Audra
had said something ridiculous. “Course she was.
You met her! Remember?”
“I didn’t meet anyone but Penny and that Esmer-
alda woman—”
The instant the words left her mouth, she realized
who he was talking about, understood the depth of
her mistake. Esmeralda Prince wasn’t just his fabu-
lously gorgeous
date
for the evening. She was much,
much more. The room suddenly felt stuffy and Au-
dra had to tell herself to breathe slow and deep to
keep her lightheadedness at bay, while her memo-
ries of the party played in her mind.
Esmeralda
Prince was Penny’s mother?
she thought, with a sud-
den desperate wave of pity for the girl.
No wonder
she’s got issues . . .
“Oh my God . . .” Audra murmured, covering her
open mouth with her hands. “And here I was, think-
ing Esmeralda Prince was your girlfriend . . .”
“Prince is her maiden name. She took it back
when we split up.” Bradshaw peered at Audra as
though her thoughts were written on her face for
him to read. “When Penny was two. She’s been in
and out of our lives ever since . . .” He winced as
though the words caused him pain. “And now she’s
gone.”
“Gone?” Audra repeated.
Bradshaw nodded. “Again. And this time, I don’t
think I can let her come back.”
Audra stared at him, waiting for the rest, but he
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folded his lips tight and stared at something just
over her shoulder like his life depended on main-
taining his focus. Finally, Audra snapped her fin-
gers beneath his nose, recalling him brusquely to
the present. “Down here, Bradshaw!” she snapped
at him, annoyed by his inattentiveness. Apparently
a girl had to be Esmeralda Prince to get—and
keep—his attention. “Can I get the rest of the story
please?”
“You don’t know the rest of story?” he snapped,
frustration rising in his tone. “You can’t tell by look-
ing at her what a sap I’ve been?”
Audra almost shot back something about how
thinking with his “little head” had obviously gotten
him into a world of trouble, but before she could of-