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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145

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.

Chapter 12

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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149

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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Karyn Langhorne

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-