Diary of an Ugly Duckling (38 page)

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

323

feeling along the edge of the bunk, his eyes focused

on the entrance, where Audra could hear the COs

whispering to each other as they took their posi-

tions for containment and rescue.

Crap
, Audra had time to think.
This is exactly the

kind of incident that gives female COs a bad name—

Then the lights came on, flooding the room with

fluorescent light. Audra blinked, her eyes shifting

painfully with the abrupt adjustment from dark to

light. Then she saw it.

The gun.

Lying between her feet at the foot of the bunk,

tantalizingly close and yet so far away. Haines saw

it, too—it wasn’t two feet from where he knelt, and

an easy sweep of the wrist from being once again in

his hand. Audra heard the music of the great west-

ern classic,
High Noon
, playing in her ears as

Haines’s eyes locked on hers, his lips curving into

that trademark sneer of his. Then the two of them

made their move: Haines for the gun and Audra for

Haines.

Her right foot connected to his jaw, just as he

stretched out his fingers for the weapon. But her left

foot had already connected to that too, kicking it

like a soccer ball for a goal toward the bars.

“Bradshaw, weapon on the floor!” she shouted.

“Coming to—”

Haines’s fingers went around her throat, squeez-

ing, choking out any further hope of words, let

alone breath. Audra grabbed for his hands, but the

man leaned into the work now, forcing her down,

weakening her with every second that passed until

324

Karyn Langhorne

Haines’s murderous face was replaced by bright

lights popping behind her eyeballs.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the lights

faded. The pressure on her windpipe eased, then

lifted completely. Audra coughed, dragging in air

like a drowning woman, blinking fast, trying to fo-

cus her mind, focus her thoughts enough to under-

stand what was happening now.

“Stupid bitch!” she heard Haines’s screaming.

“Fat, skinny, bright, dark—you still ain’t nothing

but a stupid, stupid—”

“Enough!” Bradshaw roared, and Audra could

finally see him, towering over Haines, who lay face-

down on the floor while two other officers hand-

cuffed him. Art held Audra’s service revolver in his

hand and his walkie-talkie in the other. He gave a

quick “all clear,” indicated that Haines would be

transferred to a holding cell in Solitary, then signed

off, looking at Audra, concern writ in capitals on his

face.

“You all right, Marks?” he asked almost gently.

A smart remark, that’s what the situation de-

manded. Something funny that would diffuse the

tension of violence circling the room like a buzzard

waiting for the kill. Audra knew the words were in-

side her somewhere, the perfect quip that would

make this another one of the stories COs swapped

around locker rooms and at shift change. Something

movie-star clever . . . something . . .

But the words wouldn’t come: not with Art Brad-

shaw looking at her with that mix of concern and

care. Not when all she wanted was to run into his

arms and tell him about Laine and her mother, and

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

325

apologize and beg to be forgiven until she could stay

enclosed in those arms forever . . .

Audra rubbed her throat, which felt like it had

been caught in a vise, swallowed once and felt a

fresh pain twist her face into a wince. Tears sprang

to her eyes.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head while

Art’s deep amber eyes bored into hers. “No . . . I’m

not all right . . .”

“I was afraid something like this might happen,” he

muttered in his low voice.

He had insisted on seeing her home, but she

wasn’t ready to face Edith. So he offered his place,

after the appropriate paperwork was filed. The su-

pervising sergeant placed Audra on administrative

leave until the whole encounter could be investi-

gated and dealt with, warning her with the words,

“I’d expect a call from Woodburn—and maybe even

the Warden—tomorrow.” They stopped once, for

breakfast from a nearby deli, but didn’t speak be-

yond the necessaries. The process of filing the inci-

dent report and realizing how close she’d come to

being a participant in a serious attempted prison

break had dried her tears. But now, sitting here in

his apartment, they were right beneath the surface

again.

“I screwed up,” Audra said as Art pulled their

eggs and toast out of the paper bag and settled their

Styrofoam containers on the coffee table in front

of her.

“Big time. You know the protocol. You’re sup-

posed to have backup, no matter what.”

326

Karyn Langhorne

“I’m not talking about Haines,” Audra said

slowly. “I’m talking about with you.”

Art joined her on the couch, his eyes on the Styro-

foam. “With me?” he rumbled slowly. “What makes

you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Audra said with barely con-

cealed sarcasm. “You haven’t said a word to me

since the Reveal. Hiding out and changing your

shifts around and generally acting like I’ve got the

plague or something! It’s still me, Art. I’ve just got

long hair, a smaller nose and I’ve lost some weight—

and yes, I’m a little lighter—”

“A
little
lighter!” Art exclaimed, his voice a rum-

ble of distress. “Audra, you’re a completely different

woman!”

“So what? I didn’t exactly see you chasing after

the old Audra. You couldn’t even look me in the

face.” She shrugged. “Not that much has changed.

You can’t look me in the face now, either. Look if

you’re not interested, you’re not interested, but if

this is just because you don’t like my skin tone—”

“You look just like Esmeralda,” he muttered, turn-

ing away from her. “What did you do? Take a snap-

shot of her with you?”

“And if I did, so what?” Audra challenged. “What

if I deliberately set out to make myself over in the

form your ex-wife, a woman you pursued and sacri-

ficed for, a woman who you still follow with your

eyes when she leaves a room—”

“Only to make sure she’s not leaving with my

wallet.”

“That’s bull. You found her beautiful and you still

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

327

do—admit it! And what’s so wrong with me want-

ing you to find me beautiful, too?”

“I did! I do!” he roared.

“You couldn’t even look me in the face—”

“Because of your eyes!” he shouted.

“My eyes?” Audra repeated, dumbfounded.

“What about my—”

“You’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever

seen,” he grumbled as though the admission was

hurting him. “It’s like you’re really seeing me. See-

ing through to the heart of me. It’s unnerving and

wonderful and . . .” He paced away from her. “Every

since that day in the day room, when your pants

ripped and the inmates were laughing . . .” His am-

ber eyes found hers. “You handled that with such

grace, and then when I saw your eyes and saw the

hurt”—he sighed—“I lost part of my heart then and

there. I knew I had to keep my head down or you’d

know . . . and I wasn’t ready for that. I had too much

other stuff to get rid of, to sort out . . .”

“Like Esmeralda?” Audra prompted.

“We’ll never be completely rid of her,” he mut-

tered. “But yeah, it had to be sorted out. She was liv-

ing with me at the time and I knew . . . I knew I’d

lose you forever if you found that out. And Penny

had to be prepped. When a child’s been used to the

sole attention of a parent, introducing someone new

can be tough. I wanted you to talk to Penny . . . get

to know her apart from being her dad’s girlfriend,

but that didn’t go right, did it?”

“No,” Audra agreed. “She thought you wanted

me to meet her to give her an ugly duckling pep

328

Karyn Langhorne

talk,” Audra said. “And after seeing Esmeralda, so

did I.”

“This is just one miscommunication after an-

other,” he said ruefully. “Because by the time

Esmeralda left us, you were gone. Or at least you’d

made the decision to go. Off to California to be

made over. I wanted to stop you . . . but I thought it

was being selfish, so . . .” He trailed off. “But it

turned out to be a good thing. It was so much easier

then, because I could talk to you without having to

worry about those eyes of yours.”

“But when I came back . . .”

“When you came back and I saw those eyes I

loved in a face so like my ex-wife’s . . . a face I’ve

grown to hate”—he shook his head—“I’ve got to tell

you, it really freaked me out. That, and . . .” His am-

ber eyes pierced her face. “Why didn’t you tell me,

Audra? Why didn’t you tell me about the skin-tone

stuff? All the talking we’ve done over the past few

months . . . I can’t understand how you could keep

something so important from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Audra said. “I knew I should tell

you . . . but I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of me?”

“A little,” Audra admitted. “Not because I was

trying to look like Esmeralda—I wasn’t. I just

wanted to look like the women in my family: Petra,

my mother. Only now I’ve met the other women in

my family, too . . .” She struggled to regain her fo-

cus. “I didn’t want you to think I was so shallow. I

didn’t want you to think I was some self-hating

black woman whose ideal of beauty was a skinny,

white girl. That’s not me. I may be a silly, self-hating

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

329

black woman”—Audra’s eyes filled with unex-

pected tears—“but my ideal of beauty is my sister

Petra . . . and it always has been. I wish she were

here,” she whispered. “I really, really do.”

She felt Art Bradshaw’s arms encircle her, just as

the first tear slid down her cheeks.

“I know,” he murmured into the side of her neck.

“I’ve just got to get used to seeing those eyes in

that face. You’re a beautiful woman now, Audra. I

came out there—to California—ready to profess my

undying love like the hero in a classic Hollywood

drama.” He gave her a sad smile. “And then I real-

ized how unfair that was. I’ve got to get used to see-

ing how other men look at you. I’ve got to deal with

the fact that you’re a beautiful woman. And one day

you might decide you can do better than a guy like

me—”

Audra spun around to face him. “Never. I knew

from the very beginning you were my soul mate.

When you knew the difference between
Casablanca

and
Double Indemnity
.”

Art’s eyes twinkled.

“All we need now,” he purred in his sexiest voice.

“Is an anklet.”

Audra’s mouth went dry, her heart got loud. She

closed her eyes, knowing what he’d say next . . .

“Don’t you get it, Audra?” He shook her shoul-

ders gently. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look

like: light, dark, fat, thin. If you wear sweats or de-

signer clothes—I could care less. Women are so hard

on themselves about the way they look. I’ll be happy

as long as you’re still the woman who makes me

laugh. Who can be tough and tender at the same

330

Karyn Langhorne

time. Who’s smart and loyal and full—just full to her

eyebrows with passion for everything she does—”

He stopped short. “Look, I know I’m not what

you’re looking for, so I guess there’s no real point to

this, but—”

“Oh, Art . . .” Audra said realizing in an instant

what had been right in front of her face all along.

“Yeah, I’m in love with you, Audra,” he gave a

hopeless little smile. “Have been from the day you

flipped Haines over your shoulder and threw him

against the wall.”

Audra lifted her hands to his face. “There’s a

speed limit in this state. Forty-five miles an hour.”

He lowered his lips toward hers. “How fast was I

going, Officer?”

“About ninety . . .” Audra murmured as their lips

met, the violins swelled and at long last, Art Brad-

shaw was in her arms, where he belonged.

It was hard to tell which of them was hungrier: Au-

dra wrapped her fingers around the man’s face,

pulling his lips closer to her own. She felt Art’s hands

encircle her waist, then slide to her hips, then lift her

off her feet, all the while his mouth demanding more

and more and more from hers.

“I’ve been dreaming nasty, nasty dreams about

you, boy,” Audra murmured when he broke the kiss

long enough for her to speak. “For months and

months . . .”

Art grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“So unless skinny girls totally turn you off so bad

you can’t get it up—”

“They don’t . . . or least not when their name is