Eggs Benedict Arnold (44 page)

“
You hired
real
models?
”
sputtered Suzanne. The sub
text being,
What am I, the silly little hometown ringer?

Missy administered air kisses to Suzanne, a la Carmen
Copeland, and said,
“
Carmen hired them. From the Fashion Merchandising program over at Darlington College. Don
’
t they look fabulous?
”

“
Uh . . . no,
”
said Suzanne.
“
They look like models. So ... where
’
s Barbara Welch from the feed store?
”

“
Carmen dismissed her,
”
said Missy. She shook her
head and her long, dangly earrings lashed about her cheeks
and neck.

“
Then why do you need me?
”
asked Suzanne, hoping she might also be dismissed, as ignominious as that word sounded.

“
Because you
’
re my friend,
”
said Missy, grasping Suzanne
’
s hand.
“
And you
’
re here to help us keep it real.
”

Carmen Copeland
’
s tight, hard face suddenly loomed in
front of them like a mask that had been flung across the store.
“
This one hasn
’
t been to hair and makeup yet!
”
she rasped, pointing a finger at Suzanne.

“
I just got here,
”
explained Suzanne.
“
I was
working.
”

Carmen dug her manicured talons into Suzanne
’
s shoulder and propelled her toward the back of the store. Shoving
her down into a plastic-covered chair, Carmen shrieked,
“
Gregg!
”
at the top of her lungs.

Gregg Montag, one of the owners of Root 66, suddenly appeared. He was gay, tall, blond, a trifle ethereal.

“
You
’
ve got your work cut out for you,
”
snarled Carmen.
Then, as if Suzanne were a waxworks figure, incapable of
seeing or hearing, Carmen rattled on about her deficits.
“
Eyebrows,
”
said Carmen, studying Suzanne
’
s face and looking unhappy.
“
For God
’
s sake, try to give her some kind of arch.
”
Carmen
’
s eyes narrowed.
“
Smoky eyeliner and eye shadow as well, then highlighter for a semblance
of cheekbone. As far as her lips are concerned... well, it
’
s a good thing she
’
s still got an upper lip at her age.
”

“
Thanks a million, Carmen,
”
said Suzanne, getting up.
“
And lotsa luck with your fashion show, because I have to...
”

Gregg grabbed Suzanne
’
s shoulder as Carmen flew off to accost her next victim.

“
. . . leave,
”
finished Suzanne, as Gregg
’
s grip intensified.

“
Relax,
”
soo
th
ed
Gregg.
“
Carmen
’
s been like that all
day. Acting like the Wicked Witch of the West to everyone
who comes near her.
”

“
I don
’
t really want to do this,
”
said Suzanne, protest
ing, as Gregg eased her back down in the chair and pinned
a short, black plastic cape around her shoulders.

“
I
’
ll just do a light touch-up,
”
promised Gregg.
“
Sort of
strengthen some of your best features.
”

“
According to Carmen, I don
’
t have any,
”
said Suzanne.
“
My arches have collapsed and I
’
ve got the lips of a turtle ...
”

“
Honey, you
’
re gorgeous,
”
Gregg assured her.
“
A real woman. Beautiful and with true character in your face. Not like all of these . . .
”
He waved an arm, theatrically.
“
... teenage waifs.
”

So Suzanne calmed down and put her trust in Gregg,
telling herself that if she didn
’
t like what she saw, she could
still
stomp out. After ten minutes of brushing and blushing
and lining and spackling, Gregg held up a hand mirror so Suzanne could judge for herself.

“
What do you think?
”
Gregg asked.

Suzanne stu
died
herself in the mirror. Her brows were arched and slightly filled in. Her eyes were suddenly lush
pools of exotica. And her nose ... well, Gregg had worked some form of magic with three different shades of foundation that made her nose appear far straighter and narrower
than the one she
’
d actually inherited from her forebears. Apologies to Aunt Lucille, of course.

Suzanne was literally taken aback.
“
I think I... I like it,
”
she told him.

“
Excellent,
”
said Gregg, whipping off her plastic cape.
“
Now let
’
s get you over to Brett
’
s chair so he can work on your hair.
”

That proved far less trau
m
at
ic.

Ten judiciously placed hot rollers, then a quick blow out,
were followed by some fussing, teasing, and hair spraying.
Suzanne
’
s hair fell to her shoulders in a lush, smooth bob
that was more elegant than she could have ever imagined.

“
This, I love,
”
she told Brett.
“
You
’
ve worked wonders.
”

“
The look may be a trifle more socialite than fashion
model,
”
confided Brett with a wink,
“
but it becomes you.
”

Suzanne tossed her head back and stu
died
herself in the
mirror as she struggled into her clothes. What unset
tl
ed
her most was that suddenly
looking
different made her
feel
different. Was that a good thing? she asked herself. Yeah,
maybe ... for a while. For a
“
let
’
s pretend
”
moment. But her own natural skin and looser-fitting clothes were still awfully comfortable.

“
Fabulous!
”
declared Missy, when Suzanne presented herself, fully dressed.
“
You
’
re an absolute vision!
”

But Carmen was not quite so approving.

“
Oops,
”
said Carmen, pointing a finger at Suzanne
’
s backside.
“
She
’
s got VPL.
”

“
Huh?
”
said Suzanne, whirling around, not sure what she was going to find. Had somebody planted a Kick Me sign on her backside?

“
Visible panty line,
”
said Carmen, grimacing.
“
Suzanne,
you
’
ll have to wear a thong under your jeans.
”

Missy grabbed a small box and pulled out the teeniest of undergarments.
“
This should work.
”
She handed it to Suzanne.

“
Pull
‘
em down,
”
commanded Carmen.

Suzanne was slightly aghast.
“
No way I
’
m giving up my underpants,
”
she told them. Her hand crept down to
the waistline where her Hanes three-for-nine-dollar un
di
e
s
lurked underneath.

“
The jeans will look terrible,
”
Carmen moaned.
“
The entire effect will be ruined!
”

“
You
’
re asking me to wear what amounts to a piece of dental floss!
”
sputtered Suzanne.

“
A thong isn
’
t as uncomfortable as you might think,
”
said Carmen.

“
No,
”
said Suzanne,
“
I
imagine it
’
s worse.
”

“
Suit yourself,
”
sniffed Carmen.

“
Carmen,
”
said Suzanne,
“
what
’
s this I hear about you opening a fine dining restaurant?
”

“
What are you talking about?
”
asked Carmen, slightly startled.

“
Don
’
t play coy,
”
said Suzanne.
“
Gene Gandle brought it up the other day and rumors are running rampant.
”

“
I don
’
t know
what
you
’
ve heard,
”
huffed Carmen,
“
but
whatever it is, I
’
m sure it doesn
’
t involve me!
”
She tottered
off on super high Manolo Blahnik heels, her tight black satin dress rustling loudly.

“
What a crank,
”
Suzanne muttered to Missy.

Missy nodded her head in agreement.

“
If Carmen
’
s always this caustic and nasty,
”
said Suzanne,
“
how can you stand working for her?
”

Missy gave her a hangdog look.
“
It isn
’
t easy.
”

“
People!
”
Carmen hissed in a loud stage whisper.
“
Places! The show is about to start!
”

“
Oops,
”
said Suzanne, starting to develop serious butterflies.
“
Where do I go?
”

“
You
’
re tenth in line,
”
said Missy.
“
Right after the girl in
the purple cash
m
ere
hoo
di
e
.
”