Authors: Lisi Harrison
Massie (9 page)
VIP SITTING ROOM
Saturday, June 27
12:07 P.M.
Massie pulled a Sony camcorder out of a metallic purple gift bag and read the card aloud.
To help you remember an unforgettable day x o x, AB,
was written in elegant purple script.
“How thoughtful.” Kendra blotted her Be Berry lipstick on a linen country club napkin, then folded it into a tiny square. They sat perched on a peony pink settee, waiting for Massie to be announced to the main dining room, where the Be Pretty luncheon was already getting started.
“See, Mom, I
told
you she’s not mad.” Massie beamed. “Like Dad said this morning, she’s a businesswoman. As long as I’m making her rich, she’s happy.” She waved at the camera as proof.
Finally satisfied, Kendra stood up and smoothed her cassis Dana Buchman bubble dress. “All right, then.” She kissed her daughter on the forehead, enveloping her in a heady cloud of Trésor. “I’m going to find your father. I’ll see you out there. Good luck, my favorite top seller.”
Massie rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
The second Kendra left, Massie turned the camera lens on herself and pressed the red
RECORD
button.
“You’ll never believe where I am right now,” she said to the camera, and then panned the VIP holding room, hoping to give the Pretty Committee a glimpse into her glamorous new world. She made sure to capture the gold Lurex curtains that shimmer-hung from the walls, the chic Jonathan Adler floor vases teeming with electric purple irises, and the marble coffee table stocked with chocolate-dipped berries, Perrier, and a sampling of latte drinks.
She turned the camera back to herself. “This isn’t even the actual luncheon. This is just where one of Anastasia’s assistants asked me to hang until they were ready to announce me.” She bit her bottom lip to keep her extreme rapture in check. “Now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”
She panned over her lavender Vince trapeze dress with the skinny bronze sash that glimmered just below her A-cups, down past her spray-tanned legs, and finally to her bloodred Prada wedges.
“I’ve been working a whole footwear-clash thing lately. It’s perfect for summer. But I’ll be done with it by fall, so don’t bother.” She lifted the lens to her face. “Whaddaya think?”
Massie widened the shot. “Jakkob came over this morning and straightened my hair. He also applied a dark brown wash. You like?” She ran her free hand through her silky blowout. “I know it’s more of a back-to-school tone, but I thought the purple streak would really pop against a rich background, and I don’t want a single person to miss it. FYI: The first thing I’m going to do is get off the Intermix waiting list and get that pair of D&G sunglasses I signed up for before horse camp. The second is get a dwarf pony, and the third is buy an impossible-to-get tangerine Birkin bag to put him in.”
Massie was about to ask them to rate her when the door clicked open. She immediately shut off the camera.
“Hi, I’m Katsura,” said a petite woman wearing a purple lab coat and a Be Prepared makeup holster clipped to her waist. Her dark eyes scanned Massie’s visage as she spoke. “I’m here to do some last-minute touch-ups on you before you go out there but”—she clutched Massie’s chin and angled her face toward the light—“I can see you don’t need any.” She exhaled some curiously strong Altoid breath. “You did this yourself?”
Massie nodded yes, wishing the camera had been rolling.
“Very nice.” Katsura turned on the heel of her three-inch gold Louboutin sandal and left out the open door. “She’s all set,” she announced to whoever was lurk-waiting for her in the hallway.
Major flutters erupted behind Massie’s abs. Her throat locked. Her lips dried. And her palms self-moisturized. Just outside these VIP walls was a room full of makeup moguls waiting to honor her. And when they were done, she’d have lifelong access to the inaccessible. The only thing missing was the Pretty Committee. And Brownie. But she’d be sure to share every detail with them once she was anointed.
“Ready?” asked a twentysomething girl with short curly blond hair.
“Yup.” Massie exhaled. She rubbed her hands together to warm her icy fingertips.
The girl pressed her black headset against her ear, straining to hear her cue. “Okay. Let’s move!” She gripped Massie’s arm and led her down a coral-carpeted corridor that smelled like a mix of chicken noodle soup and gardenias.
Before Massie had a chance to reapply her gloss, she was thrust into a bright, sun-soaked banquet room, inside which purple glitter was raining down.
“Introducing BPC’s top seller of all time. She’s beautiful on the inside
and
the outside—Miss Massie Block!” Anastasia announced into a lipstick-shaped microphone. A gold Grecian-style dress hung from one bronze-dusted shoulder. Her signature black bob had been slicked into a tight bun, offering hints of purple if examined from the proper angle. Her feet, as always, were bare.
The guests rose out of their gold velvet chairs and applauded. Proud smiles lit their faces. But no one looked prouder than William and Kendra Block, standing beside Anastasia at the head table, dabbing their eyes as their daughter walked to the front of the room to the sultry beat of Gwen Stefani’s “Cool.”
Fifteen cube-shaped video monitors descended from the ceiling, one above each of the mirrored tables.
Queen Be
appeared on the screens in a purple swirling font
.
Somehow, despite her trembling legs, Massie managed a sincere smile when she passed un-frizzy Lindsey, acne-free Cathie, freckle-free Marin, and all the other girls she’d rehabilitated.
As rehearsed, Anastasia handed Massie a shimmering gold makeup caddy with
MB
engraved on the clasp. They shook hands, smiled for the photographer, and lowered themselves into a purple double throne, from which they looked out at their adoring public.
Muse scurried up the plush armrests and licked Massie’s cheek. She hugged him once for the camera and a second time for herself. Everyone took their seats, but kept their eyes on her. And it felt so right.
Anastasia stood. Her regal posture and gold dress made her look like an Academy Award. She held the lipstick mic below her shimmering mouth and began her address in her usual low, measured tone. “Not since
me
has a young woman sold so much to so many in so little time.” She paused for applause.
Massie looked down and twirled her charm bracelet to keep from revealing her overwhelming joy. But truth be told, even her intestines were smiling.
“And I want you to know that by spreading the Be Pretty philosophy, Massie Block is helping a generation of young women
embrace
their imperfections. Not
erase
them. Because after all, isn’t that what makes each one of us so special?”
Just then, table seven burst into an “Embrace, don’t erase” chant. The West Coast high seller with abnormally large ears pounded her glitter-covered table. Soon, everyone followed suit.
“Embrace, don’t erase! Embrace, don’t erase! Embrace, don’t erase!”
Massie moved her lips in time with theirs, but her brain was in major rewind mode. Desperately, she searched her memory, trying to determine whether her feedback had fallen into the “embrace” category or the “erase” category. A niggling feeling in her stomach told her she might have said a thing or two to a client or two that maybe could have possibly qualified as an “erase.” . . .
But then again, worrying about it would only bring on premature frown lines. And besides, Anastasia seemed more than pleased with her. So the video must have turned out better than great.
“Embrace, don’t erase! Embrace, don’t erase! Embrace, don’t erase!”
“But why listen to me?” Anastasia broke in, and the chanting immediately subsided. “When you can hear it from the girls themselves.”
The lights dimmed, and heavy purple blinds rolled down and covered the windows. The waitstaff quickly emerged from the kitchen delivering popcorn shrimp to the guests. Then the familiar deep-voiced narrator from the movie trailers began.
“In a small beach town rife with insecurity, there lived a girl . . .”
Anastasia leaned in and whispered, “I am so excited to see this.”
Massie froze. Then began sweating. Then her vision blurred.
Anastasia hadn’t seen it yet?
Her eyes darted around the room in search of the nearest exit, but all she saw were hundreds of people nibbling on popcorn shrimp, captivated by the video that was about to change her life for the better . . . or worse.
A close-up image of Lindsey Kerns leaning against a red surfboard on the beach appeared on the cubes.
“Ow, owwww!” Lindsey hooted.
Kimmi whistled through her teeth.
Massie forgot how to breathe.
Video Lindsey smiled boldly into the camera, her oil-infused locks tumbling over smoky gray-shadowed green eyes. “Massie Block showed me what beauty
really
means,” she said confidently.
Anastasia’s pleased grin glowed in the light reflecting from the screen.
“She taught me that beauty
is
actually skin deep and that my ‘beauty’ was dry and flaky,” Video Lindsey continued. “Massie said I needed more coverage on the top”—she pointed to her heavily concealed face—“and less on the bottom.” She wiggled her thong bikini bottom for the camera. “And she promised that if I bought the Be Pretty Cosmetics line, I’d totally find a boyfriend.”
The crowd snickered. Lindsey looked down and bit her lip, looking like she might cry.
Massie side-peeked at Anastasia, afraid of what she might see. But the Be Pretty CEO was still grinning with joy. Massie breathed a Be Minty–scented sigh of relief. William must have been right. The whole “inner beauty” thing was just a hook to sell more product. All she cared about was the bottom line.
Thank Gawd!
Lindsey’s grinning image faded to a shot of Marin, posing by her pool in a white sundress. Massie had to admit the ol’ freckle-face looked good for her. She flashed a thumbs-up at Marin and her mother, sitting just a few tables away. They smiled back.
“Massie told me freckles and heavy prints can induce nausea. So I donated my entire wardrobe to Darfur and replaced it with solids. Then I got a laser facial. Oh, and I also use Be Flawless foundation.” The camera zoomed in on Marin’s face, and she winked. “Thanks, Massie. Without you, I’d never have known the truth about my nauseating looks.”
Marin’s mom slammed down her gold-rimmed glass. She was waving her hands and mouthing something to Massie, but Massie couldn’t quite make it out. Again, Massie side-peeked at her mentor, but Anastasia was still grinning.
“Normally when someone calls your embarrassing blackhead and whitehead condition a ‘nose full of salt and pepper’ it’s upsetting,” said Video Cathie while swinging in her porch swing. Her face had been scrubbed raw. “But my pores
were
super clogged. Now my acne is gone . . . along with the top layer of my skin. But who cares? It was worth it, don’tcha think?” She caressed her red nose.
Anastasia’s eyes were glued to the video while her thumbs sent a quick text. Seconds later, one of her many purple lab coat–wearing assistants appeared with her metallic gold makeup holster. She snapped the chic fanny pack around the waist of her flowing gown, then dismissed the assistant with a stiff half-nod. Massie side-stared at the holster in awe.
Six pockets hung off the belt, each one stuffed with products from Be’s high-end, special-edition Gold line. Each brush, shadow, pencil, balm, and gloss was wrapped in a gilt-plated package.
Except for one. It was the shape of a Crayola marker and the color of an eggplant. And it stood alone. In all its purple glory.
Massie instantly sat on her hands to keep them from shaking. On the video Noelle was saying something about an earthquake in Sephora, but it was impossible to concentrate. Greatness was an arm’s length away. And she found herself trembling in its presence. Was this how Lauren Conrad felt when she met Marc Jacobs on
The Hills
?
“Come with me,” Anastasia whisper-grinned. She placed Muse in her Fendi wooly-fringe-and-feather “To You” bag and stood.
Massie choked back a “Yay!” as she hurry-followed her mentor out the side exit, reveling in the jealous looks and excited whispers of everyone they passed. This was it! The moment she had slaved for all week. Anastasia was going to take that purple marker out of her holster and paint Massie into her exclusive club. And then they would reenter the luncheon as in-the-know equals and make mini-pony-shopping plans as soon as the guests cleared out.
Once they were alone in the VIP holding room, Anastasia shut the door behind them. She opened her Fendi on the floor and smiled peacefully as Muse trotted out and began galloping around the marble coffee table.
Massie’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. She tried her hardest to look unsuspecting, but it was too late. The I-know-I’m-about-to-get-a-purple-streak grin had already settled on her face.
And it held strong . . . until Anastasia explained why they were really there.
VIP SITTING ROOM
Saturday, June 27
1:03 P.M.
Without a single word, Anastasia lowered herself onto the edge of the peony pink settee. The Be Elite purple pen jiggled around in its holster as she tried to get comfortable. But Anastasia didn’t reach for it. Instead, she pulled out a handful of products and popped open her Be Reflective compact. With the finesse of an artist, she dabbed Be Peachy blush on the apples of her cheeks, traced her dark eyes with Be Money green glitter pencil, and double glossed her lips with a bottom coat of Be Pink and a top coat of Be Flashy. It was like watching Picasso paint, only fun.
“My
Gawd,
you’re ugly!” Anastasia snapped her mirrored compact shut and stood.
“Ehmagawd, you are so
nawt
—” Massie started, reaching for the chocolate-dipped fruit.
“Not
me
!” She whacked the strawberry out of Massie’s hand.
“You!”
Massie giggled. This had to be some sort of purple-streak initiation joke. After all, Anastasia had called her a POTO just a couple days ago. But the mogul turned away in disgust. She faced the gold Lurex curtains and lowered her head.
“Wait.” Panic-sweat prickled its way through Massie’s tiny pores and dampened her forehead. “You’re not kidding?”
Anastasia shook her head no.
“You seriously think I’m
ugly
?” The room started spinning. It was hard to know where Anastasia’s Oscar- statue dress began and the curtains ended. Massie felt like a cardboard cone swirling around a giant vat of gold cotton candy.
“Ugly?”
“Yes.” Anastasia turned to face Massie, her almond-shaped eyes glistening with tears. “On the
inside
.”
The spinning room settled.
“Phew.” Massie fanned her forehead. “So I’m still pretty on the outside, right?”
“What difference does
that
make?” Anastasia scooped up Muse and held him close. “You told those girls how
unattractive
they were.”
“Key word,
were,
” Massie reminded her patiently. “Now they’re so much less unattractive. Thanks to us.”
“No!” Anastasia shook her head and set down the mini horse. “You missed the entire point of Be Pretty Cosmetics! You completely misrepresented my brand! And now those poor girls out there are more damaged than ever.”
Massie slumped back down on the pink chaise and hid her burning cheeks in Muse’s mane. All she wanted to do was succeed. And now she was being looked at as a total failure. Even though her face was covered, Massie could feel Anastasia’s disappointed glare as clearly as she had felt Brownie’s. And it hurt more than laser hair removal.
“I’m so sorry.” Massie placed a reassuring hand on Anastasia’s perfectly moisturized shoulder. “I honestly had no idea you
believed
all that beauty-on-the-inside stuff.”
Anastasia lifted her eyes and knit her perfectly arched brows, her sadness morphing suddenly into anger. “Well, what
did
you think? That I spent the last seven years of my life developing a cosmetics line and attending self-esteem seminars just so I could end up on
People
’s Most Beautiful list?”
“Well, yeah.” Massie shrugged.
“Well, wrong!” Anastasia stood again. “Being overly attractive is a gift. And I intend to use my gift to inspire others. Not prey on their insecurities for money. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Anastasia irritably adjusted her makeup holster. The purple streaking pen slid just out of Massie’s view.
“I’m really sorry,” Massie mumbled to the hem of her purple dress. The last thing she wanted to do was let Anastasia down. Well, actually that was the second to last thing. The last thing she wanted to do was be a low seller. “I just wanted to make you proud.” She sniffled. “Because you’re my”—she sniffled again—“role model.”
Anastasia offered Massie a withering look and marched over to the door.
Massie blotted the corner of her eye with a silver cocktail napkin and watched her go. What would she tell her parents? Her friends? Her customers? Her
hair
? And then she realized something. Something huge. And that something had to be taken care of if she ever wanted to look in the mirror again and feel proud.
“No, wait!” She hurried to Anastasia’s side and grabbed her wrist just as she was about to turn the handle. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
Anastasia’s expression softened. “For starters, you can apologize to everyone in that room.”
“Done.” Massie smiled gratefully and ran a finger under her tear-soaked eyes.
“And promise you will work on your inner beauty.”
“Done.” Massie smiled again. “I guess I was so desperate to be your top seller I lost track of who
you
really are. Aaaand all of the important things you stand for.”
Anastasia closed her eyes and exhaled. “Thank you for saying that.”
Massie held out her arms and batted her lashes like a timid fawn. “Forgive me?” She sniffled, then hugged her mentor.
“I’ll try.” Anastasia smirked, returning the gesture.
After a heartfelt embrace, Anastasia pulled away and locked eyes with Massie. “You know, being on top feels better if you can look down and know you didn’t step on anyone during your climb.”
Massie dabbed the corners of her eyes one last time . . . pretending to agree.
They reentered the terrace just as the tribute video was wrapping up. The final shot was a scrolling list of Massie’s unprecedented sales record set to the tune of Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful.” When the song ended, the screen went dark and the room erupted in a frenzy of applause.
Anastasia’s shellacked mouth dropped open.
Almost everyone gave Massie a standing ovation, except a few of the mothers who shook their heads and glared at Kendra as if she were somehow responsible. But Kendra ignored them, choosing to clap and cheer with the rest of the guests.
“Excuse me?” Anastasia said crisply. “Can I have your attention please?”
One of her purple lab coat–wearing assistants quickly handed her the lipstick microphone. Anastasia smiled her thank-you, then continued. “Please hold your applause. Massie has something she would like to say.”
Everyone sat and smiled expectantly.
Suddenly Massie’s stomach lurched. Did Anastasia seriously expect her to
apologize
to these people? For
what
? Making them attractive?
“Massie rules!” Lindsey shouted from her table.
Everyone applauded again.
Like a seasoned professional, Massie stood at the front of the room, happy to let their adoration run its course.
“Unbelievable,” Anastasia muttered under her breath. She lifted her palm, requesting silence. “Go ahead.” She nudged Massie.
But Massie was speechless. Her inner alpha was hiding, refusing to participate in a public apology.
Instead, she glanced out at the smiling faces staring back at her—many of them faces she’d single-handedly transformed from gruesome to gorgeous without the help of even one dermatologist or plastic surgeon. And how could that
Be
wrong?
“Speak,” Anastasia hissed.
“Um,” Massie tried. “I wanted to let you all know that I’m really sorr—” She stopped herself just in time. “I’m really honored to have served you. But I’m retiring.”
“What?”
Anastasia gasped. “That’s not what you’re—”
“I know you’re shocked,” she blurted. “But my work here is done.”
“Truth is beauty!” shouted Cathie.
Everyone whoo-hooed.
Massie giggled modestly and then continued. “You all look ah-mazing,
on the outside
. And now, the inside part is up to you. Thanks for helping me become number one. Enjoy your beauty!” She handed Anastasia the mic, waved goodbye to her protégées, and hurried for the exit like a pop star hounded by the paparazzi.
Anastasia called after her, but Massie refused to stop. Why bother? Her commission check had cleared two days ago. She’d paid her parents back. And she was the Be Pretty Cosmetics number one seller of all time. She’d gotten everything she wanted.
Everything
.
