Princess for Hire (6 page)

Lord of Pray nodded toward the Q-tip thingy onstage. A door popped open.

“That’s the chrysalis?” I whispered.

Suddenly, the stalker wood louse broke past a security guard and barreled onto the stage, a large mosquito net in his hands. “Don’t pupa! I love you just the way you are!”

Holy wood louse. Chrysalis or not, I had to get away from my roly-poly Romeo. I dodged around him, the crowd egging me on, and jumped through the opendoored chrysalis, which was really a changing room with a blue butterfly costume laid out on a stool.

I peeled off the caterpillar face, dropping it onto the floor. If I hadn’t been so bummed about the situation, I would have enjoyed the irony of it all. I was standing in the ultimate symbol of personal transformation. In a way, I was getting exactly what I wanted—a chance to change into something prettier, freer, with bigger possibilities. Now thousands of fans and an entire insect nation were counting on me to do just that. As fast as possible. I was halfway out of my dress when Meredith cleared her throat behind me.

“Was it a royal dream come true?” She snorted. For someone with such a raspy voice, her laugh was surprisingly piglike.

I covered my chest with the butterfly wings. “Meredith! I…you…I can’t—”

“Relax, modest goddess. You’re done. I’ve already timed the rouge to deactivate in a minute or two—much easier to undo the façade than create it. You might not even notice. Usually we coordinate the sub’s appearance to match their departing ensemble, but no need here, what with the costume change. So Mindy is ready to pop back in. She hates the caterpillar meet-the-fans part, but couldn’t wait to butterfly above the crowd. I can’t say I blame her. You looked ridiculous in the makeup.”

She pointed her remote control at the stool, and our bubble oozed out, somehow fitting into the makeshift chrysalis.

I patted my stomach—all remnants of insect wear now gone, replaced by my
FLOCCINAUCINIHILIPILIFICATION
T-shirt. And I hadn’t felt the change.

We eased into the bubble right as the announcer called, “Behold, Princess Flutter!”

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” I said once we were safely in Meredith’s office.

“Really?” Meredith swallowed another laugh. “You didn’t like the fishnets?”

“No.” I rolled my lips over my braces. “I didn’t. And I seriously don’t appreciate you telling me I’d be on royal duty when that was more like my Pets Charming job. I trusted you.”

Meredith’s smile vanished. “You think I’m going to drop you into some country without even knowing if you can hack it? No way. There’s a limited number of royals left in the world, and we save our real subs for them.”

“Well, I thought this agency was some big secret. Can’t be too secret if you’re letting actresses in on it.”

“They’re not
in
on anything. Mindy contacted us through the temp section of our agency. We use it to fill in for a few select beauty queens, actors…those sort. Really, it’s just a cover for us to screen subs without exposing our secret. Mindy thinks you’re just a dead-on look-alike in elaborate makeup and prosthetics, with a genius for fast getaways. She knows nothing about the rouge or MP or this bubble. So they get their temps—we get our tests.”

“Still, you could have told me all that beforehand.”

“And miss out on the fun? No way. Look, I don’t know why this upsets you. Surprisingly, you passed.” She twirled her finger around. “Whoop-dee-do for you.”

“It was a big whoop-dee-do, thanks.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “So the next job will be actual royalty, right? Something a little more glamorous?”

“I don’t know about that. Princesses are people. Glamour is all relative.”

“Hey, I’ve seen
Roman Holiday
. I don’t buy into the woe-is-me princess stuff. It’s still better than Pets Charming.”

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Well, since you’re such an expert already, and you obviously don’t need my far-more educated take, you can go lie down. It’s good to decompress for a bit between jobs, clear your head. I’ll slow down the bubble speed so I can get some work done, and you can sleep. You never know when you’ll get a break around here.”

My hand ached from the autograph blitz. I closed my eyes and melted into the couch, forcing out all thoughts of insects. The whirring bubble and the never-ending tapping of the keyboard gradually lulled me into a peaceful sleep.

Peaceful, until the earthquake hit.

Chapter
7

“E
arthquake!” I dove under the couch. The candies on the coffee table jiggled while the rest of the room jangled. The room sounded like it was in the middle of a washing machine during spin cycle. Oblivious, Meredith kept typing.

“Mer-e-dith. What’s go-ing on?” I asked from under the protection of her furniture.

Meredith glanced up from her work. “What do you mean?”

“That shak-ing.”

“Oh. That’s turbulence. Only a few more minutes of this and then we land.”

“Min-utes!” My eyes crossed and my teeth chattered. I was a coin stuck in the washer, spinning and spinning forever.

Just when I thought my bones would crack, the motion stopped. Meredith calmly stood up and exited the bubble. I followed, stumbling out like I’d gotten off a roller coaster. Three different Merediths swirled around me until they blended into one very impatient version.

“See? We’re here. You’re such a drama queen sometimes.”

“Here” was an empty underground parking garage. The bubble floated in a “Reserved for M. Pouffinski” parking spot until Meredith hit a button and sucked it back into her remote.

She led me up a ramp, out of the parking lot, and onto the wet city street. Across from us, chic customers sipped coffee at an outdoor café under an overcast sky. Smooth, white, stone buildings with wrought-iron balconies and blue roofs lined the street. A modern, rectangular building tore into the skyline.

I gasped. “Meredith, are we in—”

“Paris, of course,” she said without slowing down.

“Oh my gosh.” Audrey Hepburn once said
Paris is always a good idea
, and here we were! For real. “So that Eiffel Tower over there”—I pointed to the structure in the far-off distance—“is the
real
Eiffel Tower, not a Vegas rip-off?”

A man on a scooter zipped past us and yelled something in French. “You wish,” Meredith muttered.

“What did he—”

“Not something I intend to repeat. Hurry up.”

A moment later we walked into the sleek, posh lobby of a solitary black skyscraper, the Tour Montparnasse. Meredith flashed a sparkly green ID badge at a burly security guard, and led me into an elevator. “I’m Henry the Eighth I Am” played softly in the background.

“Didn’t know they had a Muzak version of that one,” Meredith mused as she shoved her card into a special slot, switching the light from red to green. At the top floor, the elevator stopped with a ding, and the doors scrolled open.

“I don’t think we’re in Idaho anymore, Toto,” I whispered.

If you took the coolness of every fashion magazine in the world and mixed it in one sweet bowl of awesome, it would still be only one-tenth as amazing as this. The whole layout was über modern: geometrical furniture, odd sculptures, and thin vases filled with lilies. A stunningly beautiful receptionist sat at a round glass desk bearing the sign
MIRAGE, AGENCE MODELESE
. Behind her, elegant women in designer clothes flitted in and out of offices. Truly, Celeste Juniper would look like a clumsy hick next to the skinny gorgeous girls lounging on the white couches. So you can imagine how I felt standing in the middle of a Paris modeling agency in my
FLOCCINAUCINIHILIPILIFICATION
shirt and jeans.
Trés
vapor.

The receptionist didn’t look up when we approached.

Meredith cleared her throat. “
Bonjour
. I need to—”

The girl pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the couches and spoke in a high, French-accented voice. “Vittorio is running late. Take a seat.”

“No, no.” Meredith slapped her green ID onto the counter. The girl glanced at it, then up at Meredith, her eyes widening. “Ms. Pouffinski, I’m so sorry. I’m new…I didn’t realize you were an…an agent—”

Meredith laughed. “Did you think Desi here was a model?” I turned to glower at her, but then she added, “Don’t you recognize new
talent
when you see it?”

The room hushed as if that word—
talent
—had magical freezing powers. A few models whispered to each other in French. I avoided the stares by focusing on a white, blobby sculpture.

“Desi will begin work immediately,” Meredith said, “and she’ll need a building ID badge with special access. At your convenience, of course.”

“Of course,” the receptionist said reverently.

Meredith rolled her eyes and started walking toward an empty hallway. “Desi,
vámonos
.”

I scurried behind her, grateful to escape the stares of the beautiful people.

“What was that all about?”

“Mirage? That’s our cover. On paper, Façade is technically a branch of Mirage. They don’t have a clue what we do, but they worship us. As they should.”

“Why did they act so shocked when you said I was a, um, talent?”

“It’s rare and mysterious to them. A new talent does-n’t walk in every day, so you’re kind of a big deal. But whatever. Don’t let it go to your head. You have work to do.”

The last couple of things I mentally filed in the Meredith’s rude comments folder, and I focused instead on the “You’re kind of a big deal” part. As in, not vapor. As in unique. As in, there were models sitting in that lobby who were envious of me because of my magical abilities.

Surreal much?

We stopped at a large door, where Meredith swiped her card again and positioned herself in front of a built-in computer screen. A red laser scanned up and down her features.

“Entry granted,” said a computerized female voice.

And then the door clicked open, revealing the
real
reception area. And…wow.

I’d never been in a fairy-tale castle, but I imagined it must look something like this. Tall stained-glass windows cast a rainbow of sunshine on the gold-inlay floors. The cathedral ceiling was covered in silver stars carved into a midnight sky. A monstrous chandelier reached down, radiating a warm glow on the front reception area. The whole place exuded majesty. Centuries of it.

“But…it’s a tower! The building was boxy and all glass. You couldn’t even fit this room on the whole floor—”

“Desi. I have magic powder that morphs your physical appearance. I travel in a bubble. And you might not have noticed, but my hair is consistently fabulous. There are few limits to what we can do.”

I heard a cough, then noticed a balding gentleman, more butler than receptionist, standing partly hidden behind a colossal bouquet of yellow roses.

“Ms. Pouffinski. Pleasure.”

Meredith glowed. “Ferdinand! We’re just on our way to substitute orientation. This is Miss Desi Bascomb.”

“Ah, the new talent?” He gave me a small bow. “Lilith is expecting you. Genevieve was suddenly called away, but she sends a warm welcome.”

Meredith seemed to deflate a little, but then she smiled. “Thank you. Desi?”

I waved at Ferdinand and followed Meredith down an echoey hallway lined with priceless-looking artifacts—fans, figurines, and silver trinkets, all with little engraved placards mounted below them. I paused at a tall white wig in a glass box and read the inscription:
To a true professional. Merci for saving my neck. Au revoir, Marie
. Like, Marie Antoinette? The French queen who was beheaded?

As if reading my mind, Meredith tsked. “History depends on who is writing it. Now check this out.”

She pulled a golden curtain tassel to the right, unveiling a built-in display case filled with tiaras. I stood until my nose was inches away from the glass, gasping after reading the note attached to an emerald tiara.
You’re a match made in heaven, Genevieve. XO, Princess Grace
. Oh my gosh. Princess Grace. Grace Kelly
wore
that.

“How do I get one?” I tapped the glass. “That is so cool!”

“Dream on, darling. They don’t toss these things around. In fact, receiving a tiara from a client is an extremely rare honor. Let’s move on. And try not to gape. It’s unflattering.”

I had to be a foot taller than Meredith, yet she stayed a few steps ahead of me as we left the corridor and entered a more businesslike hallway that resembled a fancy law office. We even passed a row of seven silver-framed portraits. A somber bunch, all posing in the same velvet-backed chair, wearing the same superior frown. Yet everyone had crazy, colored hair like Meredith’s. The woman in the center portrait actually had a rainbow hairdo. What was up with the bad dye jobs here? I’d have to ask later.

Meredith stopped in front of a purple door and waited for me to join her. Even then she didn’t knock, but seemed frozen. “Lilith and some of the others are very traditional. I should be training you, but…it’s complicated. Anyway, one of my subs accidentally got stuck in Siberia a few days ago, and I’ve got to go deal with that mess.”

“Uh, what mess?”

“Oh.” Meredith coughed. “We just haven’t found her yet.”

My eyes widened.

Meredith rolled hers. “It’s been on my things-to-do list, okay?”

Finally she rapped the heart-shaped knocker three times. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself before squeezing a smirk onto her face.

The door whipped open, revealing a stunning woman with a serene smile and cascading lavender hair that looked like she’d stolen it from a My Little Pony doll. “Oh, Meredith, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here.” Lilith’s accent was…I couldn’t place it…the accent of a girl who knows Latin, plays croquet, and goes to boarding school. Meredith’s name sounded like music when Lilith said it. They air-kissed each other, and Lilith turned her serenity on me. “And you must be Desi. I’m Lilith. We are so insanely excited to have you!”

I grinned. “Thanks. Insane is a good word for all of this.”