Diary of an Ugly Duckling (41 page)
snapped. “I don’t want to talk about color con-
sciousness in the black community. I don’t want to
be on the morning shows or—”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to, Audra,”
Shamiyah said in a voice that had more than a little
of Camilla’s hard edge to it. “I’m sorry, but you’ve
got a contract with this show . . . and it includes par-
ticipating in show promotion. These interviews are
the perfect lead in to the Big Reveal in two weeks.”
She paused, her voice becoming steely with deter-
mination. “And you
will
do them.”
“And if I won’t?”
“Well,” Shamiyah dropped any pretense of the
enthusiastic, bubbly woman Audra had come to as-
sociate with her name. “I think you can expect some
serious legal consequences. Not the least of which
might be the bill for all the professional services
you’ve received, gratis, from
Ugly Duckling
. Last I
heard, the tally was close to two hundred thousand
dollars in surgeries and consultations, airfare,
lodging—”
“Those papers I signed can’t be any good!” Audra
shouted. “You manipulated me! You talked me
into—”
“Nobody talked you into anything,” Shamiyah
snapped back. “You were all too eager to do it. You
were the one calling herself fat, black and ugly . . .
and when we offered you the chance to be some-
thing else, you jumped on it like a crack addict to a
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
349
pipe. If you’d had even a little of the
self-respect
you’re claiming we took, you’d have done what the
others did and refuse to have anything to do with
the whole thing—”
“Others?” Audra frowned into the telephone.
“What are you talking about . . . others? I thought
out of all the tapes, I was your pick. I thought you
wanted me because I was the perfect messenger—”
Shamiyah’s laughter echoed around her as
though piped in by speakers and amplified to the
point of pain.
“Oh, Audra, Audra,” she chuckled. “The perfect
messenger is anyone willing to deliver the message.
We’ve been looking for an African-American
woman willing to do the skin lightening procedure
since last season. We must have flown two dozen
women out, put them through the same procedures,
offered them the same arguments—and all of them
refused. They had too much pride in what they
were: strong, black women.” She sighed with the
memory. “Camilla was ready to scrap the whole
thing, but it was my concept, my idea, and I wasn’t
going to give up that easily!” she said vehemently.
“By that time, my job was on the line and I knew if
I didn’t get someone to sign on, Camilla would fire
me, bad-mouth me in the industry and my televi-
sion career would be finished.” She paused. “And
then you came along . . . and saved my life. Do you
realize already this show has had more buzz than
all the prior episodes of
Ugly Duckling
put together?
With all the press this episode’s getting, we’re an-
ticipating the Big Reveal to have a shot at being one
of the most watched events on television this sea-
350
Karyn Langhorne
son. And that’s because of you, Audra. You’ve made
my career—I’ve been pitching this success around
town and I may even get my own show out of it,
thanks to the controversy and the media exposure.
Hell, I don’t know what you’re complaining for:
You’ve got a good chance to walk away with the
grand prize.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you watching? The votes are in. You just
made Top Three! Congratulations—”
“I don’t want it.”
“Well you got it. See you in three weeks,”
Shamiyah said calmly. “And Audra, don’t even
think about skipping the interviews or not showing
up for the Big Reveal. You’ll be on the
Today
show
and the others tomorrow. You’ll do the interviews
and, when the time comes, you’ll get on that plane
to join us for the Big Reveal, Audra . . . or there will
be legal hell to pay, I promise you.”
“But—”
“
Ciao
,” Shamiyah said brightly and hung up be-
fore Audra could say another word.
“We’ll just have to bust up that contract,” Edith was
saying for the thousandth time.
The last of the guests were long gone, slinking out
in embarrassment for Audra, Edith and the whole
situation. Penny had escorted Kiana to bed with the
promise of a story and now Edith and Art joined
Audra in the kitchen, as she tried to sort through her
options.
Audra sighed, feeling as though a big steel cage
had been dropped over her head, windowless and
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
351
without air enough to breathe. She wanted to protest,
to argue, but mad as she was at Shamiyah, she knew
well there was no one to rave her fury against but
herself.
They’d had to turn off all the phones, since
they were ringing incessantly—and not with well-
wishers. It seemed every angry black person in the
five boroughs of New York had looked up their
number and decided to call. Although there was se-
curity in the building, Audra was grateful for Art’s
presence: There were certainly more than enough
crackpots in the city to make it possible for one or
two to attempt to express their anger in person.
So this was the concept, the concept Shamiyah had
been so vague on from the beginning: a dramatic
makeover show about a black woman who wanted to
look white. And with a little tweaking and twisting
of the facts, the girl had definitely accomplished her
goal: Here stood one Audra Marks, once a dark-
skinned woman, now a light-skinned one. And the
complex personal reasons for that transformation
had been completely eliminated, painted over in
simple black-and-white.
“We can talk to a lawyer, but . . .” Audra shook
her head and sighed. For the first time in months,
she longed for an Oreo, could almost taste its
creamy goodness on her tongue. “I’m not opti-
mistic.”
“Why not? What she did was out-and-out fraud.”
Audra shook her head. “I don’t think so. And be-
sides, we all signed the releases. That allows them to
use what we said to each other pretty much any way
they want.”
352
Karyn Langhorne
Edith frowned. “I’m not buying that until every
lawyer in Manhattan says it,” she declared. “And
you’re certainly not going back out there.”
“I may have to,” Audra muttered, staring at her
perfect caramel arms, one folded against the other
on her chest. Although she had stopped using the
cream months ago, the color remained smooth and
even, since she’d taken Dr. Jamison’s advice and re-
mained vigilant about the sun. “Just like I’m going
to have to do these interviews—”
“But Audra, why? They just going to make a fool
of you again!” Edith said. “These TV people. All
they care about is themselves and their ratings and
making money. They don’t care who they hurt or
what happens to them after the cameras stop
rolling. It’s all about the—what was the word that
girl used? The concept. It’s all about the concept.”
Audra frowned, the beginnings of an idea tick-
ling the back of her brain. Her mother stopped
short, peering closely at Audra’s face.
“Why do you look like that all of the sudden?” she
asked. “What—”
“Ma, do you think you can get this hair weave out?”
“I’m sure I can!” Edith sounded indignant. “You
think that Ishti’s
that
much better than me? It’s just a
matter of what the clientele can afford—”
But Audra wasn’t listening, she was too busy dig-
ging into the pantry.
“What are you—”
“The
Yellow Pages
,” Audra said quickly. “Here
they are. I need to find out where the nearest tan-
ning booth is—” She looked up quickly. “Art, I need
you to do something for me.”
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
353
“Anything.”
“Oreos, please . . . and some soda—”
“But Audra, your diet!” Penny interrupted.
“You’ll wreck it!”
“Exactly,” Audra said, grinning into their puzzled
faces. “Exactly.”
It took a while . . . but little by little, understand-
ing dawned on each of their faces. Art’s booming
laughter filled the kitchen.
“You’re a piece of work, Audra Marks . . . a piece
of work!”
“Well . . .” Audra said slyly. “I was just thinking . . .
This whole concept thing . . . it could cut both ways.
And as long as they get their ratings, I can’t see what
difference it should make to the Ugly Duckling peo-
ple. And I’m in the mood to fight fire with fire. But”—
she cautioned them with a finger—“we’ll have to be
careful. It can’t be obvious what I’m doing. And we
don’t want it to be. Not until the Reveal.”
Edith blinked at her, then a slow grin spread
across her lined face. “Oh, I like the sound of
this
!
You’re gonna undo it, aren’t you! That’s a great
idea.”
Audra shook her head. “No, Ma. I can’t undo it. I
can’t undo the surgery . . . and I can’t get my old col-
oring back. My skin . . . it might be pretty messed
up. In fact, I may even look worse than I did before.
But I’d rather be that than a slave to someone else’s
vision.”
“You—you’re gonna go back? You’re going to go
out in front of millions of people looking worse than
you used to look?” Penny asked, staring at Audra,
her mouth slack with surprise.
354
Karyn Langhorne
Audra fixed the girl with a calm stare. “That’s
right.” She stretched her hand toward the girl. “But I
hope we’ll still be friends, Penny. I’d like to think
you could like me . . . even if I’m not pretty any-
more.”
Penny stared at Audra, her brow crinkled as she
weighed the question. Then a slow smile spread
across her face. “You’re brave, Audra. You’re the
bravest woman I know. I think I know why Dad
likes you so much.” She crossed the room and
hugged Audra tightly. “And I hope I’m just like you
when I’m old.”
Audra laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“How long do we have?” Art asked.
“About three weeks. The live show is November
thirteenth—”
“Sweeps,” Penny muttered like some old-hand in-
dustry rep. “Shows that get the most viewers during
sweeps ratings period can command higher adver-
tising fees,” she explained at Audra’s questioning
look.
“So it’s really just about the money,” Art offered.
“That explains why they’ve scheduled all this media
attention. To keep the controversy alive.”
“But are you sure you want to go out there like
that?” Edith asked. “I can pull out that weave, but
you’ve barely got any hair under that. And depend-
ing on what happens with your skin”—she shook
her head—“Penny’s right. Are you sure you want to
do that in front of the whole world?”
Audra considered their concerned faces for a long
moment, and then smiled.
“In the words of Norma Desmond, from that
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
355
great Hollywood classic,
Sunset Boulevard
. . .” She
struck a dramatic film star pose of batted eyelashes
and pouty lips. “Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my
closeup.”
November 13
Dear Petra,
It hasn’t gone exactly as I planned . . . but then I
knew that. The good news is, the live Duckling starts
in a few hours. It’s been really hard, but it’s almost
over. There’s probably going to be some media—and
some backlash—but unless I win, the lawyer we hired
says I’m a “private citizen” again right after the show
ends.
I hope like crazy I don’t win.
I’ve decided to resign from the prison. I might go
back, I don’t know. But for now, it’s not where I want to
be. I have too much to learn about myself. Too much
to figure out. Laine invited me to join her in the Islands
for Thanksgiving—to meet the other side of my
family—and I’m going. I’ll meet my father’s brothers
and sister and their families. I’m also going to meet my
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
357
grandmother. My grandmother! Laine says she’s going
to love me. I hope she’s right.
Art has asked me to move in with him and Penny. I
might. I don’t know. I might look for my own place.
We’ll see.
They’re all here for the TV show: Laine, Art and
Penny, Ma and Kiana. The only thing that would make
it perfect for me was if you were here, too.
Here’s hoping you’ll make it home by Christmas . . .
Be careful out there,
