Makeovers Can Be Murder (17 page)

″Are you
positive
you′ll be ready with your first two installments by next week, Gallagher?″ he demanded to know. ″Because I need to review both of them by this Thursday. That′s three days from now. That′s a drop-dead date, by the way.″

″You′ll have both stories in your hands by this Thursday, Beatty. Don′t worry—it′s under control. ″

Yup. My fat-scam series was under control. Like everything else in my life these days, the series was about as under control as a plane that was nosing over into a death spiral.

Chapter 33

Make your Eyes Pop

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

I had an interview scheduled for Tuesday morning with Evelyn′s plastic surgeon, the much ballyhooed Dr. Medina. I was going to test the ″thermal-laser thingee″ that Evelyn and the Newbodies group had been raving about. The procedure was actually called thermal laser-lite, and it was supposed to melt away your fat and shrink your skin. My job was to tell viewers whether it in fact worked.

When I′d called to arrange the interview with Medina, I didn′t tell his scheduling assistant that there was a chance that the procedure might wind up on my list of fat scams. I actually hoped the wand worked, because I was going to be the guinea pig for a free round of laser lifting. Normally each treatment cost nearly a thousand dollars.

Off the record, I was hoping that I might even get Dr. Medina to talk a little bit about Jana, who′d been one of his patients. Jana had come straight from Dr. Medina′s office to our lunch on the day before she was killed. I was even hoping that I might get some insight from Dr. Medina about the latest twist in her case, the alleged theft of her internal organs. As a medical doctor who dealt with the human body′s largest organ—skin—Dr. Medina might have some background information that I could use.

Dr. Medina′s plastic surgery office was several tax brackets more luxe than any doctor′s office I′d ever seen before. The waiting room was centered by an enormous glass sculpture. Lit from within, the sculpture was formed in the shape of layered crystals and looked like something that might have been found in Superman′s secret cave.

As Frank and I hauled our loads of equipment into the waiting room, a woman behind the long white counter gave me a welcoming smile.

″Kate Gallagher?″

When I nodded, she clapped her hands together. ″Ooh, I′ll be so excited to tell my daughter I got to meet you,″ she said in an excited-sounding tone. ″Nadia is fourteen years old; she watches you on the news all the time. And so do I, by the way. I′m Michelle, Dr. Medina′s assistant.″

I felt completely disarmed. For some reason I′d been expecting Dr. Medina′s assistant to be incredibly young, or else a study in filler-and- lasered perfection. Michelle appeared to be about fifty years old, and she seemed refreshingly un-lifted.

My first stop was the photo room, where I stepped up on a stool, and another assistant, this one a very young and insecure-looking woman named June, struggled to take my ″before″ picture.

After she reshot the series of front, side, rear, and other-side photos, June started sweating.

″Sorry, this is a brand-new camera,″ she kept saying.

It′s hard to figure out what to do while you′re being photographed for a ″before″ picture. Should you smile? Look depressed? Anything seems weird.

While I decided on an expression that I hoped looked appropriately natural, Miss June Bug of the Fumble Fingers kept fiddling around and apologizing for the malfunctioning camera.

After June′s fourth retake, Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation behind her back.

″I′m going out to the truck for a spare battery, ″ he said.

While Frank was gone, June finally got the shots she wanted. Then she gave me a dressing gown and ushered me into a small examination room.

″Dr. Medina will be in to see you in a moment, ″ she said, and then withdrew, closing the door gently behind her.

I sat there reading women′s magazines. Eventually, I heard a gentle tapping on the door.

″Come on in,″ I called out.

I found myself staring into a pair of warm, soulful brown eyes. George Clooney eyes. And they seemed to be smiling deep into my core.

Oh my God.
Why didn′t Evelyn tell me about those incredible
eyes
?

″Hello, Kate,″ the incredible man-creature who went with the eyes greeted me. ″I′m Xavier Medina. So great to meet you.″

″H-hi, Dr. Medina.″

″Oh, please just call me Xavier. No ceremony here.″

″Okay,″ I said, suddenly feeling shy. ″Thanks so much for letting me and my crew do a story about your laser technique today.″

When had I gotten so stiff and formal? That wasn′t my usual style when doing a story.

″It′s totally my pleasure—I′ve seen you on the television news, of course. Although I don′t think of you as doing feature stories about skin treatments. Aren′t you normally more of an investigative reporter? Big-time crime stuff?″

He gave me a knowing smile, as if we were both in on a clever joke. Dr. Medina—
Xavier
—exuded an air of confidence and competence. It was as if he already knew everything there was to know about my fat-scam series. And about me as well.

″Well, this
is
an investigative series of sorts, actually,″ I admitted. ″I′m profiling what does and doesn′t work in the area of fat loss.″

″I′m glad to hear it. Based on what I′ve seen of your reporting, I know you′ll be completely objective in your work. I want you to tell your audience exactly how you feel about the results of your thermal laser treatment—both the good
and
the bad,″ Xavier said smoothly.

He pulled up a stool. Then he donned a pair of goggles. Using a metal arm that extended with a lighted mirror on the end of it, he examined my face.

″I know we′re treating your stomach, but I just have to say that your skin is amazing,″ he said. ″Have you had IPL treatments or laser facials before?″

″No. What′s amazing?″

″Your pores are unusually small. And you have very smooth, even coloration.″

″Is that a bad thing?″

″It′s a very
good
thing.″ Medina leaned back on his stool and laughed. ″Women—and men, too—come in here and pay thousands of dollars to get what you′ve got.″

″Really?″

″Yes. The small pores give your complexion a creamy, luminous surface. And you have almost no sun damage. It′s very unusual, even in someone as young as you. You must not ever have been a sun worshipper.″

″Really?″

I′d obviously just turned into a parrot whose only word was
Really? Really?
Which really must have made me sound like an idiot.

″Yes,″ he said. ″Marilyn Monroe had your kind of skin, plus a fine layer of downy hair that caught the light just so. The effect was incredibly luminous—that′s why the camera loved her so much. But the best example is a portrait I saw on a recent trip to Florence—have you ever seen the portrait of the Venus of Urbino, by chance? By Titian.″

″I saw that portrait once on a trip after college, ″ I said. ″And I think I recall studying it in school.″

Titian had painted the Venus of Urbino full length and buck-ass naked, with a fuck-me-now look in her eye. The painting had touched off a firestorm of court gossip during the Italian Renaissance, the same way the Paris Hilton tapes would hundreds of years later. Trust me to remember all the tabloid gossip from Art History 101.

Medina smiled as if he′d intercepted the raunchy little jog my thoughts had just taken. ″Oops, sorry,″ he said. ″I didn′t mean to sound fresh. I just meant that your facial skin is like that Venus′s. And actually so is the color of your hair.″

His smile seemed to engulf his eyes as he continued, ″I should add that I haven′t seen a blush like yours in quite a while, either.″

I could feel myself beginning to relax. Medina′s compliments and gently probing questions made me feel truly
looked
at, for the first time in a long, long while. It was a flattering feeling. Intoxicating even. I was tempted to bask in that feeling and forget all about my story assignment.

While Medina excused himself to speak with June the photographer, who had knocked on the door to announce that she was struggling yet again with her camera, it occurred to me that I hadn′t mentioned Jana to anyone at the office. Jana had been a patient of Dr. Medina′s, plus she′d seen him the day before she was killed. I was dying to ask him about their last appointment. I knew he probably wouldn′t violate doctor-patient confidentiality by saying anything about it. Still, it wouldn′t hurt to ask. Maybe I′d learn something new.

Medina was an interesting guy. And he
certainly
was attractive. Was it possible that he was this friendly and charming with all his patients? Maybe he was putting on a charm offensive for me so that I′d do a positive news story about him. That was always a possibility.

If he acted this way with everyone, I′d be surprised if the women of the Newbodies weren′t sending their underwear to him by Priority Mail. I noticed he wasn′t wearing a wedding ring.

Or
may
be . . . maybe he was being this charming because he liked me. That thought squirted a jet of heat into my cheeks. Then the heat spread to a new location, this one completely inappropriate, given the clinical circumstances.

I′d just broken out with a severe case of Hot Pants Fever for Dr. Xavier Medina.

Chapter 34

How to Wear Your Coats

Here′s the trick to putting on mascara: Coat the top of your lashes with mascara first, with a downward stroke.
Then
coat the bottom of your lashes with an upward stroke.

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

″You′re such a sucker for men′s eyes, Kate,″ Evelyn said. ″But really, you should have checked out his ass, too. Dr. Medina′s butt is the absolute
most
awesome thing about him.″

″If he hadn′t been wearing a long white coat, believe me, I would have.″

Actually I didn′t care all that much about men′s butts. I′ve never understood why women talk about them so much. To me, sexual attraction is all about a look in the eyes. Give me the right look in the eyes, and I′ll follow you to the ends of the Milky Way.

Evelyn and I were having a late dinner at Christina′s, a hole-in-the wall restaurant near my house in Trinity Heights. I loved the restaurant′s aroma of hot garlic bread and fresh-made pasta. I even adored its unabashedly tacky décor, including the arbor of plastic grapes that hung in bunches from the ceiling.

″Okay, so here are some vital statistics about Dr. Medina that you should know,″ Evelyn said, spearing a frilly-edged leaf of escarole with her fork. ″He′s single, he′s straight, and all the women in the Newbodies are totally gaga over him. But the word around the group is that he never dates patients.
Believe
me, I′ve tried. He just humors me.″

″Technically speaking, Evelyn, I′m not Medina′s patient. I′m a reporter doing a feature about him. That puts me on a slightly different footing.″

″My, aren′t you the little player?″ Evelyn said with a roguish grin.

″No, not at all. This is a totally new feeling for me. I got the sense that Dr. Medina thinks I′m actually beautiful in a . . . in an
ideal
way. He actually compared me to the
Venus of Urbino
.″

″To the
what
?″

″Titian′s portrait of Venus. It′s called the
Venus of Urbino
. He said I look like the painting. Did he ever say stuff like that to you?″

″You mean like Venus and Mars? Just kidding, ″ Evelyn said. ″No, he never said I look like a painting,″ Evelyn said. ″The only thing he said before he did my boob job was that my left breast is a little bigger than the right one. He fixed that, though.″

″I′ve never had a guy tell me that I look like an ideal beauty before. And he′s an objective expert on the subject of looks, right? So he should know.″

″Right. But sex isn′t about being objective.″

″I′m not talking about sex. I′m talking about surfaces—pure, unadulterated looks. Why did Medina, a plastic surgeon, compare me to a goddess of beauty? I have to believe he means it.″

Evelyn waggled her fork at me. ″Kate, you simply have to stop being surprised when men tell you you′re gorgeous,″ she said. ″I′ve been telling you that for years. So have lots of people. You just never believe us. The whole thing′s getting to be a little disingenuous. Frankly, I′m annoyed by it.″

″Sorry, but can you blame me?″ I said. ″Jona than left my ego completely shredded. I′m a burned-out shell—I′m a walking straw woman, and he tossed a match on top of me. When I was in Medina′s office and he said what he did to me . . . I don′t know. It felt like he was rubbing a soothing balm into my
soul
. It was like he actually thought I was hot. Do you know what I mean?″

″I do know,″ Evelyn said. ″We all need to feel sexy to our guys. It′s a prerequisite. If it weren′t for that, we′d probably be happier being with a gay guy. They usually make better friends.″

″I used to tell myself that it was okay that my relationship with Jonathan was so reserved, because I knew underneath that he loved me. And anyway, I was the one who wouldn′t let him in the shower when he asked to come in. I have to take responsibility for that.″

I felt my chest heave up and down. A sob was trying to punch its way through my wall of self-control.