Massie Read online

  “Say you’re free this Saturday at one o’clock.” Anastasia let her hair fall back into place. “I want to throw a BPC luncheon in your honor at the Southampton Country Club.”

  Massie nearly rolled off her lounge chair. “I’m in.” She twirled a lock of soon-to-be-purple hair around her index finger and yanked it tight.

  Anastasia clapped her hands together firmly. “Then it’s all set.” She stood in one elegant, flowing movement and smoothed her dress. “Just e-mail your client list and we’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Client list?”

  “Don’t worry—no one is going to poach your customers.

  We need it for the video tribute.” She snapped her fingers

  once and Muse galloped over.

  Bean followed, yapping frantically at Anastasia’s feet.

  “Video tribute?” Massie asked, her mind racing. Was this the kind of video tribute they had at the Oscars to honor a dead alpha actor? Or the kind they had on VH1 where makeup artists and C-list comedians talked about someone famous as if they were total besties? Not that it mattered. Both were beyond acceptable.

  Anastasia scooped up Muse and began walking toward the helicopter. Massie followed. “I want to get a few quotes from some of your clients talking about how you used our feel-good philosophy to help promote the line. If done right, it can be a real tearjerker. When a POTO helps a POTI, it can be life altering.”

  “Potto and a potty?” Massie’s Be Plucky brows furrowed.

  “Pretty On The Outside,” Anastasia explained, pointing to Massie. “And Pretty On The Inside—your clients. You’ve helped so many girls fall in love with themselves despite their imperfections, and that’s a very special thing. You’ve built up their self-esteem by using kindness. It’s really quite moving.” Anastasia stepped inside the bronze helicopter and slid on her goggles. “So get me that list and prepare to be honored for your compassion.”

  Anastasia pulled the door shut, started the engine, and bid farewell by making a B with her fingers.

  Massie stood firm against the blasting winds and deafening staccato of the revving propeller. Seconds later, the chopper lift-hovered above the lawn, tilted left, and then zoomed away. Another flurry of purple glitter fell from the sky.

  As the shimmering flecks gathered on her scalp, Massie started to wonder if maybe her sales technique wasn’t exactly what Anastasia had envisioned.

  But she was too elated to stress about it. After all, Anastasia had called her a POTO! And for now, that was the only thing that mattered.

  CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

  INOUT

  Makeover parties Sleepover parties

  Being a top seller Being a top buyer

  POTI (A2A)* POTO (A2A)*

  *A2A=According to Anastasia—nawt Massie. Yet Massie would pretend to believe in POTI until she had her purple streak. But not a single minute more.

  SOUTHAMPTON

  MAIN STREET

  Friday, June 26

  11:32 A.M.

  Southampton’s picturesque Main Street was bustling with stylish women swinging tissue-stuffed shopping bags from one chic boutique to the next. Luxury SUVs stood parked along the curb and clogged the narrow roads. The morning gloom had cleared to another flawless day, and, thanks to Massie’s recent success, Kendra had arranged a three-hour visit with Massie’s old friend Visa so they could buy an outfit for the luncheon.

  Confidence oozed from Massie’s tiny pores as she strolled beside her mother wearing a blousy peach Halston kimono top from the vintage closet over last year’s gray Marc by Marc Jacobs short shorts. Even in old clothes she owned this town.

  They brushed past a college-aged brunette wearing high-waisted dungaree jean shorts. “What a waist.” Massie giggled.

  “Sweetie!” Kendra giggle-nudged her daughter with a mix of amusement and disgrace. “What if she hears you?”

  “She’d thank me,” Massie muttered. “Just like everyone else I helped.”

  “I have a feeling that the Be Pretty philosophy does not involve making fun of people.”

  Massie rummaged through her pewter Botkier tote searching for a distraction. Ever since Anastasia had told this POTO about being kind to POTIs, Massie had felt slightly on edge. Did Anastasia really think people with bad style were pretty on the inside? Or was it just her way of selling makeup to the masses? Because if she did believe it, she’d probably take issue with Massie’s unorthodox sales technique. And that might affect Massie’s BPC alpha status and her video tribute and her purple streak and—STOP!

  After a quick hair toss, Massie managed to erase these stressful thoughts from her head. Worrying wouldn’t solve anything. It would only put a damper on Visa Day and her sunny complexion—two things she wanted to enjoy for as long as possible.

  Kendra checked her gold Cartier timepiece “I just want to stop in on Horst Fishbeck at the gallery. I ordered six garden sculptures weeks ago and they haven’t arrived—unless he sold them to someone else, which is exactly what I’m going to find out.” She picked up her pace. “It won’t take long. And then we can spend the rest of the day on you.”

  Massie sighed. She had to get to Intermix before her Chanel No. 19 faded and her blush was absorbed. It was crucial for her self-esteem that she shop while she looked and felt her best. And right now she was a nine. But by the time her mother got through with Horst, her blood sugar would have dropped to unsalvageable levels and her daily beauty high would dip dangerously low.

  “How about I meet you for lunch.” Massie checked her reflection in the window of Agnes B. as they passed. The Halston she’d borrowed from her mother was flattering on her tiny frame, but come awn! Her exfoliated skin was itching to be wrapped in something designed after she was born.

  “I don’t want you shopping alone.” Kendra pushed past a woman whose face was stretched so tight, she looked shocked just to be walking down the street. “Trini’s neighbor’s sister-in-law had her wallet stolen right out of her bag while she was lunching at Savory’s.”

  “But I won’t be alone.” Massie hurried to keep up with her mother as she click-clacked toward the gallery in her Choo slides. “I’ll have Visa.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Heyyyy, you!” Lindsey Kearns called from her silver beach cruiser. She slammed on the brakes, hopped off, and lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. Her frizz was completely gone and her green eyes were lined in gray, just like Massie taught her. She had even abandoned the masculine surf trunks for a pink Roxy tank dress covered in hearts.

  A feeling of pride pricked the bottoms of Massie’s feet. She stomped her BCBG wood wedges against the pavement for relief.

  “Lindsey, you look great,” Kendra gushed, motioning for her to walk with them because she was late.

  “Thanks.” Lindsey rolled the silver bike beside Massie. “Your daughter did it.”

  Kendra stopped for a second. She covered her heart with her jeweled hand and admired Massie as if she were one of Horst Fishbeck’s precious works of art. Then she started walking again.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying your beauty.” Massie beamed.

  “I am, and don’t worry—that’s exactly what I told the film crew yesterday.”

  “Film crew?” Kendra asked, sliding a diamond peace-sign pendant across the platinum chain around her neck.

  “Yeah, Be Pretty is interviewing my clients about their makeover experience,” Massie said, as if that kind of thing happened to her twice a day. “It’s for the luncheon.”

  “What did you tell them?” Kendra asked outside the gallery, where she paused to tighten the thin gold belt on her RL navy shirtdress.

  “I told them how honest Massie was.” Lindsey threw a leg back over her bike seat and lifted herself up to sit. “They seemed a little shocked when I told them you said I needed a humidifier because my hair was sucking the moisture out of the room but—”

  “You told them that?” Massie snapped at Lindsey.

  “You said that?�
�� Kendra snapped at Massie.

  “It’s okay, we’re not upset.” Lindsey absentmindedly rang her bell. “Anymore.”

  “We’re?” Massie screeched, avoiding her mother’s questioning eyes. “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “All the other girls you helped.” Lindsey smacked a deep-conditioned blond tendril away from her glistening lips. “Don’t worry, after we told the camera crew what you said about us, we made sure to let them know how grateful we were for your honesty. And for promising that Be Cosmetics would make us pretty, even though God couldn’t.”

  Kendra turned to her daughter, her proud smile fading faster than Massie’s Chanel No. 19.

  THE SOUTHAMPTON COUNTRY CLUB

  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.” …
r />   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.