

## Cover-up

By Kibkabe Araya

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Kibkabe Araya

http://smashwords.com/profile/view/kibkabe

http://kibkabearaya.com

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### _1_

"You're here for the interview?" the faux blonde flaunting her vanity in a crystal-studded compact mirror directed the question to a nervous Kennedy Moore. By the way she protruded her lips into a pillowy pout, she was clearly exasperated by Kennedy's presence. Just a minute ago, Kennedy noticed the woman tending to her lengthy lashes. She already had lengthy lashes, but she still applied waxy black mascara to the tips. The silver mascara tube tumbled into her turquoise Coach purse. Then, she pulled out the tube of lipstick. She already had lurid lips, but she still twisted the top off that tube and slathered the moist color across her lips. In pure fascination, Kennedy spied on the wannabe star reporter sitting across from her in the cafeteria, but she didn't think she was being so obvious.

"Yes, I am," Kennedy sheepishly answered her competition.

Snapping her compact mirror together, the woman ironed her dyed blonde strands with her manicured fingernails. "What's your name?" she inquired, almost hostilely.

"Kennedy." Though taken aback by the woman's tone, she decided to play along. "What's your name?" But after a sly once-over at her competitor, she wondered if her talent would be eclipsed by her raw appearance.

"Chelsea Chilton," she annunciated her alliterative name as she straightened her posture. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I can't wait to be a reporter here."

Kennedy nodded. They were both professional twenty-somethings, equipped with bachelor's degrees in broadcast journalism, vying for the same position as the newest reporter to join the Emmy Award-winning team at the #1 television news station in the region. They were both desperate to attain the job amid the dwindling opportunities in the lackluster economy.

In retaliation, Kennedy pulled out her broken compact mirror from her plain black purse and used it as a shield. She only had the half with the mirror. It also had a little crack, but it got the job done. She never really used it, unless something flew into her eye or something wedged itself between her teeth. But she wanted to let Chelsea Chilton know she was consumed with her looks as well and had the ideal appearance of a TV reporter. A smudge of her burgundy matte lipstick somehow ended up on her cheek.

"I could help you reapply your lipstick," Chelsea's voice rose above the mirror.

"No, my lipstick is fine." She imagined herself snatching Chelsea's hair extensions out. She shook the image away in disbelief that drama was brewing at her first post-grad job interview.

"OK..." Chelsea reopened her mirror and pretended to check her teeth for pieces of food she didn't even eat. She just wanted to gaze at her dazzling smile again.

Kennedy took a tissue out of her purse, spit on it, and placed it on the smudge. All she wore was the lipstick and foundation to cover up the stress-induced acne. She wanted to keep perfecting her practically nonexistent makeup as she waited to convince an associate news director to hire her because she's responsible, hardworking, and skillful. Those three adjectives rarely fail at an interview. In the past three months, she had sent out a hundred résumés and cover letters, and this was the only response she received, so it had to be fate. After earning her journalism degree in New York City, she had an epiphany to return to California and become a TV reporter at her favorite hometown news station, KXXU-TV. Now sitting in the cafeteria with an overambitious rival, Kennedy felt her upward mobility in the career world dimming by the moment.

She clicked her black kitten heels together underneath the stain-splattered table in the cafeteria. She started to study the shine along her pointed shoes, but Chelsea's four-inchers distracted her. Would Chelsea's lips, hair, and shoes nab the job? It took Kennedy ten minutes to find a piece of footwear with a hint of heel in her closet underneath her running sneakers and Old Navy flip-flops. She turned on the glitz and glamour for the job interview. Well, wearing her polyester black blazer and matching pants with a plain white collared blouse seemed to be upscale compared to her vintage tees and faded jeans. Her eye again foolishly went to Chelsea, who wore a periwinkle blue skirt suit. Ruffles lined the hem of the knee-length skirt as a peacock brooch sat over her right breast. She took a nail to vacuum the nonexistent leftover gloss around the curvature of her lips. Chelsea's glitz and glamour switch seemed to be always up. Kennedy softly sighed. She evidently didn't have her switch on.

With pursed lips, Chelsea gave her another artificial smile. A psych-out move. Kennedy uneasily smiled with her top lip and bottom lip colliding out-of-sync. Her heartbeats smashed into one another. Fresh from cocoons, butterflies flew in her stomach. She wiped beads of sweat from her brow. Her anxiety crept up on her. She didn't want Chelsea to see her sweat. To soothe her nerves, she took a whiff from her collar scented with the latest athlete's fragrance to hit the market. She really tried to inhale confidence from the universe instead of her fragrance. She hoped smelling good would lead to a compliment, then likeability.

The cafeteria door swung wide open with the knob hitting the wall. The startling movement made Kennedy's heart catapult into her throat.

"Hello," a man holding a KXXU-TV coffee mug greeted the two women. His wiry eyeglasses and untucked plaid button-up shirt was like a uniform in the tech department.

"Hi," Chelsea flirtatiously said with crossing her left leg over her right leg. She pushed a slight giggle.

"Hi," Kennedy's voice cracked. She cleared her throat with a gurgle she knew they heard while the tech guy snatched the coffeepot out of the machine and poured the remnants of the brown liquid into his mug. With a flushed face, Kennedy tried to stifle the sound again. She began to secretly pray her even-toned voice would soon make an appearance for the interview.

"Here for the interview?" the tech guy jumpstarted a conversation before taking a sip from his mug. Kennedy would love to add the blue and red station mug to her Ikea kitchen décor at the apartment she shared with her best friend, Jocelyn. She imagined the mug always sitting near an espresso machine, which had yet to materialize, to let everyone know she worked at the top news station in the area. She wondered if the employees actually kept station memorabilia around the house or left it all on their cubicle desks in the newsroom.

"Yes," Kennedy and Chelsea said simultaneously. Their over-the-top eagerness made the tech guy laugh.

"Well, good luck," he left the cafeteria to avoid the steam of desperation overtaking the room.

"You really think they're going to pick you?" Chelsea hissed.

"I have a chance just as much as you do," Kennedy's mood turned from a friendly attempt to a combative tone.

"I have the look! I just have it," Chelsea fell back in her seat in cockiness. "I don't think you have it." She playfully frowned.

The loosely hinged door swung open again.

"Kennedy?" A towering woman shoved her hipbone against the door to keep it open. "I'm Heather Fong, news director," she said mechanically while giving Kennedy a visual rundown behind her fashionable black-rimmed eyeglasses. Her ballpoint pen tapped her bottom lip as Kennedy rushed out of the plastic seat to shake her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Kennedy said breathlessly as she shook Heather's limp hand. In the background, she heard Chelsea snicker.

A sneer crossed Heather's freckled face as she led Kennedy down the hallway decorated with gold-framed photographs of the reporters and anchors. In awe, Kennedy laid eyes on her role model: Claire Owens. She was one of the city's star reporters, who won countless Emmys for her local news coverage on politics. Her long black hair fell across her gray blazer in the photo. Her perfect teeth peered behind her soft red lipstick. She represented poise. As the only black anchorwoman in the city, she reached her career pinnacle by reporting on state budget cuts and labor protests from the capitol building steps.

With her upbringing in the capital city, Kennedy also wanted to be a political reporter. There weren't many female political reporters, so she was determined to fill the void. From inappropriate affairs to candidate bashing, politics aroused the public, so Kennedy dreamed of being a part of the powerful media machine to produce controversial stories that affected the economy, health care, education, and other major sectors. Then it dawned on her: she could work in the same station that ignited the career of Claire Owens. Still in awe, she let her eyes glide over one immaculately dressed reporter to another. Claire was the only woman of color. All the women had lengthy hair, including the new reporter who had a pixie haircut just a month ago. She touched the ends of her own hair barely touching her shoulder. She shook the "look" notion out her head. Her dreamlike saunter directed her right into Heather's corner office.

"Your eyes are...too...big," Heather, sitting in her suave leather swivel chair, commented on Kennedy's large, round, brown eyes that always garnered admiration, but in the broadcast news world, they were too unusual.

"Um...OK," Kennedy stuttered in shock.

"Maybe some eyeliner could help shrink them," she offered.

Kennedy feared eyeliner would blind her. "I'll start using it immediately."

Still banging the pen against her lip, Heather eyed the video résumé flashing across her computer screen. The inspirational story on a nonprofit organization trying to feed the hungry amid the failing economy didn't seem to impress her. "And your video work can be better, but it's...decent for just starting out," she continued her slight tirade on Kennedy's performance though this comment fell into the compliment category. "And you could use more makeup altogether. The thing is you look too young. Nobody is going to trust someone with telling them the news if you look like their kid sister."

Too young? Kennedy didn't mention how she was mistakenly reprimanded for ditching middle school last week.

"Are you interested in our summer fellowship program?" Heather jotted something down on her writing pad.

Bewildered, Kennedy thought this interview was for the entry-level reporter position. That was why she had a passive catfight with Chelsea, who assumed she deserved it more. Confidence zapped again.

"I'm sorry," she pointed out her confusion, "I thought this interview was for the reporter position. The posting said I didn't need experience. Well, I...I have experience, but I mean I just graduated..."

"It was, but I don't think you're there yet." Heather's chapped lips turned into a grimace. Kennedy smacked her lips to make sure her lipstick survived the interview. Then, annoyingly, Chelsea popped into her mind with her perfect lipstick protected by her perfect lipliner. Heather probably gave Chelsea one glance in the cafeteria and knew she was the next reporter.

Kennedy, of course, was mortified things took a 180-degree swerve into the wrong direction. "OK," she mustered while enhancing the size of her eyes to emphasize the eagerness that dissipated seconds before. Maybe not the best move after the eye comment.

"Well, actually, instead of the fellowship," Heather's voice soared a notch, "you can be a production assistant! You'll answer phones, hand out scripts, help with the camera in the studio. Things of that nature. It's part time, but you must commit for three months and have a driver's license. Are you interested in that?"

Another downgrade. The fellowship trained one to become a fabulous TV reporter and eventually an anchor. The production assistant position allowed one to keep her job at Wal-Mart while making extra money on the side rolling the camera to focus on self-absorbed talent. Kennedy wasn't a behind-the-scenes girl; she was the talent.

"Yes, I'm interested," she lied between her partially clenched teeth. "Please add my résumé to the list. Also, can I still be considered for the fellowship program?"

"Sure," Heather returned nonchalantly while jotting down notes on a yellow Post-It. She shuffled several papers around her disheveled desk and handed Kennedy the pamphlet on the fellowship program and the job announcement for a production assistant. Kennedy rose from her seat and gave Heather a stoic smile. She walked out of the office without thanking her or saying a goodbye.

On the way to the exit, she passed Chelsea, who sat outside in the hallway because of a meeting in the cafeteria.

"So how did it go?" Chelsea teased.

"Well," Kennedy answered without missing a step.

Through traffic, Kennedy harshly sped down tree-lined streets and swerved on her turns. She hoped there weren't any police cars hiding behind bushes ready to give out speeding tickets. After an interview where the interviewer belittled her career goals, she was visibly upset and only a Frappuccino and a cinnamon raisin roll can unwrinkle her day.

Dry air suffocated the atmosphere, so people flocked in droves for their multiple cups of joe and a brief moment in air conditioning. From the front door to the drive-thru, Starbucks was jam-packed. With her white blouse and black pants sticking to her in the late summer heat, she pushed the door open with a vengeance like she hit a punching bag at the gym. Since she recently made coffee a priority in her life to coincide with her career ambition, she felt out of place with all the haste.

"Can I help you?" the barista in a green apron strolled up to the cash register after snapping the lid to a Styrofoam cup and handing it to a customer.

Kennedy peeked at the menu plastered high on the wall as if she didn't know what she wanted already. She was one of those girls who could order the same thing at the same place every time and never get tired of her choice. But her career had hit a roadblock, so maybe she needed a change.

"Frappuccino and that roll," she pointed to the cinnamon raisin roll under the glass display. She didn't feel like changing much today after all.

"OK, that will be four seventy-eight," the barista pushed buttons on the register. Kennedy pulled a neatly folded five-dollar bill from her battered wallet and handed it to the barista. When she received her order in a cardboard tray, she walked toward a table in the back as her heels pounded the linoleum floor. Decorated with crumbs, the table symbolized her life: a mess. She wiped away the crumbs with a napkin. She didn't feel like waiting for an employee to do it. Once she sank her teeth into the cinnamon sugar glaze, everything in her world seemed right. Until she finished chewing and realized she had a lot of work to do.

Driven by rejection, she unzipped her purse and pulled out her tablet computer. She wanted to review her résumé and rewrite her cover letter. They had to be stronger if she wanted to obtain more interviews. No more confidence-derailing interviews with a Chelsea or a Heather. On paper, she seemed like the perfect candidate for an entry-level reporting job. She had five internships at local news stations where she rode in live trucks and wrote mock scripts to stories the real reporter and photographer would desperately deliver to the masses before the competition. Her short, bitten fingernails tapped the keys of her computer to express ideas on how to make herself shine.

"Kennedy?" she heard her name once in the distance but continued to type. She convinced herself the voice was a figment of her imagination.

"Kennedy Moore?" an unfamiliar male voice sounded hollow above her. She slowly rose her head in anticipation.

Her eyes popped to soak in the image of Leo Port. She mouthed a soft greeting and rose to engage in a flimsy hug. Like in a dramatic slow motion feature, she felt lightweight falling back into her seat. The 5'10 muscular young man with smooth skin the color of the café au lait in his hand settled into the chair across from her. She couldn't help but gape at him.

"How've you been? I haven't seen you in a long time," Leo brought his clear plastic cup of iced coffee to his raspberry red lips. He looked up at Kennedy waiting for an answer. His hazel eyes pierced into her, and she got lost in those irises.

"I'm fine. I can't believe you recognized me after all this time," she slowly said.

"Well, we grew up together. You look the same. So what's been going on?"

The same? "So you think I look like the girl in high school who had a huge crush on you?" She combed her hair with her fingers. With adulthood came boldness in admitting her affection for him that seemed to be percolating all over again.

"Yeah, you look young," he laughed, slightly confused by the question. "You look good."

"By good," she extended the conversation, "do you mean like you could see me as a news reporter on TV?" She crossed her fingers to hear she could be a community mainstay in the local media.

Tapping his cup, he took a minute to think about the random question. "You could be a reporter, I guess. Why?" He smiled when he asked for an explanation, and, it took Kennedy a few seconds to regather her thoughts.

"No reason," she slyly took a sip of her coffee. She knew her hair was dreadfully drooping from heat exposure, her blouse was uncomfortably sticking to her body, and beads of sweat were overshadowing her minimal makeup.

"There was a reason..." Leo began to dig.

"OK, OK. I just had a beyond disastrous interview at KXXU-TV. I don't think they thought I had the 'look'"—she used air quotes to emphasize her point—"and then there was this stupid fake blonde slash fake tan girl taunting me. They probably picked her fake ass for the job." Suddenly upset again, she crossed her arms against her chest.

"I think you could be a reporter. I remember when you used to be a reporter when we were in high school." Leo's eyes smiled, and Kennedy melted a little inside. "And on that high school note, I'm going to be a teacher there."

Kennedy nodded. She didn't know how to respond to the fact he had a job and she couldn't get one. "Wow, that's funny. A lot of memories there." Her memory bank fluttered back to the summer before tenth grade.

Almost fifteen years old with her unbridled hair turning burnt sienna in the summer sun, she felt her awkward lankiness evolve into voluptuousness. It was only fitting she and Jocelyn were coming of age that summer at camp. One Monday, while they played jump rope with other girls, Kennedy saw Leo on the large blacktop as one of the new campers. Her heart stopped as so did the jump rope when she ran to Jocelyn on the other end.

"What's the problem?" Jocelyn asked, bewilderedly.

"Leo's here!" Kennedy pointed in the distance to a group of boys playing basketball on the court under the shade of an oak tree.

"So what are we going to do?" Jocelyn retorted as she passed the jump rope to the other girls to continue the game. She had no desire to climb the social ladder with her friend to get to Leo Port.

"I don't know," Kennedy whispered to make sure her voice didn't reach the boys.

"Isn't it enough you chased Leo all over school? We're on our summer break. He's not supposed to be here anyways." Jocelyn crossed her arms.

With lightening bolt speed, Kennedy dashed to the group of boys with a surge of confidence flowing in her veins. She was always a flirt. Jocelyn slowly trailed behind with her lightened honey blonde hair flapping in the slight breeze.

"Hi, boys," Kennedy gave them a cutesy wave and a wide smile full of metal braces decorated with rubber bands.

"Hey," they said nonchalantly.

"Hey, Kennedy! Oh, and there's Jocelyn!" Leo seemed excited to see familiar faces of girls he's known for the past year from their high school tucked away inside their quiet suburban neighborhood.

"We just wanted to let you know we were here," Kennedy systematically placed her hands on her burgeoning hips to let Leo know what she gained over the summer.

"OK. I'll see you girls later," Leo said, returning to the game with the other boys.

In haste, Jocelyn pulled Kennedy's arms off her hips and took her hand to pull her back to the jump rope area. Kennedy's dreamy gaze remained on Leo as he grew smaller in the distance.

"We should hang out sometime," Leo's adult voice pierced through Kennedy's attention on a forsaken memory as she gripped her cup. She guzzled down some coffee to awaken her from daydream mode.

"Yeah, we should." Kennedy pulled out her rhinestone-studded iPhone and waited for Leo to recite his phone number.

"It's five-five-five-zero-nine-two-one," he recited as she dialed the number on her phone.

"I see it, so I'm gonna keep it." He saved her number. "I can't wait for us to hang out." He sounded genuine. "It'll be nice to hang out with someone new, especially someone I've known forever."

"Yeah," Kennedy breathily said. She was distracted, so only monosyllabic words tumbled from her sticky cinnamon-powdered lips. "I'm glad we found each other today."

"Don't worry about that interview. You'll get the next one. You have the right look. You're hot. You're fine. I watch the news. Those reporters are old."

"Thank you." Her cheeks stung from her efforts of trying to suppress the grin creeping upon her face.

He placed his luscious lips against the mouthpiece of his cup. Kennedy watched his slight Adam's apple bounce as the liquid bobbed down his throat. "I have to go. I have to work on lesson plans. I thought a coffee would help me last a bit longer."

"That's great, Leo," she said, dreamily. His presence overwhelmed her, and she was that giddy teenage girl again.

"I'll text you later."

"OK." Kennedy watched him wave her goodbye and walk toward the parking lot. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was and what she was doing.

Afternoon yoga class at the dance studio calmed Jocelyn. She inhaled through her nose, exhaled out her mouth. She meditated. She stretched her arms and legs. She felt flexible. Soft instrumental music warmed the room as Kennedy plopped down beside her, barely holding still during her exercises. She made a thump when she fell on her downward facing dog. Jocelyn peeked over her left side to see Kennedy rise again in position before the yoga instructor demanded another change. A workout for Kennedy was wearing her Nikes and doing Zumba. She didn't have the patience to be in touch with yoga. After the interview, she wanted to release the negative energy, and yoga wasn't hitting the mark.

"So, how was the interview?" Jocelyn quietly asked as class ended. She tightly rolled up her yoga mat.

Kennedy sloppily rolled her mat up as it unraveled. "It was great! Totally nailed it," she lied. She paused. "But what annoys me the most is nobody can make a single remark about my work. I don't know if I'm good at reporting because everyone's saying I don't look like the quintessential TV reporter."

"Well..." Jocelyn took a swig from her water bottle. She tried to carefully craft a soothing speech. But she had nothing.

"Whatever. I feel it in my bones that I'm going to get this one." Kennedy pushed her artificial confidence.

"That's awesome. Then, I can say that's my girl on TV! Wow, that'll be surreal." Picking up on the vibes, Jocelyn pushed her artificial excitement.

They walked to their two-bedroom apartment four blocks away. The whispering wind and pedestrian hustle and bustle slightly distracted them. The sidewalk ended at the front door to the building. The heavy red door closed behind them followed by a slow stalk up the spiral staircase. The interview clouded Kennedy's head. She still hoped for a phone call.

"You had an interview this week," Jocelyn's soft voice resonated through their apartment as she turned the key out of the lock and placed her classic Big Brown Bag tote on the kitchen counter. "That's amazing these days."

"I know. I'm totally bugging. It's probably going to take a few days to hear back anyways," Kennedy blindly placed her Adidas duffel bag on the floor. She then headed to her closed laptop on the coffee table in the living room. She desperately wanted to change the subject. "Guess what?" The guessing game was always fun, especially since Jocelyn would never guess the outrageous answer but would appreciate the outcome.

"What?"

"I saw Leo today at Starbucks!"

Jocelyn wrinkled her button nose trying to place the name. "Leo? Leo Port?"

"Yeah!" Kennedy enjoyed talking about a man she could make hers.

"What did he look like?"

"Gorgeous as usual," Kennedy said like the answer was obvious. "He still looks good. I bet he still has washboard abs. I remember when he was on the wrestling team. He was too sexy for school. I wonder how many girls started puberty just by looking at him." She traveled back to la-la land.

Jocelyn laughed. "Eww, that's gross! He was not cute at all!"

"I probably looked like a hot mess when he saw me today." Kennedy's mood sank.

"You looked fine," Jocelyn grumpily assured. "Did you tell him about the interview?"

"I did. He told me they need me there, and that I'm beautiful. Or did he say pretty? Or was I cute?" Kennedy thought too hard trying to remember every word of the coffeehouse conversation.

"Well, if he said any one of those adjectives, then that's good." Jocelyn remembered Kennedy-Leo Flirtgate back in high school.

"I don't know." Kennedy shook her head. "I know we've changed, and we've been in the real world for a while, but what if he still doesn't want to date me?"

Once upon a time, Leo's easygoing smile and charismatic eyes drove her crazy. But she wasn't pretty. She was the ugly duckling. Nobody wanted to date Kennedy, let alone walk her to algebra class or hold her heavy textbooks. Her mahogany complexion, kinky hair, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, and metal braces were too extreme for teenage boys. Leo was one of the Adonises; he swayed in the breeze of high school popularity as almost every girl swooned. Kennedy would fan herself with her hand when he walked by and smiled her way. They were cool. She'd let him copy her homeroom assignments because it gave her an opportunity to flirt. She laughed loudly, smiled widely, and twirled a strand of hair seductively. When Leo looked at Kennedy, he only saw the brains. For the beauty, he saw it in the girl sitting behind her.

To compete with the girls who qualified as Leo's type, she would have had to transform into black Barbie: bone-straight hair, makeup-covered face, cleavage-exposing tops, and hip-hugging jeans, and if possible, contact lenses and Invisalign braces. That was the rule. Her parents refused to have any straightening agent touch her hair until she reached eighteen years of age and moved away from under their roof. The blow dryer and hair gel could only do so much. Longingly, she stared at the pink boxes of no-lye relaxers in the store with pictures of smiling girls wearing their glossy, straightened manes and ponytails. She wanted to be one of those girls so badly. Instead, she was one of the girls fashioning the long braids with the bamboo hoop earrings like the '90s hip-hop and R&B girls. But that wasn't trendy on her side of town.

It felt like punishment when her parents also forbade her to wear makeup. Not even a dash of eyeshadow or mascara or lipstick. Each lip gloss purchased from a trip to the mall had to be inspected for color content. It could only be clear, colorless. Sometimes, she gave Jocelyn a few dollars to purchase some tinted lip gloss and mascara. She would apply it in the girls' bathroom at school in the morning, but it didn't yield any results from Leo. The beauty limitations somewhat ruined her adolescence. It wasn't fun to be picked on for being the ugly girl who couldn't disguise her acne with some foundation.

"You've always been my friend," Jocelyn cleared her throat to give Kennedy the much-repeated beauty speech. "So I know you're beautiful inside and out. Leo knows the same thing, but he was too immature to see it. And that's his fault. If he still doesn't see your true beauty, then he's still dumb. And we don't need to be bothered with that. Again."

"I just haven't been in a relationship in...so long," Kennedy ended on a whiny note. "I enjoy being single, but I feel like I'm ready to jump into something, headfirst."

Jocelyn hadn't been a single girl since she met her steady boyfriend, Hunter, three years ago on a summer break. His parents owned a chain of spas, so he had the funds to fly to New York and spend time with Jocelyn whenever his heart desired. She was hopelessly devoted to him. But now with Leo in the picture, she envisioned double date nights with her best friend filled with dinners at the downtown hibachi steakhouses and R-rated romantic comedies at the drive-in theater.

"Well, if you want Leo, then I guess you should go after him," Jocelyn nudged Kennedy's knee on the sofa with a slight change of heart. "I remember when you two used to flirt in the courtyard during lunch. Wow, that feels like a century ago."

Kennedy grinned. But now she didn't flirt much, so she didn't date much. If a well-dressed guy approached her at a bar offering to buy her some fruity alcoholic drink, she would either shake her head or turn away in disinterest. An injection of her teenage hormones may liven things up, especially after her last relationship fell apart in pieces she didn't have the heart to pick up. Forging a romantic relationship with Leo would take her mind off the relentless job search. She needed a distraction.

Snatching last Sunday's newspaper off the table, Kennedy turned to the job descriptions. Ads for pet groomers, temp secretaries, and construction workers stared back at her. Her eyes automatically turned away to the television screen with anchorwoman Claire Owens talking about a recent murder. She grabbed the remote control off the table and turned to another competitor, Channel 5 News. KXXU-TV wasn't getting her support in ratings tonight. She really couldn't stomach the news at all.

"It's dinnertime. I hope we have food..." Jocelyn's voice trailed off above Kennedy's stationary body hidden behind the folds of the expansive newspaper. "What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't care," Kennedy groaned and slammed the newspaper down on the table. Propping her laptop on her yoga capris, she opened her inbox. After ignoring a receipt for iTunes downloads and a twelve-dollar subscription bill for Charisma magazine, an email from a Vaughn Martin with Channel 5 News magically appeared on the screen. "O-M-G!" she immediately clicked on it. Job opening for entry-level reporter, blah blah, saw your résumé, blah blah, and please come in for an interview! Tossing pillows and moving sofa cushions in search of her phone, she dialed the number in the message.

"Hello? May I speak to Vaughn?" Kennedy tried to sound professionally cheerful, but she came off as desperate and adamant. This could be her big break if they were reaching out to her.

"This is Vaughn. How may I help you?" His baritone voice seemed to be simultaneously calm and hectic with the busy newsroom noise in the background.

"Hi. This is Kennedy...Moore. I just received your email...about the...open reporter position," she stammered. "I want to schedule an interview."

"Of course. Thanks for calling. How about tomorrow at eleven?"

"Tomorrow's fine," she said aloud for an excited Jocelyn to hear.

"Good. See you then." They exchanged goodbyes, and Kennedy leaned back on the sofa with a sigh of relief. She was getting back on track.

"You're on a roll!" Jocelyn pulled out last weekend's pizza box from the refrigerator.

"Yep, the universe must be aligned or something. My horoscope said this would happen, I think," Kennedy still couldn't tell Jocelyn there was absolutely no chance of getting the job at KXXU-TV. She dashed to her closet looking for her ideal business attire for a 90-degree summer day. Her closet resembled that of a cartoon character with the fifteen blouses tailored the same way in a variety of colors ranging from chartreuse to violet, five pairs of wide-legged slacks in black, gray, beige, white, and brown, and ten waist-length blazers in every darkened hue. Practically from the moment of graduating from college, she replenished her wardrobe with adding all the ultra-conservative interview and career attire. But then she peeked past the last pair of pants in the middle of the closet and saw her cotton tees. Rows of faded jeans appearing like they underwent a million washes. Below her outfits, her beloved sneakers sat in a neat row. No smudges, no wrinkles, no scuffs. She sighed.

A minute later, Kennedy stared at her reflection in her vanity mirror. She slumped in the chair where her cosmetics and other beauty products sat in a heap. Her fingers stretched the sides of her eyes. The news director said her eyes were too big. When did a set of small eyes become an acceptable feature for TV news? Maybe with all the high-definition technology, large eyes may overwhelm the screens of the latest gadgets. She squinted her eyes. Are there any well-known TV news reporters with large eyes? Investing in some mascara and eyeliner in the fifteen-dollar aisle at Target rather than the five-dollar aisle couldn't hurt her career. The career she worked tirelessly for.

Her first break came in the eighth grade when she anchored the morning announcements. She sat in a teacher's overused chair behind a desk in the corner of the classroom set up as a makeshift news studio. Classmates held up the poster board with the large words from the script written in black Crayola markers. She read the words with a cheesy smile as a video camera rolled for the campus cable channel. It was a similar operation in high school and college.

She felt she was gaining invaluable experience as a future news anchorwoman like her idol Claire Owens. She imagined herself reporting on touchy issues with the graphic of her name across television screens. Her name sounded amazingly perfect for a reporter's moniker. Interesting enough to spark a name craze in town. Call her self-absorbed, but ambition placed these types of visions in her mind, and Kennedy saw her name in lights.

*

With her short-sleeved pastel pink blouse, ankle-length black slacks, and black sling-back heels she felt more comfortable in her business attire than in the last interview. Jocelyn offered to help with the makeup routine in the morning, but Kennedy took matters into her own hands and applied her own makeup. She even experimented with eyeliner. It didn't go so well, but she didn't poke an eye out. Now, she was sashaying down the hallway in the Channel 5 studio building, feeling new and improved. Nobody was in sight.

"Please don't let another Chelsea bitch-face come today," she pled under her breath. "This is mine." She sat in the only chair outside news director Vaughn Martin's office. She crossed her legs and waited for her interview. She felt relaxed.

Channel 5 News always scaled the bottom rung of the market ladder, according to its Nielsen TV ratings, so Kennedy felt she struck gold when the station contacted her for the newly opened entry-level reporter position. The reporters, in Kennedy's opinion, lacked high-quality broadcasting skills, so she might fit in with this crowd.

"Kennedy? I'm Vaughn," he extended his hand toward Kennedy, who snatched her purse and portfolio and returned the gesture.

"A pleasure to meet you." Kennedy confidently followed him into his cramped office.

They settled into their respective chairs. Vaughn in his swivel chair behind a desk where piles of papers controlled the territory; Kennedy in the sturdy yet raggedy chair on the opposite side. She straightened her posture.

"I saw your reporter reel with the link you sent us," Vaughn shook the mouse on his desk to wake up his computer.

Kennedy gulped. She hoped to receive a constructive critique on her work.

"It was...good. I liked it," he cupped his chin in his hand and glanced at the computer screen before turning his eyes to Kennedy.

"Great," she felt one step closer to being a reporter.

"But," he started, "in some of your stand-ups, you should wear a lighter lipstick because the darker lipstick sort of matches your skin."

Why doesn't he just say I'm too dark to pull off dark lipstick? Kennedy shooed the thought away and forced a smile that wouldn't stay up with the downward pull of gravity.

"Also," he continued with pushing his eyeglasses above the bridge of his nose, "you should consider wearing bangs. You have a long face. That will help cut it up. Viewers notice things like that."

So why don't I get out the scissors to cut my face? Kennedy pushed another negative thought out the way.

"You've seen Michelle Walsh. She has bangs." He referred to the station's longtime black reporter who rarely made an appearance anymore after her massive weight gain. She worked in the business for years; she can do whatever she wants. Bangs still hid your face regardless of its abnormal length.

"What about my video work? What about my reporting?" Kennedy inquired, with her questions running into each other.

"I liked the homeless event story. Very feature-y. You had decent stories. But you could work on popping out."

"Popping out?"

"You need more makeup to make your features pop in the harsh lights of the camera."

"But you could see me just fine. You could see my makeup! I used a perfectly good camera," Kennedy protested amid the hurl of irrelevant comments. She ungraciously smiled.

Her change in attitude took Vaughn slightly aback. "Well, you are a good candidate. Don't get me wrong. It's all about appearances. But if you get this job you can work with our makeup artist and hairstylist. So why did you want to be a broadcast journalist?"

"I always liked telling stories in an interesting way, so people could know what was going on around them, what was going on in their community. I feel many people want to see the picture, the image, so I wanted to be the one to bring it to them." Kennedy happily recited her rehearsed answer.

Several more questions were tossed her way, and she felt she redeemed herself with recalling her career experience thus far.

"I will definitely keep your résumé and materials on file, and we'll have a decision later today about who we want to ask to be in the next round of interviews. If you don't get a call, then we decided to go another way."

"OK." She gave him a blank stare of disbelief they were going to make a decision on someone's future so quickly. She picked her purse off the faded carpet, and they shook hands. She walked herself to the elevator down the hall past the portraits of reporters. She imagined her portrait on the wall, flaunting that six-figure contract smile. "I need to use my teeth whitening strips tonight," she said as she walked into the empty elevator.

2

Apprehensively, Kennedy jumped into the orange salon chair. Shiny reflective plastic enveloped the seat, but the discomfort couldn't take her mind off of her nervousness. This was her first time. She's a weave virgin. Before the long-awaited appointment (she scheduled it two days ago after two rejections in a row), she moisturized her hennaed strands with olive oil hair lotion in the morning before leaving the house. She had wrapped her hair in a tight-knit black satin cap the night before. Things that should be done on the regular, but she usually fell asleep on the 10 o'clock crime drama before changing into her pajamas. Prior to her sweet dreams, she usually prayed her permed hair would come out relatively straight without having to bother with a temperamental straightening iron. Every morning, she would somewhat be satisfied. Then her hairstyle would sweat out from running around the city trying to concoct a pitch for another story. Her hair was obviously not as adventurous as her spirit, but she still didn't have the best reason to add artificial hair to her original hair.

Just getting bangs wasn't enough anymore. Her hair had to be flawless. She needed a job, and she planned to see Leo tomorrow. After a late night text message exchange, they decided to meet for lunch. She hadn't really seen him, besides the chance meeting, since she traded the dreary suburban life for college in the big city four years ago. Since she returned home, she didn't expect to run into a former crush (i.e. Leo). If she had a job, then she would be focused on it, but now she can focus on other things (i.e. Leo) while waiting for that perfect job.

Kennedy swung her feet against the metal bar of the chair waiting for the hairdresser to finish her last client. She gazed in the full-frame mirror and saw her reflection gazing back. She returned to ninth grade gym class when Leo told her something very simple, and it could have been a game changer.

"If you straighten your hair, you would be so pretty," he handed her this piece of advice as if he was a certified beautician. Leo had a thing for Kennedy, and from this revelation, he had been trying to pinpoint what would make her attractive enough to be accepted by his inner circle.

"Why can't I straighten my hair?" she whined to her mother, who feared the boys would be knocking on her door for her daughter soon like flies drawn to sticky sweet honey. Boy, was she wrong.

"Because I said so." Mother didn't understand the trials and tribulations of attending a modern-day high school where kids judged heavily on looks and ignored brains unless they wanted to copy your homework.

So days before her eighteenth birthday while adjusting to college life in New York City, Kennedy went to a Dominican hair salon, and instead of getting the popular Brazilian blowout, she opted for a regular perm to straighten the kinks from her hair. It was a congratulatory gift for graduating from high school with honors and choosing a prestigious college. But her excitement was momentary with the new hairdo. She liked it straight for a week, but all the black girls on campus had the same hairstyle. The smell of burnt hair traveled beneath doors in the dormitory from overused styling irons. She reverted to maintaining her natural curls. She wore her natural hair all four years, excluding formal events and professional conferences where she thought straightening her hair would make her stand out. She now wanted to stand out all the time.

The hairdresser, Mercedes, prepared the table with combs, picks, brushes, bobby pins, moisturizers, and the medium-length, brownish-red weave. This was hair surgery. Kennedy read raves about Mercedes' expertise in mastering weaves online. She trusted her to work her magic.

"Oooh," Mercedes crooned. "I like this!" She separated the synthetic strands with her long, cheetah print fingernails.

Kennedy smirked a little. She saw it as a plain weave though it was close to her dream hair color and six inches longer than her real hair.

Mercedes raked a sharp-tipped pick against Kennedy's scalp and rubbed a fingertip of moisturizer on its surface. She began braiding along the crown of her head. The slight tug made her flinch a little. The tightened braid started on the right side of her head near her temple where Mercedes tried to gather the baby hairs on the sidelines and bring them into the braid. Kennedy's head was tilted down, forcefully making her look down at the hair magazine sitting in her lap. On the page, the model wore her natural hair in sepia kinks embracing her bronzed face. Kennedy used to wear her hair that way. Her hair would be all over the place. The hairstyle seemed to work a lot better for the model. She flipped the page to find a model wearing a weave cut into a fashionable bob. She would not cut a luxuriant mane of synthetic hair she spent hard-earned cash on for a bob that will be out of style the moment it's put on her head. Mercedes continued to braid, and Kennedy continued to decide how she wanted her weave to be styled.

"Ooh, I like that color," a honey-soothed raspy voice said near Mercedes.

"Yeah, it has nice brownish red highlights that don't overwhelm. Not too flashy, more earthy," Mercedes agreed. "You getting the big chop today, Zara?"

"Yes, indeed," Zara sat down in the chair beside Kennedy. "I'm finally getting the big chop. I might give it some color or just stay au naturel. Not sure yet."

"What's the big chop?" Kennedy asked under the umbrella of her strands. All these haircuts had different names now; she couldn't keep up with the lingo.

Zara giggled because she knew Kennedy couldn't see anything, and her voice came out hollow like she was inside a cave. "It's when you cut off all of your processed hair. I grew out my hair, so I'll have something to work with. I stopped perming six months ago, and it's been so great."

"That's cool," Kennedy said, imagining herself with a cropped look, but she shook the image out of her head because it would make getting a reporting job even harder. That was her focus now: jumpstarting her career and looking the part.

"Well, I'm ready for a new look," Zara leaned back in the seat and flipped through a magazine. Kennedy glanced at the caramel-skinned girl wearing a black ribbed tank top and charcoal gray twill cotton shorts with a vintage black and gray Coach purse in tow. She looked so glamorous even with the multi-textured curls behind her silver hoop earrings. Why couldn't Kennedy be drop-dead gorgeous at first glance? If she were, she would have nabbed a reporter position at a TV station by now.

"Zara!" Mercedes called while still braiding Kennedy's hair in neat rows. "Where you work now?"

"I'm working for Laurenne's beauty company. It just became an LLC, so we're officially a business!" Zara proudly said.

"That's great, girl!" Mercedes returned. "What do y'all sell?"

"Everything. We make eyeshadow, lipstick, mascara, creams, and perfumes, but they're all natural," Zara gladly advertised. "We make everything in our new office space that we just started renting."

"Wow, girl, that's awesome. We might have to buy some of those products! Y'all have a website yet?"

"Sorta. It's coming along. We were thinking of doing a cool newsletter with beauty tips, maybe interviews with people who tried our products, and see what other black-owned beauty companies are doing around here."

"There's not much here," Mercedes smirked. "But little Kennedy over here told me she graduated with a journalism degree, so she can help you with your newsletter. Right, Kennedy?"

Kennedy's ears drank every word of the conversation, and she simpered as Mercedes already dropped her name after mentioning her recent achievement at the reception desk.

"Yeah, I can do that. I can be in charge of the newsletter and launch a website that's your own," Kennedy piped up.

"Oh, OK," Zara's head hung downward as another hairstylist examined the divide between the new growth and chemically relaxed hair. "We'll exchange information."

Two and a half hours later, Mercedes neatened the front of Kennedy's hair. Zara had already finished but slipped a piece of paper with her phone number into Kennedy's label-less black purse. Her Coach handbag swung into view. Kennedy sighed. She needed to up her presentation as she peered down at her Banana Republic white tee, jeans complete with holes at the knees, and hot pink flip-flops. She was a college-educated, career-seeking woman now, and her carefree appearance wasn't working anymore.

"You have to call me. I'm so excited!" Zara squealed with her new cropped 'do with dark amber highlights. The sides were cut short with excess straightened hair in the center acting as a bang. She looked so avant-garde.

"I will," Kennedy promised.

"Are you ready?" Mercedes flashed the pearly whites behind her red glazed lips.

"Yeah," Kennedy pushed her excitement. She was exhausted, and she had a crick in her neck. Beauty really was pain.

She slowly turned her chair toward the mirror. It was perfection! Her hair was finally at her desired length. The bangs fell right above her eyebrows. The color was right. The weight was right. It wasn't too full or too flat. Everything was right. She looked like a brand new woman.

"I love it!" Kennedy clapped her hands together. She could earn a reporter job with this hairstyle. She could capture Leo's affection with this hairstyle. Mercedes pumped the strands up again with a shine spritzer. "It's really nice," she added.

Kennedy snatched her purse off the black and white tiles and headed to the cash register. The price of the weave: $250 dollars. Her beauty and happiness: priceless. She grinned at the woman behind the register and handed her a Visa credit card. She swiped the card and gave Kennedy the receipt to sign.

"Your hair looks nice." She supplied the final receipt.

"Thanks," Kennedy said with sheer confidence as she placed her rose-colored shades on the bridge of her nose and walked out of the salon. Sunbeams twinkled in the corner of her left sunglass frame. Her arm moved back and forth as she strolled down the sidewalk. She sensed the bounce of her new hair rhythmically moving with the sway of her hips.

"Hey," a sleazy guy with the stench of beer leaping off his breath came out of nowhere. From the appearance of his teal zip-up sweatshirt jacket and stained jeans, he had been out all night. He tried to keep up with Kennedy's stroll, but his drunken shuffle was no match. "Your hair is beautiful, mami," he slurred as she stretched the distance between them.

Nobody blocked her way; they all walked around the vision of loveliness. She kept strolling down the avenue, dodging pint-sized dachshunds on leashes and iPod-listening joggers, and feeling the gentle breeze play with her new strands.

"Jocelyn!" Kennedy shouted while closing the apartment door behind her. She couldn't wait to see her friend's reaction to her transformation. Usually scared to take chances, Kennedy was excited she took a leap and changed her appearance that eerily remained the same for years.

Emerging from her bedroom, Jocelyn, dressed in a white undershirt and plaid boxer shorts, was speechless. Her mouth hung in the balance, and then she cupped her hands over it in shock.

"I can't believe it!" Her surprised tone turned into concern as Kennedy dramatically revolved for the full effect. "You said you would never wear a weave! You hate fake hair!" Jocelyn fingered Kennedy's new synthetic locks. "Remember you want to touch your scalp."

"Well, I needed a change," Kennedy whined. "I wanted to boost my spirits."

"I understand, but this isn't you," Jocelyn soothed with her fingers still limp in Kennedy's hair. "Do you think this will get you a job as a reporter?" She asked the question with pure curiosity.

One lesson she learned in the world of broadcast journalism was looks mattered. "I believe so. I'm going to remake my résumé tape with my new look and get jobs."

"Do you need help with that?" They already crafted her last tape together that didn't garner the rave reviews they hoped for.

"I do need someone to get my good side when I do my stand-ups."

"I thought you looked fine before," Jocelyn sounded gloomy. "But I do like the bangs. They're a nice touch."

*

Golden sunrays penetrated the glass windows in Kennedy's bedroom and forced her drowsy eyes to open. An infrared 9:30 on the alarm clock glared at her. She slid out of bed, yawning, and headed for the bathroom. Chartreuse eye gook partly blocked her vision. She began to brush her teeth with whitening toothpaste for five minutes. Paired with paranoia of getting irreversible cavities, she was still used to brushing for so long from when she had braces all four years of high school. Then her mind drifted off to Leo.

"Snap, crackle, and pop!" she totally forgot the man she's been obsessing over for the past week planned to take her out to lunch today. Her mind went blank. Her bubble-bristled toothbrush fell into the sink as she dashed to her phone back in her room that carried the schedule of her life inside. A noontime lunch was scheduled for the day with an image of Leo looking back at her. An alarm blinked on her phone. She pressed the alarm button.

R we still on for lunch today? Leo's name was above the text message that arrived to her phone twenty minutes before.

She couldn't believe she forgot. Her grooming routine would have to take much longer to trump the other day's flustered post-interview look.

To start the routine, she poured drops of her peppermint soap into the palms of her wet hands to wash her face. Zara from yesterday crossed her mind and the nameless beauty company she talked about. "I can't believe I didn't ask for the name," she mumbled. She hurriedly lathered the soap and washed her face. With no pimples in sight, she didn't have to spend five minutes trying to squeeze the imperfections off her face. Sliding the curtain away, she turned on the shower, waited for the hot water, and stepped inside the porcelain bathtub. She soaked her loofah with the strawberry crème shampoo that her ex-boyfriend, Javon, used to love. When he caught a wisp of her strawberry crème-scented hair, he adored it, so she used it all over her body. She hoped Leo would appreciate the scent, too.

After drying her wet body, she placed chicken cutlet inserts inside her padded bra to enhance her bust size. She squeezed her head and arms through a puff-sleeved lavender blouse and squeezed her thunder thighs and large behind into her size ten skinny jeans. They were tight but not too tight where blood circulation was compromised. Well, she didn't feel dizzy, so that was a good sign.

She sat down at her vanity with three vertical lights on each side of the mirror watching her. She steadied herself with her elbows. She pulled out the chic black makeup bag she received as a gift of purchase for her subscription to Charisma fashion magazine. Again, wearing makeup was a new venture for her. Even a few weeks ago, she would've said no to the weave, but after realizing looks stomp the news, she learned how to expertly do her hair, apply her makeup, and wear her clothes in a week with help from YouTube videos.

First, she pressed the powder concealer pad on her face to start the palette. She then swept gold-speckled brown eyeshadow on her eyelids. She decided to debut her new liquid eyeliner. The pencil, which she used the other day to shrink her eyes, was so last season. One swipe. Two swipes. Her eyes were still her best feature despite what others thought, so the right enhancers were crucial. Each cheek received a dash of pink blush. For the finish, she sealed the raspberry-flavored gloss on her lips with a press.

Carefully removing her silk cap from her head, Kennedy revealed the fresh new weave. She wished it didn't look brand new, so it wouldn't seem like she just got her hair done yesterday because she was going to see her faux beau today. She sprayed some shining gloss onto her new mane and shook it in slow motion. She loved what she saw.

Two hours later, wearing enough makeup to enter a beauty pageant, Kennedy waited in front of her apartment building. She patted her weave down and used her fingers to make sure every strand was lying neatly before Leo arrived.

"Kennedy!" Leo drove up in his father's black Miata convertible. The radio screechingly blared as Kennedy smoothly glided up to the car in Jocelyn's pink patent leather stilettos that were half a size too small. Leo, in a sky blue muscle T-shirt that gripped his pecs and six-pack, had the biggest grin on his face. As soon as Kennedy's bottom touched the seat, Leo squeezed her hand and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"How've you been? I love your hair! It's perfect!" He started driving with the traffic, and the summer breeze wildly careened through Kennedy's hair while she smoothed the strands down. The glamorous touch of the convertible made her feel like a movie star.

"You're so pretty today," Leo said.

Kennedy's blushed cheeks felt the tickle of pain from smiling so hard. "Thank you!" she gushed. "I'm fine. How have things been with you?"

"They're cool. I mean I've been hanging with the guys. We play hoops. We play pool."

"Well," she began, "I'm going to work with this new startup beauty company. I'm excited about it." She nodded to emphasize her excitement.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart."

Kennedy secretly liked when Leo called her sweetheart even though she can imagine him calling all his female friends sweetheart, too.

"You look really good. You're probably thinking about how bad I look." Leo smiled at her, hoping she would reassure him about his appearance, but her pause was too long. "Yeah, I know," Leo responded to the pregnant pause.

"No, I'm not thinking that. I'm just a mess today myself," she expanded her compliment portion of the conversation.

"You look good." Leo's emphasis on the last word elevated her already skyrocketing ego. "Wow, I can't believe I haven't seen you in years. It doesn't feel like that."

"I know what you mean." With sweaty palms and crossed legs, Kennedy noticed her uneasiness, especially when Leo's hand landed on her left kneecap.

He was now talking a mile a minute about his summer school experience. Glad pre-calculus was over. C- was a passing grade if math wasn't your major. Still earned his degree. His major was philosophy. He loved philosophy. Education, his original major, eventually became his minor. He completed a teaching credential program at the same time. He planned to teach social studies at their old high school. Decided being a teacher was the best career choice. That's one of those careers colleges neglect to tell you about because they want to act as factories that produce world-class lawyers and doctors and professors and entrepreneurs. They skim over careers like teachers and journalists. How long had Kennedy realized she wanted to be a journalist?

"Since I was a little girl," she gleamed. "I love to tell a story, and it was the only career where I could be a storyteller and still get a paycheck."

"That's awesome. I watch documentaries every night, and I saw one about the news industry fighting to stay alive because of all this new technology. I'm a documentary nerd. I know that's weird." Leo laughed as he sought her approval.

"I like that. I didn't know that about you."

"Well, Kennedy, we have a lot to catch up on."

"Oh, Kennedy. I've missed you," Leo smiled as if his eyes fell upon the most exquisite piece of art in a fancy museum. He ran around the car to open the door for Kennedy. His charismatic grin was still there, but the angles of his eyes softened. He grabbed her into a tight embrace. His fingers found their way into the bottom strands of her hair. His slight tug on her hair brought her closer to feel the rhythm of his beating heart. She could barely breathe. Asphyxiated by love. He brought back old memories automatically filled with happiness. The embrace lasted awhile.

Then, there was a snag. "Owww!" Kennedy tried to sound adorably distressed after the romantic run-through in her hair. After some twists and turns, his fingers finally let go of her hair.

"Sorry. So..." Leo slipped his hand into Kennedy's as they walked toward the restaurant's entrance. "How you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Wonderful." As she glistened, Kennedy wanted to take her compact mirror out of her clutch to see if her concealer had already melted into her face to give off the appearance of an unblemished complexion. She fought the urge. She didn't want to look too obsessed with her new appearance.

"I love this place," Leo nostalgically announced when he swung the door open. Café Interlude was a quaint Italian bistro situated between a bookstore and a guitar shop. Couples sat outside under sturdy orange umbrellas eating linguine and discussing international affairs. The setting gave ordinary people the chance to feel like they lived in a sophisticated, worldly city instead of on the sidelines of a wannabe metropolis. A waitress guided the hand-holding lovebirds to a circular table outside as pedestrians walked by.

"Thank you," Kennedy quietly told the waitress, who supplied large burgundy menus and walked away. A miniature glass vase sat in the middle of the table with two freshly cut, thornless peach roses. Violin-tinted music hummed in the background.

"What are you getting?" He flipped the heavy menu cover over to view his options.

"Maybe a salad." She searched for the salad section. She couldn't eat fattening starches or red meat in front of him. Continuing to scan the pages for her meal choice, she played with smiling with her eyes and making her lashes flutter just in case Leo was peeking over. Of course, this didn't pan out successfully.

"Omigosh!" Kennedy's complimentary glass of water took a nosedive and soaked the tablecloth. A swift page turn bumped the glass. Leo jumped into action by moving his menu out of the way and piling all the cloth napkins on the spill.

"It's all right. Just water," Leo comforted. Kennedy awkwardly chuckled, maneuvering her eyes to create the flirtatious vibe she was trying to exude before the spill derailed their attention.

Among the wet napkins, they resumed peering at the menu in silence. "I'm thinking pasta. Not sure which one though," Leo said with an occupied mind.

The waitress returned with a pitcher of red wine. "Here is our house wine," she set the pitcher down on the slightly soaked tablecloth as its absorbency continued to pick up the liquid. "Oh! I see we made a mess." She set the wineglasses on the table then took out more cloth napkins.

"Yeah, I guess we could be clumsy," Leo said, gazing at the waitress's chest.

"Don't worry about it," the waitress returned, picking up on Leo's tone. "Can I take your order?" She pulled out her notepad and pen and focused on Leo's lips. Kennedy had disappeared. She was there, but apparently nobody noticed.

"I'll have the penne," he said, closing the menu and handing it to the waitress with a smile.

"OK," she said dreamily. "I'll bring your order out soon." She turned on her black Mary Jane heels to take another couple's order.

"Wait!" Kennedy protested. "What about me?"

"Oh! I'm sorry about that. Yes, what did you want?" Her fake customer service grin made Kennedy cringe. The nametag said her name was Brandie. She wore a half ponytail with the rest of her hair flowing down her back to ensure no strands fell into any dishes. With her long chestnut hair with blonde highlights and the bronzer-induced tan, she was Leo's type. Kennedy remembered. She felt inadequate. How could she compete with these other girls?

"I'll have the cranberry and walnut salad," Kennedy practically whispered in quiet anger, sticking out the menu for Brandie to take. Brandie snatched the menu and strolled toward the kitchen.

Almost immediately, Leo poured the rich wine into the two glasses. He pushed one glass toward Kennedy. Their fingers touched.

"Here's to us," he reached over to tap his glass with hers, but hers banged against his with a drop of wine descending onto the tormented tablecloth.

"I didn't mean to..." Kennedy began to explain her sudden clumsiness, but Leo just laughed to himself. "Err, I mean to us." She was still distracted by their encounter with Brandie. Leo was unfazed. Silly girls covertly fighting over him must be the norm. They sipped the cheap wine. Kennedy wanted to gag from the thick liquid trickling down her throat, but the romantically imperfect lunch may evolve into something beautiful...hopefully very soon. So she gulped down the wine without making another scene.

"Wow," Leo caught his breath. "That was awful," he leaned forward to whisper the last word while clutching his chest. Kennedy giggled in agreement.

"I hope the food's better," she put the glass of wine down on the table when the waitress reappeared.

"Your orders will be out in a few minutes," Brandie said, fastening her eyes onto Leo as if Kennedy evaporated into thin air. "So how was the wine?"

They laughed in spite of themselves after being served the pitcher of the summer's wine. No time to age. Kennedy realized Brandie was like the nasty new wine, and she like an aged Pinot Noir. Brandie wasn't competition.

"Can we get a pitcher of water? We don't want the wine anymore," Kennedy told the waitress. She wanted to appear like she was in power with the ball in her court.

"I guess I'll get the water?" Brandie posed this question to Leo.

Kennedy cocked her head to get the waitress's attention. "Yes, you will," she demanded. Cradling the wine pitcher in her arms, Brandie left without a peep from Leo.

"Have you seen anyone from school lately?" Leo asked. "I know you just got back in town."

"Well, I live with Jocelyn. We stayed friends." She lifted her thick leg onto her other under the table. The little thump of her trying to cross her legs didn't deter Leo's attention as his gaze remained solely on her. "We went to college together in New York, and we liked the hustle and bustle, but we're California girls at heart, so we came back."

"Jocelyn Frank," he said in a nostalgic tone. "Yep, you two were inseparable for the longest time. That's great. I'm still with my usual crew and other people I met in college. What was college like in New York?" Leo kept his gaze on Kennedy, who was still taken aback by his intensity.

"Um..." she began, trying to summarize college life in a few quick words, "it was great. Jocelyn and I had a lot of fun." Glimpses of she and her best friend roaming around Times Square on the weekends flashed across her mind. She missed the city but there was something about that California sunshine.

"I really like your hair," Leo returned to compliments about Kennedy's new 'do. She wondered if he knew it was artificial. He probably suspected it since hair didn't grow six inches in less than a week.

"Thank you," she said graciously, despite feeling smothered with all the hair and makeup. At least, she resembled a young woman for once instead of a teenage girl.

"How're your job prospects?" He picked up a spoon to catch a glimpse of his reflection.

"Not so good. I keep getting rejected because I don't have that specific look. I want to work for TV news so bad, and I know I can do it."

"Yeah, well, it'll get better," Leo assured. "It's hard out there right now. I was lucky to get my teaching job. I'm anxious to start, but I have a few more days, so I'm a little bored waiting around for things to start."

"I think I can get my career now with my new look," Kennedy picked up her glass of wine to emphasize her confidence though once she took a little sip, she regretted it.

"You definitely look great now!" Leo's smile reached his hazel eyes, which glinted in the sunlight. "You look like you belong on TV. It's nice to have something easy on the eyes when the news is rough."

Wordlessly, Brandie placed their orders on the table in front of them. She left. Without the distraction of the waitress, Kennedy can think about how to reel Leo in. She didn't want Leo to believe she was the naïve girl who stared into the distance against her locker, dreaming about their future, which she knew would never happen because she was a four-eyed nerd with a metal mouth. They picked up their forks and dug into their food. There was a pleasant silence between them. Kennedy didn't know where to pick up the conversation again.

"How's the salad?" Leo asked while inserting a forkful of penne into his mouth.

Secretly thankful conversation will continue over the meal, Kennedy savored her first taste of the salad. It tasted like any other cranberry and walnut salad. "It's fine. How's your food?"

"It's good." His phone vibrated in his pocket. Kennedy saw him read the text message then answer it. She hoped it wasn't another girl. In less than a minute, the phone was shoved back into his pocket.

"That was nothing," Leo explained after detecting Kennedy's suspicion. "Just a friend asking what I was doing."

"What did you tell him?" If he was sharing this information, Kennedy thought, then she could ask for a little elaboration.

"I told him I was having lunch with you."

"Good answer. Who was it then?" If he said he was having lunch with her, then she knew she was worth mentioning.

"It was my friend, Cole. He says hi."

"That's good." She smiled at the fact he was already telling people they had reconnected.

"So how's the food?" a cheery voice crept up behind Kennedy. It was Brandie again. And, of course, she was mainly speaking to Leo.

"It is absolutely wonderful," Leo playfully said.

Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Mine's just all right."

"Well, our kitchen creates masterpieces, so maybe you just don't like cranberries or walnuts, which wouldn't be our fault," Brandie sneered.

"I looove cranberries and walnuts," Kennedy upped her attitude, "but for some reason, your kitchen didn't do much with them. Maybe it's an off day." She shrugged.

"OK, OK," Leo raised his hands. "Brandie, thank you for your service. My food was great. So can we have the check?"

"Maybe you might be interested in our desserts. Today's special is key lime pie," Brandie advertised.

"No, we just want the damn check," Kennedy kept it blunt.

"Fine," she pulled the check out of her apron, wrote something on the back, and handed it to Leo.

Once Brandie left the table, Kennedy had the incredible urge to see what the waitress wrote on the check as Leo sifted through his leather wallet for his credit card. To suppress the urge, Kennedy stomped her fork through the sea of romaine lettuce on her plate. She only picked up a small amount onto her fork, still focused on Leo studying the check and calculating the tip on his phone. In any other situation, Kennedy would offer to pay the tip, but she didn't even want to give the annoying waitress a penny.

"So how much did it come out to?" She asked the question to discover more about the check.

"Don't worry about it. I got it," he said, distracted.

Kennedy snatched the check from under Leo. Maybe it was her new makeover, but she didn't want to waste time beating around the bush. On the other side of the check was her biggest fear: Brandie's phone number. She looked up at Leo in mild shock because he wasn't calculating the tip; he was saving Brandie's number. But she wasn't his girlfriend, so she softly placed the check back on Leo's side and continued eating her salad in silence.

3

Laurenne Devereaux's swanky office in suburbia did not cramp her style at all. From the large-scale windows, it overlooked the traffic-heavy area along Oak Leaf Boulevard. Cars whizzed past the neighborhood park on the way to the stretch of mini-malls filled with supermarkets, shoe stores, and Chinese takeout restaurants. Anyone can find her business easily with GPS gadgets. She just hoped they wanted to find it. She couldn't afford an office in a downtown skyscraper anyways.

With her long arms crossed against her chest, Laurenne peered through the window and saw Zara approaching the door with a new recruit. Consumed with being the makeup artist at two events over the weekend, Laurenne vaguely remembered the phone conversation she had with Zara when she excitedly announced that she found someone interested in helping with the media side of the business. Laurenne forgot the girl's name, but it reminded her of something presidential like Madison or Reagan. She saw Zara delicately link arms with the new girl, who wore a pair of skintight organic cotton Levi jeans Laurenne recently modeled for a local department store ad. So she took note of the girl's good taste.

"I like your hair. It turned out nice," Zara handed Kennedy a much-needed compliment. Kennedy was glad someone other than Leo appreciated it. She was still a tad disappointed Jocelyn quickly judged it.

"Thank you, Zara. I really like it, too. No, I love it." She shook her mane like she was starring in a Pantene shampoo commercial. "I like your cut. It's sassy. It fits you."

"You're funny. And thanks by the way," Zara laughed. From the key ring dangling on her finger, she selected a brass key and unlocked the door to the small office.

"Hey, darling!" Zara landed an air kiss near each of Laurenne's rosily blushed cheeks. "This is Kennedy." She pushed Kennedy toward a statuesque, cinnamon-skinned girl with slick, straight, long hair. She looked like a supermodel-in-training with her simple white tank top, Gap khaki shorts, and white wedge sandals. Kennedy drowned in instant jealousy mode. She could tell from Laurenne's roots and ends that her hair was real.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "She's so cute! I'm Laurenne." She extended her polished hand toward Kennedy, who couldn't help admire the flawless French manicure compared to the chipped polish hanging on for dear life on her nails.

"Hi," she mustered a greeting from her hopefully unapparent awe. "I'm Kennedy."

"I know. Zara told me all about you," Laurenne teased. Kennedy uneasily smiled and wished she, too, could be mistaken for a supermodel.

"Let me see her!" another voice called from the background.

Zara thrust Kennedy deeper into the practically empty office. Another girl with her hair tightly pulled back into a chic messy bun wearing a stain-splattered apron headed toward them. She was all business.

"I'm Venetia," the serious girl introduced herself and presented her rough hand to shake.

Kennedy shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here," Venetia said robotically. "As you may know, we just started Loveliness." The girls strolled to the round mahogany table in the main room. Venetia grabbed a few press kits with laminated covers from a nearby pile of papers and handed Kennedy one as they sat at the table for a discussion.

"Loveliness? I like that. How'd you come up with that name?" Kennedy asked.

"Well, loveliness means beauty. We want women to realize they can be beautiful with our products," Laurenne answered. "What we are striving for is an eco-friendly beauty empire for women of color. We want to make all natural products. Like we use a lot of aloe vera gel, for example—"

"Please can we, at least, start out with a fun conversation," Zara whined as she slid into one of the chairs beside Kennedy. "Let's get to know Kennedy before we start piling business stuff on her."

"I was just making our mascara," Venetia said while fixing her bun. "It's made from aloe vera gel, beeswax, and activated charcoal." She found a tube of the three-ingredient mascara in her apron pocket and gave it to Kennedy. It was in a clear tube topped with a silver cap. "And it works wonders. The same as the regular mascara in the store filled with chemicals."

Laurenne cleared her throat. "This business was my idea because I used to work at Sephora, and I wanted to create more natural cosmetics after I realized a lot of companies claimed they were completely green, completely natural when in actuality, they weren't. They may have some natural ingredients but still had the chemicals. It was like an...oxymoron. I'm a makeup artist. I did a wedding and children's birthday party this weekend."

Zara nudged Kennedy's arm. "We sometimes help with those events. Do you do makeup? I like yours right now."

The compliment surprised Kennedy who, a few days ago, despised makeup on her face but now wore it every day if she left the house. "Thank you. I haven't really applied anyone else's makeup except mine."

"Oh, don't worry," Zara touched Kennedy's shoulder to relax her. "We'll teach you."

"You'll be fine," Laurenne reassured her. "Making this stuff is easy, but Venetia loves to do it, so she makes the product, and I do more of the business-y stuff. Zara mostly hangs around whenever she wants." She shot a condescending grin toward Zara, who gripped Kennedy's shoulder even more.

"I want to work in fashion, so I focus more on that," Zara shot back. "We need to score a big event where they'll need a makeup artist and a stylist. I don't understand why you haven't scored that big event yet. That would be perfect for us."

The tension hushed the room. A wicker basket of lip gloss tubes sat in the center of the table with the Loveliness logo and contact information sticker wrapped around it. Kennedy chose a tube with the name Peppermint Passion. "You use your cosmetics when you do events?" she asked Laurenne.

"We do. That's why we want more gigs. Sometimes, I get clients I met while working at Sephora, but it's hard because we're just starting out. People want name brand makeup and help."

The girls fell quiet again, but Kennedy still had more questions. "What are you doing right now?" In the corner of her eye, she saw Venetia look at Laurenne for the answer to the simple question. Zara bit her bottom lip.

"We're working. It's just a slow day," Laurenne shrugged, surreptitiously wishing her blossoming business had a more hectic atmosphere. "I mean we're busy on the weekends with these gigs. During the weekdays, we make our products. We already made a lot, so we're good right now."

Kennedy nodded her head to show she understood the happenings of the company. "So what would I be doing?"

"I'm glad you asked," Laurenne rose to fetch her laptop from her desk. "You'll set up our website. We're thinking of a blog on natural beauty. We want people to learn more about the natural beauty movement and be able to buy our products online. I don't really know how to do that stuff."

"Me neither," Venetia added. "I like making the products though." She uneasily laughed in spite of herself.

"How did you all meet?" Kennedy leaned back in her seat, growing more comfortable with the eager entrepreneurs as her journalistic instincts kicked in. From her fingertip touching her lip, Laurenne wanted to go first, but she was contemplating where to start. While waiting for her reply, Kennedy leaned closer to the center of the table.

"I wanted to model for my own makeup line," Laurenne began to narrate her backstory.

By the sixth grade, Laurenne already towered over the other girls at six feet tall. While she grew vertically, other girls grew horizontally. They had breasts and behinds while Laurenne remained flat in those particular areas. She never felt out of place with her monstrous height because her friends actually thought it was kind of cool to have a friend so tall.

"You could be a supermodel," Zara once told Laurenne while flipping through an issue of Charisma Teen magazine and sitting against a tree in the school courtyard. Other girls usually trudged around the courtyard at recess gossiping about the latest news.

"I could?" Laurenne asked innocently. A supermodel career seemed out of reach for any girl in town since most girls ended up with a simple job, a simple husband, and simple kids. Not many girls went outside the box to achieve their dreams.

They were only eleven years old, but Zara was already thinking big. She knew she wanted to start her own fashion empire someday before the age of 25 to coincide with the engagement ring on her finger from a man worth millions. With an abnormally tall and beautiful friend, Zara wanted to personally groom her to become the next black supermodel to take the world by storm.

"I don't know if what Zara said led to everything," Laurenne said quite thoughtfully within her story by tossing a glance over to Zara.

She only remembered it was a late Saturday morning because she had just finished watching cartoons and eating her breakfast cereal when her mother needed new diamond teardrop earrings for a formal event that night. "Let's go to the mall," her mother called, after snatching her designer black satchel handbag off the kitchen counter. Laurenne followed.

"I'm going to the jewelry case," her mother told her inside the department store. "You can look at clothes in juniors. We'll meet over there" — she pointed to the escalator — "at one o'clock."

Laurenne ventured off into the juniors section. The '60s hippie style was resurfacing with a vengeance. It was all about the flowery tops and bell-bottom jeans with the imprint of the peace sign on everything. She found her momentary soul mate: a pair of black jeans with an extra flair at the end. She picked up the hanger and exhaled a sigh of admiration. But once she flipped the price tag, she knew the dream would be over. It was $49.95, and no way would her mother pay for jeans on top of sparkly diamonds. So she tenderly placed the hanger back on the rack. She still allowed her fingers to caress the denim fabric as if it would make it all better.

"Hello," a 30-something woman with wispy caramel blonde hair approached Laurenne. Her kohl-rimmed eyes appetizingly moved up and down at the promising fresh meat.

"Hi," Laurenne suspiciously returned the greeting.

"I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I was wondering have you ever modeled?"

Laurenne shook her head.

"Well, I work at Kate Smith Models, and you have the look and the height we like," she quickly produced a business card from her Donna Karan leather purse. "Please give me a call. We have a casting call next Saturday. You see our models in magazines and fashion shows all the time. Then, hopefully, with our guidance, they make it to the big time. And if not, it's still a good side job. How old are you? Sixteen?"

"Eleven, almost twelve," Laurenne chastised herself for not lying about her age because obviously the woman wanted her to be older.

"Wow! You're young. That's OK. We specialize in all ages. But you look older. Maybe it's because you're so tall. How tall are you? Five ten?"

"Six feet."

"Wow! Give me a ring when you want to start your modeling career." The scout disappeared into the women's section where she came from before she spotted the tall giraffe in the shopping safari. Laurenne thoughtfully ironed the business card with her fingers.

Since that fateful day in the mall, Laurenne modeled. She saw her face in the department store sales ads in the Sunday newspapers. She walked the runways of fashion shows all over the state, especially in September with the debut of the upcoming winter lines. Now that she was 23, she wanted to reach mainstream modeling while pursuing her makeup business venture.

When Loveliness becomes a Fortune 500 company, Laurenne will be so famous that every supermodel would want her to apply makeup on their facial palettes before they strut on the extravagant runways of Paris, London, and Milan. She'll be so famous that every fashion designer will ask her to wear their favorite outfits out on those runways. She'll become a mogul for making Loveliness a success and having the modeling experience.

"You can model for Loveliness!" Kennedy shrieked. "Promote the product and look like the models in the beauty ads in the magazines. So when do you want to model?"

"I'd like that." A genuine smile crept across Laurenne's face. "Maybe we can do it over the weekend."

"Well, I always wanted to start my own business, too," Zara picked up where Laurenne left off in the casual interview. She propped her feet up on the table with her heels hanging precariously out of her metallic brown espadrilles. She liked that Kennedy asked the question. It shouldn't be hard to answer, but sometimes it's hard to explain buried motives. "I love beauty products, but I'm more into fashion. I wanted to help my best friend here, so I helped her launch her company 'cause I'm not ready to launch mine. But when I launch it, I know Laurenne will have my back." She smiled at Laurenne, who returned the warm gesture.

Amid a pleasant neighborhood in the suburbs where manicured lawns glistened emerald green and people peacefully walked their Labrador retrievers down the block, there was a careworn apartment building hidden behind two palm trees. Zara lived there. Of course, she attended the same schools with the children of the nearby better homes, but she was embarrassed about where she lived.

She spent her days studying her textbooks in the cramped two-bedroom apartment. Her parents were minimum-wage workaholics. Her father was a stockman at the neighborhood grocery store, her mother a waitress at a wannabe IHOP diner. Coupons and food stamps bought food. Furniture, appliances, and other needs came from thrift stores. Hand-me-downs from relatives, neighbors, and strangers clothed her.

To ease the humiliation of growing up in a raggedy home, Zara treated herself to a Charisma Teen magazine subscription. Glossy pages full of clothes, jewelry, and boys always distracted her from reality. She wanted to be the one to dress the teen models on those pages, or better yet design their clothes. Each year, she would collect nickels and dimes in her piggy bank for an eight-dollar subscription.

While Zara dealt with borderline poverty, she still had to compete with her schoolmates. This competition may have been inside her head, but she was convinced people knew her financial situation. On a rare occasion, she would find a gently used pair of 7 For All Mankind jeans or an Abercrombie & Fitch knit sweater in the thrift store for less than three dollars. She wanted to look like she had money like the other kids.

Her best friend, Laurenne, didn't seem to care about her plight. She lived in a two-story, terra cotta-accented cream house near Zara's apartment complex. They met the summer before sixth grade at the pancake diner where Zara's mother worked.

"Hi, I'm Laurenne," she leaned against the speckled counter next to Zara, who stared at the television set with her face in her hands.

"Zara. You go to my school, right?"

"Yeah. I've seen you around. Were you in Mrs. Anderson's class last year?"

"Yeah. And you must have been in Mr. Hobson's class."

"Yep. I've never been here before. I heard they make good pancakes."

"They do. They make their own maple syrup, too."

"Do you come here a lot?"

Zara hesitated. She didn't want her new friend to know she was a regular here because her mother was a waitress. That was embarrassing. Laurenne's mother sat beside her on a stool chatting away on her oversized '90s cell phone. Back then, only the seemingly well-off professionals had cell phones, so Zara knew the woman was important. "Not really."

Laurenne's mother received her takeout order from the chef behind the counter. "Come on, Laur," she called when she grabbed the brown paper bag and walked toward the exit door.

"I'll see you at school," Laurenne waved goodbye.

Zara waved back. Her mother snuck up behind her, cleaning the counter with a wet rag.

"Who was that little girl?" her mother asked. "Well, I shouldn't call her little 'cause she's so tall." She spoke in a voice like she wanted to be girlfriends. Zara hated that.

"She just goes to my school," Zara muttered. She collapsed her head into her arms on the counter. She wanted to go home.

"OK, sweetie, I was just asking." She continued cleaning the countertop and moving farther away from her daughter, who envisioned herself being so important someday that she would conduct business calls on her own cell phone.

"I love my sewing machine," Zara returned to present day with Kennedy showing her comprehension with a simple nod. "I sew. I sketch the designs. I choose the fabrics. You'd be a perfect model for one of my designs." Zara widened her eyes to express her true interest in having Kennedy model her designs once they came into fruition.

"That sounds great," Kennedy smiled as she slightly moved her head to feel the flow of her hair. She rotated her body toward Venetia, a quiet, serious girl who seemed to idolize Laurenne, the long-legged beauty with the potential to launch Loveliness into the corporate stratosphere. "What about you, Venetia? How did you get roped into this?"

"Well, I met Laurenne while working at Sephora," she began. "I worked there part time because I needed money to pay for cosmetology school. I'm good at applying makeup, so I got the job."

By her appearance, Venetia exuded the glamorous aura of a makeup artist with her overdone face. She had wingtip lashes, wet lips, and a smooth palette of foundation and blush. For the average woman, it looked like a one-hour job, but Venetia, the professional, mastered it in ten minutes, tops.

"Do you still work there?" Kennedy knew Laurenne quit her full-time job at the cosmetics store inside the mall. She hoped Venetia still had her discount advantage.

"Yes," Venetia answered. "I finished cosmetology school about a month ago. I'm still looking for that real big job." Venetia flashed Kennedy another uneasy smile. "I'm waiting for that door to open, but until then, I'll be here."

Two short years ago, Venetia Simmons dropped all her classes at the state university. Her economics major and business minor simply failed to give her any real fulfillment. She could care less about the market price of a bushel of wheat from Turkey in Germany. After an uncomfortably difficult exam or project, once she went home and took her shoes off at the doormat, she snatched all the necessities out of her cosmetics drawer to create a masterpiece on her face. She loved applying black eyeliner on her top lid and white or pastel-colored eyeliner on her bottom lid to make her eyes pop. Then she would take up-close photos and post them on her social media networks. It was a simple treat to relieve the stress of a dreadful day.

While shopping at the supermarket for the new Marcheline Cosmetics maximizing mascara on sale, she saw this tall, pretty girl examining the labels on various mascara tubes. Venetia thought for sure she spotted a makeup enthusiast like herself, so she struck up a conversation.

"So you're looking for that new Marcheline mascara, too?" Venetia picked up last year's version of the mascara off the shelf.

"Sorta," the girl responded. "I mean I'm a makeup artist, but I want to know what's in the makeup. I'm just wondering if this would be the best fit for me. I want the most organic mascara. Chemical-free." Under her arm was a bag of almond flour.

"I just know the new mascara will elongate the lashes and get rid of the clumps. I don't know if the chemicals are the same. I see you have almond flour. What are you making?"

"I want to make natural cosmetics, so I thought making pressed powder would be easy. I would need something powdery, right?"

This intrigued Venetia. "Wow, well, that's cool you're doing that. I have no idea how to make makeup. I just know how to put it on."

Since Venetia had taken a course in food economics, she knew some people had nut allergies, so makeup composed of almond flour sounded like an interesting concept that may be detrimental to some. "I would try another flour that's not from a major allergen. Like wheat and soy are out of the question, too, for makeup. Maybe sugar would work or something like that. I know they use it for waxing...I don't know actually. Just guessing." Unaware of the production world behind her favorite cosmetics, Venetia didn't even know how to factor flour or sugar into the equation.

"Yeah, that does make sense," the girl seemed gracious to receive the advice. "By the way, my name's Laurenne."

"Cool. I'm Venetia."

"What do you do? You know a lot about this stuff."

"I'm a cosmetology student." Venetia may have stretched the truth a bit, but she was heading in that direction once she requested prospective student packages from every beauty school in town.

"Do you have a job?" Laurenne inquired. "I'm an assistant manager at Sephora, and we have a few openings. We lose a lot of girls to that fancy M.A.C store downtown."

Venetia thought about the offer. She needed a job to pay for tuition. Just a few days before, she would've refused the offer because the demands of being a full-time university student with an unsatisfying major were bearing down on her. But, on the other hand, with cosmetology school in the picture, she might be able to concentrate better on her studies and have time to balance a part-time job.

"I would love a job!" Venetia gleamed at the unexpected opportunity. "But why did you ask me?"

"You seem like you know a thing or two about makeup composition, and I would rather hire people that I actually meet or know. Just apply online and swing by the store. I gotta go." Laurenne picked up her floral tote bag off the ground.

"OK. I'll do that this week," Venetia said as Laurenne waved goodbye down the lighted aisle. She assured herself penciling half moons above the eyeshadow-dusted eyelids of mallrats beat an econ business proposal any day.

"I'm waiting for my big break," Venetia said after finishing her story on how she dove headfirst in the cosmetology field and how she met Laurenne, her eventual friend and business partner. "I'm not sure yet if Loveliness is my big break or the thing to help me get to my big break."

"That's great." Kennedy, who had her knees pressed against her chest, put her feet back on the ground as the conversation ran its course.

"Zara says you're a journalist?" Laurenne tapped her nails on the table, knowing after the fast-paced weekend, she really had nothing scheduled, so conversing around the table ate time.

"Yeah, I always wanted to be a journalist. I waited for a job, but it's just not happening for me right now. So I would like to do the media PR thing for Loveliness."

"You can do all the social media stuff?" Laurenne asked. "We really need to advertise, and it's so much easier and cheaper online."

"Yep, I can do all that. We might be able to find cheap ads in the smaller newspapers, too."

In order to hop into bed to cure her drowsiness, Laurenne had to be frank about the situation. "We don't do that much during the week. Most of our cosmetics have already been made. The weekends get busy. So we can do whatever now." She rose from her seat, grabbed her Louis Vuitton handbag in the corner, and headed for the door. Digging inside the handbag, she found her pink jaguar-print phone under the debris of her travel makeup supplies. After pressing a few buttons, she headed around the corner to talk on her phone.

"So..." Zara sighed in boredom. "Laurenne likes to work pretty much on the weekends, then she'll blow off the week. I don't know why."

"The events we do are mostly on the weekend," Venetia defended the business schedule. "And we made a lot of the products before we launched, so we're usually prepared ahead of time. What we're doing is fine."

"Guess what?" Laurenne sprung from around the corner with her hands clasped. "We just booked the fall fashion preview show at Macy's next weekend! We'll do the makeup with our own products and mix it with the products they provide. You know how people like trusted brands or whatever. But we got a gig!"

"Can't wait," Zara said sarcastically.

Every year, the fall fashion preview show gave local models a chance to sashay down a makeshift runway to flaunt the off-the-shoulder tops, skinny jeans, and sheepskin boots that immortally stayed in style. "I'm excited," Kennedy added, remembering her preteen days when she appreciated the show.

"Well, we have time," Laurenne said, while swinging her handbag over her shoulder. "I'm gonna go home and get some rest. Lock up. It was nice meeting you, Kennedy. Bye." The door banged to a close after she exited toward the parking lot.

"Yeah," Venetia untied her apron as she leaped out of the chair. "I'm going to head out to work. I'll see you two later."

Before Kennedy realized it, she and Zara were the only ones at the table in the blindingly white office.

"I'm sorry about that," Zara carried the press kits back to the shelf. "I mean we had a busy weekend. I guess we're burnt out. I wish they didn't jet like that though."

"That's OK. I can start work on the website. So is there anything set up?"

"We have a sad Facebook page. Our Twitter page is also sad. We're probably signed up on other things that would be even way sadder. We just need to up the presentation, and then people will come. We don't have a website at all. Or a blog. At least, I don't think so."

With her reporter pad out on the table, Kennedy jotted down the notes Zara gave her. She asked for URLs and passwords to accounts and decided on the budget to maintain a website. She felt like a professional PR girl. Zara rattled off the company's measly public relations blitz as hundreds of ideas flowed through Kennedy's mind on ways to place Loveliness on the map.

4

The neighborhood dance studio released pint-sized ballerinas in pink tutus onto the streets as they clutched their mothers' hands and vivaciously perfected the pirouette on the sidewalk. Kennedy sauntered through the crowd toward the studio where she found Jocelyn huddled in a corner examining the sores around her toes.

"Hey," Kennedy greeted her friend, with her sandals clacking along the hardwood floors.

"Hey," Jocelyn returned. "How did it go with hair salon girl?"

"Um," Kennedy started, not knowing how to explain she just joined an enterprising group that already lost its steam, "it went OK. They didn't have to work today."

"It's so cool that people our age are starting their own businesses in this economy. I mean you have to make your own opportunities sometimes."

"We're actually going to do the fall preview show at the mall. We're going to be the makeup artists," Kennedy said excitedly. "Remember when we used to go to those to see what we should be wearing to school?"

"Of course," Jocelyn nostalgically nodded. "You always dragged me to those things. I didn't care so much, but you were always so serious about your clothes. Remember when you bought that baby doll top, and when you raised your hand in class, there was a big hole in the armpit. That was so funny!" She giggled at the embarrassing moment, but Kennedy remembered how careful she was during the rest of the day after Jocelyn spotted the fashion faux pas.

"Good times, good times," Kennedy chuckled. "I haven't been to that show in years. I think a few years ago, I just happened to be at the mall at the same time it was going on, and I caught a glimpse of a model wearing Ugg boots with a dress, so I had to leave after I saw that."

They laughed about the days when shopping at the mall consistently stole their attention. Jocelyn picked up her duffel bag and headed to the dressing room. "Be right back."

Kennedy sat down on the floor and stretched her legs out. In the corner of her eye, she saw Jocelyn's phone vibrate on the wooden floor. A photo of Jocelyn and her boyfriend, Hunter, appeared on the screen with the 'answer' and 'ignore' options. "I wish I had that," Kennedy softly whispered in the empty room. She wished she had a boyfriend who cared for her. Though the single life had its perks, Kennedy recently started feeling like a relationship could brighten her life. Romantic dinners and date nights sounded tempting. A companion by her side had a nice ring to it. Maybe she should give Leo a ring.

"Hey!" she pushed her excitement to appear charming to her potential future boyfriend.

"Hey, Kennedy. What's up?" Leo sounded suave over the phone.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about you. What are you doing tonight?"

"I was preparing lesson plans for the first few weeks of school." He hesitated. "I'm almost done with that though. Do you want to hang out?"

Kennedy then hesitated. She didn't want to sound too desperate. "Oh, I was just wondering what you were up to." Of course, she wanted to hang out with him. "Let me check my schedule, then I'll shoot you a text." That was smooth.

"Well, OK, I look forward to that text then. I'll see you later."

"Bbb-yyy-e," she elongated the syllables.

"Bye, Kennedy."

In a loose white tee and black leggings, Jocelyn plopped down on the floor. She heard the last bit of the conversation. "So who was that?" she teased, already knowing the answer.

"Leo. He asked me to hang out," Kennedy tried to conceal her smile.

"And...?"

"I said I'd think about it."

"Way to go playing hard to get," Jocelyn said with a touch of sarcasm while inserting cubic zirconia studs into her pierced ears. "C'mon, Kennedy, if you really like him, it's OK to say you want to hang out when he asks you to hang out. If you already know you don't have plans, go ahead and say yes. Don't play games. It's not worth it."

"So you're saying I should send that text now?" Living the single life for almost a year had given Kennedy amnesia on how to progress a blossoming relationship.

"I'm saying do whatever you feel is right." She wanted Kennedy to listen to her but simultaneously wanted Kennedy to make her own decision. "When I first started going out with Hunter, I was straight-up honest with him. He asked me out, and I said yes every time because I wanted to be with him that bad, and I didn't have a problem with that.

"I know you feel that way with Leo because I remember high school and know those feelings crept up on you the second you laid eyes on him at Starbucks the other day."

Those feelings may have amplified at the chance meeting then peeked at dangerous levels at the afternoon luncheon. "There's something about him. I can't explain it."

"Is it he's loud and obnoxious, and he's stuck on himself?" Jocelyn swore she was stating the obvious after years of seeing Leo Port hoisted up into the kingdom of school popularity.

"No, he's...charismatic," Kennedy said almost breathlessly. "I mean people are attracted to his magnetic field. It's like I want all of his attention. I want his eyes only on me because out of all the girls he could have, he chose me."

"It sounds more like a web, and when you get caught up in it, you get hurt," Jocelyn swung her bag over her shoulder. She didn't get it, but, on the other hand, she did see numerous girls swoon over Leo. And she did see the Kleenex tissues pressed against those girls' faces to stop the deluge of tears in the bathroom. Yet she still didn't get it. "You've been waiting for this for a long time. You may not have thought about it, but you want him. Maybe he's different now. Maybe."

"So I should send a sexy, mysterious text pretty much saying I want to go out?" Kennedy yanked her phone from her tote bag. Jocelyn snatched it from her hands.

"What are you doing?!" Kennedy shrieked as her voice echoed in the studio's hallway.

"I'm typing your sexy, mysterious text. Believe me, I know a lot about this stuff." Jocelyn began rhythmically moving her thumbs to type the message and press the send button. Kennedy's heart blasted into her throat with anxiety.

"Here," Jocelyn handed the phone back to Kennedy, who ransacked her text messaging history and saw her best friend typed: I'm free 2nite. "That's it?!" she said astonishingly.

"Save sexy and mysterious texts for another time when you know where things are going. C'mon, Kennedy, you had a boyfriend—"

"And now I don't. Thanks for reminding me," she said pathetically, almost letting herself return to the days of Javon, but those memories crashed and burned months ago.

"I didn't mean...you know, what I mean. Forget the past. Maybe we should all get sushi!" Jocelyn hurriedly changed the subject. "I know this ultra chic sushi lounge that turns into a nightclub at ten. We can get dinner at like nine thirty, then we can dance." She started to do a jerky dance that Kennedy could only blink at in comical awe.

"Is it Hana?" Kennedy heard of the sushi restaurant by day and club by night scheme in the alternative weekly newspaper. It looked appealing at the time since she could imagine herself eating sushi under a disco ball.

"Yeah, Hunter and I went there a few weeks ago, and we had so much fun. The sushi's good, too."

"It's sushi. It's hard to mess that up. But I'll let Leo know we can go out tonight with you and Hunter. And, oh yeah, Hunter called."

The joints underneath the skin of her hands popped as she hurriedly typed another message to Leo about the sushi dinner/dance club/double date suggestion. Within a minute, he responded with an affirmative answer. The dressy digs buried in Kennedy's closet flashed across her mind like a slideshow because she had to look perfect tonight.

"Kennedy!" Leo hollered over the pulsating techno music in one of the city's hottest new clubs. "You look beautiful!"

Her retro plum dress with an ikebana floral pattern complemented the sushi dinner date, but she and Jocelyn took so long being fashionably late they missed the restaurant phase and arrived in time for the nightclub turnaround. She felt her dress embracing her body and wondered if Leo would notice the way the fabric gathered around her chest and hips.

"Thank you," she said bashfully. They hugged each other.

"Hey, Leo!" Jocelyn gave him a friendly half-hug. "This is my boyfriend, Hunter." She grabbed Hunter's hand and pulled him toward her and Leo. The guys shook hands. "We're going to the dance floor. This is my song!" Jocelyn grabbed Hunter's hand and dashed toward the nucleus of the crowd.

Kennedy stood awkwardly next to Leo, smiling goofily. She wanted to be careful with her words. She didn't want to say the wrong thing. The loud music gave them a reason to remain quiet.

"The bar is still serving sushi. Let's go!" Leo broke the silence Kennedy just started to accept.

With only sushi and alcohol on the menu, guys in button-up shirts and girls in slutty dresses swarmed the bar. They maneuvered through the crowd to see the menu with the names of dishes glowing white on a blackboard.

"I like things New York, so I'll go for a New York roll," Kennedy whispered in Leo's ear. The closeness gave her an electrified shudder.

"Then the New York roll it is," Leo smiled down at her. He made the order as Kennedy turned toward the dance floor and saw Jocelyn and Hunter hectically dancing on the sidelines. Their jerky moves looked like they could cause injury.

"And for the drink...?" Leo asked.

A margarita sounded nice but it's such a hanging-with-the-girls kind of drink. She's so used to ordering a margarita with Jocelyn. In this case, a classic date drink would be appropriate. Red wine may stain her dress, and since it was making its first appearance in public, a stainless white wine will do. "I'll take a white wine."

"Good choice." Leo ordered two glasses of wine and made small talk with the waiter/bartender as Kennedy chimed in wordlessly with a wide grin displaying her pearly whites after two applications of whitening strips. She hoped Leo would notice her smile since she had braces all through high school. Or maybe he didn't remember.

"Don't worry, Kennedy. I see you," Leo redirected his attention onto Kennedy who posed with her elbow on top of the counter and tried to give him a sexy smile. She told herself in her head to close her lips all the way, so the top of her buckteeth would not show. It wasn't attractive during her sexy smile. She giggled.

While juggling the bamboo tray with their orders of sushi and glasses of wine in one hand like a professional waiter, Leo instinctively took Kennedy's hand and led her to a booth with a couple on the other end engaged in an intense make-out session. Kennedy longingly watched the couple like it was a tearjerker moment. They should be heaving since they didn't come up for air. All that harsh breathing through my nose would irritate my sinuses, Kennedy thought, but she wanted something along those lines without the possible discomfort. She couldn't even remember the last time she had a sultry make-out session in a public place if she ever had one. She simply couldn't remember.

Quietly, they used their flimsy chopsticks to hoist the squares of smoked salmon and avocado wrapped in seaweed and sticky rice into their mouths. The occasional sip of wine smoothly slithered down their palates. Kennedy enjoyed the serenity of the corner booth as the music pulsated through her veins. Leo smiled at her; she smiled back, consciously praying food particles had not found a home between her teeth. She instinctively moved closer to him and leaned against his left side. His arm rose to bring her in even closer. With a few bites remaining on her plate and a few drops lingering in their wineglasses, Kennedy wondered if Leo would ask her to dance. But after downing her wine with the last bite of sushi, she decided to take matters into her own hands and ask the question she wanted to hear from him. "How about a dance?"

Leo hesitated. "I'm not really a dancer. Two left feet. What can I say? It's not my thing."

Kennedy glared at him. The whole point of going to a club is to have fun, and dancing was a central part of that fun. "Then why pay a cover?"

He hesitated again, trying to come up with another pathetic answer. "I like to hang out, to listen to the music."

"That's what the radio is for. That's why we download MP3s. So we can dance."

"No, I'm cool."

An alternate location might change his mind. "Want to head out to the terrace?" Kennedy threw the idea on the table. She needed sparks to fly as soon as possible.

"OK, I can do that." They left the plates on the table and headed to the bar for a refill on the wine before heading outside to a crowded terrace.

"So why don't you dance?" Kennedy didn't want to bury the subject. She yearned to rub her body against his. Years had passed, and now that she was getting her chance, she wanted all of him.

"I just don't. C'mon, Kennedy. It's not that big of a deal." His eyes twinkled a bit from standing his ground, then they wandered to a woman wearing a skintight pink dress. Her long chestnut hair fell in ringlet curls. Kennedy noticed Leo's wandering eye totally appeased with the girl. After a sip of wine, Kennedy slid her heel against the rough concrete, trying to focus on something else.

"So what were you saying again?" Leo grinned.

She was upset. "Nothing, apparently." She took another sip of her wine.

"Your mood just flipped a switch. What's up?"

"You were looking at that girl." Kennedy felt she was stating the obvious.

"Oh," Leo seemed to be searching for an explanation, "I think I dated her back in high school. I was just wondering if she would recognize me."

Kennedy pursed her lips. "Won't you go up to her and see?" A tinge of anger lifted her usually soft and welcoming voice she reserved for her men of the moment. Leo headed toward the girl and her group. Kennedy reluctantly followed.

"Ashlee?" Leo's mood jumped in enthusiasm when Ashlee pivoted on her heel and faced him.

"O-M-G! Leo! I haven't seen you in so long!" she tipsily yelled as she flung her arms around his broad shoulders.

"Hi!" Ashlee shrieked to an uncomfortable Kennedy who became eclipsed by the shadow of an unexpected reunion.

"Hey," Kennedy mumbled and took a long gulp of wine. A scantily clad waitress came around with a tray of shots, and Kennedy reached over to exchange her empty wineglass for a shot glass.

"Wow! You look so great, Leo..." Ashlee's squeaky voice trailed off into oblivion for Kennedy.

"You're still fucking hot!" Leo's gasp of a compliment pierced Kennedy's eardrum. She wildly scanned the room for another shot glass. After realizing she was stuck in a sea of drunken partygoers, she felt helpless without more alcohol in her system. She barely drank alcohol at all, but tonight she needed a distraction soda couldn't give her.

They continued to catch up as Kennedy inched away to the dance floor inside. After passing the patio doors, she heard her name. She turned to see Leo with his finger up; he needed a minute to put Ashlee's number into his phone and send her a friend request on his Facebook mobile app. Kennedy leaned against the wall as people went in and out. A waitress finally came through the doors, and Kennedy grabbed another shot. She gulped it down. The sting in her throat felt somewhat satisfying. It removed her from the situation.

"She actually remembered me!" Leo beamed when he met Kennedy near the door. "She said I looked good, so I'm glad about that."

Playing with her strands of hair, Kennedy glared at him.

"Kennedy, girl, you know you don't have to worry," Leo placed his hand on her shoulder. She just looked at his hand as if it was in the wrong place. "She thought she was hotter than me back in high school, so she didn't take me seriously. But I look better than her now."

The waitress finished her rounds. A single shot glass sat on her tray. Kennedy eyed it from across the room while Leo mouthed his spiel. She dashed to snatch it before anyone else could think to take it. The liquid burned her throat.

"Will you dance with me now?" Kennedy asked demandingly. She felt she was owed something after the Ashlee encounter.

"We can hang out near the dance floor." That was a no.

Liquid courage made Kennedy fearless. She took Leo's clammy hand with leftover sweat from seeing Ashlee and led him to the dance floor. The colorful disco lights flashed across the floor. Kennedy started dancing. Leo bounced his head to the rhythm. She tossed her arms in the air. She began rubbing her body against his. It may have been too forward, but she knew Leo too long to be truly embarrassed. She continued the awkward one-half dancing duo routine. Leo just kept bouncing his head. She spotted Jocelyn and Hunter coming toward them.

"Having fun?" Jocelyn inquired in Kennedy's ear. She sensed something was awry.

"Bucket loads of fun," Kennedy's alcohol-tinged breath hit Jocelyn's cheek.

"Don't drink anymore. Is he making you drink?" Jocelyn asked suspiciously, shooting Leo a glare.

"No, he's not. I just want to chill out." Kennedy slurred, still bopping along to the music with the stoic Leo clutching her hips.

"You don't really drink, so what's up? You want to come with me and Hunter?" Jocelyn was convinced Leo put a spell on Kennedy. It was more sinister than a love spell.

"I'm fine. If you and Hunter want to leave, go ahead."

Jocelyn looked at Hunter with worry. "Fine. Call me if you need me." She didn't feel comfortable about leaving Kennedy in Leo Port's hands. He wasn't exactly Mr. Innocent in school, and now that he's an adult, she knew he was ten times worse. She decided to hang out at the 24-hour pizzeria down the street just in case she was called in for backup from the seemingly disastrous date. With Hunter's fingers intertwined in hers, Jocelyn left the dance floor and eventually trudged to the front door. She turned around to catch a glimpse of Kennedy still dancing with Leo, who barely flinched a muscle.

With her body not accustomed to downing so much alcohol, Kennedy suddenly felt dizzy. She blinked her eyes a few times, secretly hoping that would be the cure-all, so she can continue to dance with Leo. He finally became caught up in the dance craze circulating through the room. Kennedy turned around to gaze into his eyes to see which emotion he was feeling. His warm smile suggested happiness. Chunks of food wanted to travel up her throat.

"Gotta go!" Kennedy dashed off the floor and strolled into the nearest empty unisex bathroom stall. She sloppily held her hair back in a bun while directing her head toward the public toilet lid. Definitely not her brightest moment.

"Are you OK, Kennedy?" Leo's voice traveled over the olive green stall door. Kennedy noticed his black dress shoes under the stall and wished he didn't stand so close. Nothing materialized from her mouth. The warmth of her breath smelled. She hectically ransacked her satin plum clutch purse for a stick of gum. The pounding inside her head made her frantic.

"Do you have any gum?" she shouted over the door.

"Yeah, I have some right here," Leo answered to the desperate cry. "Are you feeling better?"

Opening the door with shame, Kennedy came out and took a stick of gum from Leo. "I felt like I was going to throw up, but nothing came up," she sadly whined.

"Well, hopefully, it stays that way," Leo looked concerned as he put his hand over Kennedy's forehead. She pouted. "Maybe you drank too much. Let's get some fresh air." He found her hand lying limply against her dress and took it into his. They left the restroom where a gang of men entered. Kennedy was relieved they didn't hear her trying to vomit. Unisex restrooms at the club didn't work for her.

While Leo gently pushed others out of the way to make a path to the front door, Kennedy smiled with the shield of protection he provided. They spilled out onto the sidewalk where other partygoers found refuge.

"Is this better?" Leo's eyes sparkled under the faint streetlight as he gazed down into Kennedy's dilated eyes.

"I feel so much better," she exhaled. She wanted to please him, but she did feel better without the pounding music and blinding darkness. Leo helped her onto an empty bench attached to a towering tree. Its branches looked spooky in the dark as Kennedy blankly stared up.

"The night sky is beautiful," Leo said. "You can see the stars tonight."

Distracted by the long branches blocking her view from the sky, Kennedy saw some twinkling stars, or airplanes.

"I'll wait to see if one moves because that means it's an airplane," Kennedy thought aloud. "Unless it's a shooting star. I haven't seen one of those in a long time if I've ever seen one." Her nausea seemed to subside at the peacefulness of the moment.

"It's hard to tell when it's an airplane, but it's amazing to see the stars. You forget how small you are sometimes."

"It's like standing near the ocean. It's so...big, and you're so small compared to it." Maybe it was her newfound fearlessness or maybe it was her unprecedented alcohol consumption, but she moved her fingers over Leo's because she felt him opening up to her. He pushed his fingers through hers against the wooden slabs of the bench. The sensation was detected, but their eyes still looked onward to the midnight sky. Kennedy softly closed her eyes to make a wish. She believed in love and wished for it, but she especially wished to experience it with Leo. It was only natural they'd end up together.

5

"I thought you'd have a hangover," Jocelyn arrived in the kitchen and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet.

"I am cloudy and too agitated to sleep, so..." Kennedy yanked two slices of bread out of the toaster and dropped them onto a saucer.

"So you do have one," Jocelyn said between spoonfuls of Froot Loops. "And you never told me who this Ashlee chick was. I don't remember a slutty-looking Ashlee from high school."

"Well, apparently, we went to school with one," Kennedy answered, taking a bite into a burnt piece of toast. "I wasn't really listening, but they said they met in detention."

"Oh, so she was a bad girl. That explains it. We were good girls."

"I guess. I mean we were in the honors classes with the good kids. We were goody two-shoes. She did say she was still in community college and had a kid."

"Wow, really?" Jocelyn laughed. "He was all in awe with a girl who's still in college even though you're done. And you don't have any kids. And you have a career. Where does she work? McDonald's?" Her tirade surprised Kennedy since she liked to talk positively of others regardless of the situation. But it was always nice to have your BFF talk shit about some girl who used to be with your potential man. It sounded logical in their minds.

"All I know is if he has a type, I want to be his type," Kennedy spread boysenberry jam on her dry toast.

"You still like him after that?" Jocelyn cocked her head toward Kennedy. "I guess it's hard to shake off the fact you always liked him ever since we were supposed to like boys, but he's so lame. I never cared for him. He was always desperate to be popular like he only cares about the superficial stuff. He looks in a mirror every five seconds. And it seems like he hasn't changed. I understand we all wanted to be popular and be liked in school, but we're adults now, and there are more important things in life. That's why he was all in Amy's face yesterday."

"You mean Ashlee," Kennedy pathetically muttered.

"See what I mean?" Jocelyn lightly pounded the counter with her fist. "Who cares what her name is! She was a fake quote unquote hottie with fake boobs and fake hair. And he liked it! He's an asshole. He always was and always will be." She took a sigh of relief of getting her opinion off her chest. Once Kennedy excitedly arrived home saying Leo Port noticed her days ago, Jocelyn knew she wouldn't like where the possibilities could go.

"Weren't you the one who told me to go for him?" She took another bite of toast and waited for Jocelyn's rebuttal.

"Fine, fine, fine. I was rooting for you. After what happened the last time, I want you to find a nice guy. Just momentarily forgot that guy was...never nice."

A sigh. "I don't know. After you left, things took a turn for the better," Kennedy chirped. "Well, we did some stargazing, and we held hands." She searched Jocelyn's face for a hint of excitement.

"Gross," was the summation of Jocelyn's thoughts.

"It wasn't gross. I really don't think he meant any harm with Ashlee." Once she uttered the sentence, she knew she was lying to herself.

"Yeah, whatever. I hope you're not feeling Leo because of Javon." Jocelyn scooped the last of the colorful loops into her spoon.

"Javon is ancient history," Kennedy retorted. She hadn't said that name aloud in months.

"You broke up with Javon eight months ago. That's not ancient. That's still new when it was a four-year relationship. You haven't been with anyone else or even talked about anyone else. Not one date. No sex. But you were good with it." A concerned expression overshadowed Jocelyn's face.

"It was three and a half years. Forty-two months of time wasted."

Javon Williams was Kennedy's first real boyfriend. At the first networking event for college freshmen, Kennedy noticed a young man gazing at her with enlarged eyes and his mouth agape. With Jocelyn by her side, she tried to stay distracted because she felt the man must have been looking at someone else. She wasn't pretty enough to be looked at that long. As brand new transplants on the East Coast, Jocelyn thought it would be good to form an unbreakable group of girlfriends. So as she ransacked the crowd for down-to-earth-looking girls, Kennedy bit her lip in the man's direction. He had large, piercing eyes like hers, and his midnight black skin seemed so tantalizingly beautiful. Still a never-been-kissed virgin, she felt strange desiring a man who may not be looking at her.

"Kennedy!" Jocelyn shattered the fantasy. "This is Keisha. She's studying journalism, too."

"Hi, Keisha. How are you liking this event?" Kennedy tried to give the conversation momentum, so the man could disappear from her thoughts.

"It's fun. Oh, let me introduce you two to my cousin. He's over there. I see him." Keisha led the way to the starer, leaning against the wall with a cool attitude.

"Jocelyn and Kennedy, this is my cousin, Javon," Keisha presented him. They all shook hands as Javon's gaze remained transfixed on a blushing Kennedy.

"Maybe we can all hang out some time," Jocelyn entertained the idea. "Let's exchange numbers!"

"That would be awesome! Mine's..." Keisha's voice trailed off as Javon and Kennedy had an unintentional staring contest.

"Yeah, Kennedy, we should hang out some time," those were the first words Javon said to her.

They exchanged phone numbers that night, and eventually in a few weeks, they were making out in Central Park, eating fine cuisine in Midtown, and listening to poetry in Brooklyn. Javon wanted to show his girlfriend the beautiful intricacies of New York.

Growing up along Lenox Avenue in Harlem, Javon discovered the small wonders inside the city to avoid the dangers lurking around his apartment building frequented by drug dealers and gangsters. He couldn't stay home with his bitter, chain-smoking mother, so he remained focused on getting into college by studying around the clock. He realized quickly he excelled in mathematics and science, which bloomed into a goal of becoming an engineer.

His luscious lips always fell onto Kennedy's just so. They were inseparable to the point Jocelyn almost found a new best friend in college, but Kennedy eventually learned to balance her school life, her love life, and her social life. Even with Kennedy going home to California over the breaks, they maintained a strong bond until the second semester of senior year. Kennedy and Jocelyn went to the movie theaters to see the latest chick flick. As they chatted on the bench outside the theater room waiting for the cleaning crew to complete its job, Kennedy spotted a laughing Javon by the popcorn machine with a girl. She had long, cascading extensions down her back tucked behind her bamboo earrings. A diamond stud sat in the corner of her nostril and a pair of high-heeled boots shielded her feet. She wore a lot of makeup on her face from the thick eyeliner to the voluminous mascara to the shimmery lipstick. Kennedy rarely wore makeup or straightened her hair unless she was working on a broadcast story in class, but she usually appeared au naturel around Javon because he said she was beautiful on her own. But from the looks of the girl, he obviously cared about appearance. If this were a beauty competition, four out of five men would definitely prefer Javon's date. Kennedy didn't recognize the mystery girl, but she did recognize Javon wearing the leather aviator jacket she had bought him for Christmas. As Kennedy clandestinely spied, Javon planted a kiss on the lips of his date. She just turned away. Jocelyn continued to talk, oblivious to the Javon sighting, but Kennedy smoothly snuck back into the conversation. She felt too humiliated to say anything.

"Can I just be excited about a guy again?" Kennedy innocently posed the question after shaking away the relationship rundown. She brushed her cheek off like she felt the bristles of freshly cut emerald grass again caressing her skin when she kissed Javon in the park all those years ago. "I haven't been excited about anyone really since Leo. Javon and I happened so fast. I mean I didn't get those pre-love jitters because we instantly became a couple. I didn't have a crush on him. I want to have that feeling again. I want a crush. I want to hope to be with someone. I'm hoping for Leo. Again. You know what they say second time's a charm."

"It's the third time, but I get it," Jocelyn somewhat surrendered. "I'm lucky to have Hunter, and everyone tells me I'm lucky to be so in-sync with someone, but I don't know how it feels to be treated badly."

"It sucks. Javon cheated on me. I gave him all of me," Kennedy said so gloomily. Javon hadn't been an issue since she returned home.

"You didn't give him all of you, K. He messed up, and you walked away immediately like you should have in that situation. I guess you're excited about Leo because he didn't break your heart. He just didn't feel the same way." With her bowl of rainbow milk, Jocelyn headed to the sink to pour it down the drain. "So what are you doing today?"

"I'm going to the fall fashion show at the mall. I'm not qualified to even apply my own makeup, so I'll be hanging out, I suppose."

"Cool. See, I would like to hear more about your involvement with Loveliness rather than your involvement with Leo." Though she loathed bringing up Javon, Jocelyn still wished Kennedy could be crazy in love with someone new.

"Leo's not that bad. We just have to warm up to each other. These things take time."

"Warm up to your career. Just remember Leo would've never held your hand in a million years back when we were in school. You know what? Maybe you should try speed dating. You know, meet new people..." After her random suggestion, Jocelyn left the kitchen. Kennedy ate her toast in silence and swallowed back her tears of being reminded of her ugly relationship past.

6

Every fall, devoted fashionistas worldwide welcomed Fashion Week with open arms by attending the festivities enlightening the metropolises of the world to witness the latest creations by the design geniuses responsible for blowing the glittery dust onto the fashion industry. Top magazines thickened their pages with the trends insiders publicized to the media, including ridiculously expensive duds a girl would have to spend several paychecks on. Anyone could participate in this chic whirlwind of fabulousness simply by finding local events, and the fall fashion preview show at Oak Leaf Mall always premiered within the first few days of September before people embarked on new school years and dived into new careers.

Backstage in front of the line of vanity mirrors, Laurenne set her black faux python leather makeup case down on a desk. She instinctively swept her bangs to the side of her face. She swiped away lingering gloss above her lips. She decided on the raccoon eye look without overdoing it because that was where most people went wrong with the trend. It was more mascara less eyeliner. She was a walking advertisement for the cosmetics Loveliness created in the office. She was especially proud of the volumizing mascara Venetia made from combining online recipes. It didn't stiffen lashes, which is a concern for every girl, since nobody wanted to lose a lash to clumpy mascara. But, of course, they were going to ask the models if they wanted to experiment with their products. Laurenne, Venetia, Zara, and Kennedy planned to wear only Loveliness products using their face as the palette, so when a model inquired about the cosmetic safety and promise of beauty illusion, they could say, "Look at my face!"

Venetia lugged her chartreuse faux python leather makeup case and dropped it on the vanity next to Laurenne's. "I packed half Marcheline products, half Loveliness," she explained to her business associate, who started to open her case to unveil the array of colorful cosmetics.

"I'm hoping they choose Loveliness," Laurenne said, still peering into the case. "We'll tell them about how those other foundations give you acne, the eye makeup can blind you, and the lipsticks have chemicals that you shouldn't swallow. We'll scare them. If they care about their weight by eating only a carrot for lunch, then they should care about their beauty." She circumnavigated the backstage area. "Where are Zara and Kennedy?"

"I don't know," Venetia said, disinterested. "You know Zara doesn't care about what we're doing, and Kennedy is just someone she picked up to have fun with since you're more serious about your career now."

"I don't get Zara anymore. She's not the same girl. Well, they'll have to be here soon before the models get here. Just because they're not applying the makeup right now doesn't mean they can disappear."

"Inspiration totally slapped me in the face last night," Zara precariously cradled Kennedy's hand as she led the way to the FeFe store. Faceless mannequins in the hottest styles posed in front of the glass windows, and once Zara spotted them, they took a beeline toward the store's entrance.

After noticing the playful leopard print in the back of the store, Zara practically dashed to the racks, letting go of Kennedy's hand in the process. A see-through aqua dress with black and fuchsia leopard spots stole Zara's attention as she fingered the silky material. "I want to make something like this."

Still drowsy from the night before, Kennedy nodded her head to show she was listening though she inevitably tuned out.

"I need to cash on this animal print and floral print phenomenon," Zara said seriously. "They won't go away. I have to take notes at the fashion show, but I know they'll be wearing things like—"

"May I help you, Zara?" A dark-skinned girl with a lighter shade of powder foundation caked onto her face asked the question in a haughty voice.

"We're fine, Christa. I'm just shopping with a friend." Though Zara looked really petite standing in her ballet flats next to Christa in her four-inch pumps, she turned back around and continued her interrupted conversation with Kennedy. "Everyone's going to be wearing things like this."

Feeling uncomfortable with the confrontation, Kennedy miraculously woke up to the retail drama. Christa left with looking over her bony shoulder.

"So how do you know her?" Kennedy whispered after squeezing herself into Zara's personal space as she still held onto the dress. She examined her face. Tears seemed to bubble in her eyes. She felt uncomfortable.

"I used to work here," Zara whispered back. "Me and Christa were good friends, but she was jealous of the relationship I had with Laurenne. So when I decided to work with Laurenne on her company, I quit. And Christa was mad about it, and apparently she still is."

"Why didn't she like Laurenne?" Portions of the story seemed to be missing for Kennedy, but she treated this as a case of gossip, so she needed more scoop.

"They're both models. Tall, lanky. They were each other's competition."

Flashbacks of America's Next Top Model episodes ran through Kennedy's mind. She strangely understood this concept based on her reality TV experience. "That's sad they couldn't support each other. They're both young pretty black girls working to be models. It sounds like a Tyra slash Naomi thing."

"Something like that," Zara still had the dress in her hands. "I really like this. I like the color arrangement."

"Yeah, it's definitely cute," Kennedy put her hands on the dress as if touching it would make it magically hers. "How much is it?"

"Eighty-nine ninety-nine," Zara flipped over the cardboard price tag.

"That's expensive. That's why I never buy anything out of here unless it's marked down eighty percent off."

"Kennedy, you're funny," Zara gave her a mischievous smile, and Kennedy returned it without any thought. "Oh, look at that minidress. It's cheetah print. That's hot. It'll go with your new hair."

Kennedy followed Zara's finger to the cheetah print dress with overlapping reds, oranges, and yellows that reminded her of a summer sunset. It would be perfect for another night out with Leo. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her. "I'm going to look at that." She pressed the minidress against her body. It seemed too short, but she wanted to trap Leo with a sexier wardrobe. With tension, she flipped over the price tag: $69.99. Her wallet cried in her purse. It was a real paycheck type of dress, so she had to wait to get a real paycheck to purchase it.

"It's just not spend-my-last-dime desirable," Kennedy concluded.

"Well, I'm done here. You're right. Everything's overpriced," Zara huffed. "When you're getting the employee discount, you don't really notice the price tag. Let's head back to the fashion show."

As they walked toward the exit, Kennedy saw from the corner of her eye Christa's stern glare following them out the door where they disappeared into the strolling crowd.

Shoppers and invited guests crowded into the square space secured by a pink velvet rope. They hid behind designer shades and reveled in the glamorous aura of the fluorescent pink lights. Tuxedoed guys passed out plastic glasses of non-alcoholic champagne while sequined girls prepared black gift bags with free samples wrapped in pink tissue paper. Security guards donned in all black monitored the perimeter as the neon pink runway lights flicked on.

"So where were you two?" Laurenne chastised them for their tardiness while dusting blush across the cheeks of a teen model still in a terry cloth bathrobe. "The models have been here for twenty minutes! You can help them with their clothes since that's your thing, Zara."

By the hand, Zara hurriedly led Kennedy to the part of the backstage where braless models were hopping and slithering into their attire. The show hadn't started yet, but the few store employees working for the show looked overtaxed with styling the clothes for the runway. Zara headed to a female employee with a falling headset trying to help a young girl into a dress designed by a dried-up pop singer's new fashion line.

"Oh, thank you," she said breathlessly to Zara. "I'm one of the only ones working on the show, and I haven't done a head count yet." She left in haste, and Kennedy rushed to zip the back of the girl's purple and black plaid dress. Zara picked the seven-year-old girl up and placed her in a pair of black tie-up combat boots.

"Dang, fashion doesn't change one bit these days," she commented on the footwear. "I rocked these boots like five years ago."

"It's like the fashion gods resuscitate the things we thought were tired," Kennedy said while straightening the off-the-shoulder look of another girl's oversized graffiti-ridden T-shirt. "I think I wore this shirt three years ago."

"So true," Zara interwove the shoelaces along the hooks of the boots. After examining both girls' outfits, she sent them on their way to the hairdresser to neaten the sloppy buns sitting upon their heads. Next, a woman wearing a sparkly black and white-spiraled party dress approached them. Zara didn't see any imperfections at first. She checked the front of the dress, the sides, the back. A string of fabric was hanging from the dress. She cut it with a miniature pair of scissors she pulled out of her handbag. Then the model headed toward the hairdressers for a touch-up to her retro flip 'do.

"I thought there would be more to this," Zara plopped down on the floor with crossed legs. "They already dressed themselves with clothes picked by the employees. I wish I could be doing more like me actually picking out the clothes. These models would look a lot better if I had."

Kennedy fell to the floor beside Zara. "We'll find a way to get you more exposure. I don't know what it is yet because this is not my forte, but we'll find something. I mean I can't even find a job and start my career—" She stopped, realizing she was turning an uplifting conversation into a selfish rant. "But things will get better...for the both of us. I think. Maybe."

A blond pretty boy model approached them. "Are you two the stylists? I need help deciding which jeans to wear. They gave me three pairs to go with this shirt, but I don't know what would look better. They all look fine to me, but I don't know."

Zara sprouted up. "Let's go to the rack and see these jeans." She placed her hand on the model's shoulder as she led the way to the rack filled with men's clothing. Left behind on the floor, Kennedy decided to walk over to Laurenne and Venetia to see if they needed any help. She wanted Zara to have her moment.

"I booked us a wedding next week. This soon-to-be bride who knows Nika asked if I can do the makeup. She's having a wedding at a hotel downtown," Laurenne's voice traveled to Kennedy, who dropped to her knees behind the curtain, trying to straighten her open-toe shoes. She made a wrong move and her foot flipped out and wouldn't return to its original position.

"I don't want to tell Zara," Laurenne continued. Kennedy, who was about to enter the scene, found it safer to eavesdrop on the conversation instead. Why didn't Laurenne want to tell Zara? she thought.

"Zara doesn't add anything to Loveliness," Venetia said. "She's always been on her own agenda. And I don't know why she brought this Kennedy girl around. I don't get what she has to do with anything."

Kennedy lightly gasped. She felt personally attacked. She crossed her arms and tried to camouflage herself in the hectic background near the fuchsia curtain as busy employees and models whisked past her.

"I want us to really have the company since we're the only ones doing things," Laurenne said. "We're professionally trained. Zara says she wants to be a fashion designer, but she's not even serious about that. I mean she was expelled from fashion school and fired from FeFe. How serious can you be? That's why I can't trust her anymore."

Kennedy couldn't help gasping again about the revelations of her new friend, but she couldn't decide if she wanted to catch the gossipy girls off-guard or stay hidden behind the curtain.

"It's whatever. We have to do business together and leave her out of it. We'll do the wedding over the weekend and keep it quiet. We'll get a nice check, and we will only split it two ways," Venetia said.

"Cool. I don't want her to find out," Laurenne said. "I want to keep her away as much as possible. We can keep her busy when we need hands, but I don't trust her at all."

Feeling strange about the conversation she conveniently eavesdropped on, Kennedy tiptoed toward Zara. She hoped she didn't look uncomfortable around her. She wanted to appear calm and casual like she didn't hear anything particularly special. Zara seemed like a cool chick. Kennedy didn't have a reason not to trust her. She felt her own position at the company was hanging on a balance. Since the disappointing job interviews, she couldn't afford to bring up any drama. She stayed quiet.

"Hey, let's get a seat," Zara's smile looked conniving as she pulled Kennedy to the front row. "What's wrong with you? You look funny."

"Nothing," Kennedy uneasily answered.

With flashes and clicks, the lights overwhelmed the runway. The heat touched Kennedy's face as she dabbed her melting makeup with a tissue. "Welcome to our annual fashion show!" the female emcee bellowed into the rhinestone-studded microphone. Her cherry red body-con dress with a swoop neckline made her look professionally chic. Her red leather pumps added to her media persona. Kennedy peered down at her gray tunic with silver sequin-trimmed sleeves, a pair of black jeggings, and black Converse sneakers. She wondered if any local TV news crews would capture the event. The emcee had a better chance of being mistaken for a broadcast journalist than Kennedy.

The model Zara assisted in the black and white dress appeared on the runway. As the emcee mentioned her ensemble came from a new line exclusively available at the store, Kennedy noticed the model's makeup under the lights. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes popped, her lips glistened. She couldn't tell if the model was wearing Loveliness products or name brand ones. She looked hard. Maybe Loveliness had the potential to rival the giants like Marcheline Cosmetics.

Girls, boys, women, and men strolled with pizzazz down the catwalk. Like the other spectators, Kennedy and Zara sat on the edge of their seats, snapping photos on their camera phones. The fashion was so yesterday and unoriginal concealed by an upscale presentation, but they had fun judging the styles as amateur fashion insiders.

"I can do better than that," Zara sneered. Kennedy didn't know the extent of Zara's fashion design talent, but she felt she herself could've found better pieces without any styling experience.

But the Laurenne-Venetia exchange still gnawed at her. She felt strange when people gossiped literally behind her back, and she didn't know why, which made the situation worse. She wanted to find a way to go to the wedding. She may not know how to apply makeup, but as the PR girl, she could still show up at these events.

"What are you doing next weekend?" Kennedy asked innocently while Zara's finger glided across the screen to view the slideshow of recent photos on her phone.

"Not much. Why? What do you want to do?" Zara's eyes were still transfixed on her phone.

"We were invited to a wedding."

Then her ears perked up. "Oh, really? Whose wedding?"

"I'll give you the details later." If Kennedy planned to be a journalist, then she would have to investigate.

7

"Kennedy..." Leo nestled his wonderfully soft lips against her smooth cheek. When those lips touched her skin, she melted inside. They sat, thigh to thigh, on a bench downtown near the river. People strolled along the pathway toward the bridge, admiring the cerulean waters beside them. It was a major attraction in town since there wasn't much else to do.

"Leo..." Kennedy returned his gentle whisper, patiently waiting for a reply. She may have fallen in love with him in such a short amount of time. Dangerous territory. Heartbrokenness was definitely foreseeable in this situation, but she didn't mind. She felt helpless.

"I was thinking..." Leo started, "about going to the beach or something one of these days. I mean I didn't get to hang out much this summer because I was finishing school, securing the job. So what do you say?"

"Just us two?" Kennedy posed this question with uncertainty. There were no real beaches, only the polluted end of the river where obnoxious teenagers dabbled in drugs and made ridiculous dives into the water on weekends, so his statement really translated into going out of town. He'll be leaving her by her lonesome while driving to the California coast to find an awesome beach unless she tagged along for the ride.

"I kinda work now." Her heart sank though she was being a tad dramatic about her employment situation.

"I know," Leo teasingly said. "I'm thinking of going on a Friday afternoon since we'll both be free. Maybe an overnight trip and come home sometime on Sunday. Go to the beach. Hang out. Just fool around and get away from everything."

"I'm in," she said with a touch of desperation.

"Great, baby," Leo muttered through a cheek kiss. They hadn't shared a real kiss yet. He would sloppily try to connect his lips to hers, but she would turn away. She was usually not this anal about kissing a guy, but her sixteen-year-old self kept pushing for perfection.

"Let's go to the mall up the street," Leo suggested. The serene moment fizzled.

"OK," Kennedy said. They hopped off the bench and strolled to the mall along the sandy river path. She wanted to hold hands during the walk. So far, no connection was established. Leo kept his hands in his pockets. Kennedy's hands bobbed to the side, waiting for some attention. They walked in silence. For Leo, it was comfortable. For Kennedy, it was awkward. Ten minutes later, they reached the mall.

Leo opened the door and almost walked in until he noticed Kennedy waiting for him to skip the chivalrous move. He backed up and allowed Kennedy to enter. He followed behind.

"So where do you want to go?" Leo asked. "I just want to buy my cologne."

"OK. I don't really need anything right now."

"Maybe you should get contacts..." Leo's suggestion came out of left field.

She didn't know how to respond. She didn't wear her eyeglasses that much. She just wore them for a second to make sure she could find Leo in the crowd by the river. "What?"

"I mean you wear glasses. Maybe you should try contacts since you want a new look and all."

Oh, yes, she was experimenting with a new look for a new career. Contacts would make it easier for her to read from the teleprompter at the news desk in the studio. "You're right. I should get contacts."

"Let me get my cologne first 'cause that will be fast, then we can go to Lens Crafters or something."

"Great," she smiled. They went to the fragrance counter at the department store as Leo pointed to his signature cologne under the glass for the saleswoman, whose face was drowning in makeup overload, to ring it up at the register. I don't want to look like that, Kennedy thought. Or maybe it's just I wear my makeup better than her. She might need it. It's an accessory for me to enhance the beauty I already have. OK, I don't know, but I do like the shade of her lipstick. Coral red. I think my complexion can work that.

"You OK?" Leo gave her a funny look as she pulled herself out of her wandering thoughts. She forced a smile, hoping he didn't think she was weird because she could make questionable facial expressions when she was immersed in her thoughts. Leo paid for the fragrance, and they headed deeper inside the mall until they found the vision store.

"How can I help you today?" the ophthalmologist asked. She wore black-rimmed eyeglasses with red, blue, and yellow stripes inside the rims. They looked quite fashionable.

"I want contact lenses," Kennedy said. She had her doubts about pulling glasses off in the TV news world, and Leo just reawakened those doubts.

"OK. Let me see your glasses, and then we can test your vision."

Kennedy gladly handed over her eyeglass case from her purse. She covered one eye with her hand and read letters and numbers from the chart on the wall. Her vision worsened, the ophthalmologist said. Contact lenses seemed to be the fix. There were temporary ones. Long-term ones. Multicolored ones.

"You would look hot with lighter eyes," Leo commented. He had hazel eyes that complemented his caramel skin, but Kennedy didn't think her mahogany tint would go so well with a lighter shade of eyes. She was trying a new look, so she convinced herself going all out was her only option. "I think I want the lenses in honey brown. It'd be fun to have different-colored eyes whenever I want."

"You can get three colors on top of having clear ones when, you know, you want to be yourself again," the ophthalmologist chuckled.

"You would look so cool with hazel eyes," Leo added.

"Hazel?" she questioned this color. The honey brown lenses would go better with her skin, but hazel seemed too far-fetched. But it was better than blue. "OK, I'll try the olive green and the...silver gray. That'll match my hair."

"Your hair's not all black anymore," Leo reminded her. "You have brownish red highlights now, and your eyebrows are still black. Maybe that's throwing you off."

"You're right," Kennedy agreed as the silver gray contact lenses became less appealing. "Then...copper brown. No silver gray. That will go good with my eyes."

"Those are good choices," the ophthalmologist said while she wrote notes in Kennedy's new file. Her glasses slightly slipped down the hook of her nose. Kennedy wouldn't miss that part.

She eventually paid for her packs of contact lenses and solution. With anticipation, she picked up the handles of the bag holding the acceptable answer to her poor eyesight. She peeked inside to make sure everything she needed for her transformation was actually there.

"Maybe you should get your eyebrows done," Leo thought aloud.

8

"I didn't know what to expect when I cut my hair off," Zara said while sipping her banana-mango smoothie in the Loveliness office. "But I'm truly enjoying it. I feel...free."

"How so?" Kennedy inquisitively asked. She twirled the striped straw in her strawberry-kiwi smoothie.

"Free of split ends. Free of people's expectations. I'm a woman, and I'm supposed to have long hair. I'm supposed to nurture it obsessively for it to grow. The thing is I forgot who I'm supposed to be impressing."

Kennedy's fingers caressed the ends of her tresses. She would never chop off her hair. She was trying to grow it as long as she can to be a TV reporter. "I like your hair styled like that," she then touched the tips of Zara's straightened strands parted to look like a pixie cut with a side bang. "This is hot now in Hollywood."

Zara giggled. "Thanks. You read too much Charisma." She pointed to the magazine sitting on the marble counter. "So why did you change your hair? I saw you at the salon, and your hair looked fine—and real."

Kennedy felt bombarded by the out-of-field question. "I needed a change. I've looked the same since I was twelve. I wanted something new. I did it for my career. I have to be polished." She patted her weave down not because of an itchy scalp but because she wanted to make sure it was still fastened to her head, so she can parade as the ideal girl she wanted to be. "What do we usually do around here?" she hopped from one subject to the next rather unconventionally, feeling the conversation was over.

Each visit at the office had been somewhat uneventful as Venetia whipped products together in the kitchen and assembled them in the boardroom. Zara helped with the assembly line. Laurenne made phone inquiries on events where makeup artists may be needed. Kennedy usually worked on increasing website traffic and finding venues for advertisements and exposure on the dusty desktop computer in the corner. The small bamboo plant brightened the lonely desk, but she wondered if there was more she could do since she worked at lightening speeds.

"We're making lip balm today, girls!" Laurenne announced as she entered the office, taking her shades off as the sunlight dimmed inside. She headed to the boardroom and signaled the girls to follow. Professional banter outside the boardroom, according to Laurenne, didn't count. After the revelations at the fashion show over the weekend, Kennedy was still weary of her.

"Did I hear we're going to work on lip balms?" Venetia found her way into the boardroom, still glistening with sweat after running into the office from her shift at Sephora. She plopped her messenger bag on a chair.

"We're going to crush the petals," Laurenne continued without missing a beat in Venetia's tardiness. A clear plastic bag of lavender dropped from her hands onto the table. "I'm thinking different types of balm. I got the lavender, but I want a rose flavor, so we are going to get the rose petals from the back. The property belongs to the office. I spoke to the owners, and they said the roses are wild, and they don't mind us cutting them down."

"I wouldn't even have thought about that," Kennedy commented.

"Lavender lip balm and rose lip balm. Those would sell for sure," Zara walked to the garbage bin and threw her Styrofoam cup away. "But I would do the rose another day. We can just focus on making lavender balm today, so we don't get tired trying to focus on the two types."

"I never get tired," Laurenne shot back. "We can do both."

"Fine," Zara rolled her eyes, wishing the girl would take a chill pill to calm her ambition down.

"Venetia will be in charge of preparing these lip balm canisters," Laurenne ordered. "I printed the stickers last night, so they will go on the canisters. Zara and Kennedy will cut the roses from the back. I'll be rinsing and crushing the petals and preparing the other ingredients."

With their sleeves rolled up, Kennedy and Zara picked up the wicker basket, pruners, and a butter knife off the table and headed toward the office door. It was the first time Kennedy witnessed the naturalness of the makeup line to the point where she had to cut roses in the parking lot.

Peeking through the wire fence, scarlet, coral, and peach roses tranquilly sat attached to the vine. They were pretty and full. Kennedy didn't want to destroy the peace of the roses to simply throw their soft petals away into a potion of oil for beauty purposes. With a melancholic slowness, she approached the rosebushes beside Zara.

"I don't even know how to cut roses," Zara positioned the pruner and cut the first two roses. "But it's time to prune them, I guess."

Kennedy winced. "So...I didn't realize how natural Loveliness was."

"Yeah, this is how it's done when you're first starting out. It's called being extra cheap apparently, but Laurenne calls it creativity."

"I wonder if they all smell differently?" Kennedy inhaled the scents surrounding her in the overgrown garden.

"I heard all roses have different scents." Zara carefully placed the pruner on the ground and picked up the knife to shave the thorns off a freshly cut scarlet rose. She held the rose up to her nostrils. "Smell this one."

After examining the rose for the presence of insects underneath the folded petals, Kennedy inhaled the natural scent. Then Zara shaved the thorns off a peach rose, smelled it, and handed it to Kennedy, who closed her eyes and absorbed the fragrance.

"What's the verdict? They smell different to me," Zara asked after she saw the dramatic expression upon Kennedy's face.

"They do have different scents," she answered in a whisper of awe.

"They do. Amazing. Now we'll have red rose balm and pink rose balm and peach rose balm. We just multiplied a product into three."

"This is still so weird to me," Kennedy admitted. "I mean we're cutting roses to put in lip balm. I know we're all natural, but sometimes it seems like a little much. Don't you think?"

"Laurenne has a vision, and it sounds weird at times, I'll admit, but it's working." They both laughed.

Zara continued slashing the lifelines of the roses while Kennedy, perched on the rich soil on the edge of the parking lot, moved around the prickly thorns to separate the petals from the stem and let them fall into the basket.

"I have to tell you something..." Kennedy kept her head down, peeling petals.

Zara suspiciously peered at Kennedy on the ground. "What?"

"The wedding I mentioned before," she began, "I don't know whose it is, but I overheard Laurenne and Venetia talking about it at the fashion show. They're going to do it as their next gig. They didn't want us to be a part of it. Especially you."

The pruners fell to the ground with a hard thump. "Did they say why? I bet with a wedding, it will be a lot of money they wouldn't have to divide into four." Fury burned around Zara's pupils.

"No. I didn't hear that," Kennedy lied, feeling an unexplained satisfaction. "They just said they're going to a wedding, but they didn't want us to know about it. I wanted to find out and go anyways. Just not tell them."

Zara's frown quickly turned upside down. "I like that. We'll find out. I bet that's why we're doing the hard labor outside, and they're inside watching a pot boil. They want to cut us off and keep the money for themselves."

Twenty minutes later, Venetia had a large pot of simmering jojoba oil on the stove in the backroom kitchen. Kennedy and Zara forfeited the baskets of limp petals as Venetia tossed the petals in the pot. The radio in the background blasted music, so their heads bobbed to the tunes, but their silence consumed the room as they concentrated on making the perfect line of natural lip balms and avoiding conversation that may boil over with secrets.

"Since you asked us so many questions before," Laurenne gave Kennedy a teasing smile, "I would like to know do you have a boyfriend?"

Kennedy hesitated. Sharing too much personal information might backfire in the future. They didn't know about Leo except for Zara. She expected a question about her journey to Loveliness, but they all knew how she met Zara in the salon and agreed to be a part of the group. Her story ended there. Back to the question, her mind traveled directly to Leo with his ripped arms, contagious smile, and resounding laughter. Foolishly, she was falling for him.

"Um," she stammered, "well, I have a boo, I suppose." She shrugged to give the impression it didn't mean anything to her.

"Oh, excuse me!" Laurenne teased. "She has a boo. What's his name?" She glistened at the tidbit the new girl just shared. It stirred excitement, for whatever reason, to know a girl has a guy.

"His name is Leo," she said, matter-of-factly.

"That sounds romantic like he's a soap opera star or an underwear model," Laurenne swooned.

"How old is he?" Venetia inquired.

"He's our age. I grew up with him."

"That's so cute," Venetia now swooned. "How did y'all meet?"

"We met on the first day of high school."

"And now you're going to start dating and stuff?" Laurenne asked this question incredulously like Kennedy broke the unspoken rule of romantically associating with former crushes.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm really focusing on my career though. Not a big deal."

Laurenne pondered. "Actually, I think I know a Leo. It sounds familiar."

"From where?" Kennedy's insides heated up.

"I think my friend, Ashlee, mentioned him a few days ago or something."

"What she say?" Kennedy leaned against the counter uneasily.

"Nothing much. She said she bumped into him at the club. They went out back in the day. They were going to catch up one of these days." Laurenne noticed Kennedy's sweaty brow. "I mean I don't think it's going to be like that. It's probably not even the same guy. Um...so what does he look like?"

Trying to appear unfazed, Kennedy ransacked her handbag for her phone to flaunt the photos of her new guy. "Here he is," she proudly said, while holding the phone so the girls can see the screen. From the girls' amused expressions, she could tell they approved.

"He's gorgeous!" Laurenne shrieked.

"I'm going to have to agree with Laur on this one," Venetia said. "His eyes are hazel. They're interesting. And it looks like he has six-pack abs."

"He might be too good-looking," Laurenne frowned as she studied the photos on Kennedy's phone. "He looks like he would get into a quickie marriage with a Victoria's Secret catalog model. I don't see how Ashlee could've let him go. I mean, well, it's good that they broke up because...then you wouldn't be with him."

Kennedy gulped. She felt pretty because someone like Leo who dated above-average hot girls wanted to be with her. "He usually dates girls with long, real hair and super tight bodies. I don't know... This is all new to me. I mean dating someone who has a type."

"Well, I have a man. Elijah. We've been together for two years. Venetia's still single," Laurenne capped the balm canisters.

"So? I just haven't found anyone, and I'm not really looking either," Venetia defended herself, turning off the stove.

"I'm waiting for the next man to take me to dinner and pay for my lobster and wine," Zara said. "I don't go Dutch on the first date. He's going to have to impress me."

They giggled. But within minutes, Laurenne and Venetia began writing notes and discussing a line of lotions with partner body mist sprays. Zara burned her eyes into Kennedy, who felt the piercing force. She refused to look up at her, so she simply made a mental note to suggest a raspberry lip balm. That would be a nice balm to add to the collection.

"Well, me and V are heading to the other room to pack the finished balms up in boxes," Laurenne stood up and grabbed her notepad and a bag of lavender balms. "You two can stay here if you want, but you're not needed." Her last statement struck Zara, who fought to keep her cool.

"That's fine," Zara said after a moment of carefully crafting her words. "We're just going to sit here and talk for a while, then we'll head out." Two shady glances from Laurenne and Venetia reflected off the counter before they disappeared down the corridor. Kennedy and Zara remained still and quiet until they heard the bang of the door. Zara looked at Kennedy. She wanted her to come over to her side of the table. Kennedy obeyed.

"Laurenne left her purse in the bottom drawer," Zara shared this piece of information expecting Kennedy to use it. "The wedding invitation should be in there," she clarified.

"Oh, OK," Kennedy said dumbly, forgetting the plan to be wedding crashers. She was still clouded by the information on Leo spending time with another girl.

"We should take it," Zara didn't think she sounded murky. "Fine, I'll take it."

"We can't do that!" Kennedy whispered frantically.

Zara's finger went straight to Kennedy's lips to shush her. The drawer slid open with a slight creak. Inside sat Laurenne's Louis Vuitton handbag, unzipped. Daintily, Zara combed through the handbag, being cautious of how things were placed, so Laurenne wouldn't notice anything amiss. She pulled a flower-decorated envelope out. Inside, a wedding invitation was tucked away with the details of a union between a Tawnee and a Martin. She took her smartphone out of her jean pocket and snapped a photo of the invitation details. She neatly placed the invitation back in the envelope and deposited it back into the handbag. The drawer slid back in without any racket. Zara dashed to Kennedy, who was in the background biting her nails.

"Operation Crash Wedding is done," Zara spoke softly, grasping her phone in both hands. "So I guess we're going after all."

"We're not going to wreak havoc, right?"

"Now, Kennedy, if we did, wouldn't we have a good reason to?"

"I guess so." Kennedy didn't say another word, and they walked out of the building into the parking lot.

*

The autumn sun mildly hit Zara, who cruised in the car with Kennedy to attend a wedding located at one of downtown's glitziest hotels. Adorned in lavender knee-length dresses, they planned to get even by working.

With Loveliness as a budding beauty company, Zara joined to expand her repertoire. Fashion and beauty went hand in hand. To increase her media credentials, Kennedy joined to learn the ropes of improving her communication skills at a startup. But their company associates thought otherwise. Cosmetology school-trained and college-educated, Laurenne and Venetia loved applying and producing quality makeup. They wanted it to be their livelihood. But Zara and Kennedy had other plans.

The venue for the wedding included a large white tent outside shielding the tables and chairs for the reception. Pink roses and hydrangeas stood in glass vases as the centerpieces on the tables. The equipment crew was busily arranging the stage for the live band. From the array of pink and white balloons taped against the wall leading to a hallway of rooms, the girls assumed it would lead to where the bridal party was in preparation mode. Relieved to have worn her lavender sandal flats, Kennedy stomped through the unruly plush carpeting with Zara to the door with the bride and a focused Laurenne in view. She brushed glittery pinkish red eyeshadow with the name Ravishing Rose onto the bride's partially closed eyelids. She successfully persuaded her customer to use Loveliness products.

"Hi, Laur," Zara said perkily, waiting to see her surprised face. At the sound of a familiar voice she didn't expect to hear, Laurenne turned her head and plastered a toothless grin. Her sticky lips, courtesy of Vanilla Velvet lip gloss by Loveliness, remained shut.

"Hey. I didn't know you were coming," Laurenne's voice declined with a thump.

"I found an invitation with some notes in the office," Kennedy explained. "I thought maybe you forgot to tell us about it." Her demeanor was casual but sneaky. She squeezed into her bad girl skin better than she thought she would.

"Well, Venetia and I have everything under control, so I don't know what you girls are going to do," Laurenne sneered cheerfully, engaging in the same game. Venetia's heated glare from the bathroom sink area somehow singed Kennedy and Zara when she instantly stopped applying makeup on the flower girl's face.

"Oh, they can stay," the bride said happily. "The more, the merrier."

"Thank you," Zara replied. "I'm Zara, and this is Kennedy. We're the other half of Loveliness."

"I'm Tawnee. OK, that's what I thought," the bride said with her one polished eye. "I knew there were more of you. I remember you, Zara. We all met at Christa's pool party last year."

"Oh, yeah, right..." Zara's voice trailed off. A flashback from her ex-coworker Christa's birthday party entered her mind. She pushed it away. She didn't want to think of that girl.

"That's cool. I think I met Christa the other day," Kennedy tried to find an opening into the conversation.

"You did?" Laurenne gave her a seriously doubtful glance.

"Yeah, when Zara and I went to the—" Kennedy didn't finish her answer until Zara yanked her from the scene. They headed outside to the farthest corner of the hallway out of earshot.

"Kennedy!" Zara sounded more amused than upset. "Remember I told you about the Laurenne-Christa clash. Let's not bring it up."

Like a child, Kennedy felt berated for spilling too much information.

"At least, we got Laurenne and Venetia back with showing up," Zara lightened the mood. They trudged back into the room.

"So what do you do, Kennedy? Are you a makeup artist?" Tawnee asked with a cosmetic brush sweeping shimmer along the bags under her eyes.

"Actually, I'm a journalist," the more Kennedy said it, the more she believed it.

"Wow, I work in sales at News 24. They're looking for a few reporters straight out of college."

"What?" Kennedy's mouth fell in shock.

With eyes still closed, Tawnee giggled. "Yeah, after Laurenne's done, I'll give you the flyer. I gotta have one somewhere in my purse because I was passing them out last week."

In a matter of seconds, the makeup sessions ended with the three bridesmaids in pinkish peach gowns neatening the bride's slim-fitting Vera Wang copycat dress. The flower girl in her peach pouf dress looked up at the bustling action.

"Here," Tawnee grabbed the wrinkled flyer from her tote bag. "All the details are there. Good luck."

"Thank you," Kennedy said breathlessly at the awe of such a chance encounter and the awe of a bride looking exquisite and composed before heading to the altar.

Laurenne and Venetia packed up their supplies in a hurry. Then they hooked their arms together and leaned into each other's ears with juicy words when they walked out the patio doors.

"Let's go," Zara offered her arm to Kennedy, so they can link and whisper together, too.

Kennedy accepted the offer as they lightly skipped to the small crowd sitting in the foldout white chairs. "Why don't they like us? I thought we kinda bonded the other day, then it was poof—gone."

Zara hesitated. "Isn't it obvious? They want everything for themselves. We have our own agendas anyways. I want to be a fashion designer. You a journalist. We need that money to start out." They sat down behind Laurenne and Venetia in the middle of the left rows.

Looking back, Kennedy noticed the blushing bride. Her jet-black hair was knotted into a classic bun in the back with a soft veil flowing from underneath it. The makeup complemented her skin nicely and punctuated her high cheekbones. Laurenne was talented with her artistry. Maybe that's why she didn't want to share her company with amateurs. But the bride's radiance pierced Kennedy. The groom stood nervously on the other end under the arch intertwined with long-stemmed pink flowers, gazing at the bride down the runner. Kennedy wanted that type of love. She didn't realize how much she longed for it until she found herself at a wedding. Always a spectator, never a bride. It just looked like more fun to be the bride.

"So why did you come?" Laurenne whispered in Zara's direction.

"Well, Kennedy and I thought we should be included in this company event. Isn't that right, Kennedy?"

Kennedy nodded in Laurenne's direction. "Yeah, I'm glad I met Tawnee."

"Only because of your news career. That's why you girls weren't invited. You're not serious about this."

"Then why don't you fire us?" Zara shot back.

"No!" Kennedy interrupted. "I need the money." She slouched back in her seat.

"I need the extra help. I won't lie," Laurenne said. "All right, V and I are going to get our nails done tomorrow. To boost company morale, you two should come." She offered the olive branch, but Zara remained suspicious.

"Fine, we'll be there tomorrow. Text me the details later," Zara went deeper into the game, dragging Kennedy along with her.

*

Natural Nails, the brand new eco-friendly nail salon in town, was filled to capacity since anything that reduced carbon footprints stayed in style. Instead of the usual toxic smell consuming salons, a scent of raw flowers lingered in the air. A young Vietnamese woman with light freckles asked for Kennedy's hand. By turning her hand around, she examined the nails and cuticles, and with a slight smile, she approved.

"What would you like today?" she escorted her to shelves full of nail polishes with radiant hues. It was like a candy shop for nails.

"I want that one," Kennedy pointed to a recycled glass bottle of candy apple red lacquer free of volatile organic compounds. Maybe nail polish could be the next major product at Loveliness. She shook the thought away. She didn't want to contribute any bright ideas without knowing the certainty of her future there. She imagined her red nails moving across her reporter pad while doing a story at the capitol. The nail technician grabbed the triangular bottle from the shelf and walked Kennedy to a La-Z-Boy recliner for her foot massage and pedicure. Kennedy saw Venetia's fingers rest on her chin as she reviewed which polish on the shelf could add spice to her nails for the month as Laurenne shook her head at the colorful bottles she picked up. Zara got comfy in the recliner next to Kennedy as their energy-efficient footbaths started at the same time.

"What color are you getting? Please tell me you're not getting a crazy manicure with rhinestones and designs," Zara picked up a tabloid magazine.

"I'm getting bright, luscious red as always. What can I say? I'm predictable," Kennedy sifted through the magazine choices in the wicker basket on the floor for last month's Charisma issue.

"I picked orange," Zara didn't lift her eyes off the glossy pages. "It's a great transition color from summer to fall. Don't you think so?"

"It does make sense." Kennedy found the magazine and opened it to the best-dressed celebs posing on the red carpets at movie premieres and charity events.

"And I'm getting it with the green tea oil base and top coat," Zara said. "My nails feel weaker than usual."

Finally making their decisions, Laurenne and Venetia occupied a set of recliners across the aisle. They conversed among themselves as Kennedy and Zara blurred into the background. It was a company get-together meant to boost morale after the awkward exchanges at the wedding, but the clique standard was in effect. It was like finding somewhere to belong after struggling to find a seat in a school cafeteria. The divide seemed so apparent, especially since Kennedy joined Loveliness. It's Laurenne and Venetia attached to the hip and Zara a mile away. The techs began the pedicures.

"Do you like Laurenne and Venetia?" The question popped out of Kennedy's mouth like bubblegum as if she was unraveling the secrets behind the friendship for an E! True Hollywood Story.

Flipping the magazine page, Zara peered at Kennedy like the question sounded strange or maybe irrelevant. "They're OK. I get along with them, don't I?"

Kennedy raised her plucked eyebrows. "I suppose so. I mean they're always in their own little world."

"They've known each other for some time. As long as we're going for the same goal, it doesn't matter if we get along."

"But you and Laurenne have known each other a lot longer. It's like she met Venetia yesterday." A flashback of meeting Jocelyn for the first time in seventh grade entered Kennedy's mind. Laurenne was Zara's Jocelyn, in a sense, except their closeness dissipated by the day. On the other hand, Zara had a point. They all wanted to turn Loveliness into a gigantic corporation delivering the best natural beauty products and services to women worldwide, so sustainable friendships in the process were irrelevant.

"I'm glad I met you," Zara smiled in Kennedy's direction without steady eye contact. "I was a little lonely with those two."

"I'm glad I met you, too." Kennedy switched over to a People magazine, the Most Beautiful issue. It was actress Lana Fetherston. Her heart-shaped face was fresh and clean, but Kennedy squinted at the almond-shaped eyes, the apple cheeks, the button nose; she looked so normal. Kennedy didn't understand why the B-list actress received that honor.

The tech gripped Kennedy's big toe with intensity while painting the corner of the nail. The red looked fabulous as she continuously swept the brushstrokes against the other four toenails. She capped the polish bottle and headed to the desk to help another customer while Kennedy spent the one-minute dry time trying to figure out the magazine's definition of beauty.

Five minutes later, the tech returned. She was ready to slip into the manicurist role. Carefully, Kennedy stood up on the balls of her heels before planting the bottoms of her feet flat on the ground to avoid smudges. She grabbed her strappy sandals and everyday black purse off the floor, slipped into the flimsy flip-flops provided by the salon, and trudged to the manicure table. She settled down in the wide-set orange chair and displayed her hands out on the table's surface. A yellow finger bowl sat in the center of the table with a generous amount of organic olive oil. The tech dipped Kennedy's nails into the bowl. Her rough cuticles immediately softened.

"So what's going on with you and Leo?" Zara asked as she and her tech settled at the table. After five minutes of Kennedy's nails soaking in the beauty oil, the tech twisted the cap off the bottle and started painting smoothly upon the surface.

Kennedy hesitated. She didn't necessarily want to admit she had fallen for Leo because that would make her look like a silly girl. "He's great. We had a great time the other day." She liked how she limited her vocabulary to stifle her emotions about him.

"So you think he's going to ask you to be his girlfriend? I mean don't you want a relationship? Don't you want commitment?" Zara asked as the tech painted her nails Outrageous Orange by Marcheline Cosmetics' new line of non-toxic polishes.

"I want to be his girlfriend. I'm just trying to be a reporter first. I have that networking event next week, so I'm thinking about that," Kennedy said in a confident tone.

"You have nice nails. They look a lot better than some of the people that come here," the tech entered the conversation.

"Thank you," Kennedy returned. Beauty compliments that put her on a higher pedestal than everyone else made her feel better. The tech continued handling her nails.

Laurenne was the last to pay for her mani-pedi. She gingerly took her black and gray-patterned Coach wallet from her matching handbag, so she wouldn't smudge her nail job that wasn't wet anymore. Venetia snuck away from the group to see the neon pink signs plastered on the window.

"Girls, come here!" she called as Laurenne clasped her wallet. "This says there's going to be a huge expo next Saturday. It's sponsored by Marcheline Cosmetics!"

"Oh yeah, I like their Rebel Rouge lipstick," Kennedy commented to show her interest in Marcheline. She wore the lipstick only once, and it left her lips chapped and brittle.

"You know what this means?" Venetia asked incredulously, looking for excitement from her business partners who all appeared clueless.

"Um, no, not really," Zara admitted, unapologetically.

"It says here," Laurenne underlined the writing with her fuchsia-polished fingernail, "they're choosing three up-and-coming beauty companies from the San Francisco area to go to an all-expense paid trip to Los Angeles to compete in the ultimate contest to find a beauty company worthy of being a part of the Marcheline brand. This could be us."

"Are we at the up-and-coming level?" Zara inquired. "I mean we're at the beginning level."

"We're up-and-coming enough!" Venetia argued. "Believe me, a lot of these groups are going to be at our level, if that. We should apply. The deadline is tomorrow."

"We should do it," Kennedy added her two cents. Last week, she registered a domain for the company's website and added a blog while attracting more fans on their social media networks. And a trip to San Francisco didn't sound bad.

In an instant, the girls united to prepare Loveliness for national, and eventually, global domination. They swung the exit door open, adjusted their Chanel lookalike sunglasses over the bridges of their noses, and walked toward their respective cars in the parking lot of the mini-mall.

9

"The beauty expo is this weekend! I'm so nervous," Laurenne placed label stickers with the logo on the blank vessels of lip gloss, lip balm, mascara, foundation, and fragrance.

"Don't be nervous," Venetia said. "We got this!"

"Even if we don't," Zara started, "we came a long way. I mean we just started Loveliness in June, and it's September, so we did a lot in that time."

"And," Kennedy smacked duct tape down on a box's flaps, "we have a hundred four Facebook fans and forty-nine Twitter followers. Social networking-wise, we're doing good for just starting out."

"Our website had one hundred hits so far since it was launched the other day," Zara added.

"Well," Kennedy interjected, "we can do better than that. It's just we need to get out there and sell the product more to the public. Maybe we can set up one of those systems to start selling these things online." Sabotaging the company would displace Kennedy, so she had to be more proactive than Zara, who'd rather bring an old friend down than put her hand into the business.

"I sold it to my family. My mom loves it. Maybe it's just 'cause she's my mom," Laurenne gingerly placed the labeled cosmetics inside small boxes. "I sell it to the clients we work on, but I feel it's more of a guilt trip. Some do say the products do wonders for them."

Venetia put lip glosses and balms in a box in neat rows. "I sold it to my family and friends, too. I also secretly hand out my business card at work and get customers that way. They love the natural component."

Laurenne's smile lines turned downwards. "We need more exposure. Hopefully, this expo will open doors. I want to get out there more, but it takes time to actually make things happen."

Ideas continued to swerve through their minds on how they could improve the business. The problem: they were inexperienced entrepreneurs. They didn't know exactly what to do and when to do it.

"I think we should have titles and specific responsibilities, so the company could run more smoothly," Venetia voiced the business strategy inside her head. "I feel we need to hold onto something and be perfect at it. Just going to this beauty expo is a big deal. We're a new company that needs to start grinding." Thoughtfully pacing across the room, she preached the new business model for Loveliness.

"I totally agree," Kennedy said with a sigh of relief that their company could be destined for greatness. "I'm the communications department!"

"You're a whole department?" Zara scoffed.

"There's only four of us," Laurenne explained. "You can be a department, a division. I don't care. Just be something productive."

"I guess I'll be the financial officer," Zara suggested. "I worked in retail, and I like money."

"I'll work with the money," Venetia said. "Thanks though." The shutdown made Kennedy shudder.

"I'll be the face of Loveliness," Laurenne said with a glamorous air as if she won a contest to receive that honor. "And I'm the CEO."

"When could I take pictures for the website and stuff since I do communications?" Kennedy asked.

"Thanks, but I'll use my headshots from my modeling gigs," Laurenne said. "Don't worry. I wore Loveliness for the shots." She smiled, but Kennedy also felt that shutdown.

"So I'll be a team player or something," Zara said, relieved her duties dissipated even more.

"We're going places, ladies!" Venetia said. They continued packing boxes. Zara shared a glance with Kennedy. They were still left out.

10

"Kennedy?" Mother called from the doorway of her childhood mauve-painted bedroom. "How're you doing?"

Kennedy decided to make an appearance at her parents' home not for a bonding session but for a support paycheck pick-up.

"It was good," she said with a tinge of boredom as she continued to face her laptop screen, trying to open a PayPal account with the Loveliness dot-com address.

"What did you do today?" Mother was somewhat in the dark about her daughter's daily whereabouts. Kennedy hadn't told her she'd been on a slew of unsuccessful interviews, and the end result led to makeup-smudged collars. Since she owed the government thousands of dollars in school loans, she knew Mother would be disappointed. Though Loveliness kept her occupied, she was still technically unemployed.

"Nothing," she hoped the disinterested answers repelled Mother from getting into her business.

"You do something these days. Any interviews?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Kennedy protested at the unexpected attack. She wasn't a job recruiter. Her résumé was relatively flawless. Once she was scheduled to enter the workforce, the economy conveniently flatlined. It wasn't her fault.

"Well, I thought the job hunt was going well. So what are you doing now? You're doing something. I hope it's not drugs. You see that medical marijuana movement is getting a hold of people." Mother resorted to sitting on top of Kennedy's lime green comforter. She ruffled her neatly made bed. Kennedy cringed. "C'mon, tell me."

"I'm working with these girls. They started a beauty company this summer, and I joined them as a communications person." She turned toward her to let her know she was telling the truth. No drugs involved.

"That's great, Kennedy. Are they paying you?" she asked this question so innocently as if to mask her disgust with her grown daughter still maneuvering through life without a real job.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"So...have you applied to KXXU or other area stations?"

"Mother," she started to get upset, "you know I applied to jobs all summer, and I haven't gotten anywhere. I only get one interview out of, like, two hundred job applications. I do have another interview soon, so I'm preparing for that." She was frustrated, but, thankfully, she found a way to channel her creativity and time into a business.

"Well, Kennedy," Mother wore her tight-lipped expression to let her know she had something up her sleeve, "you know your father and I love you, but..." Kennedy sank into her desk seat when Mother lingered on the last word. "We need you to work. We can't keep supporting you."

Kennedy replayed the entire conversation in her head from the greetings to the questions about her actions, and she didn't forecast being threatened to vacate the premises without her weekly allowance. "Why are you cutting me off?"

"Kennedy, you know we want to downsize. We have an empty nest now. Your sister and your brother have been out living their lives. We were waiting for you to get a job, so we can save our money and move to a smaller place. But it's obviously taking longer than expected."

"They're so much older than me!" Kennedy protested. "They have spouses and kids! You're not done with me!" She stood up and fumed with fury.

"Kennedy, we know the economy is bad, and that's why we want to save money to buy a smaller house that was foreclosed on, so that's what we're going to do. You need a job, honey." With that unexpected announcement, Mother exited the room.

"So I don't get my check?" Kennedy yelled. She returned to her laptop screen and continued setting up a financial account. Online contract complete with an electronic signature. Loveliness was ready for business online.

Familial hatred drove Kennedy to Zara's apartment building a few blocks away. She still lived with her parents, but according to Zara, her parents adored her living at home, and they spoiled her with home-cooked meals and small shopping sprees. Kennedy, of course, envied her situation. She may not know all the details of the situation, but it sounded a lot better than hers.

Mother always seemed to be nonchalant about Kennedy, her youngest child, the unexpected surprise. Her sister and brother were a lot older, 31 and 33, respectively. They were her parents' pride and joy; they played sports and earned good grades. Then Kennedy came along. They thought they were done then, so, after 22 years, they were really done.

Kennedy knocked on Zara's rain-splattered white door and waited for a reply. Their instant connection semi-dissipated since Zara wanted to undermine Loveliness while it was Kennedy's source of income. But Kennedy still felt comfortable approaching Zara to spill her feelings. Zara opened the door and smiled at her. She reached in for a hug.

"Tell me about it," Zara said. "Let's go to my room."

Inside Zara's bedroom, several sewing machines, ranging from a sky blue contraption built circa 1950s to a modern white one with a mechanical pedal, crowded a wooden table. Even a BeDazzler machine sat in the heap. Garment pieces were strewn above the Oriental patterned folding door.

"I didn't know you were designing like this," Kennedy plopped down in the only corner of the bed without clothes on it. An astonishing sensation trickled down Kennedy's arm when she became excited about learning a new tidbit about someone. She knew Zara wanted to be a fashion designer, but she assumed it was all talk, no action.

"You know I love fashion. I really want to go to a big city and make my living that way," Zara said. "That's why I don't have a job now. I need time and space to be creative and passionate in what I do. I'm trying to get a few staple pieces together before moving away."

"Where are you trying to go?"

"I don't know. New York, London, Paris, Milan. So many places, so little money."

Kennedy was in awe of Zara with her admission to want to spend all her time creating art and traveling the world. "I feel exactly the same way! Except I want to report serious news, especially politics. I'm not sure if I'm in the right place."

Zara examined a violet mesh top. "San Francisco is a good choice, but LA is a better choice. I might actually get something out of Loveliness after all."

"I hope we win that expo in San Fran, so we can go to LA. I want to go to LA so bad! Maybe I could get my foot in the door there. It's not like anyone's contacting me here for an interview. When I call or email to follow up, I get nothing. I'm fed up with the process. And my parents just cut me off."

Zara rhythmically rubbed Kennedy's back in solace. "Jobs suck. But I can't wait for the expo. LA will be the best place for a rising fashion designer. It might be the best place for a rising reporter."

"LA would be perfect if we can get what we want out of it."

"Let me show you something that I'm working on," Zara commenced throwing clothes all over the place in search of her new creation.

She found a silver piece of silky fabric decorated with a vintage floral pattern. She held the piece up to Kennedy, who touched the fabric and studied the artistic accuracy of the flowers. "So what do you think?"

"I really like it. I love wearing flowers but, you know, sometimes flowers on certain clothes look goofy. But here, it's nice. I like the color contrast."

"Since you like it so much," Zara gleamed, "I will make you something. What do you want? A top, a skirt, a pair of pants...your choice."

Kennedy placed her index finger on her chin in thought. "I would like a pair of pants. This pattern would make good slacks for work when I'm a reporter. Can you make that?"

"Can I? Of course, I can! Here, I will show you some of my finished pieces from over the years." Zara ran into her opened closet with clothes cascading from every corner. With the towering mounts of clothes, she didn't have an organizational system, but she was still working toward the walk-in closet system she saw on Clueless. She yanked a piece of black leggings from a colossal pile. "See? I added some leathery pieces to make it more interesting." Kennedy grabbed it to examine the needlework. She approved. As she handed the leggings back to a kneeling Zara, she noticed some old photographs of Zara and Laurenne tucked into ribbons on a picture board.

"Are these your homecoming and prom pictures from high school?" Kennedy asked, looking at them closer with a grinning Zara next to her various male dates.

"Yeah, I made all my dresses, in fact," Zara rose from the carpeted floor to meet Kennedy at the board. "Like here, frosh year, I wore an eighties style minidress complete with the poufiness at the end. That trend was making a comeback at the time. Then for senior year, I opted for the really short dress. It was so tight, but I thought I could pull it off. I guess I did because it didn't rip."

"I wish I had pictures like these," Kennedy traveled back to the depressing days of her adolescence where measly photographs from a prom meant everything in the world.

"You didn't go to any proms?" Zara asked softly after seeing Kennedy become visibly upset in half a second.

"No. I guess I wasn't pretty enough to get a date."

"You're pretty enough," Zara put her arm around Kennedy. "Do you think Leo would've asked you?"

Kennedy bit her lip. "He actually said he would've asked me, but he was popular, so I knew that wasn't gonna happen in a million years. I'm surprised we're kinda dating now. It's crazy."

"Well, if I went to school with you, I would've asked you out as friends," Zara nudged her. "And we would've had tons of fun. Don't worry. You're going to have a Zara Jackson original made especially for you."

Kennedy smiled. She felt special. She realized she was stepping closer to her dream career and dream relationship.

"Your closet is a hot mess for sure," Kennedy laughed to lighten the mood.

"You can help me organize it," Zara suggested jokingly.

"I think it's a hopeless cause, unfortunately." Kennedy plopped down on the carpet cross-legged and pulled random pieces from the piles inside the suffocated closet. Then she saw something familiar.

"What's this?" she asked, getting a hold of the see-through aqua dress with black and fuchsia leopard spots they saw at the FeFe store the other week. "You went back and bought it? I thought you couldn't afford it."

Zara's face turned serious. "Yeah." She lied through her clenched teeth. She loved lying. She was an expert at it, but she wanted to be honest with Kennedy, who had a halo of hopeful innocence encircling her. "OK, OK. I took it."

Kennedy's already enlarged eyes somehow became larger when she comprehended the shoplifting confession. She was too scared of getting caught that she never bothered to commit an unethical act, but she knew others weren't like her. It still surprised her. For whatever reason, the bad apples gravitated to her. Jocelyn, her only friend who also enjoyed fulfilling the good girl persona, always warned her about the company she kept. "Why did you steal it, Zara?" She held the dress in her hands, but how it arrived in Zara's room from a filthy deed made her drop it back onto the pile. She turned away.

"I wanted it. It's that simple." Zara shrugged nonchalantly. She saw Kennedy judge her.

"How did you get it past the security alarms?" She peered at the lifeless dress on the floor, searching for the security alert fastener usually attached to clothing with hefty price tags. Her eyes didn't detect it.

"I have my ways, Kennedy."

At the last statement, Kennedy found herself standing among the piles of clothing and trying to find a clear path to the door. "I'll see you later, Zara."

"Kennedy, please, don't be mad," she pleaded. Deep down inside, prior to her admission, she knew Kennedy wouldn't approve, but, again, she thought honesty would be the best policy in this case.

"I'm just tired," Kennedy made her getaway excuse. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kennedy left. Zara felt a tinge of guilt. The two girls wanted to be friends, but they were too different.

*

They say the third time is the charm, and that was what Kennedy was putting her faith in. She strolled in her fierce black power suit to the revolving glass door of the News 24 station. Fifty other people dressed to the nines in their professional attire with leather portfolios under their arms waited around in the lobby. They probably had DVDs highlighting their best work on it with the typed transcripts inside those portfolios. Kennedy had that, too. They probably had family, friends, and coworkers pray in their religious temples for them to win this rare opportunity. Kennedy had that, too. They probably ate brain food like tuna fish for breakfast, kept their lucky charms close to them, and threw a penny or two in the fountain across the street. Kennedy did that, too. But what was her secret weapon? Her readiness. Though she prepared for the last interviews, the rejection drove her to sit down and brainstorm a strategy to start her career in broadcast journalism. She decided nobody in that room had struggled to start a career as much as she did. They probably woke up one morning in college post-hangover and changed their undeclared major to mass communications and thought they could be on the news. But Kennedy grew up around the capital city and had been reporting on politics since middle school. By the time she approached high school graduation, she already chose a top college known for its journalism program. She reported on the governor's scandalous romp with prostitutes and his subsequent downfall, the disposal of voter registration cards from the black and brown communities, and the college trying to conceal their high spending habits to replace disappearing chocolate syrup bottles in the cafeteria. She was ready to take on being a real political reporter. She was ready.

"Kennedy Moore?" her name resonated over the uneasy crowd. She immediately put one four-inch pump in front of the other as the room separated like the Red Sea to let her enter the magical doors where her dream job awaited her. Inside, more candidates sat at different tables with employees. She noticed the same fire in their eyes that she had. She noticed they moved their hands to drive their points home for the employees, who listened and jotted down notes. She exhaled. Too much competition didn't scare her. It just meant she had to make sure her shine was brighter. She followed the brunette who had called her name moments before to the news director.

"Kennedy?" the news director rose up and stretched his hand to meet Kennedy's.

"Yes, that's me. How are you?" she took control of the conversation, hoping she could stay in control.

"I'm fine. Thank you. How are you doing today?" he fell back into his seat and tugged at his plaid polyester blazer.

"I'm excellent. I'm so fortunate to be here. This is such a great opportunity. Thank you for making it available to someone like me who started working to be a reporter at a very young age," she decided the kiss-ass approach upfront would immediately increase her likeability factor.

"I'm glad you came out to our event. So you started reporting that early?"

"Yes, I always wanted to do this."

"And that's why we wanted to have this program to hire five straight-out-of-college reporters like you. You will still have every opportunity to report on all the news our veteran journalists report on. Whether it's a triple homicide or a high-profile charity event or a new store opening, all the reporters will be treated the same here at News 24. We're looking for the best and the brightest. From what you're telling me, you are definitely one of those individuals. So tell me what drew you to TV news?"

Once he asked the first basic question, Kennedy knew she had this in the bag. She felt it.

11

On a sunny Friday afternoon, a convention center in the heart of San Francisco prepared to open a beauty expo to the public in a few hours. After a two-hour drive to cross over the Bay Bridge, Team Loveliness entered the building where their dreams could come true. Despite the lure of an ultimate shopping rendezvous with Burberry and Dooney & Bourke a few blocks away, the girls found themselves headed for registration with boxes and bags of their products weighing their arms down.

"Hello! Welcome to the Marcheline Cosmetics Beauty Expo. Your business name?" The perky, brunette receptionist clicked her ballpoint pen.

After setting a box on the edge of the table, Laurenne exhaled a relieving sigh. "It's Loveliness."

"Really? That's a great name. I like it," the receptionist complimented them while checking their names off. "So you're Laurenne?"

"Yes, that's right," Laurenne confidently answered.

"OK, here are your nametags," the receptionist handed them sticker badges. "And head to the right toward the tables. You can pick whatever table you want."

Laurenne's eyes opened wide to the array of mostly empty tables. Because of her inherent uptightness, they arrived two hours early, so they would be eligible to select prime real estate at the expo. She, with the box and reusable bags running along each arm, led the pack to a table in the center of the spacious convention room. They set their supplies on the table.

"Here, we can sell our product. People will enter and look at things until about there" —she pointed to several tables toward the end of the front row—"then they will start actually showing interest and buying things. So when they get to us, they will be happy to buy things." Her economic philosophy seemed sound for this scenario. Venetia, with her former economics education, nodded in agreement.

Unpacking supplies and neatly displaying them on the table was a cinch. Yesterday, Laurenne went to Kinko's to make mini-brochures about Loveliness. She also had time to fetch a holder for the business cards Kennedy ordered online a week ago. They felt like proud mamas about to flaunt their baby.

"I'm going to get lunch. Who wants what?" Venetia asked after they sat around the table in nervous boredom for fifteen minutes.

"Just get sandwiches from across the street. Spicy chicken flatbread sandwiches. Does that sound good for everyone?" Laurenne sought a consensus on the proposed meal. After a chorus of affirmations, Venetia jogged across the room toward the exit.

An hour later, while they attempted to stretch a sandwich longer than intended, more companies began to brighten the room with their hustle and bustle. Laurenne, ever confident, spied on the other companies by trying to see what they brought to their tables.

"I see their lip glosses look like ours," she scoffed.

"But they don't have our interesting names," Venetia tried to squash the jealousy.

Shifting her focus from the products, Laurenne noticed the other companies' poster models.

"Well, at least, our campaign doesn't use a cartoon or silhouette figure or an animal," she said with an air of arrogance.

"Right? We used a real model," Venetia agreed. "And their logos are not as cute as ours."

"This negativity is not going to get us anywhere," Kennedy calmly reasoned. Karma's a bitch, and she didn't want to see it today in any form.

"You're absolutely right, Kennedy," Laurenne confessed after falling back into her seat. "I mean I'm really nervous. What happens if we don't sell enough units? What happens if the judges don't like us? I hope we can make a good impression, even if we don't get to go to LA."

"We're going to LA!" Zara adamantly reassured.

"OK, OK. We're going to LA. Positive thinking, ladies," Venetia said. "We just have to think positive."

"How much is this?" A chunky teenager gripped a tube of Raspberry Rhapsody lip gloss.

"Five dollars," Laurenne answered from behind the table. "Everything's five dollars. We want to make our all natural products affordable. Here's our brochure that lists some of the ingredients we use." She stood up to hand the girl a mini-brochure.

"Wow!" She authentically sounded surprised. Does that mean they're underpriced? After sniffing the sample version of the gloss she was interested in, she opened up her Hello Kitty wallet and fished out a wrinkly five-dollar bill.

After Laurenne handed her a brown paper gift bag with her lip balm and a handwritten receipt inside, the teenager smeared raspberry-scented gloss across her pale lips.

"This smells so good! I love raspberries. You know" —she cocked her head closer to them as they huddled to hear the secret she was about to share—"a lot of the people here are charging an arm and a leg for way smaller things. Who wants to buy that?"

"What's your name?" Laurenne asked, with her long arms crossed against her chest after hearing this pleasant revelation.

"Emmaline," the girl answered.

"Well, thank you, Emmaline, for that and for your business. We really appreciate it. Check out our website. Like us on Facebook. Follow us on Twitter," Laurenne handed her a business card. Emmaline smiled like a satisfied customer and trudged away to seek more beauty supplies from the neighboring tables.

"You hear that?" Laurenne inquired. "We might have the right price. We already sold ten things, which is a big deal since we're only a half hour in."

"I think the cheap price is good. As long as we have enough to support the cost of our supplies," Venetia mentally revisited her college microeconomics class.

"We get our stuff cheap because I'm an extreme bargain shopper," Laurenne remarked, "so selling everything for five dollars is fine. Hopefully, we can get that contract with Marcheline Cosmetics and not have to worry so much about the cost of supplies."

"We're hoping for something that might not happen," Zara abruptly dampened the happy setting. Though she wanted her free trip to LA, she was a realist. She automatically expected the worst. She called it preparation. "I mean there are three hundred wannabe companies here."

Concealed by her honey brown contact lenses, Kennedy's eyes burned into Zara as if they wanted to ignite a fire. "I believe in Loveliness. We're going to get that contract." With that, she neatened the table by making sure the products faced the customers. At first, she wanted to go to LA to jumpstart her broadcast journalism career. Though nothing was set in stone, she felt confident about winning a spot on the News 24 team, so LA was now exclusively for Loveliness.

Another half hour passed. Clearly bored, Zara kicked her feet underneath the table since her last comment upset a shaky Laurenne. Despite the short-lived incident, Laurenne was still glistening with power and confidence as more customers stopped by the table admiring the cute packages, interesting product names, and, of course, the unbelievable prices! Laurenne revealed her businesslike charm while Venetia collected the cash and delved out the change. Kennedy pushed over-the-top friendly smiles before and after the business transactions.

A tall, chocolate-skinned woman with long, swaying auburn-highlighted curls seemed to be approaching their table. She wore a sharp white blazer over a sequined silver camisole and wide-legged black slacks. With her stature and fashion sense, she resembled a former supermodel. Laurenne's head rose from resting on her knuckles when her eyes fell upon Genevieve Carraway.

"It's Genevieve!" Laurenne hoarsely gasped.

Genevieve was a supermodel who traveled the high seas to pose in upscale fashion shoots with skimpy lingerie and bathing suits on sandy beaches backdropped with aquamarine bodies of water, but she retired to concentrate on being the face of Marcheline Cosmetics as well as a stakeholder in the company. She was one of the judges. The only judge of color. They desperately needed to be on her good side.

"Hello, Ms. Carraway," Laurenne greeted when the supermodel's long limbs finally reached their table. They all stood up out of respect. "Welcome to Loveliness."

"Please call me Genevieve. That's an interesting name. What do we have here?" she picked up a lip gloss sample with the name Mysterious Mint. She twisted the cap off to steal a scent of pure peppermint leaves.

"Hmmm," she inhaled the strong, hypnotizing aroma. "This smells good! And it looks wet enough to last on your lips for some time. Can I take this?" They all nodded. "It's nice to see you here, girls." She dipped the gloss stick back into its confined capsule. "Not a lot of women who look like us are here. I wish you luck." She extended her hand for each of them to shake. Grinning foolishly, they stood still, waiting to be spoken to. "Loveliness. I have to remember that." Her captivating allure trailed behind her as she left to speak to the next group of entrepreneurs.

"Genevieve Carraway shook my hand!" Laurenne shrieked in a low volume. "But she didn't say anything about my picture." She caressed the plastic frame holding her image using Loveliness products.

"Who cares?" Venetia spat. "She loves our lip gloss. And she said she has to remember our name. So we made a good impression." Laurenne shot her half-playful, half-discouraged pout. A former supermodel didn't detect the supermodel potential inside her.

"I wonder if any of the other judges will be coming this way," Zara pondered aloud. After surveying the room, Kennedy noticed a judge strolling down one row, meaning they would only speak to Genevieve before the judges retreated back to their thrones to decide which three companies were the best to compete for a contract with Marcheline Cosmetics. "I think we'll be OK. At least, Genevieve liked what she saw," Zara said optimistically to block her pessimistic statements from earlier. After all, she needed to be in LA.

Women of all ages looking for the answers to enhance their beauty continuously stopped by their table to bask in what Loveliness had to offer. Their alternative natural makeup could still create the mask of loveliness women enjoyed showing to the world. The foundation, the blush, the mascara, the eyeshadow, and the lip wear. All the essentials. Whatever the case, the girls promised customers their products were the best choice.

"We would like to say some remarks," Renata Fine, one of the three judges who held their fate in her polished hands, began her speech compiled with the words leaping from the pink index cards in front of her. One reverberating whistle instantly captivated everyone's attention in the hushed convention room. What she had to say could change their lives, well, for the time being. "We would like to thank everyone for coming out to make this year's beauty expo one of the best we have ever seen!

"As you may know, I'm Renata Fine, owner and CEO of Marcheline Cosmetics, one of the top beauty empires in the world. Our products from eyeliners to lipsticks to hairbrushes are sold everywhere in the United States and around the globe. We hold these beauty expos in Chicago, Miami, New York, and, of course, here in San Francisco every year to find the best up-and-coming beauty groups we feel are going in the same direction Marcheline had once upon a time.

"Many of you are very recent startups. Marcheline started when I went to the store one day to learn my favorite shade of red lipstick was discontinued. As you could imagine, I was devastated"—she cued for the round of nervous giggles from the audience—"so I went back home and looked through my mother's Good Housekeeping books, because back then we didn't have the convenience of the Internet. I decided I was going to recreate that lipstick shade in time for my prom. Not only was I able to create the lipstick, but I was able to make various cosmetics until I didn't have to buy any more from the store.

"I sold some of my products to friends and family. I was like an Avon or Mary Kay girl of sorts, but I was selling my own products. It was so empowering to find my knack at making cosmetics and, before I knew it, I was traveling to New York City from my small town in Minnesota to create Marcheline. I was jetting to London, Paris, Rome, and other glamorous cities telling people to buy Marcheline.

"I want to help other women make their dreams come true while making the world more beautiful." Applause roared as Renata mouthed her gratitude from the podium and returned to her pink throne.

Timothy LaRue, a celebrity stylist, approached the podium with the suaveness only his gray pinstripe Oscar de la Renta suit could exude.

"You all should know who I am, but I'll still introduce myself," he arrogantly began. "I'm Timothy LaRue, and I dress all the biggest Hollywood celebrities from Sarah Jessica Parker to Queen Latifah. I love fashion, but my ladies wouldn't look glamorous from head to toe without Marcheline Cosmetics. I use the anti-wrinkle serum and not Botox despite what the tabloids report. I use the blemish removal creams for the days we all of a sudden have blemishes and need to get rid of them quick! Taking care of one's skin, hair, and face is just as important to your appearance as to what you wear. We want to find that company who can make a difference in the industry and continue the fountain of youth Marcheline has created for so many women—and men." He narcissistically beamed as the audience applauded. Laurenne beamed with happiness as if Timothy LaRue was speaking to Loveliness directly.

Genevieve neatened the pile of papers on her lap as she rose from her throne and adjusted the microphone at the podium for her height.

"Hello, everybody! I'm Genevieve Carraway. I'm a former supermodel. I modeled for Guess Jeans and Sports Illustrated as well as many other great brands. I joined Marcheline five years ago when I had a skin cancer scare. Because I'm black, I never thought about sun damage to my skin. Then Renata contacted me after reading the tabloids and told me to use her creams and lotions with SPF thirty whenever I went outside.

"I modeled so much in the sun on my photo shoots, so I felt there was a lot of damage, but I was able to reverse it with Marcheline's Sunkissed®, especially made for people who want to reduce sun damage in their skin to have a healthier glow. I'm excited that we are picking a new company to take under our wing. Not too long ago, Sunkissed® was the brainchild of a woman named Chloe Schumer who noticed the change in her skin's texture when she left the house without applying sunscreen. She was one of you. She had a goal to help other women. Now it's your turn to make a difference. And I'm looking forward to using new products that can revolutionize Marcheline Cosmetics." Genevieve bowed her head toward the clapping crowd.

"Omigosh, what's our theme?" Laurenne panicked after hearing the sunscreen story.

"We're natural, green, environmentally friendly, nontoxic," Kennedy calmed her down. They had a theme despite it not being as creative as pumping SPF properties in all their products.

Renata returned to the podium with an envelope carrying the final results. She shoved her thick-rimmed Prada reading glasses over the hook of her nose. She momentarily looked out to the audience of 500 eager women, some eager for her to call their business names aloud while others were consumers fascinated by the process. Kennedy started chewing on her manicured nails.

"Unfortunately, we can only take three groups from each city. These three caught our eyes. We paid attention to the promise the product guaranteed. For example, if your cream hydrates dry skin, then I would have to see that happen. I purposely came here without moisturizing my skin this morning"—another nervous round of chuckles from the audience—"because I wanted to see how things worked out. Yes, it was harder to try some products like shampoos or body washes, but I smelled these products and felt the texture to make sure I would actually use them. Scent and touch are very important.

"Also, these products had to have the right display with the company's logo or ingredient list like the products you see in the store. The consumer needs to know what they're buying. You can't sell unlabeled products at an event this size.

"We noticed which companies put more effort into their products from all standpoints. Some of you didn't have actual containers to put your cash in while a few of you actually had credit card swipe machines. These little things add up and show me who's ready to be a business.

"Most of you aren't there yet, and I'm not putting you down"—Renata smiled as the audience remained silent—"but you just have to go back to the drawing board and figure out how to be a better business. It's not just putting things together and selling them. There's so much that goes behind a business, and you should just think about it more, then maybe next year, you'll knock our socks off. But this year, we chose our three groups, and I will announce them now."

A Tiffany & Co. silver letter opener neatly tore open the cream-colored envelope. Renata took her precious time handling the envelope and the paper inside. Laurenne dug her nails into Venetia's shoulders as they all fastened their eyes on the beauty extraordinaire.

"The first company is..." Renata hesitated. "Can I get a drumroll?" The other judges and crew behind the podium gave her the drumroll she demanded. "Belleza! Stand up!" A group of girls in the first row jumped up and down and shrieked in disbelief. They all wore a bust-embracing carnation pink T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans so chicly that they resembled models. Laurenne tightened her grip.

"The second company is...Beauty Girl!" Renata announced with a rumble. Another group of girls instantly high-fived each other. Their vintage yellow sundresses reminded Kennedy of a field of sunflowers in the countryside.

"Beauty Girl? How original," Laurenne whispered. She was now lying against the back of her cushioned folding chair, acting nonchalant about the whole situation. Uneasiness shrouded Venetia's face as she crouched in her seat with her chin on her fist.

"The third and final company...is...Loveliness!" Their name rolled off the tongue of the founder of Marcheline Cosmetics so softly, so sweetly. Almost in slow motion, they shuffled out of their dispassionate stances and stood up and embraced each other. They didn't want to show their excitement in a crazy way by jumping and screaming all over the place like Belleza and Beauty Girl because they had more class. They held onto each other to congratulate themselves for their harmonious work.

"Belleza, Beauty Girl, and Loveliness won an all-expense paid trip to Los Angeles where they will be learning about the tricks of the trade in building a beauty empire. We will take you under our wing and make you as big as your dreams will allow you. I look forward to working with all of you," Renata ended her speech while the applause suffered a major energy loss from disappointed groups. The expo continued with people walking around to the tables and buying products that captured their attention.

"We made three hundred thirty-five dollars today. That's not bad at all with all these vendors," Venetia said while straightening the green dollar bills and separating the coins.

In the distance, Kennedy saw her role model, Claire Owens, Sacramento's shining star TV reporter stroll confidently up to their table with her bouncy mane, fuchsia power suit, and matching leather pumps with her cameraman straddling behind. She smiled at them like they were a piece of dessert she desperately wanted to consume to puff up her svelte frame. Kennedy couldn't move.

"I'm so glad a group of hometown girls won! Usually, girls from our viewing area come to this competition, but"—she leaned forward as a waft of her Chanel No. 5 perfume suffocated their noses—"they don't succeed. You girls look more serious about this."

As a journalist, Kennedy knew Claire took a risk by coming up to San Francisco hoping that a team from her expansive viewing area came away with the coveted prize. Claire held onto the omnidirectional microphone with hopes they said all the right sound bites for her thrilling report.

"You can interview Laurenne," Kennedy suggested. "She's our CEO, founder, and the face of our products, so she can sample a product while telling you about it. And Venetia can tell you about how we fared money-wise today." She desperately wanted to come off as a professional rather than an obsessed fan.

"OK, let's get started, ladies!" Claire took Laurenne's hand and led her to the front of the table. If only Kennedy was the one on the other side interviewing the lady of the hour.

Claire fired easy questions her way, and Laurenne handled the pressure gracefully. Laurenne prepared herself to use Cool Cucumber Melon lip balm by licking her lips to make them chapped. After stealing the moisture from her lips, she then slathered a fingertip of balm onto her bottom lip while explaining how great it lusciously moisturized her lips. Venetia spoke to the camera about how their finances resulted in reasonable success at the expo and how investors are always welcomed. With the two main girls getting their fifteen minutes of fame, Zara continued selling products off the table while the cameraman captured a purchase. From a distance, Kennedy envisioned herself as Claire. She watched the way her mouth moved and how she annunciated words. She held the microphone daintily in front of Venetia when she spoke and quickly moved it under her own mouth as she asked questions.

After Claire and her cameraman felt they had all they needed to convey an interesting story about how a bunch of hometown girls won a huge competition in the big city, Kennedy found the nerve to approach Claire about her true career ambitions.

"Claire?" Kennedy's question glistened with shyness. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said while shoving papers into her designer briefcase.

"I just graduated from college, and I'm trying to break into the business, so do you have any pointers for a budding reporter like me?" Kennedy ended the question with a genuine smile of hope.

"Well," Claire pursed her lips after a quick head-to-toe scan on Kennedy, "here, I will give you my card and you can send me your résumé tape." She fished through the side flap of her briefcase for her business card. She handed it to Kennedy with another pursed smile.

"Thank you," Kennedy said graciously. "I will get it to you ASAP."

"OK, looking forward to it," Claire gathered her belongings as she and the cameraman began heading outside. "Thanks again for the interview, girls. Check the eleven o'clock news tonight if you can."

"We definitely will," Laurenne pushed against a dazed Kennedy. They waved goodbye while Kennedy clenched onto the card. She peered at Claire's contact information. She couldn't believe she spoke to her after all these years of idolizing her. Maybe she can help open doors. Well, at least, let Kennedy know where she can find the keys.

*

"Dust off your stilettos. We're going out tonight!" Zara telephoned Kennedy in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. Kennedy already watched two hours of soap operas she saved on TiVo and consumed more than two servings of honey barbecue potato chips. Her laptop remained open with a webpage detailing the available broadcast journalism jobs in town. She had e-mailed her résumé tape to Claire Owens earlier, waiting for positive feedback. She had sent a follow-up email for the job fair at News 24. She tried to entertain her boredom since Jocelyn left earlier to spend the day with her family.

"At what time?" Kennedy couldn't mask her overexcitement. At least, she can get out of her body imprint in the cushiony sofa.

"We'll pick you up at nine, but we're going with our business partners."

"Why?" Kennedy believed in keeping her haters at a distance; Zara liked her enemies close.

"We need a united front if we want to be in LA. I want to start my fashion design career; you want your journalism career. That can happen in LA, but we still need to pretend to be devoted to Loveliness."

"I am devoted to Loveliness. I think it's a good venture. But do we still have to devote ourselves to Laurenne and Venetia?"

"No, no. Just to the company, the brand. It's all about keeping appearances, Kennedy. And don't say anything about trying to do your own thing in LA. That could be the last straw for them to get rid of us."

"OK. I'll go see if I have anything to wear." Kennedy ended the call.

As much as she enjoyed going out like the next girl, she loathed spending hours readying herself for a night of partying where her hair will frizz, her dress will ruffle, and her makeup will smear. Since her guest appearance at a party was a rare occasion, excluding the Leo outing the other night, she retreated to her closet to make a choice between her three designated party outfits. The glittery gold peplum top. Note: the cuteness may be more appropriate for a lounge setting at happy hour. The chartreuse sleeveless top with a plunging V-cut neckline. Note: the neckline may draw unwanted attention from intoxicated losers. Then the brown tunic tank top with sequined straps. Note: the tunic may be too casual for the club. Choices, choices. Her finger fell on the gold number that would complement her black faux leather leggings and her peep-toe pumps.

While texting Jocelyn to let her know about her impending whereabouts, Kennedy jumped in the car with Zara in the driver seat and Laurenne in the passenger seat.

"Hey, y'all," she greeted them.

"Hey, girl. We're going to swing by Venetia's to pick her and her friend up," Zara said.

"Cool." Kennedy reapplied her extra sticky lip gloss and threw the tube back into her black and gold-striped clutch. A not-so-suave toss led to the tube falling to the dark floor. She ducked down.

"What are you doing back there?" Zara asked after feeling Kennedy's head bump into the back of her seat.

"My bad," she touched her forehead to see if she smeared her makeup against the leather seat. She couldn't see, and digging in her clutch for her cell phone for light was too much of an effort. She just let her fingers guide her to the tube. Her nails crashed into a rumpled gum wrapper and strands of hair until they reached her tube wedged between the seat and door. In disgust, she rubbed her fingers against her leggings.

"I'm glad we're having some bonding time," Laurenne said. "I mean we really just see each other when we're working. We definitely need to celebrate our victory."

"Have you met Venetia's friend yet?" Zara asked.

"A few times. She's all right. She wants all eyes on her or else," Laurenne snickered. "She's a hot mess."

Zara drove down the dark streets lined with low-beaming light posts. Very few cars drove along the roads around the residential area on a Sunday night. After some traffic lights, they arrived at Venetia's bungalow with Zara honking her horn in the driveway. The feathery weeping willow tree branches in the yard jutted out eerily in the darkness.

A high ponytail attachment swung behind Venetia, who wore a sparkly black cocktail dress. A petite girl followed behind her with a flowing weave of brownish-red waves cascading against an excruciatingly tight pink body-con dress. Their shadowy figures under the porch light stood out as they approached the car and headed into the backseat.

"This is my friend, Maxine," Venetia collided into Kennedy.

"Hey, everybody," Maxine said sultrily. Kennedy recognized that voice.

"Maxine?" she cocked her head to see her ex-frenemy sitting on the other side of Venetia. Her face showed innocence like she didn't do anything wrong the last time they spoke.

"Oh," she insincerely crooned, "Kennedy! I haven't seen you in, like, forever, girl. How you be?"

Because she wanted a simple girls night out, Kennedy decided to act cordial. "I'm good," she muttered and sank back into the seat.

"So you two know each other?" Venetia amusingly asked, sensing the awkwardness in the backseat. Long stories about destroyed friendships fail to entertain clubgoers in a cramped car.

"Yeah, we knew each other," Maxine piped up. "We were friends back in the day."

"What happened?" Laurenne dug for dirt.

"Nothing," Maxine and Kennedy mumbled in unison.

"Anyways," Zara sensed the discomfort from the backseat, "we're going to have fun tonight!"

Neon lights flashed in the pitch dark as they drove up in the parking lot of Black Orchid, the hottest 21 and over nightclub in town. They carefully climbed out the car with their lofty stiletto heels and dashed to the line spilling from the front door. Since it was the end of the summer, the lukewarm air rubbed against their bare arms and legs.

"So, Maxine," Zara started the conversation to eliminate the boredom of standing in line, "how did you meet Venetia?"

Kennedy picked up on her artificial inquisitiveness. "They live in the same neighborhood," she answered the question for Maxine. Sometimes, when she knew the answer, she opened her mouth and accidentally spewed it out, especially when her mood took a plunge.

"Yeah, I live down the street," Maxine now answered with an eye roll directed toward Kennedy. "I met her while walking my Chihuahua, Cha-Cha, around the neighborhood."

"That's cool," Laurenne said as they edged closer to the door. They pulled out their ID cards and crunched dollar bills from their clutches.

"IDs, IDs," the husky, bald bodyguards prompted at the door. Their eyes immediately went to the birthdates on the flimsy cards and removed the chain to the entrance. The girls paid the five-dollar cover charge and entered the light-splattered club as the ear-blistering music blared in the background.

"Where do we start, ladies?" Zara shouted.

"The bar!" Maxine yelled excitedly. "I want a mojito!"

They all hurried toward the bar like they saw Christmas presents underneath a tree with the rainbow of majestic glass bottles shelved against the wall.

"What would you like, ladies?" The bartender smoothly asked as he washed his hands.

They rattled off concoctions the bartender created by pouring and mixing different drinks together in the glasses. But Kennedy didn't know which one should wet her lips. "Let me have a sip of what you're having," she told Maxine coolly.

Before she could change her mind, Maxine handed Kennedy a glass with a greenish liquid. It slid down her throat with an unsavory burn. She barely tasted the flavor.

"Well, more for me," Maxine deciphered the expression of disgust upon Kennedy's face and grabbed her glass from her hand. She could still detect her nuances.

"Let's hit the dance floor!" Laurenne shouted as they joined the crammed space with other scantily clad women and casually dressed men.

The girls gripped their drinks and snuck sips in between shaking their hips to attract a cute guy. Music from the deejay booth drowned out all other sounds, so when the girls screamed something, it was still inaudible. Maxine wildly danced on Kennedy's right side with her arms flying everywhere and feet tapping all over. Sipping on a beer, Kennedy felt uneasy being around her, knowing her toxic personality. The other girls seemed to be in their own little worlds. Dirty dancing with sweaty un-cute guys. Marijuana smoke wafted through the air. Drinks dripped from people's hands. It all made Kennedy wrestle through the crowd for the restroom.

Confidently, she strolled into the restroom when red-eyed girls with hiked-up dresses exited. Even though she didn't smoke, this was a perfect cigarette moment. She wished she could pull one from her clutch and smoke her troubles away. The restroom was actually empty, always a surprise in a club. She fixed her makeup and hair in the large mirror, but her hair was still neat and her eyes were still piercing, so she was wasting time.

"Kennedy!" Maxine swung the door open wide with some wet stains on her dress from spilling her drink. "We need to talk."

Kennedy, pretending to be content with her coworkers in an unsettling atmosphere, obsessed over Maxine's presence. She flipped her long, luscious strands and turned her head toward Maxine to let her know she was better than her.

"Well..." Maxine started as if she was unaware of how she abandoned Kennedy without any warning after six years of friendship. How many friends did she have who stayed through thick and thin for that long? Kennedy knew this girl could never answer that question.
A sudden flood of memories blocked her line of thought as a happily distressed Maxine leaned against the cherry red-tiled wall and stared at her. She was the pretty black girl while Kennedy, her trusty sidekick, was the ugly one in school. She was caramel-complexioned with her signature silky ebony hair weave. Mascara on her long eyelashes and red gloss along her lips. Though she wore caked-up foundation a lot, Leo always gave her a sly wink while Kennedy drooled in the background. They stuck together like glue, but they eventually attended different colleges. Kennedy may have been ugly, but she was a top student who dreamed of fulfilling her blissfully challenging undergraduate years in New York City while Maxine, the less-than-stellar student, could only get into the local community college.

Over the winter break during her junior year of college, Kennedy went to the mall for some new chandelier earrings because her old pair broke. It was supposed to be a quick run to the mall, so she didn't invite Jocelyn to meet her there because it would just make the mall more populated than it needed to be. With the clack of her gladiator sandals against the linoleum floor, she strolled right into the jewelry shop. While admiring the new crop of earrings for the season, she caught a glimpse of Maxine in the distance. Maxine was, of course, flirting with some guy while drinking a Coca-Cola in the food court. So Kennedy placed the earrings back on the rack and dashed out of the shop to say hello to her friend.

"Hey, Max," she surprised the couple.

"Hey," Maxine obnoxiously strained her eyes.

"Hi, I'm Kevin," the guy stretched his hand toward Kennedy.

"Nice to meet you," she said. "Well, I just wanted to say hey, Maxine. I haven't heard from you in a while." They hadn't spoken in three months. After a series of unanswered text messages and unreturned phone calls, Kennedy stopped contacting her.

"Well, I've been busy as you can see..." Maxine rudely tried to repel Kennedy from the area. Hurt and confused, Kennedy got the hint.

"Bye," she walked away and returned to the shop to buy a pair of earrings and never heard from Maxine again until now.

"Well, what?" She wanted to grab her emery board out of her clutch bag and shape her nails because that would make it seem like she didn't have any interest in the conversation.

"I'm sorry," Maxine pathetically whispered with a tinge of regret in her voice. The authentic emotion would only be authentic for a moment, especially when she was under the influence.

"Sorry for what?" Kennedy demanded a complete apology with all the fixings.

"For...not being a good friend," Maxine whimpered as Kennedy noticed her glassy, pitiful eyes.

Honestly, Kennedy couldn't decide if this apology was sincere enough. But, at least, an effort was made. "I accept, but I don't know why you left me." The last phrase tumbled from her mouth with a sentimental thud.

"I missed you so much! You went off to New York to get this great education, and I stayed here to do whatever. I was sorta...jealous. I felt like you left me—with white girl Jocelyn. I know it was your dream, but I...I wish I was good enough to have dreams like that." Maxine played with her thin fingers while trying to explain her logic. Kennedy never thought she would be jealous of her. Maxine had the beauty. Kennedy had the brains. They both wanted the combination.

"I never thought I would lose everything here when I left," Kennedy said. "I always planned on coming back. I just wanted to go to my dream school. I thought I could go there, come back, and everything would be the same. But things change, and I forgot that part of the equation."

Stepping away from the porcelain sink, she moved closer to Maxine. Her almond-shaped eyes showed a sign of relief. She hoped hers would show the same feeling. Before they could say anything else, Kennedy threw her arms around her. She missed her.

"Oh, look at what we have here!" Venetia cracked the door open with Zara and Laurenne following behind. They all stumbled into the restroom barefoot with their stiletto straps wrapped around their fingers.

"We made up," Maxine tipsily announced.

"Yay!" Zara yelled. More girls poured into the restroom and dashed into the stalls. "Let's get out of here."

"My feet hurt so bad!" Venetia whined.

"I drank too much, and my feet hurt," Maxine said with a touch of glee.

"I'm ready to go home." Kennedy barely drank her beer, but running in heels lessened the time she could dance and walk in them. After a night of somewhat celebrating and bonding, they headed toward the exit.

12

They say he's a player. He could shoot her heart out with an arrow and snatch it away. But Kennedy was infatuated with Leo. Their hands fit perfectly with fingers overlapping one another like they were meant to be together. When their lips pressed against each other, they remained juicily sweet and soft. Sometimes, he would kiss the back of her hand. A romantic gesture. She then would kiss his cheek and his neck. Those were his weak spots.

So when Kennedy's phone lit up with a text message from Leo about going to the beach, she floated on air and collapsed on her bed in excitement with her fingers hurriedly typing a response.

When? She texted him back, remembering their previous conversation about a possible weekend getaway. She didn't want to insert too much emotion into her messages in case something led to its cancellation.

Today sweetheart. Going with my friend cole and his girlfriend maxine. She says she knows you. To distract Kennedy from packing early for her Los Angeles trip scheduled for Monday, a rendezvous to the beach wouldn't hurt. She deserved the amusement. Maxine was not an issue anymore. Her focus was on Leo.

Ok. When u going to pick me up?

In an hour.

K, good. C u then!

Though smitten with her new love, Kennedy fought to avoid twiddling her thumbs over her smartphone waiting for a phone call or email message from News 24. The perfect job gnawed at her every day she didn't hear anything, but she knew it would take time to sift through all the top candidate profiles, so she spent that time with Leo. School had started, but Leo's basic lesson plans involved the getting-to-know-each-other games, refresher flash cards, and pop quizzes, therefore he was able to hang out with Kennedy. They learned more about each other romantically. Kennedy detected Leo's allure a long time ago, but she didn't know the extent of its power. "I demand too much," he joked for the reason girls fall at his feet. It was a warning. Kennedy felt abnormally strong compared to his usual string of girls. When it came to relationships, she had been through the fire, burned, and rose above the ashes like a phoenix. Whenever his strong hands moved down to grip her waist, she would exhale a sigh of relief. The sense of touch. That's what she wanted.

Monday was dedicated to purchasing a few more pieces to Leo's teacher wardrobe. He bought argyle socks and paisley ties from Ralph Lauren. He bought button-up shirts and slacks from Banana Republic. He didn't offer to buy Kennedy anything or cared to accompany her to the stores that carried her taste in clothes, but she let it go because she recently replenished her wardrobe. On Tuesday, they went to the movie theater to see the latest action-packed thriller. Kennedy wanted to see a rom-com, but Leo didn't express any interest. They shared a bucket of refillable caramel popcorn. After the film, they spent the lunch hour at a vegan café. Pleasant conversation drifted over a tofu-infested meal. For their goodbyes, they had moved from long embraces to pecks on the cheek. With Wednesday, they walked along the grounds of their old high school since Leo had to decorate his classroom. It was the same classroom where Leo blew spitballs at Kennedy during history class years ago. They shared a kiss under the towering oak tree on the athletic field where they used to run laps during gym class. "I don't know if I want a relationship now," he pulled away. She pretended it wasn't said. They didn't see each other Thursday because distance made the heart grow fonder. Friday's weather now warranted a trip to the beach.

An hour later, Kennedy waited in front of her apartment's front lawn sign with a wide-brimmed straw hat sitting upon her head. She had seen Jennifer Lopez sporting the style in a paparazzi photo in Saint-Tropez with the leopard print scarf along the crown. She wore her sheer white undershirt that showed her bikini top, Daisy Duke shorts with pink flip-flops, and a Louis Vuitton trip bag she borrowed from Zara. She felt glamorously comfortable, a balance hard to find.

"Kennedy!" Leo drove up in his convertible. She placed her bag in the trunk. After closing the trunk, she opened the door to the passenger seat and planted a kiss on Leo's cheek.

"How've you been?" She fought the summer breeze trying to whisk her hat away. While trying to stay attentive to Leo, she kept her right hand on top of it. She felt like a movie star in the convertible.

"I'm good. What's going on with you?" Their conversations always hit the basics first.

"Same-o, same-o." She was still a little surprised he hadn't asked her once about News 24 or Loveliness or LA.

"We're going to pick up Cole and Maxine now. How you two know each other again?"

"We went to high school together. You were there."

"I don't remember her. I have to flip through my yearbook."

Kennedy smirked. "There were only like four or five of us black kids in the whole grade. And whenever you saw her, you would smile and look goofy. You liked her."

"Whatever," Leo retorted. "Cole really likes her, so it's cool you know each other." From her grapevine sources, she heard his friend Cole had an on-and-off relationship with a girl. She can see Maxine being that girl.

But her curiosity got the best of her. "How'd they meet?"

He snickered. "I think they met at work a while back."

"Um, cool," she muttered.

For fifteen minutes, they sat in peaceful silence driving in the mild late morning traffic and admiring the suburban landscape.

They pulled into Cole's driveway where he approached the car with his backpack. "Hey, man!" He greeted Leo with their hip handshake. "Hey! What's up?"

"Hey," Kennedy replied.

"Max will be out here in a minute," Cole jumped into the car without opening the door.

"I'm here! Sorry, I had to make sure I had everything," Maxine said when Kennedy shockingly locked eyes and rose up in the convertible seat with a gaped mouth. She was wearing an almost identical outfit as Kennedy minus the straw hat. Her weave was together. Her makeup was together. She was wearing her large, gold bamboo earrings, too. Kennedy could only humph.

"Oh," Maxine started by replacing her own gaped mouth with an artificial smile. "Hey, Kennedy."

"Hey," she muttered and sank in her seat with crossed arms. Yes, they made up, but their competitive spirits always got in the way. Wearing the same outfit, though not the most unique summer outfit, was a crime.

"Did I miss something?" Leo seemed so confused with the built-up tension.

"I thought y'all got along now?" Cole was just as confused.

"It's OK," Maxine said as she jumped into the car behind Kennedy's seat.

Around the boardwalk, swarms of people sunbathed on the beach and swam in the crystal waters while others opted to take part in the carnival attractions.

"Let's meet back in two hours," Leo peered at the glitzy timepiece around his wrist.

"OK, we'll catch you later," Cole said, holding Maxine's hand. Maxine looked Kennedy up and down as if to declare superiority. Kennedy felt her heated gaze, but she ignored it by staring at Leo's profile as he gave Maxine a visual rundown. Cole gently pulled Maxine toward the beach, and Kennedy and Leo ventured into the opposite direction.

She hoped Leo noticed her sexiness with her shirt embracing her extra-padded breasts and her short shorts embracing her buttocks. She never did sexy. So on the one day she turned it on, she wanted him to notice. She put her black sunglasses on to seem more mysterious, so people walking on the boardwalk would notice her glamorousness. Her hat had to serve a timeout in the car for leaving her with a forehead crease. She hoped Leo didn't notice it; she rubbed her forehead to smooth out the temporary wrinkle.

But Leo was so oblivious to her fashion delights. He just kept strolling along the boardwalk without holding her hand that hung limply by her side, burning for the connection. And people were in their own little worlds eating popcorn, sipping diet colas, and picking at cotton candy, so nobody was paying Kennedy any attention. She didn't realize how hungry she had become for attention.

"So what do you want to do?" Leo asked, hiding behind his Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses.

"I want to get some cotton candy." She snatched Leo's hand and dragged him toward a booth.

"Of course, you want purple," he teased as he pulled a crisp five-dollar bill from his khaki shorts pocket.

"Aww, you remember my favorite color," she smiled, remembering in the ninth grade when she used to share her Skittles with everyone, but she wouldn't dare hand off a purple one bursting with the grape flavor she loved. Leo would have the audacity to ask for a purple one anyways, but she always refused and gave him a yellow one instead.

Leo paid the man behind the booth and took a purple cotton candy bag. He gave Kennedy the cotton candy, and she brought a fluffy morsel to her glossed lips. Sometimes, the purple cotton candy got less sugar and flavor than the blue and pink varieties, and she would end up disappointed, but this time it was surprisingly sweet. She took another piece and put it to Leo's lips. He stuck his tongue out to savor the piece. His tongue hit her fingers, and she liked it. He kissed her fingertip. They walked toward a crooked wooden bench where they could see the noisy seagulls gather by the water.

"I'm so happy we can get time to ourselves," Leo said, looking over at the cerulean ocean waves.

"You must've said that a million times so far," she picked at the cotton candy.

"I'm so happy to get a chance to be with you," Leo faced her, and she sensed the sugar cotton trickling from her lip. She licked her lips, but the sticky sweetness remained. Without warning, Leo kissed the fluff sugar from her lips. She was caught off-guard. His tongue made its way into her mouth. They passionately kissed while she struggled to keep a grasp on her cotton candy bag. Although locking lips felt wonderful, she wanted to avoid sandy candy.

"That was good," Leo whispered with his face touching hers.

"Yes," she breathed.

"We need to do that more often."

"I totally agree." Their faces collided for another smooch. It felt like they were all alone, except for the waves resounding in the distance.

After an ending butterfly kiss on the bench, they headed to the carnival rides. Leo seemed to fear some rides like the Ferris wheel and roller coaster, but Kennedy tried to find a relatively less dangerous ride they could both enjoy.

"I hate Ferris wheels, too. People fall out of them all the time," Kennedy consoled. "I like roller coasters, but we don't have to get on them. Ooh, I know! How about the swings?"

"Swings are good. I can do swings." He interlocked his fingers into hers as they jauntily strolled through the dispersed crowd to the swings. At the end of the fairly long line, Leo's left arm wrapped itself around Kennedy's waist. Pleasantly claustrophobic, she leaned into his frame.

When they finally boarded the ride, they jumped into neighboring seats and buckled up. "I haven't been on one of these things in years," Leo said while fastening his belt.

"Me neither," Kennedy said, placing her hands on the chain link handles. She started pumping her legs in anticipation for the ride to start. "I used to love this ride because you can see the whole park and beach." She extended her hand toward Leo's limp hand. They connected when the operator pressed the button to start the revolution. They orbited around the center, shifting up and down and enjoying the view.

Everyone reconvened on the patio of a nearby lounge. Colorfully lighted paper lanterns dangled above the foursome chatting on loveseats with the ocean breeze roaring in the background.

"I'm worried when you get a boyfriend, you'll forget about us." Leo grabbed his third mug of beer from the bar.

Kennedy hesitated. "What are you talking about?"

"A boyfriend taking you away," his voice elevated to prove his clarity.

"You're going to be my boyfriend, so..." The impromptu relationship talk. She was ready; he was not. She wanted the whole package; he wanted the benefits. "Well, I don't really see a boyfriend coming anytime soon. Um, but when I get my reporter job, I will still have time for you." She took a long sip from her glass of watery ginger ale.

In true honesty, she longed to say she wanted him to be her boyfriend. She envisioned herself as a TV reporter on the rise dating a teacher on the rise. A respectable match. A lovely couple. She wanted the career and the guy. She wanted it all. She stopped circling her straw in the glass to avoid Leo's gaze. The night air was crisp. Her eyes brimmed with tears that refused to break the barrier of release. She was putting her heart on the line.

"I want to be with you," her voice cracked on the last phrase. Still no tears. "I want you to be my boyfriend. I don't want anyone else." Kennedy wiped away an imaginary tear.

Leo's eyes connected with Kennedy's on a level where everyone in the background disappeared and the scenery blurred into oblivion. They were the only ones in the world right now. With her heart beating a thousand times a minute, Kennedy sank her red-painted nails into Leo's muscled arms.

"Is this love?" Leo posed the question. In the midst of a whirlwind fling, he sincerely loved Kennedy, but the love came at the wrong time. It was a key time in their lives to stay single and focus on their goals.

"I feel like the dumbest girl in the world," Kennedy said aloud. She let him go. She didn't feel his sincerity. Her hand fell on top of her glass sitting helplessly on the bar. Her words came out more regretful than humorous because she wanted to smile.

"Yeah, we love each other, and we've known each other forever," Leo lightened the mood again with caressing Kennedy's arm. The hairs stood up on the surface from the friction. They locked lips. He grabbed her face to bring her closer. Their lips eventually separated. Their world expanded again to people socializing and drinking around them with the rhythm of the music pulsating with their heartbeats.

*

"Stop the presses!" Jocelyn waved her hands in the air above her ramen noodle bowl. After returning home Saturday night, Kennedy shared the highlights of her trip. "Kennedy's in love! With Leo Port! Of all people to be in love with, you choose Leo. It's funny in a trip-down-memory-lane kind of way."

"I really feel good about this," Kennedy gleamed. "I mean I never felt this way before. It's weird. I don't know what it is. I still want my career more than anything, but I want Leo, too. I feel like the stars are aligned on the career front and the romance front." She failed to mention his lack of desire for a relationship, but she pushed that notion away. They had a relationship of sorts. She was satisfied enough.

From the way Kennedy's eyes sparkled in the light, Jocelyn knew the truth. She smiled in spite of herself; Kennedy was in love.

"If he breaks your heart, I'll break his face," she said. She only stood at five feet, three inches shorter than Kennedy, but she was feisty, and her feistiness would give her enough strength to break faces whenever the situation arose. "So how was it going with Maxine?"

"I ignored her. We can't be friends again. That ship sailed a long time ago. I just focused on Leo."

"I wouldn't take her seriously. I never did." Jocelyn remembered Maxine and Leo as too outgoing, too wild; Kennedy had a halo of innocence, but opposites attract. Jocelyn couldn't believe those two were making a comeback after all these years.

But she kept quiet as they slurped on noodles and watched an episode of Sex and the City flash across the TV screen.

13

"So, Kennedy..." Zara wiggled her hips from side to side, trying to reach a level of acceptable comfort in her airplane seat. Though she mostly slept on airline flights, Kennedy nabbed the window seat. Laurenne and Venetia sat across from them, eager to order wine and cashews from the flight menu in first class. "How was your beach trip with Leo?" Zara emphasized Leo's name like it belonged to a harlequin novel hero.

"We had fun. Maxine was there with her boyfriend. She's dating Leo's friend. We just had fun." Kennedy slightly sunk into her cushiony seat to dodge the next heated question.

Zara shot her glare. "I need more dish. Give me details!"

Kennedy hesitated. "OK, OK...we had some fun." She'll let her decipher the emphasis on the last word.

"Oh, I get it," Zara concluded. "So is he your boyfriend now?"

'Boyfriend' came up a lot in conversations surrounding Leo, so Kennedy took the initiative to look up the word in the Merriam-Webster's dictionary app on her tablet computer:

boy . friend (noun) \boi - frend\

1. a male friend

2. a frequent or regular male companion in a romantic or sexual relationship

Technically, Leo was a boyfriend. He was a male friend, but then the dictionary gave an example of boyfriend used in a sentence.

My boyfriend and I have only been dating for a couple of months.

Her boyfriend always brings her flowers for Valentine's Day.

So lexicographers believed Kennedy had that kind of boyfriend. The kind she dated for a couple of months. The kind that brought her flowers on Valentine's Day. The second definition does highlight this 'frequent' male friend could be in a 'romantic or sexual relationship.' Unfortunately, the complicated tendency to define everything in her life could extend all day. So her relationship was undefinable.

"I don't know," she confessed after a long pause. She didn't want to discuss the devastation of learning her and Leo were not astrologically compatible. She checked her horoscope earlier on her computer for hints of her impending day. She then learned a Virgo and an Aries couldn't mix according to the celeb matchups her astrology guide used as examples in her love horoscope. All the couples were divorced.

"Well, you guys like each other." Zara did have a point with the romantic aspect.

"And he is a male friend that's been regular in my life since we were fourteen years old. That's like...eight years of...frequentness," Kennedy beamed. "I guess he is my boyfriend." She dismissed the busy college days when they weren't in contact.

"That sounds exciting. Fresh love," Zara said dreamily as she closed her eyes to sleep.

"Fresh love," Kennedy sighed. "I like that."

Laurenne, Venetia, Zara, and Kennedy maneuvered their way through LAX airport, home to the travel-oriented paparazzi snapshots of their favorite celebs. Instinctively, they scanned the premises for incognito celebs dressed in their bubblegum-hued Juicy Couture velour sweatsuits with oversized Birkin handbags dangling from their wrists, but nobody in particular stood out.

They carried their essentials in their upcycled leather carry-on bags courtesy of Marcheline Cosmetics as they headed to baggage claim to find their four large suitcases that housed a multitude of their original products.

"I can't believe we're in LA," Laurenne shook her head like she was trying to wake herself up from a dream. Suitcases started to appear on the rotating carousel.

"I can't believe it either. I can't believe we made it this far," Venetia said. "I can make everything better with this opportunity."

"We all can," Zara corrected her. "We only have one week to impress Marcheline for a contract. We should all focus on that."

"Sounds good," Kennedy agreed, watching every banged-up suitcase on the carousel pass by.

"What color are they again?" Zara yawned.

"Pink, more magenta," Venetia answered in a crouched stance prepared to snatch them off the carousel when they came by.

"There they are!" Laurenne pointed five suitcases away.

They rapidly pulled the suitcases off the carousel, and each of them dragged one on its wheels along with their carry-on bags slung across their shoulders toward the exit doors where a chauffeur waited for them. A caramel-complexioned young man held a paper sign spelling out L-O-V-E-L-I-N-E-S-S. He wore a gold Marcheline pin on his chest pocket. Right away, they also noticed the ripped muscles protruding underneath his black suit uniform and strolled to him. He looked more like a stripper playing a chauffeur.

"We're Loveliness," Laurenne flirtingly announced to the chauffeur, who revealed a sight-pleasing set of pearly whites. "I'm Laurenne." The introduction fell short as she neglected the rest of her crew.

"I'm Venetia," she extended a hand to the chauffeur while Laurenne smiled goofily in front of his face. "This is Zara, and Kennedy." They exchanged hellos.

"Nice to meet you, girls. I'm Evan. I'll be driving you to your hotel destination." He made it sound like they were driving to a vacation paradise in the city.

Amid the bustling airport, they followed Evan to the limousine parked beside the curb as he carried all their bags and wheeled Laurenne's suitcase. They piled inside the pink Hummer limo as Evan neatly piled their luggage in the trunk.

"Wow! It's so spacious," Zara said. Upon choosing the seat against the divider, she plopped down and smoothed the leather seat with her hand. Venetia chose the seat on the right side while Laurenne sat on the left. Kennedy headed toward the back of the limo.

"This is craziness!" Laurenne hollered while heading for the mini-fridge near her.

"Would we be fined for that?" Kennedy pointed to the alluring mini-fridge possibly filled with expensive nuts, candies, and drinks. Laurenne slowly closed the door.

"We can't get too comfortable," Venetia warned.

"Yes, we can!" Zara spat. "I mean we deserve this. So what's in there?"

Laurenne looked inside the mini-fridge. "Not much. I'd rather have a real meal."

As the limo coasted through the stretch of 405 freeway, four young women floated onto their Los Angeles dreams while admiring the desertic landscape outside the windows.

"After we get settled in, we should explore, so what will we get ourselves into?" Laurenne asked while ransacking through her brown monogrammed Gucci purse for her smartphone.

"Let's window shop on Rodeo Drive," Zara suggested. "I want to develop some new design ideas."

"How about a stroll on the Hollywood Walk of Fame?" Venetia posed another option. "It's a crazy tourist spot where we can get lost in the crowd and maybe see famous people."

"How about one of those double-decker bus tour rides? It may be the cheesiest touristy thing to do," Kennedy said, "since we are cheesy tourists."

When the limo approached the curb of the Spanish adobe brick-style luxury hotel, the girls stepped out in awe. As Evan helped them carry their luggage into the posh lobby, they felt like Hollywood royalty.

"Hi," Laurenne's voice cracked with fatigue. "We want to check in." The receptionist, adorned in a soft aqua tailored suit, began typing on the computer keyboard.

"Name?" Her crystal blue eyes pierced into Laurenne, who was still in wonderment mode. The hotel's blend of fanciness at the beach felt so refreshing. Seashells sat on the desk and paintings of the ocean under multicolored sunsets covered the walls.

"It's under Laurenne Devereaux. We're here for the Marcheline Cosmetics competition."

The receptionist scrolled her mouse down on the computer screen, looking for the reservation. "Found it. You're in room six fifty-two. Here are your two keys. The elevator is straight down on the right."

The girls grabbed their luggage and headed to the brass elevators where the walls were decorated with wallpaper overran with seashore imagery. Once they reached the sixth floor and unlocked the door to their suite, their shoes stumbled onto waxed beech wood floors. The floors glistened with the sunlight from the balcony revealed by the golden and chocolate brown curtains. "Maybe we should take our shoes off," Venetia said cautiously. They slipped their shoes off at the doormat and allowed their bare feet to carry them to the living room complete with a pale yellow sofa and loveseat and a flat screen TV plastered against the wall. A pink orchid naturally drooped in its vase next to a pile of local luxury magazines on the chocolate leather coffee table. They then headed to the kitchen and dining room decorated with chocolate cabinets, brass appliances, and a speckled golden marble tabletop where a serving tray with a bottle of champagne and four glasses sat yearning to be used.

"We do have a driver," Zara hinted at the start to happy hour.

"I will open the bottle then," Laurenne grabbed the corkscrew and punctured it into the bottle's cork. Venetia distributed the glasses. The cork flew in the air and landed on the table near the dish of huge, red, ripe strawberries.

"I've never seen strawberries this big!" Zara leaned toward the table and plucked the top strawberry from the bunch. She put it to her lips as the other girls waited for the verdict. "Juicy. And sweet."

Laurenne poured the light bronze liquid into each glass. "Here's to Loveliness! And to making it this far. This could change everything," she began the clinking of the half-full glasses. They sank against the plush golden pillows in the wicker chairs and began chowing down on the ample strawberries.

After getting a limo ride to Hollywood Boulevard, they hung out on the corner to consume the particulate air and pedestrian crowdedness. Strange aromas traveled to their noses from the taco food cart a few feet away. It was the safest place to decide their next move.

"Let's just walk around aimlessly," Kennedy suggested. The wonderful ideas they had before evolved into horrible ideas to spend their first day, especially since jet lag will eventually overtake them. "Let's just walk along this street. It's the heart of the city."

With incoherent paper maps in their hands, they strolled across the street among the sea of people. The double-decker bus tour guides tried to lure them for a ride, but they refused their offer even though Laurenne seemed eager to go anywhere with the cute uniformed guys. They passed the famous Madame Tussauds wax museum. They couldn't afford admission, so like others careening around the area, they snapped photographs with the statue of the hottest celebrity of the week standing outside as tourist bait.

"My turn!" Laurenne shrieked as she quickly fixed her hair and modeled beside the wax statue of Denzel Washington. Venetia pressed the button and a flash reflected off Laurenne's face. Then Venetia took Laurenne's position, and Kennedy took the picture. Then rotation ended with Zara.

"That was fun," Zara said, swinging the digital camera's cord around her wrist. "I'm hungry." They only had miniature colas during the short airplane ride, and the few strawberries at the hotel didn't hit the spot.

"There's a burger place over there," Venetia pointed ahead to a restaurant's awning with the promise of the best burgers in Hollywood. Some patrons sat outside under red and white-striped parasols.

"How about that seafood restaurant over there. I see the huge sign from here," Laurenne pointed into the distance. She preferred lobster to hamburgers any day.

"I'm not feeling seafood today, especially after the flight," Venetia admitted.

"Me neither," Zara added. She crossed her arms, taking a stand.

"Neither am I," Kennedy chimed in.

"Y'all just want to eat greasy foods. Well, fine. I'm in," Laurenne gave in, while smoothing down her chic black and white-striped tank top and surveying her model figure. She quietly strolled toward the burger restaurant with the girls. Sunbeams glistened out of the corners of their eyes as they decided to settle in the outside seating area. A waiter served them complimentary waters and one-page laminated menus. Photos of succulent stacked burgers made their mouths water, except for Laurenne, who eyed the green leafy salads.

"I guess I'm having the Caesar salad," Laurenne placed the menu down on the table and took a sip from her lime-accented water.

"They have a bacon cheddar cheese burger with barbecue sauce," Venetia remarked. "That's a lot."

"There's no calorie count either," Zara noticed.

"Remember, girls," Laurenne dived into her authoritative tone, "this is LA. They care about the way we look. Adding extra pounds in this town is criminal."

"Well, someone's going to have to arrest me," Kennedy laughed. "I can afford to splurge for the day." Zara and Venetia snickered along with her.

"Splurge today but don't make a habit of it. That's all I'm sayin'," Laurenne warned.

When the muscled waiter appeared, he took their orders. They all ordered the burger with cheddar, smoked bacon, avocado, tomato, and arugula with a side of sweet potato fries, except Laurenne who stuck to her Caesar salad. She scared them into choosing the healthiest burger on the menu.

Twenty minutes later, three burgers, three sides of fries, and a salad arrived at their table. In a matter of seconds, after dropping their white cloth napkins in their laps, they swooped in on the food asking to be devoured. While stuffing her face with the oily orange fries, Kennedy thought about Leo. He liked girls with curves, but what if her curves became bigger with ingesting this meal alone? She made a mental note to take a jog twice a day next week. Maybe Laurenne was right.

"What are we doing after this?" Venetia dipped a piece of bacon in a miniature bowl of barbecue sauce.

The lean bacon suddenly appeared fatty to Kennedy. She removed the last few pieces out of her sandwich. "The movies are across the street," she pointed out. "The theater looks so much fancier than the ones back home."

"Let's see that new Denzel movie," Laurenne suggested, and they all nodded in agreement.

"Sounds good," Zara took a sip from her water and kept a distrustful stare on Laurenne, who, in turn, stuffed her face with crisp lettuce to avoid saying something that would ruin the moment.

14

"Welcome to Marcheline!" Renata welcomed the many women trying to follow in her career footsteps in the conference room inside Marcheline's high-rise headquarters. She then scurried to her band of associates to make sure everything was running smoothly according to plan.

"This is so awesome," Venetia whispered into Kennedy's ear as they sat down in the pink folding chairs.

With her long ebony limbs sashaying toward the stage, ex-supermodel Genevieve Carraway commanded so much attention that eyes slowly moved in her direction from the fierce-looking Renata. Laurenne would love to meet Genevieve. She did shake her hand, but it was so miniscule. She was a bona fide supermodel turned beauty maven. She needed to hang out with her.

"Hi," a tall, olive-skinned girl with lengthy, flawlessly trimmed chestnut brown hair took a seat beside Kennedy. "I'm Mirabella."

"Hi," she returned her handshake. "I'm Kennedy. What's the name of your group?"

"We're Belleza. We were at the same beauty expo in San Fran."

"Oh, yeah. I remember your group. So...how you liking LA so far?"

"It's great! We love the city. We're so lucky to be here. What do you do at your company?"

"I do media relations. What about you?"

"We all do everything. We're all models, so we really want to launch our own beauty company so we can automatically model for it."

"My friend, Laurenne, is a model, too. She models for our brand. Laurenne?" She called over to Laurenne, who hastily sent a text message on her phone. Laurenne trudged toward them with her heavy doctor-style handbag in tow. "This is Mirabella."

"I was telling Kennedy our company is all models," Mirabella said, "and she said you're a model. Who's your agency?"

"I'm with Kate Smith Models," Laurenne said, arrogantly. Kennedy rolled her eyes.

"We're with Kate Smith also!" Mirabella shrieked. She tapped her colleagues beside her and introduced Laurenne to the group. As their heads edged closer, Kennedy tried to get into the huddle, but the conversation swerved into supermodel dreams, and she didn't know anything about those.

As Laurenne became cozy with Belleza, a fidgety Kennedy took Laurenne's old seat and waited for the introduction to the competition. She worried blood, sweat, and tears would have to be sacrificed to win. Her old self still could care less about a beauty product competition. Her new self was only putting on a face for her TV reporter career. All in all, the competition didn't reign supreme in her book. She took a sip from her lukewarm cup of Earl Grey tea that stood near her seat. They were running fifteen minutes late. The presentation was supposed to start at 9:30, and it was now 9:45. Kennedy was a punctual person, so she liked to be on time, but others obviously didn't share the same feeling.

"I want them to hurry up and start," Zara softly whined. "I really want to design this piece as soon as possible." While the auditorium buzzed with conversation, she had busily scribbled down sketches of late summer/early fall dresses with crisscrossed lines and geometric shapes.

"Yeah, I understand," Kennedy whispered back. "They would look good in black and white."

"I notice Laur over there getting real chummy with those models," Zara commented without looking up from her sketches. "Aren't they competition?" She gave Kennedy a teasing smile.

"I didn't...introduce them like that...on purpose, if that's what you mean," Kennedy stumbled. She didn't know how to be conniving. "I simply met a model and thought, 'Who else is a model that I know?' Oh yeah, Laurenne. And, wait, she's sitting right next to me."

"She always wanted to be a model way more than being a makeup artist. The makeup was a gateway to the supermodel status."

Totally oblivious to the conversations around her, Venetia wore her oversized black prescription sunglasses to surreptitiously spy on the other groups. She also vigorously sucked on a cherry-flavored lollipop to get her mind off the impending adventures. Fifteen groups of young women and the occasional gay guy from four metropolises prepared to enter the aggressive beauty and cosmetics scene with their own creations. To Venetia, that was way too much competition, even though in her eyes, it was convenient. There could easily be more people.

"Omigosh," Venetia tipped her shades down in disbelief. "I saw a girl in the Miami group with blistery sunburned skin. Is she even using her own products? If she is, I would be scared."

"Maybe they're more on the makeup side," Kennedy defended the random group of Miamians.

"If they are, they need to make a stronger concealer, foundation, facial mask, or something," Venetia adjusted her shades and continued to peer at the different groups. "They should know these things."

As Venetia spied, Kennedy didn't comment, unintentionally strengthening the intracompany divide. Laurenne's contagious laughter roared. Kennedy wanted to laugh, too, but she didn't even know what the group of Amazons was talking about.

"Let's try this again. Good morning, everybody!" Renata commanded the room instantly with a wave of silence washing over the audience once she spoke into the microphone. "I apologize for our tardiness. We would like to welcome you to Marcheline Cosmetics International and hope you are enjoying the great city of Los Angeles.

"I want to start by congratulating you on coming this far. You will learn more about being a business here. We will give you tasks that you must complete successfully. If you come short, then we will know you're not ready to be a marketable entity."

"Damn," Zara quietly interjected. "She's rough."

"Today, we will hold breakout sessions for the major roles in a company: the chief executive officer, the chief financial officer, the media relations officer, and the team manager. All these roles are intricate in the fabrics of a company, especially a blossoming one where there are fewer people who have bigger responsibilities.

"Also to motivate you more, I would like to deliver this piece of good news," Renata's voice cheerfully hopped several decibels. "Our competition will be captured on camera by Upbeat TV! The competition will be developed into a reality show series. The winning team's first few months will branch into a spinoff."

A wave of excited applause flowed through the room. An Upbeat TV reality show series was the gold-certified standard in becoming a star. Every day, Upbeat TV mesmerized millions of awkward teenagers and immature young adults through its programming of empty documentaries and pointless reality shows. Laurenne, distracted away from her new model acquaintances, glanced over to Venetia. Their eyes met. They smiled. Zara nudged Kennedy. They smiled at one another, too, in mockery. "We're going to be on TV!" Zara happily whispered. Kennedy knew somehow Zara would see this opportunity as one to highlight her talent for fashion design, leaving the purpose of Loveliness in the dust. Then there was her role. She wondered if she expressed her true intentions of becoming a political journalist, would she get legit job offers? She had to flaunt her intelligence and ambition, so she wouldn't be blacklisted in her dream career.

Renata's speech on the day's happenings trailed off. Everyone was still obsessing over the reality TV element of the competition. Handouts for the sessions were passed around in the crowd. After the welcome speech ended, each group headed to the assigned tables to sign clearance contracts. The girls saw the sign for Loveliness and headed to that table. Two women stood beside the table as a pink polo-shirted Marcheline employee sat in the center. The women were both chatting on their phones about some business matter.

"Hi, Loveliness!" the employee's high shrill voice greeted the group. "These are your contracts to sign to appear on the show. You will have a producer and a photographer follow you around during your time here in LA. And if you win, they'll follow you your whole first year." She slid thin contracts and ballpoint pens toward the girls. "I will give you a minute to decide on what you want to do." She went to the corner where the other women stood and started chatting with them.

"I should show this to my mom. She would know what to do," Laurenne said. Her lawyer mother would be a great asset at this moment. But Laurenne would approve her signature on a form to appear on a reality show even if it could easily go mainstream trashy in a minute.

"We have to do this for sure," Zara said. Project Runway was her reality TV beckoning call, but this opportunity could be a steppingstone.

"We are for sure doing this," Venetia said like she was the boss. "This will give us exposure whether we win or not."

"I agree with everything," Kennedy exclaimed, knowing she was the odd girl out, so her words seemed to fall short every time there was a business discussion.

During the debate, the girls scanned their forms. Kennedy checked for keywords like "money" or "punishment" and any of their synonyms. She didn't need any trouble in her life, and like anyone else, she wanted some type of compensation for allowing her privacy to sink to the lowest denominator. They simultaneously signed their forms as the employee and TV crew returned to the table.

"I'm glad you signed the forms," she said. "This is your Upbeat TV producers slash photogs. This is Teal"—she pointed to a pale-skinned girl with smoky eyes and strawberry blonde curls—"and this is Sophie"— an olive-complexioned girl with a string headband along her crown of richly dyed sable hair—"so if you have any questions, feel free to ask Teal and Sophie about the show. They'll follow you around whenever it's about business."

After the short introduction, Teal and Sophie went straight to work. Grabbing her old-school Polaroid camera from her cargo bag, Sophie snapped individual photos of the girls. With her hair pulled tightly into a sleek topknot bun, Laurenne smiled with her maroon lipstick spread evenly across her lips. Kennedy envied the shade looking so good on her. She felt she could never pull that off. Venetia reluctantly took her sunglasses off and grinned without showing her teeth; she enjoyed her attitude because she wanted to crush her competition with all her glory being documented through film. Zara smiled for her snapshot, but her sneaky smile had some type of revenge behind it. Kennedy knew Zara's true intentions in the general sense like she wanted to be a fashion designer not a cosmetics mogul, but she seemed to have something up her lace sleeve. Kennedy felt it. On her turn, she smiled the good girl smile she wore for the photos that went onto ID badges. After the photo was processed in seconds, Sophie attached the Polaroid images to their respective legal forms to make sure the face that appeared on camera was the face that agreed to be on camera.

"Today, with all the sessions, we're just going to tape typical stuff," Teal said, taking a pink pencil from behind her ear. "We're going to attach wireless mikes to you just in case you say something relevant. But I think it will be so uneventful today." Once Teal mentioned the microphones, Sophie began handing out the packs and demonstrating to the girls how to put them on correctly. Kennedy felt like a pro since she, of course, used wireless microphones often when she produced her broadcast news in college. That pang of frustration for not attaining her first job yet struck her, but at least she was entering the field in another way. At the end of the day, she was going to be on TV.

"These feel great," Zara said with sarcasm in her voice. The microphones did feel uncomfortable because it was an accessory that could weigh you down like a stiletto shoe.

Teal and Sophie already started filming with the TV cameras perched over their shoulders when they all went outside into the vast corridor where everyone else was finishing their low-calorie breakfasts and deciding which sessions to attend.

"This is so exciting!" Laurenne shrieked. "People will see me and hopefully think I'm a good successor to Tyra or Iman. I mean they have their own businesses and stuff, too. I can totally work that angle." Her fuchsia-painted fingernails went straight to her neck to flip her hair, but she then remembered it was up in a bun, so she couldn't complete her snobby move.

"This will put Loveliness on the map for sure," Venetia said. "Natural beauty products to prolong your own natural beauty instead of using things with chemicals that wear your skin out. That's why those celebrities-without-makeup paparazzi photos are so horrifying. They use cosmetics that contain chemicals, so they start to look bad without them. You know this could revolutionize the beauty industry."

Kennedy picked up on the impromptu script they created for the camera, so she decided to play along. "You're right," she said. "I think this company has a good chance of becoming something. With Marcheline Cosmetics behind us, we can do so much." Zara smirked like she didn't understand why Kennedy contributed to the mechanical pep talk upping the company morale.

"I'm, of course, going to the CEO-in-training session," Laurenne deliberated. "Venetia's going to the CFO-in-training session. Kennedy, you're at the media one, and Zara—" her voice turned into syrupy pity, "you'll be our team player." The way she scrunched her nose thickened the uneasiness between the two former best friends.

"It's team manager, but that's fine," Zara crossed her arms with attitude. She headed directly to the session room without another word.

"So, I'll see you girls later," Laurenne pivoted on her ballet flat shoe and disappeared behind a towering door. Mirabella had entered the room just a few seconds earlier. Kennedy imagined them sitting next to each other and engaging in more model talk.

"Well, I'm going to head to mine," Venetia said emptily. She left Kennedy in the middle of the crowded space. Kennedy looked around her where there was unity within the groups. She thought Loveliness would be a great detour while looking for her journalism job and gaining friends in the process. But she felt lonely and hollow. Feeling her mike connected to her blouse, she wondered if Teal and Sophie would capture this very moment with the lights fastened on her. Should she smile though she was sad? Or should she keep looking sad to show true emotion? However conscious she should be about her looks, she began to trudge to the room where she will learn more about media relations.

"We will catch up with you all later. The crew inside will be getting the sessions," Teal said as she and Sophie walked away.

As soon as Kennedy plopped down in the turquoise auditorium seat, she fished inside her purse for her phone. She immediately called Leo.

"Hey! What's up?" She tried to sound chipper, but she missed him. She knew it was his free period at school, so he had time for a quick chat.

"I'm fine, hon. How's LA?" He sounded chipper, so that automatically boosted her spirits.

"It's great. We're doing these breakout sessions. I have to shine. It's like being back in school and having to raise my hand every five seconds to make it look like I'm a stellar student." Once she realized she forgot the reality show tidbit, she decided to keep it hidden. It didn't matter to her as much as it did a few minutes ago.

"Well, Kennedy, you're extremely good at that. You'll do fine."

"I miss you." She wasn't afraid to put her emotions out there.

"We'll see each other again soon. Just focus on LA. You're better off there than here."

She remembered her agenda. She needed to find a position in Los Angeles just in case News 24 didn't work out. The problem: she wanted to specialize in political journalism. She lived near the capital city, so she worried about the opportunities in LA. But she still wanted to exhibit her loyalty to Loveliness, so her temporary hobby, for now, came before her real dream.

"You're absolutely right. I need to focus on what I want. This is fun, but it's not everything for me. Thanks for reminding me."

"Anytime, sweetheart. Hey, I'm going to have to let you go. Back to work. Keep your head up, and I'll talk to you later."

"OK, bye." It was bittersweet because she didn't want the call to end but she did want the session to begin.

"Bye." Leo's goodbyes over the phone always rolled off his tongue a certain way. Kennedy laughed for noticing that little detail and liking it. And when she felt the wires of the mike pack straddling against her bra, she realized her conversation might have been recorded.

After taking her reporter pad and pen from her purse, the session quickly turned boring with a Marcheline employee speaking in a monotone voice. Though she worked really hard to focus on the PowerPoint presentation, Kennedy tuned out. Creating the brand logo. Maintaining an up-to-date website. Writing a newsletter. Tweeting. Facebooking. Instagramming. All the basics Kennedy already set up for Loveliness. Her mind drifted to her political journalism career. She cared more about the new environmental law on reducing carbon emissions the governor passed that morning than the latest eyeshadow with built-in primer to hit the market.

In actuality, Laurenne didn't run this. Venetia ran this. Loveliness was her baby, but, like other girls such as Zara, she became engrossed in Laurenne's potential star power that could drive the company to new heights. In the CFO training session, she jotted down all her notes and calculated the economic scenarios before she had to share her ideas with her neighbors.

"Company A will never survive because it's spending more than what's coming in," she said to the group of five. They nodded in agreement, but she knew they didn't really examine the scenarios to create a thoughtful response. Those college economics courses definitely paid off in her role in handling the finances of Loveliness. Now that she was mainly in charge of production (she was the one who found the ingredients and experimented with them like a chemist) and finances (she controlled all the money coming in and all the money going out), she felt more confident in taking Loveliness out from under Laurenne's nose.

The leopard print flats upon Mirabella's perfectly curved feet distracted Laurenne. She had long, straight chestnut hair with bangs slightly spilling over her eyebrows. It was the quintessential model hairstyle at the time, but agents and photographers only wanted to see it on certain girls. Laurenne's own hair was rather long, six inches past her shoulder, and she needed a chic hairdo that would make her stand out from the rest of the desperate fame-seeking models. She wondered how many jobs Kate Smith Models gave Mirabella. Though she embellished her modeling career at times, Laurenne had three shoots a month—if she was lucky.

In all honesty, Loveliness was a venture that could add fuel to her modeling career. She pretended to like applying makeup on other models, but she liked the process being done on her more. Under the fluorescent glow, she wanted to sit in the director's chair and gaze into her reflection in the vanity mirror. She loathed standing over models and allowing them to sit on her throne.

Her eyes lifted off Mirabella's adorably chic shoes. She smacked on her cinnamon gum and blankly wondered what Renata was talking about.

Where were Zara's nail filer and clipper? Her hand felt like it was stuck in a crowded cookie jar instead of her jade python pleather purse. She ransacked through the debris of peppermint wrappers and used tissues. Her lip gloss surfaced. Her wallet surfaced. Her keys surfaced. Everything except her nail filer and clipper. She was in desperate need to fix a nail on the brink of breakage. Tearing it off would be less painful than hearing about how she can be a team manager for a company she didn't care for.

Loveliness was a joke. Fashion was her calling. She liked makeup as much as the next girl, but she thought she was drop dead gorgeous without it. Clothing was a necessity. After feverishly searching for her tools, she gave up. She would need to dump everything out her purse, but she couldn't do it there. So to get her mind off her breaking nail, she continued scribbling fashion designs on a napkin.

"How were the sessions?" Venetia took a bite out of her roasted turkey sandwich while sitting on the bench beside the water fountain in front of the Marcheline headquarters. Quietly kneeling down on the ground to capture the moment at eye level, Teal and Sophie filmed up-close. They promised to back off if the conversation changed into something personal.

"It was OK," Kennedy made an attempt to hide her disinterest. She sent Leo a text message an hour ago, and he had yet to respond.

"Yeah, it was all right," Zara mumbled. Her designs came alive inside her daydreams. Laurenne used to model her creations but she started to envision Kennedy's curvy figure transforming her designs into trends.

"I learned so much," Laurenne lied. Her eyes kept wandering toward the Belleza girls across the street at the bistro. Eating with them would be a better use of her time to pick their brains about their modeling careers. She became a tad obsessed since meeting them only because she wanted to be better than them.

"Well," Venetia began excitedly, "they gave us three scenarios, and we had to decide if the company was viable based on their financial decisions. The main thing I learned is we have to handle money carefully. It's fine to invest it back into the company but don't go overboard with spending. People tend to mess up their finances, and then the company goes down. We can't have that happen."

The girls nodded to let Venetia know they heard her story while eating their lunches and wishing they were elsewhere. When the girls could barely articulate their experience in the sessions, Teal and Sophie stopped filming.

Word on the street was Inamorata earned the title of hottest club of the week. Like wildfire, the news spread between the visiting groups. Laurenne discovered this information through Belleza; Mirabella texted her and hoped she would be able to come through. Though they've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, Laurenne yearned to hang out with them. Models need to stick together, she believed, especially in a metropolis full of hope with talent scouts lurking in broad daylight.

"So I heard Inamorata will be popping tonight, so we should go and have a good time," Laurenne said, while reapplying her bold shade of lipstick in the hotel bathroom mirror.

"Those sessions made me tired. Is that wrong to say?" Zara asked, feeling a tinge of guilt only because her day felt wasted.

"I would like to unwind, LA style," Kennedy fell across Laurenne's bed as she flipped through her new thick issue of Charisma. Shiny advertisements of fragrances and clothing she couldn't afford grabbed her attention. Before she knew it, she skipped over the lavishness of Dolce & Gabbana gowns and Givenchy boots to the mellowness of Gap sweaters and Nike sneakers.

"Well, I guess we have to start getting ready, right? Dressing up in LA is different from dressing up at home. A lot different," Zara already left the scene with heading to the room she shared with Kennedy to ransack her suitcase for her trendy nightclub attire.

"So are you going to start getting ready?" Laurenne asked a distracted Kennedy, whose face was an inch away from the paper-scented magazine pages. Laurenne headed to the walk-in closet where she placed some of her clothes on the silk-padded hangers.

"You're right," Kennedy hopped off the bed and went to her room. She felt her anxiety creep up on her. Will her clothes be good enough to enter the club? Some places refuse entrance if you weren't pretty or fashionable enough. Her somewhat new weave still looked flawless, so she would be pretty enough, but what about her fashion sense? Compared to the unsophisticated mallrats that ran the city at home, she was always sportily stylish with her leopard high-top sneakers, skinny faded jeans, and classic tees with retro pop culture figures. In LA, her most mainstream fashions straight from the clearance racks at Forever 21 could be too safe. She loathed wearing high heels, for example, though they added much-needed height to her 5'3 frame, so she wore comfortable flats. She had gold flats, silver flats, brown flats, and black flats all guaranteed to complement any outfit. The flats now had to enjoy a short retirement while she stayed in LA because they wouldn't work with her new look. At the bottom of her suitcase, she pulled out a pair of stilettos she borrowed from Jocelyn. "This is perfect shoe eye candy," Jocelyn had said when she handed over the footwear Kennedy never imagined strapping along her feet. The sparkly gold four-inchers screamed glam. She pulled her right foot up on her left knee and placed the gold heel on. It blindingly glittered as the late afternoon sunlight from the window hit it. Her foot swung in one direction then in the other. It looked great along with her tightened gams.

"Ooh, those shoes are nice!" Zara complimented Kennedy as she followed the train of shimmer bouncing off the walls. "Where did you get those?"

"Just some store in the mall before we left. I thought they would be cool for a night out." She couldn't remember the nondescript store Jocelyn mentioned as the best place for fancy shoes because she never paid attention to those details before.

"They're perfect for sure. I have a pair of vintage earrings that would go great with those shoes." Zara rushed to her suitcase. She moved her amber-highlighted bang to the side of her face. Her hair was so simple yet stylish. Kennedy's hairdo just added more weight and made her feel adequate in the beauty-dominated arena she found herself ushered into. She started twirling a few strands of her hair.

"Here they are!" Zara revealed a pair of large gold hoops with three rings inside holding miniature star-shaped beads. The beautiful earrings fell into Kennedy's hands.

"I can't borrow these tonight," Kennedy protested. "You should wear them."

"No, I'm good. They don't match my outfit anyway. I'm wearing something outrageous like I always do. I don't care. I know the clubs are top-notch here compared to the lame places we go to back at home, but I'm going to be myself tonight."

"That's cool," Kennedy said in a low voice, cradling the earrings in her hands. She brought them closer to her shoe. They went well together.

At ten o'clock, the girls crammed themselves into their Hummer limo.

"Hey, Evan!" Laurenne shrieked to the sexy chauffeur when he opened the doors for the girls. He solemnly returned the greeting.

"Let's get this party started!" Laurenne twisted the cork off a bottle of champagne and poured the liquid into glasses. With Teal and Sophie sitting on the other end of the limo quietly videotaping the situation, Kennedy didn't feel it appropriate to become entangled in an alcohol-induced frenzy on tape. Sophie ran the video camera with a beaming light while Teal texted at lightning speeds on her phone. They blended into the background for the other girls, but Kennedy felt their presence so strongly though they never said a word.

Once they all had a secure grasp on their glasses, Laurenne cleared her throat dramatically. "To us," she began. "We worked hard to get to this level. This is the big time. I don't care what anyone else says. We're on top!"

"Here, here," Venetia agreed as they all clinked their glasses and consumed their drinks.

"I'm going to need another glass," Laurenne said a minute later. And without hesitation, she continued to pour the champagne.

"This is complimentary, right?" Kennedy sweated the small stuff.

"Everything's free. Calm down," Laurenne soothed rather tipsily. "Here bring your glass and let me fill it."

Kennedy peered at her glass that had yet to reach its midpoint. "No, I'm good." She sank into her seat.

"I can do another glass. It's only champagne. Not the hard stuff," Venetia brought her glass to Laurenne, the official bartender of the limo ride.

"Can't wait to get to the club," Zara said with a touch of frustration, glaring at the two friends sitting directly across from her. They seemed to be floating into their own separate worlds.

"Me, too," Kennedy said. "I mean we're going to have to wait in line for who knows how long."

Oh no you're not. Teal sent a text message to Kennedy's phone five seconds later. Teams get in no problem. Waiting in line no fun for TV. She reverted back to invisible mode. Disappointed, Kennedy showed Zara the message and dropped her phone back into her clutch. She thought it would be from Leo.

"Well, now I really can't wait," Zara said to nobody in particular.

As expected on a weeknight, Inamorata had a line stretching down two blocks with girls and guys getting louder as a result of their pre-gaming activities. With Teal and Sophie leading the way to the tattooed bouncers at the front of the entrance, the girls carefully hopped over the velvet rope in their stiletto shoes and strolled into the nightclub with an air of entitlement.

"Wow, it's pumpin' in here," Venetia said, covering her mouth from the manufactured smoke swerving in the atmosphere.

"Let's go get a drink," Laurenne suggested, already making a path to reach the bar. The girls followed.

"Hmm. What should I get? So many choices. Ooh, a Sunset Boulevard sounds nice," Venetia rested her arms on the counter, keeping her eye on the bartender to let him know she was in line.

"I'll get that, too," Laurenne said.

"I want a margarita," Zara said. "I'm hungry. I didn't eat dinner. It'll fill me up."

"Can we share?" Kennedy asked so sweetly because she was used to sharing margaritas with Jocelyn.

"Yeah, of course," Zara turned around on her stool to hold onto Kennedy's shoulder. "I'll probably need help to finish it anyways."

The mixologist took their orders, hastily rattled the ingredients in the cocktail shaker, and poured the drinks in glasses. Once they found a loveseat, they surveyed the hectic scene. On the dance floor, everyone looked like a moving blur. It seemed too serene in the corner.

"Omigosh!" Laurenne randomly yelled.

"What?" Venetia asked, trying to understand the immediate excitement until she saw Mirabella and the other Belleza girls waving at Laurenne.

"I'm going to say hi," Laurenne slurped the rest of her blood orange drink and placed the glass down on the table. "They're so nice! I'm so glad we met them."

"I don't know them," Venetia shot back.

"Well, Kennedy introduced us. That was so nice of you," Laurenne patted Kennedy's cheek while slightly slurring her words. "I mean they're all models at the same agency as me. Isn't that crazy?" She drawled with an unusual buzz. She was so excited to tell her story, but the girls weren't impressed. They simply didn't care. "Well, I'm gonna go say hi. I'll be right back."

"She's not coming back," Venetia yawned and crossed her legs. Her skintight red dress fitted her well with her hair pulled back into a sleek side ponytail. It was the second time Kennedy saw Venetia dress up besides at the last clubgoing adventure. Her style was so laidback with cargo pants and camisoles, excluding her face, which flawlessly represented a mélange of cosmetics. But apparently, she caught the LA bug and wanted to dress to impress.

"I don't get why she's ditching us," Venetia took a long sip of her drink and eyed Laurenne, who was talking to the Belleza girls in such an animated way. "I know they're models, but they're...I don't know. I don't get why she would just be so...distant when we're trying to build an empire here."

Kennedy watched Laurenne interact with her new friends. She still hadn't touched her straw in the margarita sitting in Zara's hand. Maybe if she were intoxicated, she'd be overexcited, too, about hanging out with people she had met earlier in the day. It wasn't like Laurenne was hanging out with the scouts and managers behind Kate Smith Models; she was hanging out with her competition. They were vying for the same modeling jobs and now for the same beauty company contract. It didn't make sense.

"Excuse me?" Kennedy heard a baritone voice hover above them. It was directed to Venetia, who was sitting on her right side while Zara peered over at the commotion.

"Hi," Venetia said disinterestedly.

"I saw you from across the room," he began his pick-up speech. "I think you look great in that dress. You're so...pretty." He didn't sound like he was serious; he used the line on the regular.

"Thanks," Venetia nodded her head.

"Let me buy you a drink," he turned toward the bar. His teeth seemed blindingly white compared to his coffee bean skin. He didn't look bad, Kennedy decided, but he brought a lame game.

"I already have one," she waved her glass in his face.

"Well, let me get you another one," he entertained.

As Venetia carefully rose up from her seat, she whispered in Kennedy's ear. "I'm only going to talk to him to get a free drink." Kennedy noticed she adjusted her microphone pack in the back of her dress. She forgot again they were being recorded while Teal and Sophie stood nearby trying to film their disjointed night.

"That's the spirit," Zara cheered. Before they knew it, half the crew was whisked away by other parties. "Want to head outside? The scene is tired already."

"I just remembered we're still miked," Kennedy whispered, hoping it didn't get picked up or ruin the previous sound bite that might be rendered useful.

"Yeah, yeah," Zara said. "I forgot about them. But when we go outside, we'll turn them off!" She yelled the last part to make sure it was recorded.

"We heard that. That's fine," Teal began to back away. They turned their mikes off.

They elbowed their way through the crowd to the door where they slipped out for some fresh air. Zara plopped down on the gum-stained sidewalk with her eyes remaining transfixed on the stars. The polluted air concealed many of them, but some peeked through the filthy film. "Come down here!" she playfully demanded.

Wearing her gold metallic leggings, Kennedy didn't want her bottom to touch the dirty ground. It was probably the first time in her life she was acting prissy. The thought made her cringe. She dropped her right stiletto down onto street level for balance, and Zara gently tugged at her arm to help her sink to the ground.

"I love looking at the stars," Zara whispered into the crisp night air. She pulled out the emergency cigarette stashed away in the zippered compartment of her black leather clutch bag. She ran out of her beloved Marlboros earlier in the day when she shared some with new acquaintances from the competition. She flipped the lighter and watched the embers fall from her cigarette. "Wanna puff?" After being released from her lips, the cigarette was pointed in Kennedy's direction.

Peer pressure. It wasn't high school. It was the real world. Kennedy never smoked a cigarette. She had asthma. Or, at least, she did when she was a kid. She saw the remnants of the Autumn Sunset shade of lipstick by Marcheline left behind on the cigarette.

"Come on! It's harmless," Zara reassured her after noticing her bewildered expression. "It won't kill you."

A blink later, Zara slid the cigarette between Kennedy's glossy lips. "Breathe it in," she instructed. Kennedy did as she was told. "Feel it in your lungs, then slowly exhale." Kennedy felt the tobacco fill her lungs. She then exhaled too roughly. A round of coughs followed competing with Zara's giggles. She patted her friend's back. "It's OK. Wanna try again?"

Something about Zara made Kennedy want to do things she never experienced before like smoking a cigarette. She seemed like a badass chick with her sassy short 'do, neon orange fingernails, leopard-patterned miniskirt, and her large brass hoops with two studs on each ear. Kennedy kept it simple. She wore her staple white top that flowingly fell over Jocelyn's swanky leggings and shoes. Zara's vintage earrings heightened the ensemble's appeal, but she still felt plain. Minimal makeup with peppermint-scented lip gloss. After wearing makeup plastered to her face all day, she couldn't go all night with the discomfort. She excitedly snatched the cigarette from Zara's slender fingers and placed it between her lips once again, reciting the instructions in her head. Inhale. Exhale. Don't cough.

"That's less coughing than before. You're already getting better," Zara gave her an approving smile as she took her cigarette back and enjoyed the last drags. "What do you dream about, Kennedy?"

A startling question. "Dreams as in my goals or the type of dreams that come at night?" Kennedy needed clarification.

"Either one. Sometimes the ones you have at night describe your innermost feelings."

"I dream of becoming a famous political correspondent. I always wanted that," Kennedy's voice lowered after each statement, feeling more off-course than ever. "My dad was a political reporter for the Tribune, then he became a political strategist. He's retired now, but I've been working for this for so long. It's just weird not to even be at the bottom of the ladder. It's like I can't find the ladder. It won't come up to my house or something, so I can't even start climbing it."

Zara peered at Kennedy, who tried to smile through the pain she didn't realize she harvested. "I like the ladder metaphor. You'll get there. Everything's slow right now, but it will pick up eventually," she said soothingly while rubbing Kennedy's bare back.

"Yeah, I hope so." Kennedy took another drag. She didn't cough.

After downing a Xanax to minimize her anxiety, Kennedy fell limply onto the hotel room bed. She and Zara headed home after realizing the nightclub scene had a shelf life of an hour, even when you're in your 20s in LA and supposed to wallow in those types of things.

As soon as she closed her eyes, her mind automatically wandered into dream phase. It was a silent black and white film. She was standing in the hotel hallway near the elevators. She wore a white blouse and a pair of black slacks; the outfit appeared like it came off the rack at J. Crew, like she had a job. On her feet were her black Converse sneakers. She always imagined herself dressed in blouses, slacks, and her sneakers to run around the city to finish her reporting before deadline. Her hair sat in a bun upon her head fused with pomade and hairspray. It was her real hair. To complete her professional look, she wore her pearl studs. From her appearance, it looked like a post-work day when she still had something penciled into her schedule.

Then Leo strolled toward her from around the corner in the Ralph Lauren white polo shirt he loved to wear and his slightly baggy faded jeans he bought from Abercrombie & Fitch on their mall rendezvous the other week. They were hanging out in the hallway. After a content glance at Leo, Kennedy extended her hand for him to take, and, instinctively, he took it. Their fingers fit like puzzle pieces that never thought they had matches.

Kennedy smiled at Leo, but before she could blink, he ran away. She was in shock like her heart was snatched out of its cavity. She dashed with an intensity she couldn't explain. She didn't run out of breath or wish for water; she just ran. Leo opened the door to the endless spiral staircase. He yelled, he screamed; his words were inaudible. Kennedy swung the door open and followed him. She continued her pursuit until she tripped and fell on her knees on a step. But she was determined to get up. Leo came back to her and pushed her shoulders down. Then he was gone. The weight on her shoulder faded. Loneliness set in, and she was alone.

She shook herself awake as the dream faded away. She gasped. She was scared. She really liked Leo. She didn't want to lose him. She hadn't heard from him. She was used to, at the most, a five-minute turnaround on text messages and phone calls. It had been several hours. Going back to sleep might be hard. She started counting sheep.

15

"For the next three days, you will be selling your products out in the open," Renata announced to the relaxed crowd the next morning. Everyone partied at Inamorata last night, so most people were nursing hangovers by constantly chugging water or squirting eye drops into their peepers to erase the drowsy redness. "Here in the city, as you may have noticed, there are countless beauty carts and pop-up stores selling all kinds of knickknacks. Los Angeles is an entrepreneurial city, and we want you to be true entrepreneurs by starting at the bottom of the food chain.

"This is the core of the competition. We want to know if you have a great product that sells. The top three groups with the most profit will be in the finals at the end of the week. The rest of the groups that underperform will be sent home with, of course, a one thousand dollar gift card for Marcheline products.

"We will provide you with the foldout tables and chairs. You can travel wherever you want in the city. You can stay out there as long as you want each day. You're in control. You will start today, and in two days, we will come back here and determine who will continue on this venture to a one-year business contract with Marcheline Cosmetics."

As Renata strolled away from the sparkly black podium, everyone applauded with hearts full of anxiety. Renata and Genevieve traveled to the corner of the room where solid fuchsia folding chairs and matching tables sat on the pink-speckled gray carpet. It was their cue to trudge to the corner and check out the provided furniture. Venetia almost trampled her coworkers as she headed toward the corner. Kennedy and Zara trailed behind. Teal and Sophie already set the camera up beside the table.

"Turn your mikes on," Teal mouthed the direction and motioned it with her hands. They obediently followed orders while Sophie adjusted the camera to start another day of filming.

After being swept up with Belleza again, Laurenne began to walk with them. Guiltily, Kennedy felt responsible for Laurenne's most recent obsession, so she felt it was her responsibility to snap her back to reality by grabbing her arm.

"Sorry," Laurenne mumbled and dashed back to her home team.

They joined Venetia at the front of the line as she signed the furniture checkout paper on Genevieve's side.

"Hello, Miss Genevieve," Laurenne glistened. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing quite fine. And yourself?"

"I'm fabulous."

Genevieve handed them the folding furniture: one table and four chairs.

"How much do the groups usually bring in?" Venetia curiously asked. She sported her hater-blocker shades again today.

"For only one day...about one hundred fifty dollars total," Genevieve answered, "but don't tell anyone I told you that. You should aim higher though. You never know where the curve will be this year."

"When will we meet last year's winner, Unique Boutique?" Kennedy inquired, wondering why they failed to make an appearance. She did some research yesterday on the history of the competition. She knew, as a journalist, she should have done this earlier, but at the time she only cared about her luxury stay in LA.

"We've only done this a few times, but each time the group dissipates, the division disappears. Renata is rethinking this whole contest thing," Genevieve whispered the gossip that tumbled from her mouth. "She wants to add something fresh to the company with budding entrepreneurs, but it always falls apart. We get people who are too young to be serious about anything, then we get people who are a little older, but they realize they want husbands and families and that means a career at an established beauty corporation and not trying to turn a startup into a corporation. They really fall in love with the city and feel like they can do so much more, but they can't. I hope you all are focused."

They nodded in unison. "We are as serious as a heart attack," Venetia promised, while holding the table against her chest. They grabbed the rest of the furniture and left the conference room.

Without putting real thought in finding a place to set shop, they wandered around the business district. It looked like a great atmosphere, and they didn't want to waste time exploring another option. Teal and Sophie filmed the group.

"This is the perfect location!" Venetia bellowed as they arranged Loveliness products ever so neatly on the standing table. All the other groups had the same idea to start selling their products along the mildly busy sidewalk near the headquarters, so this added more heat to the competition. The area looked more upscale than other parts of the city with the clothing boutiques, classy restaurants, and other delights of the upper middle class. They hoped to attract clientele willing to buy their experimental beauty products.

"I hope we make some good money today," Zara yawned.

"Me, too," Laurenne chimed in.

"We will," Venetia assured.

"We should make at least two hundred dollars today if we go by Genevieve's rule," Laurenne remarked after using her fingers to calculate the equation in the air. "With everything five dollars, we'll make it. We went overboard with making the lip wear. Right, Venetia?"

"I remember just me making them, but yeah sure, we will make that goal," Venetia retorted. She rolled her eyes to the side as they burned with annoyance. "Let's stand our ground and sell the product." She grabbed some business cards and positioned herself in the center of the sidewalk like some other groups were starting to do. Laurenne followed with a sample eyeshadow palette in hand. Zara achingly rose from her seat with Kennedy.

"This is so lame," Zara leaned toward Kennedy to make sure her statement wasn't heard by anyone else. But, of course, Teal and Sophie were taping in front of them and picking up audio from the microphones.

"It won't be that bad," Kennedy said. "We have shade from the palm trees, so we won't get too hot."

"I'm not talking about the weather. And those palms are skimpy. I'm talking about peddling this stupid business. I've already arranged an interview with Chanel on Rodeo Drive tomorrow."

Kennedy took a second to digest the news. "So you won't be here tomorrow for whatever we have to do."

"Kennedy, Kennedy," Zara repeated condescendingly, "Loveliness is not a top priority for me. As much as I like makeup, I want to design clothes. I only did this since Laurenne...owed me a favor. So I'm here. But I'm doing me. You should do you."

"What favor?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Just sell the stuff, so we can get out of here." She strolled down the street with a few lip gloss tubes in her hands. Kennedy copied her, but she strategically took perfume tubes. Before she had a chance to find an ideal spot like the other girls, she found her first victim.

"Give me your wrist, and I'll spray this wonderful perfume on you. It smells really good, I promise," Kennedy approached a woman decked out in a tailored lavender dress suit with a matching python leather handbag. She wore a trendy dirty blonde bob and dark Dior sunglasses. She exuded importance, and Kennedy had to make an impression on her so she can buy a lot of bottles. Kennedy lightly hit the woman's vein-popping wrist with the perfume wand.

"What's it called?" She inquired as she lifted her wrist toward her peach foundation-powdered nose. Maybe Kennedy should suggest the Loveliness foundation that glided on smoothly without the blotchy look. She made a mental note to get the foundation if the woman strayed away from the perfume.

"Honey Harmony because the sweet smell of honey brings harmony to the body," Kennedy explained the romanticized logic.

"I love the scent! What's the company called?" She took another whiff of the fragrance lingering on her wrist along her purple-jeweled vintage bracelets.

"Loveliness. We're up-and-coming and all natural," Kennedy said confidently.

"Ooh," she swooned, "I love up-and-coming. People like new things. The hot thing now is eco-beauty, too. You say you're all natural?"

"That's correct," Kennedy affirmed. "We only use natural products. For this, we used organic local honey and natural oils and flower scents from northern California. That's where we're from."

"Wow! I wish I had heard of you a few months ago. We did a spread on natural beauty products for last month's issue. But we are thinking about making it a regular feature since so many people are concerned about the harsh chemicals in their cosmetics."

As an extremely loyal magazine reader, the natural beauty product spread in Charisma magazine automatically registered in Kennedy's mind. It was the only magazine she paid a subscription for. The woman must be an editor there. She did dress the part. Her fashion sense could set alarms off in the upmost level of glamour. While the woman read the recycled paper box with the ingredients of the perfume, Kennedy peered at her, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. In fact, she slightly resembled Victory Smythe, the editor-in-chief of the Declan Pierce publication, but she couldn't be simply strolling the streets in an expensive designer suit and heels sampling a random girl's beauty products.

"I don't mean to offend you," Kennedy started shakily just in case it was not the incomparable Victory Smythe since her famous hazel eyes were concealed behind her shades, "but are you Victory Smythe?"

Suddenly, slowly, her manicured fingers took the pair of sunglasses off to reveal those hazel eyes lined with liquid eyeliner and the length-enhancing mascara also featured in last month's issue. "Why, yes, I am Victory Smythe. I'm surprised you even recognized me."

"I'm a huge fan of Charisma. I've always been. I would like to contribute someday," Kennedy babbled on nervously. "I always like that it had fashion and beauty but also had real stories on serious issues like child brides in Nigeria and sex slaves in India."

"Someday?" She questioned this as if she was about to laugh at Kennedy's lofty aspirations. "Why not today?"

Kennedy's large eyes practically bulged from their sockets when she heard the hint of a possible internship or entry-level opportunity. Her heart pounded ferociously, which generally happened when she was in shock, but she tried to calm herself down by running the wand of honeyed fragrance on her own wrist.

"What's your name, darling?" the editor asked.

"Um, Kennedy."

"Miss Kennedy, I would like for you to contact me, so we can arrange for you to come visit the office. Maybe we can do a quarter-page spread on your products."

"Well, we don't know how long we're going to be here. My group and I are a part of the Marcheline Cosmetics contest," she tried to explain her situation. "So our challenge for the next few days is to sell as many products as we can. But if we don't make enough money, we can be sent home anytime."

"Oh, yes, we advertised that contest. I forgot it's in the final stages now. Maybe we can arrange for something tomorrow. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Um..." Kennedy couldn't alienate Victory's kindness by being consumed with promoting a business on the streets, so she took the opportunity. "I can come in tomorrow."

"How does eleven a.m. sound to you?"

"That sounds great."

Victory rummaged through her handbag. "Here's my business card," she gave Kennedy her official Charisma contact information. "And I'll buy this Honey Harmony. Are there any complementary creams?"

"Yes, let me show you," Kennedy escorted her to the table with the disappearing products as the girls continued to make other promising sales.

Once Victory disappeared from view with ten bottles of Honey Harmony perfumes and creams ("It's for the whole beauty department," she explained), Zara practically ambushed Kennedy, knowing something important just went down. Venetia was in her entrepreneurial zone, and Laurenne was conversing with a group of handsome skateboarders who wouldn't have any interest in beauty products.

"So what was that all about?" Zara asked.

"That was Victory Smythe from Charisma magazine," Kennedy glowed. "She might want to put our products in the magazine. And maybe interview me!"

"That's so great!" Zara grabbed Kennedy's hands and jumped up. "When?!"

"Tomorrow morning. I want to do their online show. I noticed the host went MIA a few months ago, and there hasn't been a host since."

"Yeah, you should definitely bring that up and talk about how great you are for the job. See what happens when you put your priorities in order?"

"I get it, but, actually, Loveliness helped me. I'm helping the company and myself," Kennedy said. "So how many things did you sell so far?"

"Not much, but I could care less. We're not going to win anyway." Zara skipped back to her spot with a handful of products she snatched off the table.

"Good job on getting Victory Smythe as a client. That's going to look hot on TV!" Teal crept up behind Kennedy. Before Kennedy could turn around to face her, Teal already returned to her spot with her camera near Sophie a few feet away.

With her accelerating confidence, Kennedy snatched some of the lip gloss tubes and strolled down the block. "Would you like your lips to smell minty fresh and have that shiny gloss finish?" she asked in her upbeat tone to reel customers in.

After several hours of baking in the sun (livable with Venetia's idea to wear Marcheline's SPF 50 sunscreen cream), the girls headed back to the office. Other groups had packed up an hour earlier in anticipation to indulge in the nightlife. Team Loveliness tuned out the name of the club. Laurenne decided she would find out the information from Belleza.

"You made almost four hundred dollars," the Marcheline employee tallied the money Venetia forfeited minutes before. "That's extremely good." She recorded the data on her laptop.

"Thank you," the four girls saccharinely said.

"What's your secret?" the employee playfully inquired. She returned the money to Venetia. It was theirs to keep, but Marcheline counted the money to get insight on their entrepreneurial success.

"We can't tell our secrets," Venetia teased.

"The other groups did pretty good, too." Her statement slightly lowered Venetia's excitement.

After the money exchange, Teal and Sophie stopped the girls before they started to walk to the hotel.

"Great job today!" Teal said. "We're done filming today, so you can take your mikes off. We'll see you tomorrow unless you're going to go out tonight..."

"I'm not sure yet what we're going to do, but we'll keep you posted," Venetia squinted to show her irritation of having her every step videotaped during the competition. Overexposure was not always a good thing.

"OK, we'll see you later! And remember to call us if something goes down. Well, I'll text you anyways," Teal waved and Sophie followed her in the opposite direction with their equipment.

"Oh yeah, we'll call them when something goes down," Zara said sarcastically after taking her mike pack off.

"We made almost four hundred dollars!" Venetia's yell ricocheted off the hotel suite's delicately stuccoed walls like she held it in too long. She wanted to rev herself up over their minor success. "Who cares about the other groups? As long as we do well, we're good."

"I can't believe we made that much today!" Laurenne's energy level also peaked. "I mean we were selling like crazy, but I didn't know it was on that level. We can buy a lot of things now. I've been eyeing the new Coach handbag. I could really use that bonus."

"We're not spending the money, Laurenne!" Venetia quickly turned toward her.

"So we pretty much have to put all the money we just made all day in the hot sun back into the business?" Laurenne wore her Gucci shades as if the sweltering sun was unbearably penetrating the room.

Before this opportunity, they sold units but on a smaller scale. Maybe a grandmother, a neighbor, or a friend bought a batch of lip gloss tubes, their most popular item with the most assortments. Maybe a random online fan asked for a shipping of the best-smelling rose-scented fragrance they had. They didn't raise their game until the beauty expo where the bar started to steadily rise.

"We're selling so much, so what happens if we run out of units? I mean it's hard to make our products in this swanky hotel room compared to our office," Zara piped up.

"Don't worry, girls," Venetia calmed them down. "I sent boxes from home that should be delivered here tomorrow. We'll be fine. If they don't come on time, we'll get more supplies. We have money..."

"So we really have to put our new money back in?" Laurenne asked again.

"Don't worry. The boxes will come on time. I have faith in the postal service," Venetia stood up and took her silver hoop earrings off.

"I'm not putting all that money back into my business. We can afford to pay ourselves a little more," Laurenne pointed to the cash lifelessly sitting on the table. "We should even stop selling. It's so hot this week, and we made more than Genevieve said we could make for this challenge. So let's just chill."

"Let's just chill," Venetia heated up. "We can't chill. We're trying to start a bona fide business here! We should be out there every day until we hit it big. We have to do the best that we can." She turned away from Laurenne and headed toward the bedroom she was conveniently sharing with her. The ear-piercing door slam ended the discussion.

Kennedy felt the tension. She innocently tossed Zara a clueless look. Zara shrugged. Laurenne snatched her red and green-striped brown Gucci handbag and a few dollars off the stack of money.

"You can tell her I'm hanging out with Mirabella tonight," Laurenne said hastily. "Bye, girls." She waved her hand behind her and left the suite.

"Why is she hanging out with the competition again?" Zara sounded highly suspicious but seemed to enjoy the potential fallout. Kennedy shrugged.

In all its glitz and glamour, a Wednesday night in LA should intrigue a group of valley girls, who innocently assumed the city never slept. In fact, the city already took its dentures out and closed its nightly read by seven o'clock. There may be a bar, nightclub, or celeb house party about to burst with exuberance now, but the girls didn't want to overindulge in the scene. As she peered into the large patio windows from the pool area, Kennedy noticed more people creeping out of the hotel rooms. The girls opted for a quiet night poolside eating Chinese takeout food.

"My fortune cookie says, 'Great fortune is coming soon. You will live your dreams.' Doesn't that sound wonderful?" Zara's sigh was tinged with sarcasm. She threw her fortune into the plastic bag beside her chair.

"That fortune was lame," Venetia said. "I mean it wasn't even deep." She scooped up vegetable lo mein with her chopsticks. Her sunglasses still concealed her face like earlier even with the array of purples, pinks, and oranges highlighting the night sky.

"So we're not going to do anything tonight?" Kennedy changed the subject. Not exactly the party girl, she admittedly enjoyed the scene she was thrust into. And she didn't want to satisfy Zara by letting her know she received the exact same fortune.

"I was thinking we head to this bar for karaoke night," Zara clapped her hands together in joy.

"Say what?" Venetia said while chomping down on her food.

"I want to go. We can just get the limo and go," Zara pleaded.

"For real?" Venetia spat. "We're here to work. We have to figure things out. You see Laurenne is on the way out all of a sudden."

"One break is not going to hurt us," Kennedy defended Zara's idea. "We worked all day. I haven't sold that many things since I was a Girl Scout during cookie season. We need a break."

"Oh, so you too, Kennedy," she spat. "First, Laurenne. Then, Zara. Now, you." Venetia's eyes grew large with agitation.

"Venetia," Kennedy said softy, "calm down. We already know what we're going to do tomorrow."

"Whatever we do, we have to be up bright and early. We have to win."

Kennedy let out a throaty sigh. She was annoyed with Venetia's uptightness. "We will win. If we don't, we built a bigger network than what we had before. I mean I met Victory Smythe today and sold her some Honey Harmony stuff. That's an opportunity right there."

"Who's Victory Smythe?" Venetia perked up.

"She's the editor-in-chief of Charisma, and she said she was interested in our products," Kennedy's mood elevated with scoring a great client.

"Charisma's a big deal," Zara added.

"Yeah, it is. Well, are you going to contact her?" Venetia asked.

"Of course," Kennedy dug her fork into the steamed jasmine rice inside the box sitting on her lap. "We already set up a meeting tomorrow morning."

"See," Zara started, "our network is going up. But as much as I love Loveliness, I need a break."

"Do what you want," Venetia said pathetically. She gathered her bag and food. "Thanks for your help today. We had a break yesterday, but I guess you need another one. When I get back to the suite, I'm going to strategize for tomorrow." She rose from the beach chair and headed toward the patio door.

"I wonder if we took that man from the club more seriously that he would take the heat off of us," Zara recalled Venetia's random drink buyer from the previous night. "He could have loosened her up."

Kennedy giggled. "Are we doing karaoke then?"

"No, Kennedy," Zara said in her condescending tone. "We're going to spy on Laurenne."

"Why?" Kennedy was confused. "What is your deal with her?" The mysterious bad blood between them was annoying her.

"I want to get Laurenne before she gets me." And that was enough explanation for Kennedy.

16

Here's where social media became a great tool for discreet stalking. After consuming their low-key dinner, Kennedy and Zara, still lied out on the beach chairs, wondered where Laurenne could be found at that hour. Like clockwork, they logged into their Facebook applications on their smartphones. They hoped Laurenne wrote something relevant to her nightly activities.

Kennedy scrolled down to read the news feed. She came across Leo's name. He had been conveniently MIA. No texts, no calls. It made her more nervous than she would like to admit. There was an instant vibe between the two, but her trip to LA may have extinguished the flame. She hated messing things up.

Leo's last update status: "Out with the boys! Getting wasted!" Four people pressed the 'Like' button, including two girls who commented on the post with hints of them being present at the alleged drinking fest with the boys.

Moving on to other profiles. A party girl picture replaced Laurenne's runway picture. Judging by the outfit, it was from last night.

Laurenne's last update status: "Going out with my girlys tonight!" Kennedy scoffed. If slang was to be used, spell it right.

"She said she's going out," she concluded. She was still upset about Leo.

"Yeah, I see that," Zara said. "I'm reading the comments now, and it says they're at Inamorata again. That's so lame to go to the same place but whatever."

"So what are we going to do?" Kennedy asked. She felt Zara wanted revenge. But for what, she didn't know, and she wasn't sure if she felt comfortable diving into the drama.

"I want to approach her," Zara said calmly.

"OK," Kennedy nodded. Her curiosity peeked, but she still didn't want to dip her toes into the drama.

"Kennedy, I would tell you what happened, but it's between me and Laurenne. I don't want it to get out. That's the issue. Especially since we're here. I always wanted to be here in LA, so I can't let her get in my way."

The statement blew Kennedy away. A dirty secret. "So you're really not going to tell me?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"So we're just going to approach her?" Kennedy sounded condescending on purpose because she hated when Zara used that voice with her. "We can do that in the hotel room when she gets back. I don't feel like getting dressed anyways."

With the shutdown, Kennedy cleaned her dinner garbage from around the chair. She backed away from Zara. She didn't want to be pushed into the pool with her weave intact. Surprisingly, Zara appeared unruffled by Kennedy's backing out of the vengeful plan. Kennedy threw the garbage in the receptacle and closed the patio door behind her. She dashed to the elevator and desperately pressed the button with the upward arrow. A few weeks ago, when they met at the hair salon, Kennedy thought Zara was so pretty and confident and wanted to be friends with her. Again, she felt like she messed up another relationship. The elevator door opened. She hopped inside and pressed the button for her floor. Her phone vibrated in her denim pocket. It was Jocelyn.

"Hey, J," Kennedy disguised her unsteady feelings.

"Hey, K. What's going on?"

"Nothing. How are you?"

"Nothing? You're in freaking LA! Something's going on. How's the competition?"

"It's...cool." She strolled out of the elevator and headed to her room.

"What's wrong, Kennedy? I could tell you're upset with those casual answers you just gave me since again you're in freaking LA."

Once she hit her bed, Kennedy felt more relaxed. She needed a nap. "Nothing's going on. Well, Leo won't call me. I don't know why."

"Oh," Jocelyn uttered with a vocal decline on the word.

"What do you know?" Kennedy demanded. Jocelyn's voice dropped a certain way when she had a piece of juicy gossip though it might not be as savoring this time.

"I saw him at a bar the other night hanging around Ashlee," Jocelyn began with the mention of the hot girl they despised the night they all went out together. "Hunter and I went up to him to say hi. OK, more like we wanted to get into his business 'cause he was with another girl who wasn't you. He was a little too chummy with her. Hand on her thigh. Eyes bobbing out of his head. He looked stupid like always."

"Really?" Kennedy sounded gloomy. She fell for Leo, and she thought he felt the same way.

"Call him and see if he denies it. You know I wouldn't lie to you," Jocelyn offered the challenge. She wanted to come out as the winner in the truth game. And she always did.

"I will do it now. I'll let you know what happens." They said their goodbyes, and Kennedy immediately looked in her phone for Leo's contact info. His name came up. She pressed his name to make a call. His photo appeared. He was so attractive. Maybe she wasn't attractive enough. He had a type. The brunette beauty with pale skin. Maybe she wasn't pretty enough to make him forget he had a type.

"Hey, Kennedy," Leo's voice sounded cheerful.

"Hey," she tried to sound cheerful, too, but she felt her eyelids trying to barricade tears. She didn't want to smear her mascara though the day was done for her.

"How are you?" A simple question deserved a simple answer.

But Kennedy wanted to jump in headfirst. "Why haven't you called me?"

"I've been busy. Don't worry about it."

"I'm worried," she confessed. "Don't you like me? I thought you liked me." She couldn't afford to beat around the bush. She needed straight answers. It would be nice if he was honest, but she might be expecting too much.

"I do like you, Kennedy. You know that."

"So did you see Jocelyn the other night?" she needed verification on her source's information.

"Yeah, I saw her and Hunter the other night. We said hi and stuff. That was about it."

"Who were you with?"

"Oh, OK, you want me to name everyone in my entourage," he joked. Kennedy didn't even fake a laugh over the phone. "Well, I was with Cole, Maxine, and Ashlee. We were just hanging out after work. A few drinks. A game of pool. Very basic night out."

"OK." She believed him — for a millisecond.

"I like you, Kennedy, and I'm patiently waiting for your return," he sounded sincere. "I want you to focus on LA. It's a big deal what you guys are doing out there. We're both busy, but I promise to call or text when I can. So are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"Then, we will talk tomorrow."

"Bye, Leo."

"Bye, Kennedy," he sang. Once she hung up her phone, she went to her tablet computer. She wanted more reassurance. She logged into her email account and ransacked her instant messaging box to see which of her contacts were online now. But she only wanted to chat with one person.

Maxine: Hey boo!

She was glad Maxine made the first contact.

Kennedy: What's up?

M: Nothin. How's the big city treatin u?

K: It's cool.

M: Hope y'all makin ur money out there.

K: We're doing pretty good.

M: When u comin back? We should hang out.

Because of their tumultuous past, Kennedy was suspicious of the invitation to a future meeting that will never happen. It's hard to trust an ex-BFF. But she wanted to trust her tonight.

K: I don't know. So how are you and Cole?

M: We're good. How's ur boo?

K: You would know better than me...

M: True. He's good, I guess.

K: Why you say you guess?

At the bottom of the dialogue box, it read Maxine was typing her response. Then the message went away. It came back again, went away again. She was over-thinking what she wanted to type.

M: Let's video chat!

This made Kennedy even more suspicious.

K: OK.

She swayed her hair to the front over her shoulders. Makeup check in the mirror. Low on gloss. Lashes a little stiff. Teeth a tinge yellow from earlier caffeine consumption. It had been a long day. She looked like the above-average working girl in the city. All of a sudden, she wasn't interested in fixing her appearance while working on her investigation. She activated her built-in camera and pressed her lips together to spread the moisture of hours-old gloss.

"Hey, Kennedy! What up, girlfriend?" Maxine showed her excited smile and wave of the hand. Her copper weave was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She wore a pink undershirt. From her casual ensemble, Kennedy assumed she had a day completely opposite of hers.

"Hey, Max. How are you?" Her interest in this video conversation quickly dropped like cell phone signal bars in the desert.

"I'm great! You look good!"

Of course, Kennedy gleamed snootily. "Thanks. So have you seen Leo lately?" She segued to the reason for the conversation.

"Leo?" Maxine asked the question so innocently.

"Yeah, him." Kennedy became agitated.

"He's cool, I guess..." Maxine placed her short acrylic nail on her lip like she was hiding something worth telling.

"What do you mean by 'cool'?" Kennedy felt like the ambitious reporter she used to be in college with pressing more questions onto the subject.

"Well, I saw him with Ashlee. Do you know who she is? She's an over-the-top fake white girl. All the guys think she's hot, but everything on her is fake as hell. I mean who gets a boob job in high school? Or was it a nose job? Can't remember."

"What did you notice? Like what moves were they putting on each other? Were they dancing? Touching in any way?" Kennedy tried to get her questions out, but they seemed to bump right into one another.

"They danced a lot like real close. Y'know how we dance. Then we lost them for a while. And since we're friends again"—she conveniently coughed—"I believe they were doing stuff...OK, OK, like sexing it up in the bathroom. I don't know, but I'm sticking to that assumption because they had those crazy eyes when they came back from wherever they were at." Maxine lowered her head to avoid Kennedy's painfully blank expression. She told her the truth because she would have appreciated it if she were in the same position even if they weren't exactly friends anymore.

"Cool," Kennedy's lips barely opened to say the one word she could gather from the revelation. She felt conflicted and upset. Maybe a cry into her hotel-issued pillow will make her feel better. "Um..."

"Yeah, I get it. I'll leave you be. Talk to you later. And I will sock Leo in the face for you. I don't need your permission. I just didn't realize you guys were serious. But if you're hurt, then it was serious," Maxine gave her a warm smile and clicked out of video chat. Her image disappeared in an instant.

Kennedy fell back into the desk chair, defeated. It felt like she always had to fight with the pretty girls, but she thought she was one of the pretty girls now. She assumed she wouldn't have to fight anymore.

"Zara?" she called into the living room where Zara was lying across the plush sofa against several pillows with the remote control in her hand. She thought watching TV would ease the slow pace of time, but it wasn't working.

"Yeah?" She continued to switch channels.

"I want to go tonight." The strategy was to avoid sulking in the bedroom by her lonesome.

"It's almost nine. Let's head out," Zara clicked the TV off.

"Before we go, can you tell me why we're ambushing Laurenne?" Kennedy wanted to string pieces together to complete the story.

"She knows something about me, and I don't want it to get out here." She left it at that. She buckled the straps of her sandals. Kennedy grabbed her black clutch off the kitchen counter. After they felt prepared to leave, Zara swung the door open to the empty hallway.

In a tightly rippled burgundy dress, Laurenne waved her arms around in a circle in the air as she became consumed with the pulsating music. The twirling room seemed a little hazy with the alcohol and marijuana circulating in her system, but she shook it off. She grabbed Mirabella's hand in the air. They danced with the other three girls of Belleza: Arabella, Isabella, and Rosabella. Everyone was caught up in her moment.

"There's Laurenne," Zara shouted in Kennedy's ear. They rested against the bar and sipped from their glasses of cola. Zara wanted to be sober if she was going to approach Laurenne, who seemed to be slipping away into frenemy status. Zara worried her little secret would be spilled out in the open, and she wouldn't be able to push it back into the walls of secrecy. Kennedy just followed.

"Do you think she tells them everything?" Zara asked.

"I don't know. She just met them."

"Yeah, but Laurenne gets too close too quick. She probably told them stuff about us that wouldn't be any of their business." Zara slurped the last of the cola roaming around ice cubes in the bottom of her glass.

"So what are we going to do?" Kennedy was left in the dark. Her cluelessness did overshadow her sadness about Leo's infidelity.

"We're all going to be friends."

"Friends?" Kennedy grew more clueless.

"We're going to get close to Belleza, too. They say keep your friends close, your enemies closer. OK, OK. I don't have a good plan just yet, but I have to be nice to Laur until everything's over." They continued to burn their eyes into Laurenne.

"Laurenne, dahling, let's go outside for a breather," Mirabella grabbed Laurenne's slender arm. "You look like you're having a lot of fun out there!" Her long hair fell limply against her shiny face. She was sweating profusely and shaking in her patent leather pumps. Zara saw them exit and immediately followed with Kennedy trailing behind.

"I'm having so much fun!" Laurenne screamed. Tears of artificial joy smeared her mascara, making her stiff lashes jut out in disarray.

Zara and Kennedy crept silently near the door to the outside area where some partygoers conversed in the dark night. With Laurenne and Mirabella dazed and confused, they didn't notice the snooping twosome lurking in the background near the silk curtains behind Belleza's Upbeat TV camera crew.

"I would have never had this much fun with those other girls," Laurenne slurred. "They're so lame."

"Well, aren't you glad you're with us?" Mirabella laughed.

"You know what? I should be a part of Belleza!" Laurenne jumped up and down and clapped with the glass in her hand. She took a quick sip of her watery drink.

"Yeah, yeah, you could be...Laurabella," Mirabella said the new name in an exaggerated Italian accent.

"You changed my name to match all of yours! That's so cool!" Laurenne's widened eyes exhibited her buzzed outlook.

"No, we changed our names, too! We made them... sexier," Mirabella wiggled her hips. "My real name is Miranda. So unoriginal."

"What about Arabella, Isabella, and Rosabella?" Laurenne was shocked to unearth this business secret.

"You mean Arianne, Isobel, and Rose? Don't our new names sound so much cooler? And yours will, too. Join us!"

"I don't know. Loveliness is mine. But I do like the ring of Laurabella."

"From what you told me, it looked like it was the other girl's."

"Venetia? She's just bossier than me, so she has a lot of control."

"We all have control here," Mirabella slurred as she closed the gap between her and Laurenne. "We're going to be supermodels when this is done. Forget that small town shit. We're gonna be big! Don't you want to be a part of it?" Her voice sounded tantalizing. The fruit-scented alcohol on her breath consumed Laurenne. She breathed it in like it was Mirabella's evaporated ambition leaving her body.

"Hey, Laurenne!" Zara exclaimed, emerging from her hiding spot. She surprised the two girls whose short-circuited conversation lost its stamina. Kennedy rushed behind her.

"Za-raaa!" Laurenne elongated the last syllable to push her excitement to see Zara, even though there wasn't any. "You know Zara has been my friend since we were like ten years old or something." She placed her arm across Zara's shoulders and directed her toward Mirabella. "I mean we've been friends for, like, ever. She was always the bad girl though."

"Ooh," Mirabella said happily. "I'm the bad girl, too. So what makes you the bad girl?" The manner in which she smiled with her eyes made Zara uncomfortable. It was like she wanted to consume Zara, take all her power through manipulation. Zara took a step back.

"I'm not bad anymore," she said. "End of story."

"There's a story," Laurenne chuckled. "But that's for another time." Zara glared at her.

"Ooh, I want to hear a story," Mirabella pushed. "It's almost my bedtime. I can use a good story." She laughed in spite of herself.

"Well—" Laurenne began.

"Let's go!" Zara pulled Kennedy's arm, dragging her away from the scene. Looking back at the tipsy girls about to share secrets, Kennedy wished she could have stayed to hear the story.

"Kennedy!" A reverberating pound on the room's door woke a slumbering Kennedy, who found used tissues around her and tear stains on her white pillowcase. She hurriedly hopped on her feet to open the door. It was Zara.

"What's going on?" Kennedy moved some loose hairs away from her face.

"You locked the door. I called your cell phone, but I guess you were sleeping," she answered nonchalantly. She went toward her bed and shoved her toiletry bag and pack of cigarettes out of the way.

"So did you talk to Laurenne?" Kennedy refocused on the drama she walked into rather than the drama she tried to get away from.

"No," Zara popped a stick of peppermint gum into her mouth. "She's not answering her cell. I doubt she'll come home tonight. It's already three in the morning." She offered Kennedy a stick, but she rejected it. "I want to focus on my interview tomorrow, well now today, with Chanel. I'm bringing a lot of copies of my résumé to hopefully get other interviews at the other stores while I'm out there. Don't tell Laur about me trying to get a job, 'K?"

"OK," Kennedy said, drowsily. "But what does Laurenne have to do with it?"

"Nothing. I just...I just like that she's keeping her distance. I'll tell Venetia, I guess, because I'm going to be out all day. You will be, too, right?"

Meeting Victory Smythe while peddling Loveliness products on the street escaped Kennedy's mind. She totally forgot about her interview that could open doors. "Omigosh, I have to prepare for that!"

"Every woman knows everything about Charisma, especially you. You'll be fine."

"True. Maybe when I wake up in the morning, I will review the best answers to the most common interview questions, even though after all these interviews, I already know the answers."

"We'll both do great," Zara assured her. "And when we get our jobs, we'll live in glamorous LA instead of going back home where there's no jobs and the most glam job you could have is working at a vegan supermarket. We're big city girls living in the suburbs. That doesn't work for me anymore."

"You're right," Kennedy agreed. "I loved going to college in New York City, but Jocelyn and I wanted to come back home and work because we missed the...calmness, I guess. But there was nothing for us. Like Jocelyn is a dance instructor, and she loves dancing, but she wants to work in PR. I want to be a journalist. It sucks when you think about it. It's like those Hallmark movies when a girl loses everything in the city and comes home and she finds love and a job. I thought I could find a job then love at home."

"So we're going to ace our interviews, so we can live in this metropolis with all its dirty air that can clog our lungs and with conceited people who worship their plastic surgeons, but it's a million times better than home, right?" Zara exposed her thousand-watt smile for the first time that night, so Kennedy had to give her a fist bump. The big breaks they had been waiting for may come within a few short hours.

17

"Our packages are here," Venetia called from the doorway where large boxes full of Loveliness beauty products sat with a slip of paper from UPS.

"I'm glad we got them. I didn't feel like making more products," Laurenne complained as she headed back to her bedroom to finish her extensive makeup routine.

"Anyways," Venetia's voice resounded back to Laurenne's room, "we have to bring some of this today."

Preparing all morning for her meeting with Charisma editor Victory Smythe, Kennedy was relieved to break away from the enterprise for the day. She remained in her room with her tablet computer in hand. Since she only knew Victory from the editor's welcome notes at the front of the magazine, she Googled her name. Victory became editor-in-chief four years ago. She graduated from NYU Journalism School in 1998. She worked at Vogue and Elle before arriving at Charisma's doorstep and storming to the top to be running it all. Last year, she married a New York Times photojournalist who spent a lot of time reporting in Asia and Africa. A side note Kennedy might need to know.

"Well, Venetia," Laurenne returned with a somber touch in her voice. "I thought long and hard about this..."

With the dramatic direction of the conversation, Kennedy and Zara, who innocently sat in their room—Kennedy reading from her tablet, Zara eating a flaky croissant—decided to crash on the sofa in the living room to get a front seat for the impending battle. They overheard the conversation Laurenne had with Mirabella about joining Belleza last night, so they wanted to hear the verdict.

"You know how badly I always wanted to be a model..." Laurenne started with a quivery smile. "I was invited to work with Belleza!"

In slow motion, Venetia's mouth flung open as the box in her hands simultaneously fell but just missed her bare toes angrily digging into the rug. Kennedy and Zara, in somewhat lower levels of shock, showed each other their shocked expressions.

"What?" Venetia practically whispered.

"I'm leaving Loveliness," Laurenne said matter-of-factly without a hint of remorse.

"But you're the face of our products. You started this company!" Venetia randomly mentioned as she foresaw the business side of this unexpected departure. "You're really going to walk away? Now?"

"Well," Laurenne began in her snooty voice, "I already thought about that. I decided you could still use my face for the brand. It'll give me more exposure." She flashed a phony grin.

"Ooh-K," Venetia slowly said while she thought of the repercussions.

"Thanks for understanding, Venetia. You know I love you, girl," Laurenne lightly embraced Venetia, who remained in her shocked stance with the box at her feet.

"I'm going to be moving my stuff into the Belleza suite now." Laurenne headed for her room and appeared out of the shadows with her carry-on bag and suitcase.

"Bye, Zara. Bye, Kennedy. Maybe we'll see each other back home," Laurenne gave them her Miss America wave, completely inappropriate for the occasion, and lugged her belongings toward the Belleza suite down the hall and around the corner.

After an uncomfortable moment's silence, Venetia picked up the box sitting limply at her feet. "Good riddance. I can't have anyone on my team who doesn't want to work."

Inside her mind, Kennedy orchestrated her conversation with Venetia about her appointment with Victory Smythe. She mentioned it yesterday during dinner, but with the recent sequence of events, she knew Venetia had forgotten.

"Venetia?" Kennedy's voice slightly cracked in fear of bringing up the issue and upsetting the boss at the same time. "I'm still meeting with Victory Smythe later this morning."

As Venetia's almond-shaped eyes grew with frustration, Kennedy's heart beat nervously. It was that feeling when something bad went down, and she didn't want to create any more distress, so she grew nervous about what was going to happen next.

"Of course," Venetia said quietly. She trudged to her bedroom and softly slammed the door shut. From the sofa, Zara was silent. Venetia would have to be the sole saleswoman for the day.

"Well, make Loveliness proud," Zara casually said as she rose from the sofa and moved the other boxes toward the coffee table.

"Did you tell her about your thing today?" Kennedy whispered.

"Thank God, I told her before all that went down," Zara replied.

Kennedy tore the duct tape off a box and snatched several sample sizes inside. "Are you going to wear Loveliness products to let them know you're an entrepreneur?"

"No, I'm going to wear my Marcheline products because they're better," Zara said. "I love my Marcheline concealer. It works miracles."

They both headed back to their shared bedroom to spruce up for their interviews. Like a dedicated employee, Kennedy chose Loveliness. Like a disgruntled employee, Zara chose Marcheline. In the mirror, they began to apply makeup on their clean, even-toned faces.

"Isn't it funny Teal and Sophie did not just catch that?" Zara chuckled.

The Declan Pierce headquarters in downtown Los Angeles housed the popular magazines worshipped by countless women all over the globe for revolutionizing fashion, beauty, and sex. A doorman adorned in a lightweight black trench coat with gold tassels and buttons opened the door for Kennedy Moore, who felt like an important figure walking into a gold palace. She graciously thanked him while admiring the gold-painted walls in the lobby. The desk attendant was hidden behind a large bouquet of cerise-hued roses in a gold vase.

"Where you going?" He pushed the visitor log toward Kennedy with his company ballpoint pen. While signing it, she answered, "Charisma."

"Fourth floor. Elevators on the right," he muttered. She sashayed toward the elevator with her sling-back heels clacking against the gold-splattered ivory tiles. In the elevator, she was uneasy. She remembered being only eight years old when a Charisma magazine accidentally dropped into her hands at one of her mother's friend's Sunday tea parties. At that age, looking at adult women magazines seemed exciting because Kennedy was forced to read the publications for young girls where there would be an article about bras and boys. But she desired something more sophisticated.

She walked off the elevator in front of the office's heavy glass doors. Pulling the brass handles, she strolled to the front desk. "I'm here to see Ms. Smythe," she politely told the receptionist, who adjusted her headset while busily painting her fingernails.

"All right. I'll tell her you're here," she said between strokes. Kennedy fell into one of the bright orange chairs in the waiting room. Once she sat down, she snatched her compact mirror from her purse. She had to make sure her eyelashes were sky-high and her lips luscious fire brick red, courtesy of the natural, eco-friendly products of Loveliness. Appearing perfect will convince Victory she deserved a spot in the editorial operation. She did look the part.

"She's ready for you," the receptionist called as she clicked a button on her headset. "Her office is the last one on the right. Her name's on the door." She pointed down the crescent-arched hallway. Kennedy's heels continued the clickety-clack sound as she nervously walked to the office. With the transparent glass door slightly ajar, she peeked inside to see Victory hovering above the oversized proof of the next magazine. She marked the page with the red felt pen in her hand. Kennedy gingerly knocked on the glass door. "Come in," she called without looking up.

"Hello, Ms. Smythe," Kennedy said, sort of breathlessly.

"Oh, hi, Kennedy," Victory rose up from her orange swivel chair to shake Kennedy's hand. "Come in, come in." She slid the proof book away from the center of her glass top desk. "How are you?"

"I'm great. I'm so happy to be here," Kennedy glistened.

"It's exciting to come into this building, isn't it? I remember when I first started working here. And I remember how...grand everything seemed to be. I mean you grow up reading these magazines and dream about writing for them, but when you make it, it's...awe-inspiring," she clapped her hands with glee. She reminded Kennedy of herself, so inspired to inject change into the world with her words. She wished she were in her position now. Being a benthic creature in the ocean of journalism sucked. "So tell me about yourself," Victory started off with the most simplest and difficult question.

"Well, I'm from up north, but I went to college in New York City and majored in journalism. I was actively involved in journalism internships at the local TV station and network station. When I graduated, I didn't have a job offer, and I never got a job"—maybe she emphasized her unemployment situation a bit too much—"so I joined Loveliness because I thought it would be more productive of me to help start a company with my journalism skills. I maintain the website, and I control the social media sites. And we were fortunate enough to be noticed by Marcheline Cosmetics."

"That's great you know what you want," Victory peered down at a piece of paper. "I found your résumé on your online portfolio. I hope you don't mind I printed it out for my reference."

"Oh," Kennedy said with a touch of surprise, "no, I don't mind." Her website's photo was not up-to-date. It was prior to the cosmetic overload she now carried with her. In the photo, she still had her original hair only brushing against her shoulders and barely-there makeup. Note: replace photo ASAP.

"You went to a great school for creative students. I'm glad you went there. And you were an intern at Channel 4 News and CNN for several semesters. And you were a reporter for your college TV news station. That's impressive." She examined the document more. "It's so sad that the industry is going through a rough patch because we don't get the money to hire the new crop of talent like you. It's horrible.

"So...I was thinking about making you a reporter for our online show. We're revamping our show for the website. Eventually, we would like to produce a newsy type show for TV on one of the many cable entertainment channels. You say you read the magazine. Are you familiar with Ainsley Jones?"

"Yes, she's the size-sixteen woman who writes about being a fashion junkie in a size-two world." Kennedy felt so knowledgeable.

"Yep, that's Ainsley. I was thinking something along those lines with another young woman like yourself talking about beauty products but in a TV show setting. And since you have an interest in natural beauty products and broadcast journalism, I thought it would be exciting to hear your voice on things that could enhance our new green beauty fascination. Would you be interested in that?"

The last question resounded in Kennedy's ears as if it wasn't spoken at all. It was unbelievable. This could be her big break though she would rather have her hand in politics, but she had to start somewhere.

"Of course, I'm interested," Kennedy purposely brightened her eyes and widened her smile to show her genuine enthusiasm.

"OK..." she began with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Didn't Kennedy extend her facial expressions enough? "Well, you do have a lot of broadcast experience. Have you written for print before? It would be great to have a column in the magazine also to complement the show. I don't know if you've noticed, but we're trying to improve our website to attract way more traffic as well as get way more magazine subscribers in the process. Having an online show will attract an audience because they will come to us automatically because of our name."

"That sounds...perfect," Kennedy said. "I can write a column. I wrote articles in college." Her dream of being a journalist came closer into view. She was grateful that Jocelyn dragged her into the campus newspaper office sophomore year to become a staff writer.

"You would have to relocate here to Los Angeles for the position. Do you think you're up to moving? You don't have to decide right this minute."

Relocation was an issue she remembered from her career preparation workshops in college. The advisors always said take time to think of all the advantages and disadvantages, but when you get the opportunity of a lifetime as a reporter, those rules fly out the window.

"I will relocate," she answered hastily with a touch of desperation as her heart pumped a thousand beats a minute. "I will take the job."

"Are you sure you don't want to think about it longer?"

"I'm sure."

"Great," Victory reached for her gold-plated business card holder on her desk. "Here's my card," she handed her a card. "You contact me later this week. Just for confirmation's sake. I feel like I sprung this on you, so please take some time to think about it. You'll love it here at Charisma. Everyone's so great and...beautiful." After grabbing her black tote bag off the fuzzy white rug, Kennedy followed Victory toward the door.

"Let's go on a tour through the office," Victory announced, pulling the metal door handle and ushering Kennedy out. "You're going to absolutely love this place."

They strolled down the end of the hallway then swerved to the left into the chic kitchenette and dining area. Two young women sat around a pristine white round table in matching chairs. Their hair belonged in a Pantene commercial with its vibrant tint and length. The brunette had suntanned skin that glowed flawlessly rather than unhealthily. The other had auburn hair flowing on the sides of her freckled face. They looked like the typical sunbathed girls of southern California, and Kennedy strangely felt she belonged in the new world while she twirled a finger into the ends of her weave.

"This is Olivia," Victory pointed to the brunette, "and that's Rayne." Kennedy shook the hands of her potential workmates. "Olivia and Rayne are two of our staff writers, so they write for all of our sections. This is Kennedy. She will hopefully do our online show on green beauty and living."

"Wow, that's great," Rayne said, while clutching her plastic cup and sipping from her pineapple-mango smoothie.

"Oh, yeah, the green beauty thing is big here in LA, but everyone's so involved with their own thing in the office, so it's good you'll be here to cover it more in-depth," Olivia commented.

"Kennedy's in an up-and-coming beauty company," Victory said. "They're competing in the Marcheline contest we advertised. That's how I met her. I was just walking down the street, and she came up to me and asked if I wanted to try their samples. And here we are!"

"That's awesome," Olivia and Rayne said in unison.

"I'm excited about educating women about the natural beauty products out there because many don't know about them, and they're interested," Kennedy said.

"What's the company called?" Rayne inquired.

"Loveliness. There are four of us. I oil the media machine, so an opportunity like this competition can really put us on the map."

"You two should come by my office to try their Honey Harmony products. They smell great!" Victory offered the invitation. "I don't know what it is, but that scent is addictive."

"We will," they said in unison again.

"Oh, wait," Olivia said with her fingertip on her chin, "I remember the Marcheline contest. We'd cover the winners in the past, then we wouldn't hear anything else from them. Does anyone take it seriously anymore?"

Kennedy sensed the snobbishness in the question, but she ignored it because she will eventually have to work with this girl sometime in the near future. "Well, my company and I take it very seriously," she returned. "And we plan on continuing Loveliness through Marcheline, so you will definitely hear from us."

"That's cool," Rayne said, "because I think more green beauty companies need to come up on the super level to compete with the larger companies like Marcheline. I'm excited to hear more from Loveliness." She appeared oblivious to Olivia's rude question.

"All right, girls," Victory interrupted the conversation before Olivia can say another word, "I have to keep showing Kennedy around. I'll see you later this afternoon."

Victory led Kennedy down another hallway where they visited the sales, photography, fashion, beauty, and features departments. Kennedy smiled and shook hands of other trendy women and a few men. She reached for her long locks to make sure they fell across her shoulders nicely. She liked twirling her hair between her fingers. Her hair would look so great on camera.

When Zara Jackson strolled along Rodeo Drive, she furiously tried to keep her gaped mouth shut. Towering palm trees lined the center of the street, and the Chanel store with its black and white décor made a statement on the corner. With her own baby blue Chanel-inspired suit embracing her figure and briefcase portfolio under her arm, she felt at home. Before entering the store, she stood in the crevice of the building to catch her breath. She didn't want to make a breathless entrance. She recouped there until her breath became regular again. She always wanted to work on Rodeo Drive as the ultimate sales associate while working on her own fashion line. After one final inhale and exhale through her nose, she swung the door open.

"Hello," a saleswoman, adorned in a crisp white blouse complete with a large bow at the neckline and wide-legged black slacks, greeted an unusually nervous Zara. The saleswoman splashed a fragrance across Zara's wrist. It reminded her of yesterday with doing the same thing to potential customers on the street with Lustrous Lilac by Loveliness. The saleswoman gave her a coral-lipsticked grin. It reminded her of her ex-friend/ex-coworker, Christa, at the FeFe boutique in the mall back home. Zara's hands grew clammier by the second.

"I'm here to see Rachelle?" Zara posed the question to find reassurance that she was in the right place and to avoid a sales pitch.

"Yes, yes," the saleswoman began gently pushing Zara deeper into the store. "Rachelle is in the back in her office. Let me take you."

The iconic suits Zara greatly admired decorated the lifelike, faceless mannequins near the shelves holding the modernized versions of classic handbags. Zara wanted to reach out to feel the touch of authentic Chanel merchandise, but she knew it wasn't a good idea.

"So, you must be Zara," Rachelle extended her petite hand for Zara to shake. She shook it vigorously to show her enthusiasm for the opportunity.

"Let's get started," Rachelle began as Zara sat down, regretting her overdone handshake. "So why the interest in Chanel?" She pulled a black pen out of her tightly coiffed bun.

"I always wanted to work here," Zara didn't know where to start exactly, so she started with the most blunt reason for her being there. "I do fashion design, and I remember looking at vintage Chanel in old magazines and documentaries and wanting to imitate the style. It was so effortless and timeless, and I wanted to create the same effect."

"I noticed your suit looks like Chanel."

"It's my design. I made it because I couldn't afford a Chanel suit. I knew having a suit like this would exhibit my professionalism and charm." Feeling more confident by the moment, Zara strengthened her posture in her seat.

"I like that." Rachelle's eyes even smiled as she put her fist under her chin and looked down at the paper displaying her notes. "Your résumé is impressive. You worked at FeFe for some time. Tell me about that experience."

Zara blinked. She forgot about her past retail gigs.

"Well," Rachelle continued, "I noticed you abruptly stopped working at FeFe six months ago. What happened?"

Zara blinked again. She hoped her nervous twitch wasn't detected as Rachelle waited patiently for her answer.

"Well..." Zara stuttered, looking for the right words, hoping her discomfort sank incognito. "I wanted to focus on my own clothing line..."—she slightly panicked inside until she brought up the one thing she wanted to neglect—"I also help my friends with their natural beauty business. That's why I'm here. We're in the Marcheline competition. So that business is doing well, but, for me, I work as a designer by myself, so it takes a long time to make a garment with the fabrics that I need. It's a lot of work, so I wanted to focus on it full time."

"Wow, that sounds great. I see you have some of your sketches with you. Let me take a look," Rachelle reached out for Zara's portfolio. She flipped the pages and nodded at the sketches. She marked up Zara's résumé with her pen. Zara exhaled a sigh of relief that her almost true excuse for unemployment worked. Now, she hoped Rachelle didn't reach out to her old employer.

"Let's go see you in action!" Rachelle scurried her papers into her hands and rose from her chair behind her tidy desk.

"What will I be doing?" Zara asked anxiously.

"I want you to try to make a sale with one of our customers. I'll let the associates know," Rachelle dashed to the perfume-spraying saleswoman at the door. Zara took a deep breath, cracked her knuckles, and prepared her stance. She was about to pounce on the next customer who walked through the glass doors like a cheetah on a gazelle in the Serengeti. She was willing to fight for this opportunity.

After boarding the limo, Kennedy found herself dialing numbers on her phone. She had to tell someone the great news, and she knew exactly whom she wanted to call.

"Hey, Leo!"

"Kennedy!" Leo's baritone voice sounded nostalgic to her. "How are you? How was the interview?"

He read her text messages. "It was great. They offered me a job!"

"See, I knew something would happen down there."

Floating on cloud nine, Kennedy was talking a mile a minute, but Leo would have done the same thing, so he didn't complain because he understood every word.

"I'm proud of you," Leo said after the story ended.

"Thank you. I can't wait to see you. Do you miss me?" Kennedy knew this was a loaded question.

"Of course," he answered shakily.

"As you should. I'll talk to you later. We're swinging by to pick up Zara now from her interview."

"OK. Take care of yourself. I'll talk to you later."

Kennedy couldn't stop smiling. Once she stepped out of the Hummer limo onto the sidewalk of Rodeo Drive, she gasped. She saw women with furs wrapped around their necks above their animal print tops, tailored slacks, and high heels with miniature pampered dogs in their hands. The lap of luxury.

"Wait here," she told Evan, the driver, as she scurried to Zara, who was smoking a cigarette on the side of the Chanel boutique.

"So how was it?" Kennedy asked.

"Smooth," Zara exhaled a ring of smoke. "I did good on my interview and sales test on the floor. I even handed out my résumés to BCBG, Dior, Fendi, Armani. It's definitely a step up from the mall."

"Wow, they gave you a test? That's crazy, but I'm glad you did well. I can't wait to get those discounts! I might need a new wardrobe for my new job."

"You got it?"

"They offered to make me a host of their online show!"

"That's great," Zara seemed less than ecstatic.

"Well, I'm excited," Kennedy snapped. "Let's get into the limo." Zara's cigarette hit the concrete as her heel squished it. Before she stepped in with her cerulean Christian Louboutin heels with the red-painted soles, Zara looked out onto Rodeo Drive, simply deciding she deserved this. And the dirt from the past better stay buried.

"You have Louboutin heels!" Kennedy shrieked once they settled into the backseat. "Those must be expensive. I mean, I know they were expensive. How could you afford them?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Kennedy. Just know I got them. They're old anyways. From like two years ago."

Kennedy frowned on the secrecy. "They might be old, but I know they didn't go down to the department store level for forty bucks. That won't happen for another ten years."

"True." Zara became less talkative by the minute.

Maybe I'm prying too much, Kennedy thought. She remained quiet. The silence traveled with them to the hotel as they viewed the city from the tinted windows.

"I made two hundred eighty-five dollars today!" Venetia shrieked in the hotel room. It was 7:30 at night, and the early moonlight penetrated the suite's windows. "And I was short-handed! So I did really well."

"I'm glad everything went well today," Kennedy broke the fragile silence that was marred by boredom more than the fear of bringing up the whole Laurenne debacle. "I felt bad my interview took longer than expected. I wanted to come back and help you."

"It's OK. You were still technically working for Loveliness. You know it wasn't that bad when I got used to it," Venetia stretched out her legs against the beige rug. "I'm so tired though." She yawned. She wrote down the amount of money in the accounting journal Marcheline provided. After two days of selling products at different venues, tomorrow will be the last day of trying to get groggy strangers to experiment with natural beauty products before they had their daily coffee fix.

"We have to come together tomorrow for the last of it," Venetia reminded the group. "We have to be in the top three. This just can't be a fun trip to the city for us. We have to win." Ever the serious-minded, career-oriented girl, Venetia already calculated her next move, and she wanted Loveliness to sell out of its last shipment of products.

"I agree," Kennedy chimed in.

"I'm going to take a long nap," Zara nonchalantly said, heading to her room.

"OK, but you better be up and ready by eight in the morning. We're heading out early," Venetia warned.

18

A new day, a new block. Pacing back and forth from interested customers to uninterested customers, Venetia's voice rose with intensity. "Would you like to try this natural perfume?" she called after one passerby. "Do you want to try a natural lotion?" she called after another.

Leaning against the table, Kennedy sensed the goofy look on her face, but she couldn't help daydreaming about her new gig she still had yet to officially accept. She'll be the star of her own show. Expressing her thoughts on things like the latest mascara with an organic label attached to it. Does it make your eyelashes flutter enough to land a date? Does it make your lashes appear five times longer? Would your lashes clash against your eyeglasses? From experience, Kennedy knew the eyeglass rule of thumb was a good one to follow when it came to mascara. She missed her eyeglasses. They were definitely low-maintenance compared to her contacts. She hadn't seen her real eye color in weeks. In that time, she became an expert at covering up her old appearance and creating a new one. So with her new look and stamp of approval, millions of women across the world will buy the tube of mascara she recommended with her show in mind. She can change the world, or at the very least, make it more beautiful.

"Kennedy!" Venetia yelled in a frustrated tone. "Can you please try to get sales rather than stand around? It's Zara's turn to watch the table." Staring at the arrangement of fragrance tube samples, Zara's heavy eyelids barely focused on the task. Last night, the stroke of inspiration hit her like a lightening bolt, so she had to illustrate the brilliant designs that ran through her mind till two o'clock in the morning.

"I have this great fragrance you want to try," Kennedy happily told a young man in a tailored suit with a briefcase in hand casually strolling by. She felt her long hair touch the side of her face.

"I'll try it, but only because you said it will make me smell good," he returned flirtatiously while enlarging his eyes and widening his smile to express his interest. That was her favorite move.

She sprayed the Magnolia Musk fragrance near his navy blue cuff links. "Our scents are unisex. Anyone can wear them."

The man brought the end of his sleeve to his nose. He made an agreeable hum. "That smells nice." His smooth chocolate skin seemed alluring to Kennedy, and she bit her nail. Innocent glances were exchanged as passersby walked around them.

"And it's magnolia, so it naturally helps with allergies," she added the health tidbit.

"I'll buy it." He reached in his pocket for his wallet.

"It's five dollars."

"Sounds good." He handed her a bill. "Let me give you my card," he jammed his hand in his pocket again and pulled out a business card. "Here's my number. Give me a call sometime."

Kennedy tried hard to appear smooth. "OK, thanks."

The man smiled and walked away down the block to his destination. She transfixed her eyes on the back of his head, hoping he would look back at her, but he never did. He kept walking at the same pace. She wondered if Leo would have looked back.

"I saw that," Zara teased. "So you got him for me?"

"Sure, and I made a sale," Kennedy shoved the card in her slacks pocket.

"I bet. What happened to your boo back home?"

"He's still there, I guess." She said the last statement with a dissolving interest. The man she just met appeared in her mind instead.

"He sounds lame. But that fine brotha you was just talking to is a notch up. Pursue him. And if you don't, let me know. I'll for sure pursue him."

Kennedy pulled out her cell phone. "Hey," she typed into the text message box. She immediately sent it to Leo to ease her conscience. She then typed a reminder to call Jocelyn later that night.

"Thank goodness the afternoon picked up, and we got rid of most of our inventory. We just have a few things for tomorrow because we're staying," Venetia counted the green dollar bills at the coffee table in the hotel suite's living room. Kennedy sat cross-legged on the floor, sliding coins into groups. Lightly snoring, Zara was slumped against the sofa. Venetia didn't want to wake Zara up to wallow in the money.

"We only made one hundred seventy-five bucks," Venetia flipped the bills. "This is our lowest amount. I made more by myself. I think we made enough to be in the finals even though the Marcheline employee who counted the money looked at us all disappointed and shit. Even Teal and Sophie stopped taping at one point, I think." Discouragement shadowed her face. She placed the bills and coins in the gray container holding the previous days' cash amounts and notes. "How do you think Belleza did?"

Since her job offer, Kennedy wasn't paying attention to the competition as much as she wanted to. But she did forget she was supposed to hate on Belleza particularly more than the other groups. "I have no idea. So you haven't spoken to Laurenne since yesterday?"

"Nope," Venetia said. "Have you?"

Kennedy was never close to either Laurenne or Venetia. "Nope."

"I wonder if Zara heard from her. Probably."

Kennedy kept quiet. She didn't know, but adding her two cents wouldn't help the situation. "It feels like we've been here for so long." She rose off the floor and stretched her legs.

"I just want this to be over," Venetia said unconvincingly. "I'm going to take a nap in my room. Unlike some people." She pointed at Zara, still peacefully snoring away.

With Zara in the living room, Kennedy decided to go into the bedroom they shared for some privacy. She dialed Jocelyn's number on her phone.

"Hey, girl," she said as soon as Jocelyn answered the call.

"I was just about to call you."

Kennedy liked how their senses collaborated at the same moment. "That's funny."

"No, it's not," Jocelyn said seriously. "When I tell you this, you have to believe me. Remember I've been your best friend for ten years now, so you have to trust me."

Kennedy wasn't amused. "Just tell me."

"I saw Leo with Ashlee last night at the neighborhood lounge. They were eating and kissing. More kissing than eating, which may have led to eating other things, and I'm not talking about food."

Kennedy digested this piece of information.

"Get rid of him!" Jocelyn pleaded on the other end. "I know you always had a huge crush on him, but you can't travel back in time. You have to live in the present and think about the future. He's not good for you. He's just not good."

Kennedy remained quiet. She pressed the red button on her phone to cease the call. She left Jocelyn hanging on the other end. She searched in her digital contact book under 'L.' Latoya, Laura, Laurenne, Leo. She ignited a phone call with the last name.

"Hello? Hey, Kennedy. How you doing?"

"I'm fine—"

"Can I call you later?" Leo whimpered. "Come back here, babe," a female voice moaned in the background. Kennedy heard that. She immediately hung up without a goodbye.

After tossing her phone on the nightstand, she fell onto the bed and sank her face into the fluffy pillows. They provided a cushion for her streaming tears. Her phone rang. Jocelyn's photo appeared on the screen. Kennedy smirked because they always had a weird sensor for each other's problems. But she ignored it. It rang again. She ignored it again. On the third ring, she ended the call and put the phone in silence mode. She needed silence.

Once she dived into the sea of melancholy, she decided noise would distract her from her thoughts, so the phone came back on. Then it beeped. But it was an email alert beep. Maybe reading an email about a boutique clearance sale or fashion magazine subscription will momentarily take her attention away from...him. His name couldn't even roll off her tongue. She opened the inbox on her phone and noticed the message came from claireowens@kxxutv.com. Kennedy's heart automatically jumped into her throat. Any professional girl receiving some form of contact from her role model on her viability in the industry would obviously make her a nervous wreck. Suddenly, the tears disappeared, and Kennedy sat up in the bed to read the message.

Hello Kennedy:

Thank you for sending me your résumé tape. Your standups were fine. Your hair looked great, but it was too long. And the bangs hid your face. I would cut it shorter and brush the bangs back. Your makeup also looked too strong. You just need the basics: concealer and lipstick. I think you could look more natural in your tape, but other than that, the stories and your reporting were good. Hope this helps.

-Claire

Claire Owens

Multimedia Journalist

KXXU-TV 9 News

"Delivering news to NorCal since 1956"

She read the message twice, then three times, trying to decipher it. Was Claire saying Kennedy had the potential but needed to work on some tweaks? The same tweaks other TV news professionals said she needed? Kennedy didn't get it. She had great hair since she reshot scenes for her résumé tape after getting her weave and free makeup from Loveliness. It didn't seem like the positive uplifting message she was hoping for. She was more confused than ever.

Then another beep. An email from News 24. She had a flashback of the blushing bride having her Loveliness makeup done and telling her about the rare opportunity. Her heart banged against her ribs as she took a deep breath and clicked the message open. She scanned it quickly. All she saw was: "Unfortunately, we felt other candidates were a better match for us." And just like that, her hopes and dreams deteriorated in thin air.

Tired and uninspired, Kennedy's head fell back into the nook of her pillow where she knew she was physically miles away from her problems but somehow they were still lurking around her.

19

Gripping the Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee, Kennedy rocked back and forth in her chair. Her eyes still looked puffy from last night's tear fest, and the all-natural Loveliness concealer couldn't work its magic on her stress-induced acne. She tried to focus her attention on Renata Fine, who was talking with her entourage in the corner of the auditorium. Her fire engine red Prada pumps could be seen from a mile away. Ever the fashionista, Zara noticed them as well. Absolutely classic. Those designer pair of shoes almost distracted them from the announcement of the three teams chosen to continue onto the networking affair. A copper gown in the window at Saks Fifth Avenue called Zara's name the other day. She swore the gown spoke to her and personally asked to come home with her. She wondered how she could clandestinely hide the price tag in order to return it the next day. She was broke; she had to stick to her clever moves.

We're about to hear if we made finals. Kennedy's polished fingernails typed the keys of her phone, but her mind begged her not to send it. She couldn't contact Leo anymore. It's hard to let go of communicating with him, because in an instant, he was gone. It was weird.

"This is rough," Zara whispered in Kennedy's ear. She also held an identical cup of coffee. "You know this cup is biodegradable." Her attention went from gazing at shoe eye candy to reading the cup to avoid thinking of her nerves.

"That's interesting," Kennedy tried to keep the conversation up because the Prada shoes had moved out of sight, and there were no other attention-grabbing images to distract her. "I've seen biodegradable plastic bags."

"You have?" Zara's light brown eyes brightened as if the conversation was really stimulating. "Well, maybe we won't have to carry those reusable bags if more plastic bags were biodegradable."

"Yeah, the bag said it would biodegrade in, like, six months or something. It was pretty good—"

"Seriously?" Venetia snapped. "Would you just shut up?" With the roll of her eyes, she focused her attention again on the podium waiting for Marcheline Cosmetics CEO Renata Fine and legendary supermodel Genevieve Carraway to take the stage. She already finished her coffee. Maybe she needed another cup to calm down, but Kennedy didn't want to suggest it.

"Well, I was very interested in the biodegradable stuff," Zara quietly joked near Kennedy's gold hoop earring.

"Me, too," Kennedy looked in Venetia's direction to make sure she didn't hear them.

Sashaying up to the podium in her Prada pumps, Renata exuded snide confidence. She was going to make dreams come true for some and crush them for many.

"Good morning, everyone," her voice boomed against the microphone and instantly hushed the crowd. "My team and I spent last night and early this morning tallying the results. All twelve teams did exceptionally well. To get to this level is...monstrous. We had hundreds of groups come out to our events." Her lipliner stretched into an artificial smile as if she was proud of every group who put everything on the line to be there and sold their experimental concoctions as marketable beauty products.

"Well, we have the three finalists. Can I get a drumroll?" Sliding her manicured nails under the slit of the envelope, she ripped it with wide-open eyes. "In third place, with seven hundred sixty-three dollars, Go Gorgeous from Sunset, Florida!" she jumped with applause. Go Gorgeous, consisting of six women and one man, embraced in excitement. The echo of applause thinned out with the sweeping wave of jealousy.

"Congratulations, Go Gorgeous, you will be attending Marcheline Cosmetics annual networking affair where the hottest beauty industry insiders, fashion designers, and style writers from the Los Angeles area chat and mingle and share the latest trends and the latest news. The dress code is smart casual. A lot of opportunities can come from this. One group will come away with the contract of a lifetime: one year as a trial company of Marcheline, and if successful, a sister company."

"Wow, we're stuck with Marcheline for life," Zara whispered.

"I bet they have ironclad contracts, so you wouldn't leave," Kennedy said.

"Shush!" Venetia hurled at them.

"The second place team is...with eight hundred fifty-five dollars in the bank is..." the audio of a drumroll blared on the speaker system, "Loveliness from Willow Grove, California. Congratulations, girls!"

Empty coffee cups flew in the air as the remaining members of Loveliness hugged each other. A striking difference from the team of seven previously announced, the threesome was giddy with sweet success as dying applause surrounded them. Once the moment passed, they sat down quietly among the sea of envy and anxiety.

"This is so exciting!" Renata continued as the ever-gleaming emcee. "But the next group has reached an all-time high. We've never seen an amount like it on this level. Even the groups we announced had way higher marks than usual. The economy is not good right now, but somehow we must be choosing the best and brightest to lead the beauty industry. So this team raked in a whopping twenty-five hundred dollars—"

Chairs hit the floor in the wake of excitement with the long-limbed, long-haired five girls of Belleza starting to scream and jump and shriek "Omigosh!" over and over again. Kennedy turned around to view the backstabbing Laurenne engaged in embraces with her four newfound friends. She then looked in Venetia's direction. Venetia's eyes, hidden behind her oversized sunglasses, fastened onto a clapping Renata and Genevieve at the podium feet away.

"At least, we're going to the networking extravaganza," Zara made a point.

"Yeah, we worked hard. We can still win everything," Kennedy added with a nod.

"Oh, I'm not worried," Venetia said, straining her eyes with attitude. "We're going to win this thing. No way I'm letting her win. And they probably added their own money to their amount. They probably didn't even sell anything." Venetia's drive took a backseat to revenge. Success was always the sweetest revenge...

*

"Purple was the color I wanted to wear for the night," Zara touched a knee-length, sequined copper dress at Saks. It was a department store they would never see at their suburban shopping mall back home, so they wanted to shop there as a part of their LA experience. She pulled the hanger from the rack and pressed it against her body to see the fabulousness she could exude with the dress. The mirror reflected one image. The one with Zara sticking her head through the space the hanger made with the straps. Zara saw another image. She was the belle of the ball. "Forget purple. It's all about copper now."

"Well," Kennedy interrupted Zara's daydream, "I saw this nice Yves Saint Laurent cream dress in Charisma. I wonder if there's something here that looks remotely like it."

"I hope so," Zara snapped back to reality. "I must have this dress. It's ninety-eight dollars though." A pout. A frown. Being newly independent seemed so glamorous at times until the dollar bills disappeared from her designer wallet.

"What about Venetia?" Kennedy posed the question, looking for the gossipee in the vicinity.

"I don't know," Zara quietly exhaled. "She's so...strict on herself."

"Maybe we should help her find a dress."

"She headed for the women's department. The older women's side. I'm scared, honestly."

"Yeah, all the cute dresses we would actually wear are in this section."

"Let me grab this dress, and let's go to the old women's section," Zara led the way through the clothing racks.

They found Venetia eyeing a dull tweed gray dress. Tweed was in fashion, but it came with a vintage brooch or attached chain with charms, but this dress had none of that.

"Venetia," Kennedy annunciated the fashion victim's name so sweetly and carefully, "I love you, but this dress is not going to work for the event. It will not work for...anything."

Thumbing the fabric of the dress, Venetia looked down at the hem. "I like this," she said. "It's perfect for a night of business."

"And fun," Zara added. "It's champagne chic. This suit doesn't say that. In fact, it says nothing."

"I want to wear a business dress," Venetia adamantly defended the hideous waste of tweed.

"You can wear a business dress, Venetia, but please wear a cuter one," Kennedy begged. "I know you love your gray and black and navy blue, but a little color goes a long way. You can really impress these bigwigs at the event with a much better outfit. Truth is, my grandma wouldn't wear this suit, and she's the target audience. You need something like this." She showcased the gown hanging on Zara's arm.

"Whatever," Venetia waved her white flag in the name of fashion as Zara and Kennedy yanked her to the direction of the formal dresses.

20

Partygoers spilled into the dimly lit lounge. For forty dollars a pop, it was a good investment for Marcheline to take advantage of stylishly dressed fashion and beauty admirers on a Friday night.

Brushing more rose powder blush onto her cheeks, Kennedy casually sat in the booth with her off-the-shoulder cream cocktail dress embracing her hips. She felt sexy tonight. She wished Leo could see her. He still wasn't completely out of her system. Jocelyn's four-inch heels made her feel majestic. Her makeup worked as in it didn't take forever to apply her eyeliner. But she loved reapplying her Rebel Rouge lipstick by Marcheline every ten minutes. She felt beautiful.

Venetia, on the other hand, bent her ankles outward in her neon magenta chunky heels as she stood by the table filled with small samples of Loveliness products. She still felt stressed out. She couldn't wear her sunglasses, so she depended on her high-class sucker. The lollipop stick decorated with rhinestones was visible from her mouth.

The girls will have to spew their sales pitch within a minute or two to the insiders who'll wear glittered nametags writing out their stage names. They will have to capture attention right away as the insiders splash fragrance on their sensual spots, moisturize the corners of their hands, swab a bit of gloss on their lips, and give a quick product critique. It was a party, and nobody wanted to listen to anyone talking about something for too long other than sex on a late night in the city.

Zara was playing with her short, hot-ironed strands of hair when she spotted an insider a few steps away. Venetia, who felt quite chic in her crisp white blouse and fitted black pencil skirt along with the magenta lips to match her shoes, picked up on a woman in her little black dress approaching the table. Kennedy snapped her compact mirror close.

"Hello," Venetia greeted the insider as she assumed the pleasant saleswoman persona. "I'm Venetia, and this is Loveliness."

"Oh, I heard about this company. I'm Gia Frantz. I'm the assistant beauty editor at Elle," she shook all their hands with a dainty grasp. "I love the name, by the way."

"Thank you! The major thing about Loveliness is it's all natural," Venetia began. "We use nontoxic ingredients from different plants and fruits to make our products. We believe these natural products have properties that can prevent and restore damage. We have lip gloss, lip balms, lipsticks, fragrances, creams, concealers, blushes, and mascaras—all the essentials"—she pointed at the goods sectioned off in their areas on the table—"in all different assortments such as Mysterious Mint"—she picked up a cream sample—"and Romantic Red Rose"—she picked up a fragrance sample—"and they all smell great and feel great."

Gia oohed and aahed over the samples. "I love natural beauty. It's so in right now." She waved the Romantic Red Rose fragrance under her nose and sprayed it on her neck. "This smells so much better than other rose-scented stuff."

The girls excitedly smiled at one another. "Do you have a card?" she asked while rubbing the fragrance around her neck.

"This is our card," Kennedy handed Gia a business card. "Check out our website. We're also on Facebook and Twitter." Important social networking information showed who's hot and who's not.

"Well, thank you, girls," Gia said. "I'm going to check out your website later. Bye." She walked away and commingled with other champagne-holding, voguish partygoers with their echoing laughter and high-pitched chatter.

"That went well." Kennedy smoothed the wrinkles out of the tablecloth. "Now we just have to wait for someone else. But we should look like we're having a good time." She swayed back and forth with the techno pop music blaring in the lounge. Zara joined her with the lame dance moves. They were tired. Kennedy was focused on her Charisma gig. She hadn't confirmed it yet, and tomorrow's the deadline. No question in her mind, she wanted the job, but sorting out the details like finding an apartment and leaving the relaxed suburban lifestyle seemed so stressful. Zara, on the other hand, believed her fashion design career was going somewhere now that she had a variety of avenues like selling to rich housewives and attending hot parties that could lead to exposure in the industry. She designed four promising looks since she had been there, mostly while ignoring Venetia's ambition to make Loveliness take off.

What's up, sweetheart? Kennedy's phone lit up with a greeting from Leo. After accepting, well, trying to accept his disappearing acts and skank-hopping ways, Kennedy moved on, per se. She kind of flirted with the one urbane guy in the suit yesterday while she peddled products on the street. He was the right height, had the right look, had the right job. He was a second-year law student working at a corporate law office, according to his business card. She hadn't called Brenton yet.

Just networking. They're going to announce the winner soon. Kennedy typed with fervor. Leo had been gone for more than a day since she overheard an Ashlee-like voice in the background of their call. When it came to love, that felt like months ago.

"I'm going to dive in the crowd with some of our samples," Venetia announced. "I think I can bring people in by going to them rather than staying behind the table. People want to dance and stuff in the middle of the room, so I have to get their attention there." She gathered a few samples and headed toward the crowd of insiders who only showed up to avoid PR taboo from their respective companies.

"So I guess we have to defend the table," Zara said with a silent, mouth-opening yawn.

"I feel like I saw everyone's true colors once we came down here," Kennedy thought aloud with sadness.

"We all had our own agendas, and we looked at Loveliness as a step up to where we wanted to go. You had an agenda, too."

"I did, but I still wanted Loveliness to succeed. I'm working for both sides. So...do you think Laurenne and you would ever be friends again?"

"Nope. I'm over it. Kinda like you and Maxine."

Kennedy forgot about her ex-frenemy who was slowly becoming an acquaintance. "Well, I'm very forgiving."

"That's the difference between us. I'm not."

"We all might end up here in LA," Kennedy pointed out.

"LA is big. I'll be fine."

While they discussed their futures minus Loveliness, Venetia worked the crowd with her bright smile and bright eyes. Her funky take on her business attire was a hit as five people complimented her on her outfit while she handed out lip glosses and rubbed creams on their wrists.

"This smells delicious!" one said of the Cool Cucumber Melon cream.

"Wow! Where can I buy this?" one inquired of the Raspberry Rhapsody lip gloss.

"Loveliness is the perfect name!" one complimented.

"Aww, that's cute. You're still trying to work your little company," Venetia heard the snide remark come from a familiar taunting voice behind her. She pivoted on her heels to come face-to-face with the traitor: Laurenne of Belleza.

"Hello, Laurenne," Venetia nastily returned. "Why are you here?"

"Doing the same thing as you. Well, sort of, since I'm trying to get people to wear Belleza products. You see how much we sold. More than double what you did."

"I'm not worried. We're still going to win this competition anyway because we have each other's backs. You don't know what that means." Venetia quickly eyed the girl up and down from her ringlet curls to her glittery gold pumps.

"Whatever, Venetia, don't hate because I'm with a bigger company that specializes in hot ticket items like nail polish not knockoff lip gloss they can buy at the dollar store."

"Oh, puh-leeze, you and those fake-ass models didn't even make that stuff. They just asked their sugar daddies for money to have that stuff shipped out to China to be made by people who will barely see a penny of the profits. Because that's the type of people you like. That's why you're with them. And I'm glad I'm not nasty like that." Venetia pivoted on her heels and exited the negative atmosphere by engaging in a conversation with a group in the corner. Laurenne followed and grabbed her arm.

"Venetia, you knew this was my idea!" she said. "You wanted to take over. I don't have any dirt on you, but I have dirt on Zara. So you better watch out. That could make your little company fall right in front of the cameras."

Kennedy's ears naturally perked up when the word "dirt" with Zara's name fell out of Laurenne's mouth. Zara heard it as well.

"Won't you just say it? Everyone knows. I already paid the price," Zara said.

Kennedy's eyes widened. Laurenne noticed.

"Oh, so you didn't know, Kennedy," Laurenne condescendingly teased. "I thought Zara was your new best friend. Well, she worked for Loveliness because it was the only place that would hire her."

Kennedy nodded. She felt weird for not asking any follow-up questions, but she didn't think it was appropriate at the time. She was a shrinking violet as the monstrous Laurenne towered over her.

"She's a convicted felon!" Laurenne harshly whispered.

"It was a misdemeanor! I paid my dues!" Zara objected.

"She stole like five hundred dollars' worth of merchandise from FeFe when she worked there. So she's a thief! I hope your next job doesn't find out." With that revelation and a glare toward Venetia's back, Laurenne huffed and puffed back to the Belleza table. She corrected her face; she had to look perfect just in case a modeling scout was present at the party and wanted to find the next young black supermodel to take over Chanel Iman's stilettos.

"That's why I was on edge about being here with Laurenne and her finding out about my interview," Zara explained with her arms crossed against her chest. Venetia already returned to her networking stint before the Laurenne interruption.

"I would understand you'd be scared. But why did you do it?" Kennedy innocently asked. She never committed any wrongdoing to that extent. But her mind flashed back to the moment she first went to Zara's bedroom and witnessed her shoplifting tendencies firsthand as the dress they admired the day before at the FeFe store had suspiciously materialized on her carpet.

"I wanted the clothes and accessories, so I took them. I couldn't afford them with my paycheck."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It was...until I got caught," Zara smirked a little.

"So did you go to jail or something?"

"I paid a fine and fed the homeless. Nothing big."

"Cool." Kennedy tried not to appear alarmed by the revelation.

Zara came closer to her. "You know those Louboutins I wore yesterday?"

"Yeah. Where'd you get them?"

"Oh, Kennedy, you're so cute. I stole them a while ago, but I didn't get caught that time." She headed back to the table.

After Venetia beefed up the company's reputation, she dashed back to the table.

"Watch out for Laurenne. She's still out for blood," Venetia warned while she snatched up more samples and disappeared into the sea of people.

"See, what I mean?" Zara said. "This is too much drama for me." As soon as she mouthed those words, Kennedy noticed Laurenne approaching the table, barely able to walk or breathe in her tight gold gown.

"Hi, Laurenne," they both chimed like the heated conversation moments before never existed.

"I just want to wish you luck," she said in a malicious voice.

Suspiciously, Kennedy and Zara glanced at each other then back at Laurenne. "Thanks," they uneasily said together.

"Yeah, you're gonna need it," Laurenne brought the attitude along with the stench of alcohol lingering on her breath. "I mean how are they going to pass up a group of potential supermodels for a group of...I don't know what y'all are."

"Just take your rump back to your table because nobody here cares about what you have to say," Kennedy snapped back. With her having the last word, Laurenne haughtily headed back to her table.

"You're silly," Zara laughed. "But she did leave. I don't know why she has to hate on us. She was the one who left her own company."

That's cool, sweetheart. A text message from the wishy-washy Leo lighted up Kennedy's phone. He returned the simplest of phrases as if he was not interested in their text messaging conversation. To keep the interest, questions such as 'How's it going?' or well wishes like 'I hope you win' would have sufficed in this scenario. She couldn't even return a message back to that response.

"Isn't that the guy you thought was cute?" Zara asked.

"Yeah, Leo's so cute, but he's—"

"Not him. Him!" Zara pointed to Brenton, also known as suit guy from yesterday, who dripped swagger in his gray Armani suit. Either he saw Zara's polished finger or Kennedy's surprised face, but he began his stride to the Loveliness table.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again," he ended the compliment with a grin. "I was just at Belleza's table and Go Gorgeous' table. How's it going over here?" Zara exited right with samples in her hand.

"It's OK," Kennedy said shyly. "Everybody's kinda in the crowd and stuff, so my team went in to attract people and um...I'm just holding down the table. You know me. I just be holding it down." As the words escaped her mouth, she chastised herself inside for showing off her goofiness a little too soon.

"That's good," he flashed a thousand-watt smile, totally unfazed by Kennedy's momentary lapse in sophistication. "I came by tonight 'cause we got tickets for the event. I think we represented Marcheline in a lawsuit or something. I had nothing to do tonight, so I thought I'd swing by. I'm glad I did."

"Yeah," she giggled.

"You never told me your name."

"Oh, it's Kennedy."

"Well, I'm Brenton," he extended his hand for a shake.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her confidence roared back.

"Well, would you like to dance?"

"Um, I have to stay here—"

"No, you don't," Zara interrupted. She gave Kennedy a push toward Brenton. He suavely took Kennedy's hand. They walked in the direction of the stage where people danced to house music and the deejay passionately spun in the booth with his eyes closed, earphone pressed to his ear. Brenton started rhythmically moving to the music, and Kennedy followed his lead. They were a foot apart. Couldn't get too close yet though Kennedy had the urge to get closer. Instead she kept on trekking through her simple dance moves courtesy of her high heels. She smiled. He smiled. He inched closer to her as they bobbed their heads to the music.

"Kennedy! Muah, muah." Victory Smythe headed to the dancing couple and gave Kennedy a light embrace and air kisses. "Your friend gave me a whiff of Honey Harmony. I can't get enough of it! Have you made your decision?" Her switch from banter to a life-changing question caught Kennedy off-guard, especially since she was dancing with a man a second before.

"I definitely want to take the opportunity." She thought she had one more day to answer. She hadn't even told her parents yet that she would be moving 400 miles away.

"I'm so excited!" Victory grabbed Kennedy's shoulders. Kennedy sensed her overconsumption of the bubbly champagne in her hand. "I'll give you another week to settle somewhere, then I'll see you in the office that Monday."

"That sounds good. See you then!"

"Feel free to email or call me if you need anything," Victory called as people pulled her into the nucleus of the crowd. "I'll talk to you soon, darling."

"So you just got a job?" Brenton asked, waiting to finish their dance.

"Yep, I'm gonna be a reporter for Charisma's online show."

"That's wonderful. I'm happy for you," he pulled her into him by the waist. She went with the flow.

"I think people are voting for us!" Kennedy jumped in Brenton's arms as she felt the shock of Venetia's hot breath in her ear. "Like after I spoke to some people, they went straight to the kiosk." Kennedy glanced at the computer kiosk where people sat and voted for their favorite beauty company contender. Their input had somewhat been tampered by the alluring drink offerings. In this case, intoxication will hopefully lead to good judgment.

"That's great," Kennedy hastily returned. She wanted to sink back in the mood with Brenton.

"Why are you dancing? And why's Zara dancing, too? This night is business. You know that," Venetia hissed.

"We worked hard all week. We deserve a break. We deserve to have fun," she reasoned. "You should take a break."

"That's funny. I got work to do." Then Venetia was gone.

"Am I taking you away from your work?" Brenton innocently asked with an unintentional bat of his long eyelashes.

"No, you're good. You saw I wasn't doing much."

They continued to move to the music. Randomly, she wondered how her makeup was faring under the lights. She hated melting foundation. She wondered how her weave was baring the slight breeze of air conditioning. She hated flyaway strands. She wondered if he had seen her pat her weave down. She had an itch. She slid her hand up between them and patted her weave, and then she put her hand back around his waist. He didn't flinch.

"I was thinking I didn't vote yet," he broke the silence. Kennedy turned around. She noticed a blur of Laurenne's gold gown pass by.

"Well, you should vote for Loveliness right now."

"OK, I'll meet you at your table." He let go of her and headed toward the kiosk. The moment had to be sacrificed in order to taste sweet victory, especially against Laurenne and the rest of the Belleza gang.

Pain throbbed through her toes, so Kennedy slid her heels against the wooden floor back to the table where Zara danced nearby.

"Ooh, you two were cute out there," Zara teased.

"It's whatever," Kennedy tried not to care. "We just danced. I mean Leo's still kind of in the picture. He texted me tonight."

Zara crossed her arms against her chest. "And what did he say? Or, I mean, type because he refuses to call you."

"Nothing much."

"I think I like Brenton more."

"Yeah, he seems better."

"I'm glad we're seeing eye to eye."

Kennedy glanced at her Lacoste watch. Almost 10 p.m., and the event had another hour. Venetia went back and forth to the guests out on the dance floor using her pushed outgoing personality to lure fans to Loveliness. The free samples were running dry. Marcheline only provided 500 samples for each group, and there were about 300 people there with the inclusion of the greedy people who took more than one sample of a product. Different fragrances consumed the atmosphere with the incessant application of samples. Once applied, the sample was thrown into a designer handbag or slipped into a pocket.

"Maybe we should tell people to vote for us," Zara grabbed some lipstick samples and darted to the first group of people in her line of vision. Kennedy followed suit, with lip gloss samples in hand and ended up near the stage. She wouldn't have to say a word over the deafening music, just distribute the samples to the partygoers and flash an easygoing smile. She sashayed toward the group of girls and guys with their carmine cosmos twirling in plastic cocktail glasses. They laughed hysterically at unfunny things. The cosmos gave them a high. They swayed to the music as she passed around the samples. Some spread the tinted shimmer along their lips. They nodded in approval. It was a hit. The relaxed crowd began to descend into a drunken stupor. Producing a piercing jolt of pain from heel to toe, Kennedy's stilettos led her to the vacant steps of the stage.

"...I don't know who'll win tonight, but we have a reputation to protect," a voice seeped from behind the black curtain. Kennedy cocked her head back to get another wisp of the conversation.

"But these girls are dedicated," another voice piped up, resembling Genevieve Carraway's throaty Midwestern accent. Kennedy then realized she was eavesdropping on the conversation that will declare the winner tonight. She climbed onto the next step with her ear touching the curtain.

"Loveliness is not what we're looking for," the first voice returned and belonged to none other than Renata Fine.

"I like Belleza. They're all models, you know," rose fashion mogul Timothy LaRue's snooty voice. After a hiatus of filming his own reality show, he returned for the final results.

"We know that," Genevieve said, flustered. She seemed to be on Team Loveliness, but it was difficult convincing the others. Kennedy sat on the highest step, obviously eavesdropping, but everybody was in another world, so she was invisible.

"I just don't think Loveliness is the right fit for us," Renata shuffled some papers.

"Why not?" Genevieve hotly tossed back.

"They're just not...well, they don't fit our description."

"And what's that description?"

"They don't have the...right look. I don't know how to explain it. Ideally, Belleza wins the vote. Go Gorgeous is also a good group to put in advertisements and get on the lifestyle shows or maybe get another reality show or something of the sorts. But I just don't...picture Loveliness bringing in as much revenue."

The conversation stopped. "I'm going to have to agree with 'Nata on this one," Timothy broke the silence. "In terms of marketability, Belleza is number one, Go Gorgeous is number two, and Loveliness comes dead last, and we can't risk sponsoring those that come last."

Blindly, Kennedy hopped off the stairs. Steaming, she wanted to approach Venetia and tell her the revelations she had just learned from behind the curtain. Kennedy may not have seen any faces, but her hearing was on point despite the cacophony of music and chatter. Selling units for the company at this unprofessional party was a joke. The competition will be rigged even if they earned the highest number of votes. She continued to push through the tight-knit crowds.

"What's going on?" Teal inquired, trying to keep up with Kennedy's pace from behind.

"Nothing." She didn't want to say anything incriminating on camera.

"You look upset..." Teal knew something scandalous sparked the change in mood.

Kennedy swiftly turned around to face Teal, who held the camera on her shoulder over the straps of her little black dress. Kennedy felt the heat rising from her head. "Nothing is wrong! Leave me alone!" With that, she ripped her mike pack off her person, threw it at Teal, and walked away. Teal didn't follow, but Sophie captured the moment and began to focus the camera lens on the fallen mike pack on the floor.

They didn't have the right look? Kennedy's eyelashes were drooping from the weight of her lash-pumping mascara by Marcheline. Her lips needed to be re-glossed since Marcheline's gloss didn't even compare to the everlasting lip glosses their competitors produced. She couldn't touch her face with all the foundation plastered over her skin. If she cried from frustration, she would look like a hot mess with running mascara, chapped lips, and fingerprints in her foundation. She was also wearing a thick hairpiece where she couldn't feel her scalp when there was an itch. She literally had to pat her weave. She thought it was a cute expression, but when she became upset, her scalp became itchy with stress. Leo adored her long hair, makeup-ridden face, eyeglass-free vision, and she finally bought it, but he dropped out of space. She only knew he was alive through his empty text messages. Where's Venetia? Zara?

From behind the table, she saw Brenton sipping a glass of champagne and chatting with Mirabella and Isabella of Belleza. Both wore the same long, gold gown as Laurenne. She noticed the light laughing and flirting as Brenton started to duck into the kiosk. While he put his hand on the mouse and prepared to enter his vote, the ridiculously statuesque girls continued to flirt with him. They laughed. Kennedy stomped toward the kiosk.

"Hey," she said defensively as if she wanted to throw a punch.

"Kennedy..." Brenton said so innocently, "I'm just about to vote." He flashed his gleaming smile that simply failed to give off the same effect it had moments ago.

"He's going to vote for Belleza," Mirabella snarled.

"Um, I don't think so. He's voting for Loveliness. He just told me he would," Kennedy eyed the man sitting at the computer.

"Well..." the aspiring lawyer, so articulate a few minutes ago, was now speechless.

"Well, what?" Kennedy snapped.

"I'm going to vote for...um...Bell-ez-a. I'm wearing their foundation, and it hides my blemishes." Kennedy couldn't believe a guy put his looks over her. Without another word, she walked away.

Outside, the humidity produced slight raindrops, but Kennedy didn't mind. She felt betrayed. By Marcheline Cosmetics acting like it wanted to discover the next top beauty company through an honest process. By Brenton, the promising candidate to replace Leo, the blast from the past she attempted to make her boyfriend. By the career of her dreams telling her to look one way to the point she didn't recognize herself anymore. Raindrops kept falling. Her synthetic fiber strands glued themselves to her waxy face. A raindrop collided with her stiff eyelashes. Her visibility went down. She used her finger to separate the drenched lashes, but the rain kept coming. Water dropped into her contact lenses. But she remained outside, helpless.

"They're about to announce the winner!" a female voice shrieked from the door. People trudged back inside. Kennedy reluctantly followed.

"We will soon be announcing the winners of our contest to find the next up-and-coming beauty company," Renata's voice boomed over the microphone. Her rose lipstick matched her knee-length dress and shoes as well as the logo for Marcheline Cosmetics. Her tipsiness could be viewed from the table where Team Loveliness sat in the leather-upholstered booth, truly exhausted from the whole evening. Kennedy slipped into the booth. Venetia had given away all the samples while her pumps ignited a wave of throbbing pain through her feet that kept circulating every minute. Zara danced with several guys that night, so her feet felt the same way, but she was glad her cropped hairdo still turned them on. She went to the table beside the booth to drink some champagne and dip some strawberries in the chocolate fountain to ease the anger. She now felt better. She added numerous calories she didn't need, but she didn't care as she stumbled back into the booth.

"Well, we had a very enjoyable night," Renata glanced at her index cards. "I would like to thank everyone for coming out to our event. I hope everyone made great connections. I mean there's a rep from just about every beauty and fashion business in the city in this room right now..."

Kennedy only heard blah, nothing of any importance yet. And Renata was usually good about getting to the point.

"I'm nervous," Venetia admitted. She didn't want to admit it, but she thought sharing emotions with her semi-friends would soothe the situation.

"Me, too," Zara agreed nonchalantly.

Venetia expected the reassurance she shouldn't be nervous. Kennedy lightly belched. The champagne bubbles trickled down her throat.

"Did you drink enough?" Venetia hurled.

"Maybe not enough," Kennedy whispered and then laughed. She quieted her erupting laughter since everyone was pretending to focus on Renata's speech. She decided to pretend, too. She never said anything about the hatred spewed toward their company behind the stage curtain. She didn't have the heart to tell Venetia, or the guts.

"I have the results!" Renata yelled a little too loudly into the microphone, holding a sparkly silver envelope in her hand. She unsnapped the envelope and pulled out the card with the winning name. "And the winner is...can I get a drumroll?" She loved her drumrolls, so the audience started making their best drumroll sounds. It was an offbeat drumroll but a drumroll nonetheless. "The winner is..."—her eyes popped with surprise—"Go Gorgeous?"

"What?" Venetia asked incredulously like all her work dissipated in the last few seconds. "Their stuff was so lame." Zara's hand flew to Venetia's mouth. Anger made her loud.

Across the room, the group jumped up and down, embraced each other, and dashed to the stage to claim the prize: the contract printed on silky cream paper. An acceptance speech soon followed, but Venetia drowned out all sounds after the disappointing loss. With Zara's arm around her in case of another thunderous reaction, Venetia touched her neck where the nervous beads of sweat wanted to attach themselves on her crisp white collar. Her pacing heartbeat was about to slow. Her heart would beat exceptionally fast when she was waiting for her name to be called as the winner in a competition. She always won. The spelling bees, the debate competitions, the lacrosse tournaments. She won them all. Her bookshelves never got tired of showcasing her triumphs with the framed certificates beside her miniature trophies. She really thought she would take it all tonight. And she didn't. That never happened before. She needed another lollipop.

Rolling up the tablecloth, Zara was glad the competition was over; she wanted to enjoy LA minus the drama. Although she hated to admit it, she got fidgety when Venetia's fury illuminated. When perfectionist Venetia fell off her high horse, Laurenne picked up the pieces because she needed the ambition to bounce onto her. But Zara usually waited in the background, avoiding the desperation of her two business partners. So like before, she chilled in the background. She did feel a sense of relief. Now she had time to focus on attending fashion shows, designing her line, and recruiting her own models.

Kennedy collapsed in a chair with another glass of champagne. Loveliness was a bust. The beauty company venture seemed to be a positive distraction, but it became too competitive for her with the stepping over one another for a taste of success. She liked staying in her own corner, doing her own thing. On one hand, she wanted to win and be a media and communications director for an up-and-coming beauty company. It sounded nice in her head. On the other hand, she accepted the opportunity of a lifetime, well, for a young, college-educated twenty-something: a reporting gig on a weekly natural beauty online show with Charisma. Maybe she'll start with a post on organic nail polish now that she was noticing her chipped manicure.

"Tell me how you feel about the results?" Teal edged closer to Venetia as Sophie caught the thoughtful faces of the rest of the team. The cameras had faded in the background throughout the night, but now that they made their presence known, the girls were annoyed.

"I'm leaving. That's how I feel," Venetia shattered the silence. "I'm a sore loser, and I don't want to be here." She jammed a lollipop ball in her mouth and headed for the door.

"No argument," Kennedy responded. She and Zara picked up their trench coats and clutches and headed for the door, leaving everything else behind that belonged to the beauty company that wasn't good enough to impress the masses.

21

"Leo?" Kennedy deeply breathed in and out under the comforter on the hotel bed. Morning sunlight tried to penetrate her self-made fortress.

"Hey, Kennedy. What's wrong?" He sensed her predicament from hundreds of miles away.

"I've heard some things..." She hiccupped during the sentence. Her tears plastered on her face. She felt the stickiness, the dryness.

"Like what?" He really didn't know where the conversation was heading.

"That you were with...Ashlee." Her voice cracked on the name. She didn't want to utter it, but she had to.

"Yeah, I was with Ashlee. I like her." He said it so clear-cut like nothing was wrong.

Kennedy sat up a bit. "But I thought you were with me."

"Kennedy," he said her name so sadly, "I like you, too, but as far as I know, I'm single."

"Oh?"

"And now you're far away. You told me you might stay in LA, so we had fun when we were together. I mean I'm single, Kennedy. You shouldn't be upset."

"But you said you wanted to be with me, that you weren't ready for a relationship or whatever. I still thought we had a monogamous thing going on here. So why are you prancing around town with her?"

"I always liked her since we were in school."

"I always liked you since we were in school," she said pathetically. "So what's so special about her?"

"She's hot and..."

Kennedy sensed the adjectives he chose for Ashlee didn't say much about her personality. So she clicked the red button to end the call. She had nothing more to say.

22

"This apartment is perfect—well, for LA standards," Kennedy yelped as she and Zara stood on the maple hardwood floors inside a renovated apartment in Studio City. It was the third apartment they ventured out to see before they had to evacuate the luxurious hotel suite.

"Yeah, everything's new," said the landlord, an older woman with a raspy voice. "The rent's seven fifty a month." Though they hadn't been in the city that long, they knew the price was unbelievably great for one bedroom.

"So, you girls want it?" the landlord asked. The tenants moved out the day before, so she wanted someone to start paying rent as soon as possible.

"Can you give us a few minutes to talk it over?" Zara put her hand on Kennedy's shoulder to usher her into the bare living room.

"Sure. I'll wait out in the hallway." The landlord waddled out the door equipped with a deadbolt lock, chain lock, and lever doorknob.

"I love it!" Zara exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "It's perfect! It's quiet. It's pretty big for a one-bedroom."

"Yeah, one of us can take the bedroom, and the other can have the living room and use it like it's a studio apartment in a way. We can totally work it out. With both of us working, we wouldn't be here much anyways. So the price is good, and the space is good."

"It's perfect!" Zara shrieked again while opening the cupboards in the kitchen and expecting to see some type of vermin-eliminating device in a raw city apartment.

Kennedy swung the front door open to let the landlord back in who was smoking a cigarette with a tenant in the dimly lit hallway. "We're going to take it."

"Great. Let's do paperwork!" The landlord strolled down the hallway, and Kennedy and Zara followed close as the wispy tobacco smoke trailed behind them.

*

Later that day, Team Loveliness, or who originally made up the company, had to come down to the Upbeat TV network headquarters to share their behind-the-scenes commentary. Venetia strolled into the lounge area with a strawberry-flavored lollipop ring on her finger. She licked the lollipop for calmness. Laurenne was sitting in the corner, acting oblivious to her ex-friend entering the scene.

"Hello, Laurenne," Venetia sparked the conversation to be civil. Wearing a dark tan blazer over a button-up white blouse, wide-legged black slacks, and one-inch tan and black heels, she was a businesswoman now. She was in talks with supermodel Genevieve Carraway about expanding Loveliness. She slipped the lollipop ring off her finger and quietly dropped it in the trash.

"Hello, Venetia," Laurenne returned with her eyes never leaving the page of the magazine conveniently blocking her face.

"Can't wait to see the show when it comes on TV," Venetia said to nobody in particular. She hoped Laurenne would only dispense nice words on the experience in front of the video camera. Laurenne did surreptitiously give Venetia a sideways glance. Nice words. Fat chance.

Inside the studio, Kennedy squirmed in the chair. She tried to get comfortable. She wanted the conversation to flow naturally while she spoke about the past two weeks. She touched the pendant necklace around her neck and the earrings hanging from her lobes. She smoothed her plain white tee down with a neckline showing a hint of cleavage. She put her long hair over her shoulders. She wanted to appear as the girl next door, so she could be likeable, which could create an audience for her online news show for Charisma.

"So, Kennedy," Teal sat across from her in a director's chair positioned beside Sophie, who monitored the camera staring at Kennedy. "Tell us about how you joined Loveliness."

Simple question. "I was getting my hair done when I met Zara. Well, the hairdresser was talking to me about what I did for a living, so I told her I was trying to be a reporter. Then the hairdresser told Zara when she came in, and she invited me to join Loveliness to do the PR and media thing."

"Can you tell us about the first day of the competition?" Teal jotted down notes in the writing pad sitting over her crossed legs.

"The first day..." Kennedy tried to revisit the memory, but the week had been so long, she could barely recall it.

"Well, tell us about what you thought about the competition at first." Teal tried to simplify the situation.

Kennedy took a deep exhale. She wanted to feel relaxed, but the twinkling bright light from the camera made her slightly uneasy. She didn't want to say something that would offend anyone or make her look ungrateful for the opportunity. "I thought it was a great jumping point for our company. I believed in our products. I knew natural beauty was in, so, you know, I was hoping for the best."

"What about the end? When Laurenne left the group? When you lost? We can take it one at a time," Teal kept digging for the truth.

"We were hurt when Laurenne left, but if you want to be with another group, then you should go instead of staying and sabotaging the group you're in. So I'm glad she left only because she wanted to leave. For the competition"—Kennedy recalled hearing Marcheline CEO Renata Fine speaking badly about Loveliness' marketability—"I was... disappointed when we lost, but you win some and you lose some." Her mind went to the failed romantic relationship, the failed interviews, the failed competition, and she felt confident because she picked up the pieces and started another puzzle. She was fine.

23

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Beauty Biz premiered in January as part of the lineup of new reality shows on Upbeat TV. The blend of competition, beauty, and girls attracted a sizeable audience in the key demographic group between the ages of 15 to 39, catapulting the series premiere to the second spot on Tuesday night's cable ratings. The premise surrounded the twelve groups, so the viewer had to pay close attention to the lower third caption showing the competitors' first names and company names.

"Makeup Shakeup" was the turning point episode where Laurenne abandoned Loveliness in hopes of becoming a supermodel/cosmetics entrepreneur extraordinaire with Belleza. But Laurenne wasn't the only person to jump ship. It turned out one of the girls in Beauty Girl had to leave the competition because she had a bad reaction to either the collagen injected into her lips or the Botox injected into her cheeks; she allegedly needed the procedure for health purposes. And a girl in Go Gorgeous threatened to go home after an argument with her teammates on which color would dominate eyeshadow shades next season: purple or blue. Forecasters already designated both purplish blue and bluish purple as spring's "it" colors.

Laurenne on her departure from Loveliness: "I felt more comfortable being around people who had the same goals as me. They were models like me, and they wanted to specialize in beauty products like me."

Venetia on Laurenne's departure: "We obviously didn't need her."

Zara on Laurenne's departure: "I think Belleza fit better with Laurenne. And Venetia never misses a beat on anything, so I knew things would be fine with her in charge."

Kennedy on Laurenne's departure again: "I think Loveliness will still work despite the changes. This competition was a great opportunity, so we had to keep trekking toward the grand prize."

*

In the shiny porcelain restroom lounge, Kennedy squeezed a dime size amount of Honey Harmony cream into her hand. She missed the rich scent, and now that Loveliness was manufactured under a division of Marcheline Cosmetics, it smelled even better. The scent grew on her as Victory raved about it for a month straight. With her finger, she slid the richly smooth cream along her eyebrows that seemed a bit unruly as they began to grow back after they were plucked weeks ago. Her foundation seemed glittery in the bright lights, so she brushed some off. Her eyelashes were still long without the mascara. She fixed her leopard print-rimmed eyeglasses. Contacts drove her crazy. She didn't think she should be touching her eyeballs on that level. Her face was fine. Now, the hair. The weave came out two months ago. She didn't realize how much she'd miss the pleasure of feeling her own scalp, her own strands. Her shoulder-length hair even grew three inches, so it was getting longer on its own, but it was the right length for her job and the same length as anchorwoman Claire Owens' mane. And there's nobody to impress anymore. Leo was out of the picture. He was back to old friend status with the possibility of him leaving a birthday post on her Facebook wall once a year. It was single gal swag for the time being.

She needed to take a bathroom break from taping her natural beauty online show on Loveliness' beauty product line. She nailed all her sound bites, but she had to later work on stringing together her past interviews for the episode. The first show on using henna as a hair conditioner and dye generated 24 mailed-in letters and 137 online comments. Red hair was in at the time, so she found an eco-friendly way to achieve the look. Her second show on nail polishes lacking volatile organic compounds like formaldehyde fared slightly better with 19 mailed-in responses (snail mail was passé) and 204 online comments so far. The newsstands outside had countless copies of Charisma on their racks. She passed them all the time, knowing somewhere between the Tommy Hilfiger fragrance inserts and Versace handbag ads sat an article on natural beauty products with the tease to watch the online show next to Ainsley Jones' plus-size fashion dilemma column.

Natural honey-scented products were the topic of the show she was currently working on. The witty words she planned to use in the article and script already swarmed inside her mind, but she was still collecting the best honey products natural beauty companies had to offer. To start the process, she had contacted Venetia for her famous Honey Harmony.

"Hey, Venetia!" she telephoned her former business partner the day before.

"Kennedy! What's going on?" Venetia spun in the swivel chair in her office at Marcheline headquarters.

"I'm working on my next show. It's on honey natural beauty products. And you know how much I love Honey Harmony. I want to know if you could send some samples my way."

"Of course, I can. After this call, we'll have it sent to you, so you'll get it today."

"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it. So how've you been?" They hadn't really had a conversation in the past three months when the competition ended.

"I've been good. How are you? How's Zara?"

"We're good. We're still adjusting to our new apartment and neighborhood. Zara works at a FeFe store in the mall. They gave her a second chance. She couldn't get a job on Rodeo Drive, but she's still designing. How are things over there?" Kennedy kept the small talk going as she jotted down the package arrival time on a neon orange Post-It.

"I'm just working on Loveliness. I'm still decorating my apartment. I so love being here." Venetia lightly tapped her pen on her desk. "It was nice talking to you, but I have to process orders. Maybe we can hang out soon."

"Yeah, for sure. I'll talk to you later."

Venetia, the CEO of Loveliness, was excited to hear from Kennedy, especially when her business could be highlighted in an internationally respected women's magazine. But she didn't have time for chitchat while working. While boxing the Honey Harmony shampoo, conditioner, lotion, fragrance, and soap samples, she never thought she'd have a corner office and accept business calls from places like Charisma.

The competition was not a total upset for Venetia. After it ended, she received a telephone call from none other than Genevieve Carraway, the beautiful supermodel concealed in the shadows of Marcheline's corporate operations. But she paid attention to Loveliness from day one since they were the only team of women of color with a noticeable work ethic and a product line following a major trend: natural, eco-friendly cosmetics. That was the way to go, but Marcheline didn't really follow suit. They used the same chemicals to create the perfect shade of red lipstick they used decades ago. But Genevieve saw an untouched goldmine with Loveliness, so she recruited Venetia to head the company as a sub-company of Marcheline. Wasn't that the competition prize? Go Gorgeous had such mediocre products that Marcheline reluctantly stuck its name to those products, which company officials hoped would fade out within the next six months.

Belleza, the other top-ranking team, saw a different kind of success. All the girls with the model industry lankiness standard received a contract with Wilhelmina Models. All except Laurenne, that is. She didn't get a contract. Guess the industry already fulfilled the allotted amount of young, promising black supermodels. She stayed in LA even though the Belleza beauty brand disbanded. She made ends meet with applying makeup on bratty girls parading in princess dresses at the same mall Zara worked. She subleased the office back home, so she did get a little change from that investment. But she was thinking about finishing college.

Meanwhile, back at home, Maxine still worked at the Treasure Chest. Selling lingerie seemed to be her calling though she did long to head down south with Kennedy.

"One of these days, I'm going to come down to LA. I know you'll show me the ropes," Maxine said. Kennedy nodded in the computer camera. Maxine conveniently stayed around just in case she decided to move.

Jocelyn finally received an offer to work at a public relations firm that concentrated on making clients and employees happy and relaxed through calming tactics like sitting on bouncy fitness balls instead of rigid chairs and taking yoga in the middle of the day in the in-house gym. So it was a perfect fit.

"We're going out to play laser tag tonight just for the heck of it," Jocelyn told Kennedy over the phone during lunch hour.

"That sounds great," Kennedy laughed. She sensed it was Jocelyn's ideal workplace. "I wish you were here." It was the first time they were separated since the seventh grade.

"You know I have to stay here," Jocelyn pled.

"You're right. I can't wait for you and Hunter to get married." Kennedy overwhelmingly felt she aged decades with her best friend announced her engagement.

"Well, I have to go, Joce." She stood up and looked over the city from her high-rise office window. The city sparkled in its daylight glory.

"'K. Take care of yourself, and don't let LA go to your head."

"I took my hair weave out and returned to my professional athletic, sporty style. I'm myself again. LA already rubbed off me."

"That's good to hear because you were fine just the way you were."

"This is why I hang out with you. You say the right things," Kennedy chuckled. "I love you."

"Love you, too. I'll talk to you later." They both clicked their phones off.

With Interstate 5 lying behind the attractions of the city, Kennedy imagined herself driving along it to get back home, to make the distance seem authentic. Then she caught her reflection in the glass. She felt like herself again.

***
About the author:

Kibkabe Araya is a freelance journalist. She lives in California.

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