“Oh my gosh—Larkin, you did it. Let me see!” Cameron exclaimed. She grabbed Larkin by the shoulders and checked out her nose from every angle. “It’s gonna look so great, I can already tell. Just wait until the swelling goes down. You’ll be gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” said Larkin.
Cameron looked at Allie. “Madison from Dr. Glass’s office called. They—”
“Wait!” Allie yelled.
Cameron blinked. “What?”
“I need to tell you something. In private.” Allie widened her eyes and tried to tell her sister, telepathically, to shut up. Then she turned to her friends, who were still huddled around Larkin. “I’ll be right back.”
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Cameron, once they were in her room.
Allie closed the door behind them and lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “Are you crazy?”
“What did I do?”
“Please don’t talk about my nose job in front of my friends.”
“Wait, you haven’t told them that you’re doing this?” asked Cameron.
Allie shook her head. “It hasn’t really come up.”
Cameron laughed. “You are such a freak show, Alliekins. You really need to chill. Your friends won’t care. Larkin just had one and they’re going to find out sooner than you think. Madison called because they have an opening this Monday.”
Allie felt a surge of panic well up in her chest. “Monday as in three days from now?”
Cameron nodded.
“I can’t do it. I have to be at the Motion Picture Home on Monday.”
“You mean you’re not fired?”
“I don’t think so. Nancy called and said she wanted to see me. She wouldn’t make me go all the way down there if she wasn’t willing to take me back, right?”
“I guess not. But what about soccer?”
If Allie took the earlier appointment, she wouldn’t have to miss a week of camp. And if she didn’t miss a week of camp, she’d be able to try out for varsity. She didn’t know why she was even hesitating. She only knew that Monday was too soon. She wasn’t ready. “I already changed my flight to Colorado, and if I back out of volunteering now, it’ll look bad, especially after the other day.”
“So you don’t want it?”
“I guess not.” Allie knew she might be making a huge mistake.
“So you don’t mind if I take the appointment instead?” asked Cameron.
“You really want the implants that soon?”
“Of course. I’d do it in a second,” said Cameron. “I’m so sick of people telling me not to go through with it, I just want to get it over with.”
“Go ahead,” said Allie. “You can have it.”
“Thanks.” Cameron gave her a hug. “You’re the best.”
As soon as Allie walked through the door, Larkin asked, “What was that about?”
“Um, nothing.”
“Who’s Dr. Glass?” Carly asked.
Allie thought fast. “My allergist. I need to see him next week.”
Luckily, her friends didn’t question her any further. They were too busy comparing Larkin’s new nose to Keira Knightley’s.
Quincy looked up from her computer, briefly, to state the obvious. “Your sister is so beautiful.” Thanks to Dr. Glass, Allie thought but didn’t say. Her slight pang of jealousy was soon replaced with guilt and regret. Cameron was beautiful. Allie couldn’t deny it and she couldn’t criticize—not when her own nose job was still scheduled in just a couple of weeks.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cameron spent Sunday holed up in her room studying her latest pictures, amazed that the ones of Eve had turned out so well. In person she hadn’t seemed all that special, yet somehow her image translated into something powerful on film. Her face was so expressive, and her eyes alive and intense. Even her wrinkles were interesting.
The shots were vibrant, honest, and textured—the sort of thing Selby Chasen might like. Cameron felt like she was on the verge of saying something significant with her work. She just wasn’t quite sure what it was. And she didn’t have enough fresh material to put together an entirely new portfolio.
When her cell phone rang, she saw that it was Ashlin and rolled her eyes. The rest of her friends totally supported her decision. Even Lucy had come around, apologizing for not defending her earlier, and even admitting that she was jealous. Cameron didn’t know why Ashlin insisted on giving her such a hard time. It was too late. She’d be having surgery in less than twenty-four hours. “Hi, what’s up?” asked Cameron.
“Listen to this,” said Ashlin. “There’s a girl in Texas who had saline implants put in when she was nineteen years old and it ruined her life. Right after the surgery she started having shooting pains in her arms, and then over time every single joint in her body starting hurting. Her ribs burned, and her feet ached so much, she could hardly walk. She had trouble swallowing and breathing, and she was dizzy and had tremors. She gained thirty pounds and was eventually diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and chronic fatigue syndrome. At nineteen years old.”
“Ashlin, you sent me the link to that website this morning. I’ve already read all about her.”
“This is someone else. There are tons of stories like this. As soon as this girl got her implants removed, her health improved, but not completely. She’s on disability and can’t work a regular job. She will never recover.”
“Is that the only reason you’re calling?” asked Cameron. “Because if it is, I’m hanging up.”
“I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. Implants only last an average of seven to twelve years. That’s according to manufacturers’ studies. So you’re definitely going to need more surgery, and it gets expensive. You’ll have to spend about fifty thousand dollars over the course of your lifetime, and that’s if you’re lucky and you have only minimal complications. Also, some health insurance companies refuse to cover women who’ve had implants, and did you read about Olivia Goldsmith?”
“I did, and okay, you were right. She died, but that was a fluke. Her complications started before they even cut her open. Her body just had a weird reaction to the anesthesia.”
“Because anesthesia is dangerous.”
“I did fine the last time I was under,” Cameron reminded her.
“But why take the risk a second time? You’re beautiful and smart and you have everything going for you—”
“Good-bye.” Cameron slammed down the phone.
She felt like screaming. Staring down at the pile of photos on her bed, she realized that nothing was right and she had no time to fix it. Her family was going to the annual Motion Picture Home benefit party tonight and she had less than two hours to get ready. Cameron gathered all of her pictures and placed the entire pile in her bottom desk drawer before hopping in the shower.
When she was finished, she put on her robe and headed to her closet. She took out the dress hanging in back and carefully laid it on her bed. It was vintage Dior, light gray with black lace and a plunging neckline. Her mom had worn it to the Academy Awards twenty years ago, the year she’d been nominated. Julie claimed she’d been saving it all those years for her daughters, yet when Cameron had asked to wear it to the prom, her mom had said no. The problem was, the dress didn’t fit on top, and Julie had refused to let a seamstress near it.
Cameron trailed her fingers along the beaded neckline longingly. Since she couldn’t make the dress fit her body, she’d just have to make her body fit the dress.
After putting the gown away, Cameron quickly slipped on the one she had chosen for that night. It was turquoise silk and clingy, with spaghetti straps. Not as spectacular as the vintage one, but still nice, especially with her spiked heels.
As she applied her final coat of lip gloss, her father knocked on her door.
Cameron didn’t need another conversation about her “dangerous and shallow” decision to improve her body, but her dad would be driving them to the party, so it wasn’t li
ke she could refuse to speak to him. “Come in,” she called.
Her father opened the door and stepped inside, leaning against the wall awkwardly. Cameron didn’t know what made him more uncomfortable, wearing a tuxedo or being in the same room with her. “You look very nice,” he said.
Cameron knew she looked good. She didn’t need to hear it from him. “What are you doing here?”
“Calling a truce. This is silly. Please know that it’s not too late to change your mind, but if you go ahead with this, I’ll still love you, and I’m still very proud of you.”
“My surgery is tomorrow, Dad. Of course I’m going through with it. I wish everyone would just leave me alone.”
“I’ll be the first,” said her dad. “I won’t say another word about it. Ever.”
“Thank you.”
“Mom told me you’re upset about the Selby thing.”
“Well, yeah. She hated my work.”
Her dad wrinkled his brow. “I heard she said you had great technique and an excellent sense of composition.”
“I’m sure she felt like she had to say something nice because she’s a friend of Mom’s. She hated the content. That’s what matters, and she’s right, too. I need to start over. I’ve already taken some new pictures, but I’m running out of time. After the … well, after tomorrow I’ll be out of commission for a while. I wish I could shoot tonight.”
“Why don’t you?”
“You know they never let people bring cameras to these things. I’m afraid it’ll get confiscated. And it’s not like it would fit into my purse, anyway.” Cameron’s evening bag was barely large enough to hold her lipstick.
Her dad walked over to Cameron’s camera and took it off the tripod. “I can sneak this in.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course. What else am I wearing this penguin suit for?” He tried to wedge the camera into his cummerbund, but it wouldn’t stay in place. Shrugging one arm out of his jacket, he slipped the strap over his shoulder and held the camera to his side. When he put his jacket back on and tried to button it, the two lapels wouldn’t meet.
Cameron laughed. “I’m not sure that’s going to work.”
“I’ll figure something out,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“It’s my pleasure. Now, let’s get going or we’ll be late.”
Cameron loved, loved, loved black-tie events: school dances, movie premieres, charity galas, Christmas parties, awards shows, anything where people had to look their best, and especially when she got to go with her mom, who always got lots of attention.
Tonight Julie looked stunning in a sparkly silver gown. Even Allie was dressed up in the low-cut navy blue silk dress that Cameron had talked her into buying.
When their car pulled up to the valet stand in front of the host’s beautiful Beverly Hills mansion, Cameron gasped. The place was enormous: three stories of pristine red brick held up by imposing Greek columns. Orange and grapefruit trees lined the stone path to the front door, where a crowd of people waited to get past security. News crews and camera-people stood on the lawn, carefully documenting all of the beautiful people attending the party. The paparazzi were never allowed inside, but this didn’t stop them from showing up everywhere worth being.
As soon as they got close to the house, the photographers started yelling. “Julie Davenport, can I take your picture?” “Come say hello to the camera, Julie.” “Can we talk to you for a minute, Julie?” “Over here, Julie …”
Cameron watched as her mom stopped to wave and beam at the camera. Before she moved on, she put her arms around Cameron and Allie and called out to the throng. “Take a picture of me with my beautiful daughters.”
This was Cameron’s favorite part. She slipped her arm around her mom’s waist and leaned in close, tilting her head and smiling like she’d practiced. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she hoped her face wasn’t too flushed. She tried to keep from squinting in front of the too-bright lights.
“I just wish I could be here in a few weeks,” Julie whispered. “After the surgery.”
Cameron had been thinking exactly the same thing. If only she had her implants. If only she’d been able to fit into the vintage Dior tonight. Careful not to let her smile falter in front of the cameras, Cameron answered through clenched teeth, “There’ll be other parties.”
“Thanks so much. Enjoy your evening,” someone called. It was a not-so-subtle way of being dismissed.
Before Cameron knew it, the photographers had pointed their cameras elsewhere. Moments like these always went by too fast, but at least she still had the party.
Jumpy, jazzy music trilled from all around. People moved in and out of the many large rooms, air-kissing, sipping drinks, chatting, and laughing. In bland tuxedos and suits, the men faded into the background like shadows. The women always mattered most at these events—all bright and shiny and on display like the rows of jewelry in the windows of Fred Segal.
Cameron marveled at it all: the bright colors, the sparkle, the sequins and diamonds, the silk, the chiffon and lace. The dresses were all different, but underneath them everyone was pretty much the same. Faces were lifted, foreheads Botoxed, lips plumped full with collagen. Ribs were removed as often as cheekbones were added. Thighs and bottoms were liposuctioned to perfection. Noses were turned up cute, and breasts swelled large, alert, and at attention. Everyone striving for perfection.
Cameron got her camera from her dad, who’d had no trouble hiding it in his jacket, and moved through the crowd. She took pictures not of whole women but of body parts: a breast here, an ear there, a piece of cleavage. She zoomed in on noses and eyes, elbows and legs, a daintily sculpted bicep. Perhaps she would construct the perfect woman out of the parts of many. A photo-real Frankenstein.
Eventually, a familiar face appeared in the corner of Cameron’s frame. Eve was sitting at a near-empty table. And the only person with her was Allie.
Cameron aimed her camera at them and snapped some pictures. All of the surrounding tables were full, which was sad. It must be hard for Eve, thought Cameron. She was once the woman everyone wanted to talk to. and now she had an audience of one. It was her own fault for leaving this world and letting herself fall apart. She must have realized her mistake, since she had come back for more. Too bad it was much too late.
A tan, handsome man with wavy dark hair walked in front of Cameron’s lens. She lowered her camera and called out to him.
Dr. Glass turned around, befuddled. Glancing to the right and then to the left, he approached her carefully. “Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“It’s me, Cameron Beekman. You’ll be seeing me tomorrow.”
“Of course,” said Dr. Glass. When he smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkled. It made him look kind of old. Cameron was surprised he hadn’t gotten that taken care of. “You look lovely, Cameron, and I’m sorry for my surprise. I know at least half of the women here, but they’d never associate with me in public.”
Cameron blinked. “Why not?”
“Think about it. If you’re caught talking to me, then it’s almost proof that you need me.”
“But that’s so unfair. This crowd would never look this great without you.”
Dr. Glass took a sip of his drink. “It’s nice to be appreciated. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He patted her on the shoulder and walked away.
Suddenly, the lights blinked off and on. Then the MC announced that everyone should quiet down so the ceremony could begin. Cameron went to find her parents’ table.
Some of the Motion Picture Home residents were about to be presented with lifetime achievement awards. It was nice of the benefit committee to recognize them, thought Cameron. Not that she planned to sit around and watch. It was eleven thirty and her stomach was growling. She handed her camera back to her dad and slipped away from the table in search of food. Because of tomorrow’s surgery she couldn’t eat or drink after midnight.
After
Cameron found the buffet table, she wolfed down crab cakes and chicken satay and miniature goat cheese and arugula quiches, finishing just in the nick of time. As the clock struck twelve, she took her last sip of water and threw away her cocktail napkin.
It was all so evocative of Cinderella. Better, though, because for Cameron the stroke of midnight marked not the end but the fabulous beginning of her new and improved, more beautiful, brand-new self.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Motion Picture Home benefit was the last place that Allie wanted to be, but she didn’t have any choice. Her dad had gotten the tickets two weeks ago, and at the time she’d been happy that her family was supporting the home. Of course back then, she hadn’t realized it would be a blacktie event covered by Entertainment Tonight and the E! channel.
“This is a benefit for an old-age home. Why do they need security here?” asked Allie as they waited in line to get into the tacky Beverly Hills mansion with its horrible faux-Greek columns. It was so large and imposing, it reminded her of a hotel. And who would ever want to live in a hotel?
“Tickets were expensive and there are a ton of celebrities here,” her dad explained. “There could be crashers.”
“Oh.” Allie felt silly for missing the obvious yet again. This wasn’t just a benefit. It was an event, and she should have known. Why else would her mom and sister make her buy a new, fancy dress if not for the cameras?
She stepped forward carefully. The heels made her whole body pitch forward, which turned walking into a huge pain, but Cameron had insisted that she wear them. Apparently, they were the only pair that went with the outfit, which Allie couldn’t stand either. Whenever she showed too much cleavage, guys talked to her chest rather than to her face. It was creepy.
“Julie Davenport, can I take your picture?” someone yelled once they got close to the camera crews.
“Of course,” Julie replied.
This was Allie’s least favorite part about going to events with her family, which said a lot, because there was so much not to like.
Her mom pasted on a smile and turned toward the camera. Julie excelled at that type of thing. It was so easy for her to turn into someone she wasn’t. When Allie was younger, it scared her.
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