“Well, I thought this agency was some big secret. Can’t be too secret if you’re letting actresses in on it.”
“They’re not in on anything. Mindy contacted us through the temp section of our agency. We use it to fill in for a few select beauty queens, actors…those sort. Really, it’s just a cover for us to screen subs without exposing our secret. Mindy thinks you’re just a dead-on look-alike in elaborate makeup and prosthetics, with a genius for fast getaways. She knows nothing about the rouge or MP or this bubble. So they get their temps—we get our tests.”
“Still, you could have told me all that beforehand.”
“And miss out on the fun? No way. Look, I don’t know why this upsets you. Surprisingly, you passed.” She twirled her finger around. “Whoop-dee-do for you.”
“It was a big whoop-dee-do, thanks.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “So the next job will be actual royalty, right? Something a little more glamorous?”
“I don’t know about that. Princesses are people. Glamour is all relative.”
“Hey, I’ve seen Roman Holiday. I don’t buy into the woe-is-me princess stuff. It’s still better than Pets Charming.”
Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Well, since you’re such an expert already, and you obviously don’t need my far-more educated take, you can go lie down. It’s good to decompress for a bit between jobs, clear your head. I’ll slow down the bubble speed so I can get some work done, and you can sleep. You never know when you’ll get a break around here.”
My hand ached from the autograph blitz. I closed my eyes and melted into the couch, forcing out all thoughts of insects. The whirring bubble and the never-ending tapping of the keyboard gradually lulled me into a peaceful sleep.
Peaceful, until the earthquake hit.
Chapter
7
“Earthquake!” I dove under the couch. The candies on the coffee table jiggled while the rest of the room jangled. The room sounded like it was in the middle of a washing machine during spin cycle. Oblivious, Meredith kept typing.
“Mer-e-dith. What’s go-ing on?” I asked from under the protection of her furniture.
Meredith glanced up from her work. “What do you mean?”
“That shaking.”
“Oh. That’s turbulence. Only a few more minutes of this and then we land.”
“Minutes!” My eyes crossed and my teeth chattered. I was a coin stuck in the washer, spinning and spinning forever.
Just when I thought my bones would crack, the motion stopped. Meredith calmly stood up and exited the bubble. I followed, stumbling out like I’d gotten off a roller coaster. Three different Merediths swirled around me until they blended into one very impatient version.
“See? We’re here. You’re such a drama queen sometimes.”
“Here” was an empty underground parking garage. The bubble floated in a “Reserved for M. Pouffinski” parking spot until Meredith hit a button and sucked it back into her remote.
She led me up a ramp, out of the parking lot, and onto the wet city street. Across from us, chic customers sipped coffee at an outdoor café under an overcast sky. Smooth, white, stone buildings with wrought-iron balconies and blue roofs lined the street. A modern, rectangular building tore into the skyline.
I gasped. “Meredith, are we in—”
“Paris, of course,” she said without slowing down.
“Oh my gosh.” Audrey Hepburn once said Paris is always a good idea, and here we were! For real. “So that Eiffel Tower over there”—I pointed to the structure in the far-off distance—“is the real Eiffel Tower, not a Vegas rip-off?”
A man on a scooter zipped past us and yelled something in French. “You wish,” Meredith muttered.
“What did he—”
“Not something I intend to repeat. Hurry up.”
A moment later we walked into the sleek, posh lobby of a solitary black skyscraper, the Tour Montparnasse. Meredith flashed a sparkly green ID badge at a burly security guard, and led me into an elevator. “I’m Henry the Eighth I Am” played softly in the background.
“Didn’t know they had a Muzak version of that one,” Meredith mused as she shoved her card into a special slot, switching the light from red to green. At the top floor, the elevator stopped with a ding, and the doors scrolled open.
“I don’t think we’re in Idaho anymore, Toto,” I whispered.
If you took the coolness of every fashion magazine in the world and mixed it in one sweet bowl of awesome, it would still be only one-tenth as amazing as this. The whole layout was über modern: geometrical furniture, odd sculptures, and thin vases filled with lilies. A stunningly beautiful receptionist sat at a round glass desk bearing the sign MIRAGE, AGENCE MODELESE. Behind her, elegant women in designer clothes flitted in and out of offices. Truly, Celeste Juniper would look like a clumsy hick next to the skinny gorgeous girls lounging on the white couches. So you can imagine how I felt standing in the middle of a Paris modeling agency in my FLOCCINAUCINIHILIPILIFICATION shirt and jeans. Trés vapor.
The receptionist didn’t look up when we approached.
Meredith cleared her throat. “Bonjour. I need to—”
The girl pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the couches and spoke in a high, French-accented voice. “Vittorio is running late. Take a seat.”
“No, no.” Meredith slapped her green ID onto the counter. The girl glanced at it, then up at Meredith, her eyes widening. “Ms. Pouffinski, I’m so sorry. I’m new…I didn’t realize you were an…an agent—”
Meredith laughed. “Did you think Desi here was a model?” I turned to glower at her, but then she added, “Don’t you recognize new talent when you see it?”
The room hushed as if that word—talent—had magical freezing powers. A few models whispered to each other in French. I avoided the stares by focusing on a white, blobby sculpture.
“Desi will begin work immediately,” Meredith said, “and she’ll need a building ID badge with special access. At your convenience, of course.”
“Of course,” the receptionist said reverently.
Meredith rolled her eyes and started walking toward an empty hallway. “Desi, vámonos.”
I scurried behind her, grateful to escape the stares of the beautiful people.
“What was that all about?”
“Mirage? That’s our cover. On paper, Façade is technically a branch of Mirage. They don’t have a clue what we do, but they worship us. As they should.”
“Why did they act so shocked when you said I was a, um, talent?”
“It’s rare and mysterious to them. A new talent does-n’t walk in every day, so you’re kind of a big deal. But whatever. Don’t let it go to your head. You have work to do.”
The last couple of things I mentally filed in the Meredith’s rude comments folder, and I focused instead on the “You’re kind of a big deal” part. As in, not vapor. As in unique. As in, there were models sitting in that lobby who were envious of me because of my magical abilities.
Surreal much?
We stopped at a large door, where Meredith swiped her card again and positioned herself in front of a built-in computer screen. A red laser scanned up and down her features.
“Entry granted,” said a computerized female voice.
And then the door clicked open, revealing the real reception area. And…wow.
I’d never been in a fairy-tale castle, but I imagined it must look something like this. Tall stained-glass windows cast a rainbow of sunshine on the gold-inlay floors. The cathedral ceiling was covered in silver stars carved into a midnight sky. A monstrous chandelier reached down, radiating a warm glow on the front reception area. The whole place exuded majesty. Centuries of it.
“But…it’s a tower! The building was boxy and all glass. You couldn’t even fit this room on the whole floor—”
“Desi. I have magic powder that morphs your physical appearance. I travel in a bubble. And you might not have noticed, but my hair is consistently fabulous. Ther
e are few limits to what we can do.”
I heard a cough, then noticed a balding gentleman, more butler than receptionist, standing partly hidden behind a colossal bouquet of yellow roses.
“Ms. Pouffinski. Pleasure.”
Meredith glowed. “Ferdinand! We’re just on our way to substitute orientation. This is Miss Desi Bascomb.”
“Ah, the new talent?” He gave me a small bow. “Lilith is expecting you. Genevieve was suddenly called away, but she sends a warm welcome.”
Meredith seemed to deflate a little, but then she smiled. “Thank you. Desi?”
I waved at Ferdinand and followed Meredith down an echoey hallway lined with priceless-looking artifacts—fans, figurines, and silver trinkets, all with little engraved placards mounted below them. I paused at a tall white wig in a glass box and read the inscription: To a true professional. Merci for saving my neck. Au revoir, Marie. Like, Marie Antoinette? The French queen who was beheaded?
As if reading my mind, Meredith tsked. “History depends on who is writing it. Now check this out.”
She pulled a golden curtain tassel to the right, unveiling a built-in display case filled with tiaras. I stood until my nose was inches away from the glass, gasping after reading the note attached to an emerald tiara. You’re a match made in heaven, Genevieve. XO, Princess Grace. Oh my gosh. Princess Grace. Grace Kelly wore that.
“How do I get one?” I tapped the glass. “That is so cool!”
“Dream on, darling. They don’t toss these things around. In fact, receiving a tiara from a client is an extremely rare honor. Let’s move on. And try not to gape. It’s unflattering.”
I had to be a foot taller than Meredith, yet she stayed a few steps ahead of me as we left the corridor and entered a more businesslike hallway that resembled a fancy law office. We even passed a row of seven silver-framed portraits. A somber bunch, all posing in the same velvet-backed chair, wearing the same superior frown. Yet everyone had crazy, colored hair like Meredith’s. The woman in the center portrait actually had a rainbow hairdo. What was up with the bad dye jobs here? I’d have to ask later.
Meredith stopped in front of a purple door and waited for me to join her. Even then she didn’t knock, but seemed frozen. “Lilith and some of the others are very traditional. I should be training you, but…it’s complicated. Anyway, one of my subs accidentally got stuck in Siberia a few days ago, and I’ve got to go deal with that mess.”
“Uh, what mess?”
“Oh.” Meredith coughed. “We just haven’t found her yet.”
My eyes widened.
Meredith rolled hers. “It’s been on my things-to-do list, okay?”
Finally she rapped the heart-shaped knocker three times. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself before squeezing a smirk onto her face.
The door whipped open, revealing a stunning woman with a serene smile and cascading lavender hair that looked like she’d stolen it from a My Little Pony doll. “Oh, Meredith, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here.” Lilith’s accent was…I couldn’t place it…the accent of a girl who knows Latin, plays croquet, and goes to boarding school. Meredith’s name sounded like music when Lilith said it. They air-kissed each other, and Lilith turned her serenity on me. “And you must be Desi. I’m Lilith. We are so insanely excited to have you!”
I grinned. “Thanks. Insane is a good word for all of this.”
“I bet. Oooh, I want that T-shirt! So ironic. Where’d you get it?”
“I made it.”
“A designer.” She winked. “I’m loving you already. We were just finalizing the surrogate assignments for the Lady Carol wedding. Why don’t you come in and I’ll show off our new star!”
“I’ll leave Desi for you, then—”
“Oh, don’t be shy, Meredith.” Lilith giggled. “Might be fun for you to see how we work at this level.”
She swept us into a large conference room, brightly lit, with comfortable chairs, a long table, and a projection screen filled with notes and pictures of various royals. Framed maps hung on the walls. Women of different nationalities (and very different hair colors) sipped coffee or flipped through documents. Lilith clapped her hands. “Everybody! I want you to meet Desi, our new surrogate! Come welcome her before I sweep her off for her Level One training.”
The group smiled at me warmly. Two women rushed over and gave me hugs. “Welcome to the Façade family! You are so lucky to have Lilith training you. She’s just the best!”
Meredith stifled a yawn. “Yes, Desi is in for a rare treat. Would love to visit, girls, but if I don’t go look after my clients, no one will.”
A woman with pink hair smiled. “Oh, Meredith, don’t rush off. Who isn’t busy? Stay for a bit.”
“Yes. A very little bit,” added a lemon-haired agent.
“I know. It’s been so long since we had girl time.” Lilith wrapped her arm around Meredith’s shoulder. Meredith looked like she was ready to heave. “You never told me if you found that poor sub who got lost. I can only imagine how awful that must have been.”
“Right. Well, sorry, girls. Duty calls.” Meredith turned her back to the other women. “Desi, I’ll be back in a few hours with your first assignment. Just have to finalize the details, but I can tell you”—she raised her voice so the others could hear—“it’s a big one. Ta-ta, girls!” With a neat pivot, Meredith left the break room.
“Charming as ever,” Pink Hair said under her breath. “My name is Agatha, by the way.”
“And I’m Priscilla,” said Yellow Hair. “Now, tell us. What’s Desi short for?”
“Nothing. Just Desi. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, I don’t take much stock in name meanings.” Lilith brushed her hand through her violet mane. “Mine has something to do with darkness. Ridiculous, right? That’s what’s so fun about being a surrogate. You get a new name for a while. And a new…everything.”
The other agents laughed.
Their hair was just so bright. I had to ask. “You all have such colorful hair. I mean, it’s pretty, but—”
“But?” teased Priscilla. “Don’t you think we’re fabulous?”
“Poor Desi, your head must be whirling,” Lilith said, laughing. “You change your hair when you become an agent; it’s a status mark of sorts. There’s only a handful of us, and we were all once surrogates like you, you know, which meant we weren’t allowed to see or interact with each other until we made our career move and ditched our regular lives.”
“Not to mention the commute!” added Agatha.
“And trying to balance home life with work stuff.” Priscilla shuddered. “Now we have an agency family.”
So what was Meredith, then, the annoying stepsister? “That’s cool,” I said. “Doesn’t the hair make people curious, though?”
“Oh, people lacking MP can’t see it, Desi dear,” Lilith said. “I’m a total redhead as far as they’re concerned. And we don’t spend much time out there in the normal world anyway, what with our busy schedules. Speaking of, I should steal you away for training.”
Agatha smoothed down her blouse. “Yes, I think we’re done here. I’ll secure Emily for Princess Rachel, then. She’s our strongest conversationalist.”
“Just make sure she doesn’t go near Rachel’s history with the groom.” Priscilla shook her head. “Ack, this wouldn’t be so difficult if everyone wasn’t skipping out. Lady Carol is such a beast; everyone wants a sub!”
“I bet her fiancé wants one too!” Agatha glanced back at the screen. “We’ll hammer it out. Go ahead, Lilith. And it was lovely meeting you, Desi.”
“You too. I had no idea how…wonderful you’d all be.”
Lilith wove her fingers into mine. “That’s just because you’re stuck with Meredith. She’s not the warmest cookie in the batch.” She squeezed my hand. “But we all know how special you are. Ready to get started?”
I looked down at our hands. Had Meredith even touched me, let alone shown warmth or kindness? No, all she
’d done was roll her eyes and laugh at me. Oh, and pinch me.
And then there was Lilith.
“Yeah.” I squeezed her hand back. “Princess me up.”
Chapter
8
Lilith guided me into the classroom, a perfect mix of the modern outer reception area and the royal charm of the tower. One worn, heavy desk that had probably belonged to a little princess a few hundred years ago faced a glass-and-metal table with a swivel chair. An oriental rug covered the floor, and track lighting poked out from the ceiling. There was a “Subs Learn and Earn!” poster, and Lilith’s desk held a few golden-framed pictures of her in different designer gowns.
“Let’s go over our history first to give you an educated foundation.” Lilith pointed a purple-jeweled remote at a blank screen that covered one entire wall, while I slid into my seat. “This first item is more precious to us than all those tiaras out there combined.”
I expected to see a fat set of crown jewels, or maybe even a throne made out of diamonds. Instead, a picture of a small and very old turquoise statue filled the screen—something you might pass by in a museum on the way to the mummy exhibit.
“Is that a…is that a hippopotamus?”
“Yes. Hippopotamuses are very important in Egyptian history, and in Façade’s as well. You see, this agency’s beginnings trace back to an ancient Egyptian priestess, Woserit, who was the first to discover the magic of transformation.” Lilith clicked to the next slide, a beautiful ebony statue of a woman’s head. “There she is. Now, those were dark times. The royal court was buzzing with rumors of a plot to murder the queen. Woserit was by the Nile, pondering her queen’s dire situation, when a hippo appeared and told her to rub some Nile silt onto her face—that’s the active ingredient in the rouge, you know. The silt temporarily transformed her into the queen’s double and inspired Woserit’s plan: until the traitors were apprehended, the queen would hide, and Woserit would masquerade as the queen. That very night, the traitors poisoned her food, and Woserit died protecting the queen, thus sealing the magic to all who serve royalty.”
Princess for Hire Page 5
