now—”
“This the same chick!” he said jabbing a finger in
Audra’s direction. “Remember how dark she used
to be? Nappy hair, big old tits and big old butt? This
the same—”
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“All right, all right,” Audra repeated, feeling in-
creasingly uncomfortable as the men stared at her,
some laughing, others shaking their heads in disbe-
lief. Audra thought she heard, “Like the King of
Pop!” and “That’s messed up!” along with other
less-than-flattering comments.
“Remember when she threw Haines? Threw him
like a rag doll!” Carlton all but cackled. “Broke two
of his ribs—”
Audra’s eyes shot to Haines, who was staring her
down with a venom that couldn’t signal anything
but bad news. She let her eyes stray to the other
COs, but they seemed content to let Audra handle
the ribbing in any way she chose.
“That’s enough!” Audra roared, as the murmurs
reached higher decibels. “Back to your recreation . . .
or all of you will be back in your cells with plenty of
time to think about it—”
“Oh yeah?” In the few months since she’d seen
him last, Carlton had gained a nasty swagger that
didn’t become him in the slightest. “You said you was
gonna kick my ass. Look at you. You couldn’t kick—”
Audra whipped out her baton, grabbed his right
arm behind his back and pressed the baton tight
against his throat. She jerked him to his feet, feeling
the strain in her body at his weight.
“I told you to shut up, and I mean shut up!” she
hissed, dragging him toward the door, thanking
God and Julienne for the dozens of extra repetitions
of upper body exercises she’d been forced to endure.
“And if you can’t shut up then—”
She stumbled against something unseen—
something that felt like someone’s foot and leg. She
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righted herself quickly, but in the tangled moment
of regaining her equilibrium, Audra lost her grip on
Carlton. A second later, he’d whirled around, duck-
ing free of the baton and facing her with a little
smirk on his face, while she looked around for the
obstruction . . . or the obstructor. Princeton Haines
stood nearby, his eyes locked on hers and his usual
sneer curling his features into ugliness.
The other COs converged on the situation now,
and Carlton was handcuffed in an instant, all the
while loudly complaining that he hadn’t done any-
thing, hadn’t said anything, hadn’t been anywhere
near anything ever in his entire life.
“You want to take him back or—”
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Audra muttered, feeling a sudden
sense of shame suffusing her skin, praying that her
cheeks weren’t flaming with the emotion, but know-
ing with her paler complexion, it was highly likely
that the entire room was witnessing her discomfiture
at being bested by an inmate, if only for a second. She
pulled her features into her game face and let her eyes
skim the room one last time, taking in every face. The
room was silent now except for the blaring TV and
the crashes and whines of the video games. Most
of the men were staring at her blankly, unwilling to
risk the possibility of being ejected in the same
undignified manner as Carlton. But Princeton
Haines was watching her with a funny little smile
curled on his snide lips . . . and Audra had to talk to
herself to keep from shuddering under its scrutiny.
She called Bradshaw that night, but Penny said he
was “out” and launched into her own conversation,
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starting into a long-winded series of questions
about her time in Los Angeles, ending with the re-
quest to bring a few of the girls from school to Au-
dra’s apartment to watch Ugly Duckling on the night
of Audra’s Reveal.
Chapter 26
October 4
Dear Petra,
He’s not talking to me.
Okay, he’s talking to me a little. When Penny calls
(which is often, the girl has adopted us!) he’ll come to
the phone for a minute. He answers my questions
“yes” or “no” . . . or he’ll ask me about some movie
that was on the Classic Channel. He called in sick
every day I worked the 7-a.m.-to-3-p.m. shift; didn’t
come back until I was back to nights.
He’s avoiding me, Petra. He’s avoiding me right
when we have so much to talk about . . .
I know I should have told him about the skin
lightening. I don’t know why I didn’t.
Okay, so that’s not true: I do know why I didn’t tell
him. If he’d only let me explain ! All I wanted was to
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look like you and Ma and Kiana . . . I might not have
done it at all if I’d known about Andrew Neill . . .
Speaking of my father—it’s weird to be saying that
and not mean Daddy—he has a niece here in New
York. I’m going to meet her this afternoon, just before I
go to work. Ma is jittery about it, but she won’t talk to
me, either. Just keeps fussing and mussing, critcizing
and complaining . . .
I think it’s her way of telling me she’s scared of
where all my discoveries might lead. I think she’s
worried I’m changing so much, I won’t love her
anymore.
Do you think Ma could need reassurance? Seems
impossible, doesn’t it?
Wish me luck,
Audra
Audra knew the woman before she entered the
diner.
It was the same little place near the prison where
she’d sat with Art months and months ago, a differ-
ent woman from the woman she was now, both in-
side and out. For one thing, she was almost half the
size she used to be. For another, her street clothes
were now designer jeans worn over Shamiyah-style
heels and a trendy little T-shirt covered by a form-
fitting jacket. And of course there was the hat, scarf
and gloves she wore to protect her skin from the
mottling effect Dr. Jamison had told her about.
Audra stared out of the window of the booth, ig-
noring the good smells of the place. Dieting was so
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much harder now than when she was locked in a
mirrorless room: there seemed to be temptations
everywhere. Audra tried to ignore the smell of fresh
bread and sizzling bacon fat and focused on the
window, watching the sidewalks fill with evening
foot traffic and the streets line with cabs as the sun
sank between the skyscrapers. She glanced down at
the piece of paper where she’d written the name
and the woman’s cell phone number, along with to-
day’s date and the
time, both records of this appoint-
ment set by Audra with Art’s private-investigator
friend’s help.
Laine Neill. That was her name. Audra’s father’s
brother’s daughter. Her cousin on her father’s side.
Audra glanced up and out the window again as a
butterfly of nervousness soared upward from the pit
of her stomach. Outside, a woman crossed the street
and began walking up the block toward her.
She was around Audra’s age, with dark brown
skin, of medium height and on the chunky side—
carrying at least thirty to forty extra pounds, mainly
around the middle and in her butt and thighs—yet
she wore a fashionable pair of the same kind of low-
slung jeans Audra wore and a pair of spike-heeled
boots. She wore a tan suede jacket over a black tank
top. Her features were utterly unremarkable in any-
way: not unattractive, just not particularly striking
or memorable, but she walked with the easy grace of
a runway model, confidence speaking in every step.
Audra slid out of the booth as Laine Neill stepped
into the diner and looked around. She walked to-
ward Audra with a bright smile on her face and
open arms—and as Audra realized she was staring
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into a face very much like her own had been many
months ago, tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“Hey cuz,” she said, wrapping Audra in the
warmth of her hug. “Welcome to the family.”
“Audra! W—what are you doing?” Edith hissed as
Audra grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the
Goldilocks salon. “I’m in the middle of a process—”
and she jerked her arm free and waved her gloved
fingers at Audra.
“Get someone else to finish it for you.”
“But the client asked for me—”
“If the choices are have someone else finish it or
watch her hair fall out, I think she’ll let someone else
finish it!” Audra snapped. “I have to talk to you, right
now! And either you come outside with me, or I’m go-
ing to start talking in front of this whole salon.”
Edith cut a fearful glance around her. It was a Fri-
day evening and there was a woman in every chair,
plus a few waiting in the little alcove toward the
shop’s front.
“All right, all right,” Edith grumbled, pulling her
gloves from her fingers. “I’m sorry, dear,” she called
in a bright voice toward her client. “Jasmine will fin-
ish you up and I’ll be back before it’s time to style!”
Then she followed Audra out onto the street.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she de-
manded as soon as they were on the sidewalk. This
side street was fairly quiet, but Audra could hear the
rumble of the subway in the distance.
“You know I’m not due on until eleven.”
“Well, I can’t believe you would come here on a
Friday, one of my busiest nights, and—”
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“And I can’t believe you would lie to me all these
years!” Audra snapped at her.
Edith’s face froze for a moment, as her brain ab-
sorbed the words. “Honestly, Audra!” she rolled her
eyes dramatically and shook her head. “I know you
like to have your little movie scenes, but there’s a
time and place for everything.” She turned back to-
ward the salon. “I am not about to stand out here in
the cold and—”
“You are, Ma. You are, because I’ve waited long
enough to hear your explanation. And I’m not wait-
ing anymore!”
Her mother blinked at her, her composure ripped
away like a cheap Halloween mask. Audra read fear
in her eyes now, even as she struggled for self-
control.
“There ain’t no reason to shout, Audra.”
“I just met my cousin, Ma. My cousin! She looks
just like me—just like I used to look. Do you have
any idea what that means to me? Do you have any
idea what it would have meant to know her—to
know the truth about myself—all these years?”
“Well, I didn’t know ’Drew had any family in
New York. Last I heard they were all still on St.
Croix—”
“Don’t change the subject, Ma,” Audra shot back.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him? Why didn’t you
tell me about my father! Why didn’t you tell me be-
fore I went on the Ugly Duckling? Before I—” she
gestured to herself. “Why did you wait until it was
too late?”
“Because I didn’t actually think you’d go through
with it, that’s why!” her mother shouted. “Right up
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to the very last minute, I was sure you’d back out. I
was sure you’d come running home like you always
did and I could save myself some shame—” And she
burst into tears, hard jagged sobs that had Audra
not been so determined to hear the story, it would
have been impossible to listen to.
“He was a good man . . . a good man,” her mother
cried. “Why do you have to look so much like him?
Why—”
Audra sighed, her anger draining from her with
every word her mother spoke. “I need to know how
it happened. I need to know . . .” She rubbed her
forehead. “How and where and when . . .”
But her mother just paced away from her and
sobbed, her face in her hands.
“Here, Ma—” Audra approached her gently and
led her to a spot at the edge of the curb. “Sit down . . .”
Her mother sat, but kept sobbing, her face hidden.
Audra stroked her shoulder gently, murmuring over
and over, “It’s okay, Ma. It’s okay . . .”
“I—I—was a young wife. Petra was just over a
year old. Your—her father was always gone—
always running the streets with buddies or . . .” she
hiccupped a little, “some woman or the other. I was
from the boonies . . . I didn’t know no one. I was so
lonely . . . so miserable . . . scared to death of this
big city. B—but I couldn’t go back.” She looked up at
Audra with wet, red eyes, her lips twisted with an-
guish. “There wasn’t nothing for me in North Car-
olina. Nothing at all . . .” she whispered. “I knew I
had to make it work here somehow for myself. For
my daughter . . .” She snuffled and wiped her face
with the long black smock she wore over her
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clothes. “I met Andrew at a soul food restaurant. I
was feeling low, wishing for home and I ended up
drowning my sorrows in a plate of fried chicken and
collard greens. Petra was sitting beside me, giving
me pure D hell and I just . . . started crying.” She
smiled through her tears. “I guess I’d just had it or
something . . . but he was sitting at a table nearby,
and he saw I was losin’
it. He distracted Petra while
I got myself together and then”—fresh tears formed
in her eyes—“he asked us both to the Central Park
Zoo. I almost said no. I was a married woman. True,
I was married to a man who acted like he wasn’t a
married man—James Marks wasn’t faithful to me a
single day we were together—but I knew I didn’t
have to act like him. But ’Drew was so kind . . . He
was so nice to me . . . and Petra had never been to
the zoo.” She sighed. “I said yes.”
Audra waited while she paused, smiling a little to
herself.
“I don’t want you to think I just fell into bed with
him, ’cause I didn’t. He and his brother were setting
up a Caribbean restaurant and he was working very
hard. But when he could, he would call or come
by and take me and Petra somewhere. Anywhere.
Sometimes we went to movies, or sightseeing in the
city. But most of the time I went with him to restau-
rant supply stores and to City Hall when he got the
paperwork for a restaurant license. I didn’t care. I
just . . .” She swallowed, pressing back her emotions
so that she had the breath to continue. “He talked all
the time about how important it was to ‘do your
own thing’—it was the seventies, you know. That’s
how people talked. And when I told him I liked to
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do hair, he encouraged me to get my cosmetology li-
cense. Even gave me the money to take the test.”
She paused again.
“I fell for him, mind, body and soul,” she whis-
pered. “And one thing led to another . . .” She
turned to Audra. “We had it planned. I was going to
get a divorce from James and we were going to get
married and raise Petra—and our own children—
together. I was going to open this salon”—she ges-
tured behind her—“and we were going to be happy.
And it would have happened, too, but . . .”
“He was killed,” Audra finished. “I read it in the
stuff the private investigator sent me. Hit by a car
over on Ninth Avenue. April fifth—”
“And you were born in December,” her mother
finished with a sad and heavy sigh. “I know I
should have left anyway . . . I should have divorced
James then and gone on.” She shook her head. “But
I was a different woman then. I didn’t have any
money. I had a cosmetology license but no experi-
ence using it. I wasn’t sure I could make it on my
own. And when I found out I was pregnant, I really
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