NEW YORK, NEW YORK, IT’S A WONDERFUL TOWN 2 страница
SOHO TIME-OUT
I fell asleep with questions buzzing in my brain, and they were still there when I woke up the next morning.
Kelly was just finishing up in the shower. When she came out, I decided to see how she would react to a little subtle digging.
“So what did you think of the unscheduled entertainment at the reception?” I asked her.
Her cheeks turned pink. “I… I missed most of it. I was, um, in the ladies’ room,” she told me without looking at me. Taking the towel off her hair, she began to comb it out.
“Oh. Well, I thought your dad did a great job of calming the crowd down,” I said. “But still, it was weird. I mean, Pretty Face wouldn’t test their products on animals, would they?”
“No way,” Kelly said without hesitation. “Those kids were dead wrong. My dad is always going on about how eco-friendly the company is. He says it’s a central part of the branding. No, there’s no way.”
She finished combing her hair and went into the bathroom, where I heard the blow-dryer start up. I leaned back against my pillows, chewing on my lip. Okay, so it didn’t seem likely that Kelly had been involved with the protest. Surely, if she had, she’d be trying to convince me that the protesters had been telling the truth. Right?
Unless she knew I was suspicious and was trying to throw me off the scent…
I shook my head. No way would sweet, straightforward Kelly think like that.
Kelly walked back into the room. “So what did you do after the reception?” she asked. “Did you end up going out on the town?”
I climbed reluctantly out of bed. “Nope. We were too tired. I just hung out with Bess and George for a little while. How about you?”
“A few of the girls came back to the room for a bit. Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” she added, suddenly looking anxious. “I would have asked if it was okay with you, but I didn’t know where you were.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” I assured her. “So who was here?”
“Alanna, Piper, Crystal, and Juliet. We hung out and swapped pageant stories,” Kelly told me. A wistful look crossed her face. “I know I sound like a dork, but it was really fun, just hanging out with the girls.”
I felt a surge of sympathy. “It’s one of the most fun things there is,” I agreed. Kelly’s dad was so ridiculously overprotective that Kelly basically had no friends back home. I’d seen that firsthand during the Miss Pretty Face River Heights pageant. I’d hung out at her house a couple of times, but it was hard to feel comfortable when her dad kept finding excuses to check up on us every ten minutes. And the few times I’d invited her to do something with me, he always had reasons why she couldn’t go.
I caught sight of the clock. “Yikes!” I exclaimed. “If I don’t get myself in gear, I’m going to be late for the morning workout!”
Kelly gave me a devilish grin. “Better you than me,” she said. As the former Miss Pretty Face River Heights, she didn’t have to do any of the pageant preparation. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll go back to bed. Or order a big breakfast from room service.”
“Don’t rub it in,” I retorted, grinning back at her.
I hurried into the bathroom and took a quick shower to wake myself up. After I dried my hair, I threw on my workout clothes, grabbed my white-soled sneakers, and headed down to the lobby and out the front doors. Harrison had told us the workout studio was a block and a half from the hotel. As I walked down the street, I glanced at the pageant schedule I’d snatched from my bag, searching for the address. Then I did a double take.
“The studio is at the corner of West Fourth and West Twelfth?” I muttered. How was that possible? Shouldn’t those two streets run parallel to each other?
“Excuse me,” I said, stopping a woman pushing a stroller down the street. I blinked as I noticed that the stroller held not a baby but a small, fat pug dog. The dog wore a hat and booties. It stared at me and yawned.
“Yes?” the woman said.
“Um…” I pulled my attention back to her. “I’m looking for the New York Fitness Studio, but I think there must be some mistake, because the directions I have say it’s at the corner of West Fourth and West Twelfth streets.” I laughed. “That’s impossible, right?”
The woman looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know why you’d say that,” she snapped, as if I had just insulted her dog. Turning, she pointed down the street. “The corner of West Fourth and West Twelfth is two blocks south and two blocks east.”
“Oh. Well, thanks,” I said, mentally shaking my head. Greenwich Village was weird!
I hurried on and, five minutes later, was relieved to see the New York Fitness Studio banner waving from the side of a white-painted brick building. I ran up the stairs to the second-floor dance studio and slipped into place at the end of the line of contestants, intercepting a glare from Piper Depken. I was only two minutes late, which I thought was pretty good considering I’d still been in my pajamas half an hour before.
Harrison Hendrickson entered about thirty seconds after me, and without say- ing a single word, began walking up and down the line studying us.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said after he’d given us all the once-over. He ran a hand over his perfectly combed silver hair. “I’m glad to see you’re all here, properly dressed and on time. There’s nothing more important for you, as representatives of Pretty Face, than to always be on time and looking your best.” He stopped and peered at Raven’s face. “I think you forgot to remove your makeup before you went to sleep last night,” he said with that stiff smile. “Bad for the complexions, sweet pea.”
Raven flushed. “I’m sorry, I was so tired I just fell asleep,” she stammered, but Harrison held up a hand to silence her.
“No excuses,” he said. “Just don’t do it again.
“I’m going to go over the rules of conduct again, though I’m sure none of you young ladies would dream of breaching them,” he went on, turning back to face the rest of us. “Miss Pretty Face, first and foremost, always has a pretty face and a natural look. She takes care of herself, and the way she looks reflects this. Miss Pretty Face is always well-spoken and polite. Miss Pretty Face is always punctual. Miss Pretty Face is always dressed appropriately for whatever occasion she is attending. Miss Pretty Face does not give unauthorized or unsupervised interviews or otherwise interact with the press. It goes without saying that Miss Pretty Face does not drink or take drugs of any kind. Miss Pretty Face…”
As he went on and on, I couldn’t help tuning out. My stomach was growling, since I hadn’t had time for breakfast. I hope the workout isn’t too tough, I thought.
Two and a half hours later I practically crawled out of the studio, exhausted and frazzled. After the lecture Harrison had introduced us to Nadia, our Tae Bo coach, who’d led us in a grueling hour-long workout that included way too much kicking and punching for my liking. Then we’d done a half hour of concentrated abs, and finally Harrison called us all over and gave us personal evaluations. He’d seated himself behind a table at one side of the studio, a clipboard in front of him and a silver pen in his hand. We lined up to hear his verdicts one by one.
When it came to my turn, he said, “I noticed you came in late this morning.”
“It was just two minutes,” I said, startled.
“That’s two minutes too many, sweet pea,” he said, rapping my knuckles lightly with the silver pen. “Did you hear what I said in my opening remarks? Or maybe you don’t think that punctuality is important?”
I was annoyed, but I kept my smile. “Of course I do, but it was only two minutes.”
Harrison narrowed his eyes at me. “I see” was all he said. But suddenly I had the feeling that I had not made a good impression.
“You look worried about something,” George said to me when I met her and Bess in the hotel lobby.
“Not worried, exactly,” I said. “I just don’t think I’ve gotten off on the right foot with Harrison Hendrickson. If there is a right foot with him.”
“I don’t think there is,” Bess said. “He didn’t strike me as a very nice man.”
I shrugged. “Well, this pageant would be easier if he was a little less of a drill sergeant. But I’d rather think about something else for a while. Let’s get out of here and check out the town!”
“Now you’re speaking my language!” Bess cheered.
I changed into jeans and we trooped out to sightsee in New York City.
Our first stop was Magnolia Bakery, a famous Greenwich Village bakery on Bleecker Street, where we had delicious cupcakes with buttercream icing. Then we strolled over to Washington Square Park and watched some really good jugglers and musicians perform in the empty fountain in the middle of the park. From there we headed south into SoHo, land of Bess’s dreams, where we window-shopped at one amazing store after another. My favorite was this weird little place, where you could buy anything from fossil dinosaur teeth to a full human skeleton. I picked up a shark tooth for Ned, my boyfriend back home. “Because nothing says I love you like the canine of a great white shark,” George joked.
Of course Bess had to try on clothes in some of the designer boutiques, and George dragged us to a few electronics stores, while none of us could resist stopping in at a place that sold fancy bath and beauty products.
“Look, Nan, they’ve got the whole Pretty Face line!” Bess said excitedly.
I glanced over to where she was pointing. My eyes widened. There was a mob of women about three deep around the Pretty Face counter.
“Wow.” Even George was impressed. “I guess Pretty Face must be doing something right. I mean, this is one of the most exclusive stores in the country.”
“Oh my gosh,” Bess whispered. She showed me the price sticker on a jar of Perfect Face. “I didn’t realize it cost so much! Now I know why Perfect Face feels so fabulous — it must be made of liquid gold.”
I counted the number of women around the Pretty Face counter and did some quick math in my head. I blinked. “If Perfect Face is selling this fast all over the country, they’re really raking in the bucks,” I said. “I had no idea the company was this successful.”
“Does it make you feel rich?” George asked with a grin.
I laughed. “Not really, but I’ll bet Kyle does. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We headed further downtown and got on the Staten Island Ferry. We rode the huge orange ship out through New York Harbor, marveling at the dozens of tugboats, barges, tankers, cruise ships, sailboats, and more that dotted the water. New York was just as crowded by sea as it was by land!
By the time we got off the ferry at the southern tip of Manhattan, it was getting pretty late, and we hadn’t eaten since the cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery. “I say we head back up to the neighborhood of our hotel and find someplace to eat dinner,” I suggested. Pulling out my Manhattan subway map, I consulted it, trying hard not to be too obvious — until I realized that everyone else around me was doing the same thing. There were a lot of tourists in New York.
“If we take this red train, it should leave us pretty close to the hotel,” I said after a minute of puzzling over the crazy tangle of colored stripes that represented the different subway lines. “At least, I hope so.”
“Not to worry,” George announced. “My PDA has GPS.”
“‘My PDA has GPS’?” Bess repeated with a shudder. “That sounds like some kind of horrible disease.”
“My personal data assistant has a Global Positioning System,” George translated, speaking slowly as if Bess were from a foreign country. “It means I can navigate if we get lost.” She started walking. “So let’s go!”
“Um, George?” I said.
She turned to look at me. “What’s up?”
“The subway station is that way.” I pointed in the opposite direction from where she’d been going.
George’s cheeks turned pink. Bess smirked. “Some navigator,” she remarked as we all headed underground.
When we came up out of the subway in the Village, my cell phone chimed, letting me know that I had a message. As we strolled down the street, I pressed it to my ear.
The message was from Anna Chavez. “Nancy, I got your number from your friend Kelly. There’s something I’d really like to discuss with you,” her low, lightly accented voice said. “It’s… it’s probably best if we talk away from the office. Can we meet tomorrow morning? There’s a café across the street from where I work. They make excellent Colombian coffee. Could we meet there at eight o’clock?” She told me the address. “Call me back and let me know if you can make it.” There was a pause. “And, please… don’t say anything to anyone about this.”
I flipped my phone shut, intrigued. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What is?” George wanted to know.
I told Bess and George about the message. “She asked me not to tell anyone, but I assume you guys don’t count,” I added.
“Right, we’re nobody,” Bess said cheerfully.
“Speak for yourself,” George retorted. “Well, aren’t you going to call her back, Nan?”
“I was just about to.” Opening my phone again, I found her number in “recent calls” and pressed Send. The phone rang a few times, then Anna’s voice mail picked up.
“Hola, it’s Anna. Leave a message,” I heard, and then a beep.
“Anna, it’s Nancy,” I said. “Eight tomorrow is fine — I’ll see you at the café. I’m looking forward to it!”
“What do you think it’s about?” George asked me.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. But I wonder if it has something to do with that protest last night. I saw Anna talking to Kyle and that security guy, Adam Bedrossian, afterwards, and she looked worried about something.”
“Well, I say no mysteries until tomorrow. Tonight is for food and fun. Hey, this place looks good,” Bess said, scanning the menu of a little Italian restaurant. “Mmm. Lobster ravioli!”
I put my phone away and Bess, George, and I trooped into the restaurant. We were served by a good-looking waiter with dark, tousled hair and chiseled cheekbones. “I bet he’s an actor,” Bess whispered as he walked away. “I read that all waiters and waitresses in New York are just waiting for their big acting break.”
By the time we finished eating it was almost nine p.m. Bess and George really wanted to go out and explore New York’s nightlife, but the long day and the grueling exercise class that morning were starting to catch up with me. “I’ve got to be up early, anyway,” I said, stifling a yawn. “You guys go ahead. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”
The hotel was only three or four blocks away, and with the help of her GPS, George was able to point me in the right direction. I strolled back slowly, enjoying the bustle and liveliness of the Greenwich Village streets.
When I let myself into the room I shared with Kelly, she was curled up on the couch watching TV. “I’m trying to see if there’s anything about Pretty Face on the news,” she told me, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Why, did something happen today?” I asked, my interest roused.
“Those protesters staged another crazy scene today, right outside the new office building downtown near Wall Street,” Kelly said. “A couple of them chained themselves to the door, according to my dad. The police showed up and arrested them for trespassing, but by then a reporter from one of the local cable news programs had heard about it and showed up with a camera crew. Daddy was been on the phone with them all afternoon, trying to convince them not to run the story.” She leaned back and stretched out her legs. “I think he must have succeeded, because the news is just about over and I haven’t seen anything about it.”
“That is so weird,” I said. “I wonder why the protesters picked Pretty Face to target with their accusations? I mean, surely there are other cosmetics companies that really do animal testing. Why not go after them?”
“I don’t get it,” Kelly agreed, shaking her head. “It’s just so unfair. I feel really bad for Daddy. I’ve never seen him so stressed out.”
I sank down beside her on the couch. “I figured you’d be out on the town tonight,” I told her. “After all, trips to New York City don’t happen every day.”
She sighed. “I was dying to go out, but Daddy didn’t want me to. He worries about me getting mugged or something. I tried to tell him New York is safer than most big cities these days, but he didn’t buy it.” She looked seriously bummed out.
“Well, maybe we can do something together tomorrow night,” I suggested. “Do you think your dad would be okay with that? If it helps, tell him I know some martial arts. And George is really tough.” I grinned. “We’ll protect you, I promise.”
To my surprise Kelly flushed and turned her face away. “Oh, uh — that’s okay,” she stammered. “I — I don’t want to argue with Daddy when he’s so stressed already.”
“There’s no harm in asking —,” I began, but she cut me off.
“No! I mean, don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do, I’m sure.”
Jumping up, she hurried into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving me sitting there, wondering.
One thing was for sure: Kelly was hiding something. It was painfully obvious — the girl was totally unused to keeping secrets. But it was obvious she was keeping one now.
The question was, did it have anything to do with Pretty Face and the protesters? Because when I put Kelly’s strange behavior together with Anna’s intriguing phone call, I was definitely getting a familiar feeling: I had another mystery on my hands.
VANISHING ACT
I got up at seven the next morning. I didn’t want to be late for Anna, plus I wanted to go over the order of the day’s events. Much as I hated to admit it, I was intimidated by Harrison Hendrickson. I didn’t want to get on his bad side any more than I already was.
Before I went out, I studied my schedule. I had a makeup consultation here at the hotel with someone named Vita at 9:45, a toning session at New York Fitness at eleven, and talent coaching at noon. Then nothing until a party with press at some club in the evening. Well, as long as I kept an eye on the clock during my meeting with Anna, I would be fine.
I headed out and, with the help of my trusty subway map, got myself up to west Midtown in twenty minutes. I found Café al Gusto easily, just two blocks from the subway stop. Not bad, I thought. I’m getting pretty good at navigating around New York!
I was a few minutes early, so I wasn’t surprised to see that Anna hadn’t arrived at the café yet. I sat down inside, at a table near the back. Since, according to Anna, the Pretty Face offices were across the street, I thought it would be best if we sat someplace where she wasn’t too noticeable.
I ordered a mocha latte and flipped through my New York City guidebook while I waited. There was a section on the early history of the city, and I got caught up in reading it. When I glanced at my watch, I was surprised to see that it was already 8:20. Anna was nowhere in sight. Was she running late? Or had I somehow ended up in the wrong place?
I called her on my cell phone, but her voice mail came on immediately, which told me that wherever Anna was, her phone was turned off.
“Anna, it’s Nancy,” I said after the beep. “I’m at Café al Gusto as we arranged, but it’s eight twenty and you’re not here. Did I get the time or place wrong? Please call me. Thanks.”
I hung up and went back to my reading, figuring she’d either show up or call me in the next few minutes.
Fifteen minutes later, though, Anna still hadn’t called. What’s more, the waitress was starting to look annoyed with me, since the café was full and I was hogging a table. To make her happy, I ordered a toasted bagel and another latte. Then I dialed Anna’s number one more time.
Once again the phone sent me straight to voice mail. “Anna, it’s Nancy again,” I said. “I’m starting to get worried about you. Please call me back as soon as you get this message.” I repeated my phone number, even though I figured she already had it since she’d called me before, and hung up.
My bagel and second latte arrived. By now I was too antsy to read anymore. I nibbled at my breakfast, wondering what could have gone wrong. Had Anna forgotten about our meeting? Had she said eight at night? No, that definitely wasn’t it — she’d specifically mentioned breakfast.
I called Information and got the address of Pretty Face’s corporate headquarters. The address told me that it was, in fact, right across the street from where I was. I was definitely in the right place.
So where, then, was Anna?
At 9:10 I decided it was pointless to wait any longer. It was clear that Anna wasn’t coming. And I was determined to be five minutes early for my makeup consultation, just to prove to Harrison that I could be.
I called the Pretty Face offices and left a message on Anna’s work phone, telling her that if she wanted to talk to me she should call my cell this afternoon. Then I hurried back to the subway. A train was just coming into the station as I got there, so I swiped my card, raced through the turnstile, and jumped on.
It wasn’t until fifteen minutes had gone by that I realized I was on the train going up town, not downtown…
“Oh, no!” I gasped out loud.
The guy in the seat next to me, a big, hulking man in baggy clothes, turned to look at me. “Is something wrong, Miss?” he rumbled politely.
“I’m going the wrong way,” I moaned. “I’m supposed to be in Greenwich Village in fifteen minutes.”
The guy peered out at the station we were pulling into. “I think you’re going to be late,” he told me sympathetically.
“Me, too,” I agreed with a sinking heart.
“Just get off the train here, cross over to the downtown side at the end of the platform, and wait for the next train,” he advised. Then he patted my shoulder. “Relax. Being late isn’t the end of the world.”
“Thanks,” I told him, smiling over my shoulder as I jumped out. He was really nice. But unfortunately for me, being late might as well be the end of the world. At least, as far as Harrison Hendrickson was concerned.
The next downtown train arrived five minutes later. I stepped onboard and willed it to go faster, faster. But it crept along the subway tunnel, stopping once or twice for minutes at a time. By the time we pulled into my stop in Greenwich Village, my nerves were completely jangled. I ran up the stairs out of the station and careened down the street. A block later I realized I was heading the wrong direction — again. “Stupid, confusing New York City!” I muttered under my breath as I ran.
I rushed into the Horatio Hotel lobby at 9:57, out of breath and sweaty — and cannoned straight into someone who was walking in the opposite direction. To my horror, it was Harrison Hendrickson.
He staggered backward, caught himself, and gave me a frosty look. “You are not conducting yourself the way we expect Miss Pretty Face to conduct herself,” he said. There was no smile, fake or otherwise, this time.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “Got on the wrong train… went uptown by mistake….”
“Not interested,” he snapped. “I have to tell you, sweet pea, I don’t like the pattern I’m seeing with you.”
“But I —”
“Ah, ah, ah!” He held up his hand in his trademark silencing gesture. “I told you, not interested in your excuses. All I care about is your actions. Now get on up to suite five-oh-two for your makeup consultation.”
Before I could say anything else, he swept off, leaving me behind.
It wasn’t until later that afternoon that I was able to even think about Anna Chavez again. After the makeup consultation, there had been another incredibly exhausting workout — who knew yoga could be so hard? — and then individual talent coaching sessions. My talent coach, a bouncy, cheerful woman named Clarice, had listened to me sing with a gradually fading smile. When I was done, she said, “That was very… nice. But — well, I’m just not sure ‘My Heart Will Go On’ is the right song for you, dear. Perhaps something a little more upbeat?”
I winced. Was I really that bad? “It’s the only song I know well enough to perform.”
She gave a shake of her head. “Well, we’ll just have to work with what we’ve got, then, won’t we?”
My head was starting to throb. “I guess so,” I said glumly.
“Good. Now, place your hand on your diaphragm like this,” Clarice said. “Take a deep breath, but don’t allow your upper chest to inflate. Yes. Now — unvoiced lip trill. Brrrrrrrrrr!”
“Brrrrrrrrrr!” I echoed obediently.
“Brrrrrrrr!” she said again with a stern look.
“Brrrrrrr!” I tried again.
“Now on an octave. BrrrrRRRRRrrrr.”
“BrrrRRRrrr!” I sang.
“Yes! That’s it!” Clarice cried, clapping her hands together. I had no idea what “it” was, but I was glad to be doing something right for once today.
We worked together for an hour, and at the end of it Clarice seemed happy with my progress. I was glad of that, but even more, I was starving.
I called Bess and George’s room to see if they were around. They weren’t. And neither was Kelly in our room. I went down to the hotel restaurant, ate an omelet and a salad, and bought some aspirin in a nearby drugstore for the headache I still had. Finally I thought to check my messages and found a text from Bess telling me that she and George had gone to get tickets for the two o’clock matinee of some new Broadway show and that I should come meet them. “We’ll wait outside the theater until one-thirty,” she wrote.
I checked my watch. It was quarter to two. “Great,” I grumbled.
That was when I remembered Anna. It seemed so strange that she still hadn’t called me. Since I didn’t have anything else to do, I decided to take a trip up to the Pretty Face offices and see if she was there.
Of course the subways worked perfectly now that I wasn’t in a rush, and fifteen minutes later I was asking the receptionist to buzz Anna for me. I wasn’t entirely surprised when she didn’t pick up her phone.
“I haven’t seen her today,” the receptionist told me, “but maybe I just missed her. The company has grown so much over the last few months, I can’t keep track of all the faces anymore. Let me try another number. What’s your name, please?”
“Nancy Drew. I’m Miss Pretty Face River Heights,” I told her. “We had an appointment.”
She spoke into the phone. “It’s Lisa. Is Anna in today? No, I thought not. There’s someone here who had an appointment with her.” She paused. “Okay, great.”
She hung up. “Anna isn’t here today,” she told me. “But her lab mate is on his way out. There he is now.”
I turned around and saw a young man with short black hair and wire-rimmed glasses striding toward me. “I’m Marty Anders,” he said. “Come on back to the lab.”
“Anna had a family emergency,” he went on as I followed him down the hall. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“A family emergency?” I repeated. “Is it her brother?”
“I’m not sure. I got an e-mail from her, sent early this morning. She had to fly back home to Venezuela suddenly. She said she’d be in touch in a couple of days.”
“Venezuela?” I said, startled. I was pretty sure Anna had told me she didn’t have any family left in Venezuela.
He shrugged. “That’s what the e-mail said.”
“Do you mind if I have a look at it?” I asked.
Marty gave me a sharp sidelong glance. “You don’t believe me?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” I said quickly. “I just — I’m surprised, that’s all. Wondering if she said anything else.”
“She didn’t,” he told me. “But if you want to see it, be my guest.” We entered a largish room with a biochemistry lab setup. Two doors on either side led to small offices, one of which Marty led me to. He clicked his computer mouse a few times and an e-mail popped up. Reading it, I could see that it had been sent from Anna’s work Web-mail address. It was short and to the point. “I have to go to Venezuela for a family emergency. I will be in touch soon.”
“And that’s all she wrote,” Marty added. “I guess we’ll hear from her when she’s able. Now, is there something I can help you with?”
“No, I don’t think so. My appointment with Anna was about something personal,” I said, thinking hard. “Can I just ask you one thing? Did you hear about the animal-rights protesters that crashed the Miss Pretty Face reception two nights ago?”
“Yeah, that was the craziest thing,” Marty said, sinking down onto a lab chair. “I worked in product testing up until a few months ago, and believe me when I say Pretty Face does not test on animals. I’m the one who had to run the protocols on human volunteers. But really, we did most of our testing by computer simulation.”
“Could they have changed their methods recently?” I asked. “I mean, since you stopped working in that area?”
“I don’t see why they would,” Marty told me. He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “The computer simulations and human tests give more accurate information than animal tests ever will. Makes sense — why should a rabbit’s eyes react to makeup the same way a human’s eyes do? We’re different species. Anyway, the hard part about human testing and computer simulation is actually getting it up and running. Pretty Face did all that years ago. So there’s no point in them switching methods now. They’re using the best science, and it’s also the easiest for them.”