ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND PAGEANTS 2 страница
The Master Cleanse? I bit my lip to keep from making a face. Bess had read me an article from one of her magazines about the Master Cleanse — basically, you eat nothing for ten days except a weird concoction of lemon juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. It’s supposed to “cleanse” your system, so you lose weight. Of course, almost all doctors think it’s ridiculous and just another silly way for women to starve themselves. I was tempted to tell Piper the truth — but I also wondered if pretending to do the Cleanse with her would make us closer, and hopefully get me some useful information.
“Huh,” I said. “That sounds like it may be fun. Can you bring the stuff tomorrow?”
“Sure!” Piper’s smile expanded so much that I felt a little guilty. She seemed honestly excited. “Girl, we have to do whatever we can to win the title of Miss Pretty Face. Have you heard about the prizes?”
“Prizes?” I echoed as Deirdre and Fallon looked on curiously. “Sure. I mean, I know about the scholarships. What else is there?”
“What else?” Fallon snorted. “The scholarships are just the beginning. Miss Pretty Face River Heights gets a $1,000 cash prize. Free cosmetics for life. A new car, yours to keep even after your reign ends. A free trip to New York City to compete in the national pageant, just a couple weeks away. Plus you get a contract with Pretty Face Cosmetics to promote their products, and you get paid extra for that.” She looked down her nose at me. “This pageant is serious business, Nancy. If you want to win… you’d better get serious.”
Serious. Right. My mind was racing — those prizes really were spectacular. Spec- tacular enough to set someone up in order to get them. When Portia had been dethroned, the runner-up must have taken her place — getting the crown, and all Portia’s prizes. That was a pretty serious motive. I wanted to ask who the runner-up was last year, but I reminded myself that I was supposed to look like a contestant right now, not a detective.
“Girls?” Cupcake shouted, standing in the middle of the gym. “Let’s settle down, please. I need everyone in horizontal rows of six, right in front of me.”
All of the girls slowly walked over and formed rows, grumbling at Cupcake’s drill-sergeant tone.
As I took my place in the first row, I noticed a middle-aged man walking from the side of the gym to join Cupcake. He was handsome, in a dad sort of way: wavy brown hair with a dusting of gray; warm blue eyes; trim physique dressed in an expensive-looking tailored suit. I wondered if he was a pageant bigwig.
“This is Kyle McMahon,” Cupcake announced, smiling and gesturing as Kyle reached her side. “He’s the regional vice president of Pretty Face Cosmetics, and the overseer of our regional pageant. Let’s all say hello to Kyle.”
Everyone said a quiet “hello” or “hi, Kyle.”
“Hello, ladies,” Kyle greeted us. His voice was deep and welcoming. “I’d like to thank you for taking part in this year’s competition. As you know, the pageant is sponsored by Pretty Face Cosmetics, the cosmetics company that cares.”
“It’s very important to showcase our products during this pageant,” Kyle went on, “which is why you’ll all be asked to wear Pretty Face Cosmetics on all your pretty faces.” A few girls giggled. “This year, we’ll be showcasing our newest product, Perfect Face.” Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny pink tube. “Perfect Face is a moisturizer and skin revitalizer. It reduces signs of aging, provides SPF protection, and gives you a shimmery glow. Once you ladies try this on your faces, I’m sure you’ll want to wear it all the time. But it’s very important for you to always be wearing it during the pageant.”
All the girls whispered excitedly, peering over at the pink tube in Kyle’s hand.
“To practice, we’ll be wearing it during all rehearsals,” Cupcake added. “You girls will find a box of the latest Pretty Face Cosmetics, including a tube of Perfect Face, on each dressing table.”
The excited noises from the girls grew louder now, and I realized, once again, how out of place I was here.
Kyle continued. “Please remember to wear it. Don’t forget, you’re not just competing in a beauty pageant, you’re also representing all of us who work at Pretty Face Cosmetics. If any of you have any questions, feel free to contact me. Otherwise, good luck, and thank you for participating.”
Everyone applauded as Kyle smiled, gave a last wave, and headed for the exit. As he walked off, Cupcake took his position, raised a whistle to her lips, and blew an earsplitting sound.
“All right!” she shouted. “I need quiet! And when I mean quiet, I mean dead silence! I take this pageant seriously, and you should too! Now let’s get down to business.”
I glanced at the girl next to me: Is she for real? She just nodded and shrugged.
Great, I thought. Let’s get down to business.
“Did you misunderstand the rules?” Cupcake asked me in a shocked tone a few hours later. We were standing on the Center’s auditorium stage outside the dressing room, where all of my competitors were changing into their gym clothes. I, of course, was already in my sweats and ready to go — except Cupcake had just swooped over to inform me that my sneakers were all wrong. The rules specifically instructed contestants to bring “white-soled tennis shoes” — and my sneakers had black bottoms.
Oops.
“I’m so sorry,” I babbled. I’d been apologizing for five minutes. “I did read the rules. I’m just new to this pageant business, and I guess I was so nervous about competing that the part about white soles slipped my mind.”
“I’m not sure how you’ll do as a contestant, Nancy, if you can’t understand even these basic guidelines.” Cupcake’s mouth creased into a frown, and I could see lines sprouting from the corners. “First, you flubbed your introduction.” True. You were supposed to say, “My name is so-and-so, I live on so-and-so street, and I enjoy such-and-such activity!” I’d panicked and said, “My name is River Court, I live on Nancy Drew, and I like pineapples!” Which is true — the part about the pineapples, anyway — and yet totally wrong.
“Then you bumped into Kendra and Yvonne during the promenade.”
Also true. I’d caused an embarrassing domino effect that had almost toppled the whole line. Fortunately, my competitors were much swifter on their feet than I was.
“I just don’t know, Nancy, if pageants are for you.” Cupcake sighed and shook her head. I wanted to agree with her, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to stay in the pageant if I wanted to get to the bottom of whatever had happened to Portia.
“I’m learning fast, Cupcake, I promise I am,” I argued. “Tomorrow I’ll be a whole new Nancy. Can’t I just practice in these sneakers today, and tomorrow I’ll bring white-soled ones?”
Cupcake blanched. “Absolutely not. You’d scuff the stage, and the Mahoney Community Center shouldn’t have to deal with that. You can’t take part in the dance rehearsal unless you find a pair of white-soled tennis shoes, as it says in the rules.”
A petite, blond-ponytailed contestant stepped out of the dressing room in red track shorts and a tank top. I wasn’t sure what her name was, but I’d caught her shooting me some sympathetic glances each time I’d messed up earlier. She seemed to have caught the tail end of Cupcake’s speech.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Anything I can help with?”
“I very much doubt that,” said Cupcake. “Nancy has brought the wrong shoes to rehearsal.”
The girl glanced down at my feet. “Oh, that’s a shame. What size do you wear, Nancy?”
“A seven and a half.”
The girl glanced up at me and smiled, revealing pretty, white teeth and cute, lopsided dimples. “Well, you’re in luck. I just got new tennies, and my old ones are still in my gym bag. I wear an eight, but if you don’t mind wearing them, they should get you through the first rehearsal.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, my gosh, thank you!”
“Of course. I’m Kelly, by the way. Come with me.”
I glanced back at Cupcake, who just shrugged and gestured for me to follow Kelly. Thankful, I turned and followed my Good Samaritan back to the dressing room.
“Wow,” I said softly as she walked me to a dressing station near the front of the room, on the opposite side from the one I’d been assigned. “You are a lifesaver. I can’t thank you enough. I think Cupcake was about to tell me to hit the road and never come back.”
Kelly laughed a light, bell-like laugh. “Don’t take it personally,” she said, leaning down to pull some pink-and-white sneakers out of her gym bag. “Cupcake’s been working this pageant for the last ten years and she’s just like that, tough on everybody.” She shrugged. “I guess she just takes the pageant really seriously. But it can be a little intimidating when you’re new.”
I nodded. “I’m definitely feeling intimidated.”
Kelly laughed again. “Don’t be. It’s just a beauty pageant — not brain surgery.”
I smiled. Kelly seemed nice and down to earth, much less intense than the girls I’d met this morning. “Is this your first pageant too?”
Kelly shook her head. “My second.”
“So you were here last year?”
Kelly nodded. After looking at me for a moment, she reached down to her gym bag and started fishing around again. “I didn’t win,” she said, grabbing something and pulling it out. “But after Portia was dethroned?” She pulled the item out of the bag and I saw it for the first time: It was a tiara, huge and sparkly. She placed it on her head and posed, holding a pretend bouquet against her chest. “I guess you could say I learned fast.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re the current Miss Pretty Face?”
Kelly smiled again, looking a little embarrassed as she took the tiara off and put it back in the bag. “I’m lucky, is what I am. But, yeah — that too. Miss Pretty Face by default.”
I didn’t know what to say. If Kelly was last year’s runner-up — and everything Piper had said earlier about the prizes was true — then I was looking at my number-one suspect. Nobody had more motive to get Portia out of the picture than last year’s runner-up. But was that possible? Kelly just seemed so… nice.
I tried to pull myself together. Plenty of times, seemingly nice people do bad things. I knew this deep down. It was just hard to imagine Kelly acting cutthroat. With her tiny frame and her curly blond ponytail, she seemed about as cutthroat as a toy poodle.
“Anyway,” I said, standing up, “thank you so much. For the sneakers. And congrats.”
Kelly just winked at me. “Forget about it,” she said. “Make it worth my while by turning into an awesome competitor and surprising the heck out of the girls who’ve been doing this for years.” With one last smile, she turned and headed out of the dressing room. I noticed a tiny pink phone sitting on a chair just inside the dressing room. Kelly’s phone! I walked over, grabbed it, and shoved it into my pocket. I’m no thief, but I’m not above borrowing small things if it will give me an excuse to look up a person later — and maybe get a look at their personal space.
Yup, I thought as I followed Kelly out to the auditorium. I think I have to get to know Kelly a little better.
PHONE TRAIL
“This is highly irregular, Nancy,” Cupcake Hughes explained over the phone. “I wish you had just told me during rehearsal that you found Kelly’s cell phone.”
“I didn’t find it until I was in the parking lot,” I replied innocently. “She was wearing it on a clip at her waist. It must have just fallen off. I want to get it back to her tonight — I know how important cell phones can be.”
Cupcake sighed. “In my day, if you couldn’t reach a person for a few hours, life went on,” she huffed. But I could hear her rustling papers in the background. “All right. Here it is. Kelly lives at 23 Ryan Road.” She paused. “Did you get that?”
I scribbled the address on a note on my dash. “Yes, thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. And Nancy?”
“Yes?” I said, throwing my pencil back into the glove compartment and placing the note on the passenger seat.
“Don’t forget those new sneakers tomorrow.” Click. I smiled, flipping on my headlights and putting my car into gear.
I’d just finished up dinner with Hannah, our housekeeper, and Dad, and the town was bathed in the warm pink light of sunset. I drove slowly over to Ryan Road, a quiet street several blocks from downtown that held a number of neat, older houses. When I got there, I saw that number 23 was a large, stately redbrick house. Hmmmm. If Kelly had sabotaged Portia to get the crown, it looked like she didn’t do it because she needed the money.
I parked in the street, grabbing Kelly’s tiny pink phone from the passenger seat and heading up to the front door. Snooping around often forces me to tell fibs, but I find it easier when I have a prop in my hand. Somehow it seems much more plausible to hand someone their phone and explain that you found it than it does to just show up on their doorstep with some crazy excuse.
I knocked on the door and set my face in a bright smile. Hi, Kelly, I rehearsed. I’m sure you’re surprised to see me here. It’s just that I guess you dropped your phone at rehearsal, so I picked it up for you. Your address? Oh, I called Cupcake and…
“Can I help you?” A handsome, middle-aged man was standing at the front door, looking puzzled. Actually, a familiar, handsome, middle-aged man. Actually —
“Kyle McMahon!” I blurted. And just like that, the whole case turned on its head.
“I’m sure Kelly won’t be long,” Kyle told me warmly, flipping a dish towel over his arm. “She was just going to get a DVD for us to watch and some popcorn.”
We were standing in a large, well-appointed foyer of what looked like a beautiful — and expensively decorated — house. A sunken living room off to our right was furnished with oversize ivory furniture, and a wide, wood-paneled stairway led up to a skylit balcony with hallways off to either side.
“May I use your bathroom while I wait?” I asked hopefully, glancing up the stairway.
“Of course!” Kyle smiled and headed back to the kitchen. “Upstairs, second door on your right.”
“Thanks.” I quickly and quietly climbed the stairs, thick carpet muffling my foot- steps. My mind was racing. Kyle McMahon was Kelly’s father. The current Miss Pretty Face was the daughter of an employee. Wasn’t that strange?
I turned right and spotted the bathroom right away, just where Kyle had told me it was. Beyond that, a door opened onto a light lavender bedroom. I stepped into the doorway, hoping it would be Kelly’s. Bingo. Posters and photos lined the walls, and girlish lavender ruffles covered a neat twin bed. This had to be Kelly’s room.
I stepped in hesitantly. I didn’t have very much time, but I still felt strange investigating Kelly — a person who had been nothing but nice to me. Still, I looked all around the walls: #1 CHEERLEADER AWARD. A poster of Orlando Bloom. A pendant for River Heights University. And photos — so many photos.
Most of them were of Kelly and her friends. Kelly and a group of pretty girls in caps and gowns, smiling earnestly. Kelly and a handsome red-haired boy, dressed up and posing in front of the fireplace before what looked to be their prom. Kelly and — oh my gosh.
I carefully pulled the photo from the wall, careful not to tear the tape. In the center stood Kelly, smiling a little self-consciously in the same dress she wore in the prom photo. Her hair was down and she wore little makeup, like she was trying the dress on for the first time. On her left side, with his arm tight around Kelly and wearing a big, proud smile, was Kyle. And on her other side, looking less enthused but much happier than when I’d seen her, was the owner of Fleur.
They know each other. If Kyle and Kelly knew Candy — then that meant they had the means to get Portia dethroned. It looked like they were good friends. Maybe all it had taken was a phone call — a quick discussion, laying out the plan and how good it might be for Fleur’s business. Turning on the security camera, calling Portia, and bingo — a whole new Miss Pretty Face.
I turned and walked over to Kelly’s bureau. It was littered with cards and more photos. One card stood out as bigger than all the others — it was thick cream paper, edged with pink, and it bore a huge gold CONGRATULATIONS.
I picked up the card and opened it up. “Kelly, you’ve always been my Pretty Face, but now it’s time to show the world. You didn’t win the first time around, but now we know the prettiest girl has the crown. Use it well, and remember that I’ll always love you. Hugs and kisses, Dad.”
Hmmmm. Just as I was about to slip the card into my purse, a familiar bell-like voice shattered the silence.
“Well, Nancy Drew,” Kelly’s voice greeted me from just a few feet behind me. “Fancy meeting you here.”
ALL MADE UP
I gulped, and quickly pasted a huge grin on my face. “Kelly!” I squealed, trying to sound as excited as if I’d been waiting for her all day. “I’m so glad to see you! I was on my way to the bathroom, but then I got distracted by the” — I searched the room wildly, trying not to let Kelly see my panic — “paintings!”
I pointed, thrilled to have found an object that might have attracted my attention. Four small square paintings hung over Kelly’s bed, a quartet of bright, abstract oils that picked up the lavender and sea colors of her bedroom.
“They’re so lovely,” I gushed. They were awfully pretty, actually. “Did you paint them?”
“No,” Kelly said, stepping closer. Her face had softened into a sad smile and if she remained suspicious to find me in her bedroom, her expression didn’t show it. “My mother painted those. Aren’t they special?”
“I love the colors,” I agreed. Slipping my hand into my pocket, I extracted Kelly’s cell phone and held it out to her. “Your dad probably told you why I’m here. I found this after rehearsal today, and I didn’t want you to go without it until tomorrow. I know I’m lost without mine.”
Kelly nodded and smiled more brightly, taking the phone. “Thanks, Nancy,” she said, giving me a thoughtful look. “Actually, I’m glad you came over. You seem like a nice person. I hope this doesn’t sound too dorky, but I’m glad to get to hang out more.”
Kelly sounded warm and sincere. But she was so pretty and sweet — why would a beauty contest winner be so thrilled to make a potential friend? Didn’t she have a lot of friends already?
“I’m glad too,” I agreed. “You were so nice to lend me your sneakers this morning. Maybe I could stay a bit and you could give me some more pageant tips?”
Kelly nodded. “That sounds great! I’ll go tell Dad you’re staying and that we can watch the movie tomorrow. Want some popcorn?”
I nodded. “That sounds fantastic.”
“Awesome.” Kelly smiled again, showing her lopsided dimples. “I’ll be right back.” She left the room and soon I heard her muffled footsteps heading down the stairs.
Stealthily, I walked back to the bureau and grabbed the card from Kyle. “…the prettiest girl has the crown,” I read again. Was it possible? Could Kelly have arranged for Portia to be set up? I knew I was letting my own feelings get in the way of good sleuthing, but I just couldn’t imagine sweet, earnest Kelly taking part in such things. Either she was a great actress, or…
Or.
I looked at Kelly’s wall of photos again. Every third or fourth photo had her dad in it — smiling, hugging Kelly, looking incredibly proud as she graduated high school or won a tennis match or turned sixteen. It looked like they were close — after all, how many teenage girls spent a summer night watching a DVD with their fathers? Not many. Could it be that Kelly wasn’t behind the dethroning — but Kyle was? That he had manipulated the pageant behind the scenes to see his beloved daughter get what he thought was her due?
“All right,” Kelly announced from behind me, sweeping back into the room with a big bowl of popcorn. “Dad seemed disappointed, but he’ll get over it. He doesn’t like me to go out late at night, but with the two of us being right here, under the same roof, there’s not much he can complain about.” Kelly looked up and smiled sheepishly, sitting down on her bed. “What’s your dad like? Is he crazy protective too?”
“I think all dads want to protect their little girls,” I said, sitting down to join her. “Though, actually, Dad gives me a lot of freedom. He trusts me a lot — and I do everything I can to earn that trust.”
I gestured to the photo of Kelly, her dad, and the owner of Fleur, hoping to get an explanation of their relationship. “Is that your mother?”
“Oh, no,” Kelly replied. Either I was crazy, or an expression of extreme distaste flashed over her face, like she didn’t like this woman. She recovered quickly, though. “That’s Candy Hokanson. She’s an old family friend, nothing more. No, my mom died when I was ten.” Kelly’s voice softened as she said this, like it was still a little hard for her to say.
“I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “My mom died when I was little too.”
Kelly nodded. “I still miss her,” she admitted. “Sometimes I think if she was still alive, my dad would be a little less strict.”
I nodded. “Maybe,” I agreed. “Maybe since he lost one person, he’s really concerned with keeping you safe.”
Kelly nodded again, more slowly. “Oh, well,” she said. “I’m not complaining. I get along pretty well with Dad, and at least I know he cares.” She paused, standing up and walking over to a vanity that was bursting with cosmetics. “Besides,” she said with a mischievous smile, “he gets me all kinds of great cosmetics for free. Check this out, Nancy.”
I stood up and followed her, looking over the collection with a low whistle. “This is amazing,” I told her. “There are products here I didn’t even know existed!”
“Some of them don’t,” Kelly explained, picking up a creamy metallic purple eyeshadow. “Not at the retail level, anyway. This, for example? They tested it in a cream shadow, but a focus group said they preferred it as an eyeliner.”
“Wow,” I said. “You must have the definitive Pretty Face collection! My friend Bess would freak out.”
“She can come over anytime,” Kelly suggested. “I have so much, I couldn’t possibly use it all! I’m happy to share.”
I picked up a small white box with pink roses all over it and a woman’s profile embossed on the top. Carefully opening the flap, I removed a small glass bottle of white cream. “Hey!” I cried, reading the label on the box. “‘Perfect Face Moisturizer and Face Revitalizer’! But this isn’t the kind we have at the pageant.”
“Ooh!” Kelly cried, taking the box from me and reading it. “You’re right. The stuff sold in stores is in a little tube, right?”
“And it’s pink,” I added, opening the tiny bottle and taking a whiff. “And it smells like roses. This stuff smells kind of like… cake.”
Kelly sniffed delicately. “Vanilla,” she corrected. “It was the it fragrance a few years ago. This is my dad’s job — test the products and then tell the scientists they have to switch from a vanilla scent to rose, because rose is the it scent now. Isn’t it funny?”
I grinned. But then I realized, again, that Kyle was a bigwig in the Pretty Face company — and Kelly was Miss Pretty Face. Coincidence? “Kelly,” I said gently, trying to look curious and not suspicious, “don’t take this the wrong way, but does it happen often that an employee’s daughter wins the crown in the Miss Pretty Face Pageant? I mean” — I rushed to amend myself, seeing Kelly’s smile fade — “I know you would never be involved in any foul play. I’ve only known you a few hours, but I believe that. I guess I’m just surprised that you were allowed to compete.”
Kelly nodded, looking a little less upset. “Well, in terms of the pageant, Pretty Face believes that ‘all girls have the right to feel beautiful.’” She rolled her eyes. “My dad quoted that to me a million times. The truth is, I didn’t even want to enter the pageant — he thought it would be a good experience.” She sighed. “And it has been, mostly. In terms of the rules, though, everyone is allowed to compete — they just make sure that none of the judges are Pretty Face employees. It’s a little unusual, but then it’s a fairly small pageant, so they play by their own rules.”
Interesting. And very interesting that Kyle was more interested in Kelly competing than she was.
We continued to dig through the pile of cosmetics, Kelly pausing to show me products she especially liked or knew some funny inside story about. I didn’t even care about makeup that much, but I had to admit, this was turning out to be fun.
When we’d finally looked through everything, I turned to Kelly. “Amazing,” I said. “It’s a treasure trove, Kelly. What could you possibly do with all these cosmetics?”
Kelly just smiled slyly, reaching over to push my hair out of my face and holding up some pink eyeshadow. “How about a makeover?”
Amazingly — to me, at least — Kelly’s pile of cosmetics hadn’t left me looking like a clown. In fact, her makeup job was natural and flattering. My blue eyes stood out beautifully under some soft taupe and pink shadow, and a rose-colored sheer lipstick accentuated my mouth. As she worked, Kelly explained how I could create the same look on myself for the pageant, and she was even nice enough to give me the colors she’d used when she was finished.
“Oh, Kelly, I couldn’t possibly!” I protested, staring at the glamorous stranger in the mirror.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, dropping the cosmetics into my bag. “I can get replacements. I have connections. Besides, anything I can do to help a nice girl win Miss Pretty Face is my pleasure.”
I laughed. “If today’s rehearsal is any indication, I think you may be wasting your time.”
Kelly just shook her head. “Don’t sell yourself short, Nancy Drew.”
When I left the McMahon house, I looked like a new and improved version of myself. Sitting in my car and thinking over the events of the night, it was harder than ever to imagine Kelly having anything to do with Portia’s scandal. But I forced myself to keep the option open. It was possible that there were two sides to Kelly. Still, as I pulled my car into the street and headed home, I hoped against hope that if any McMahons were involved in the setup, it would be Kyle.
NUMBER-ONE SUSPECT
I moaned as I stretched my back in the dressing room the next day, running my fingers through my hair and trying to recover from another crushing day of rehearsal. Dance routines, endless choreography for just getting on and off stage, and even talent rehearsal. Against my better judgment, I was singing “On My Own” from Les Misérables — because Cupcake said that singing was “the go-to talent for girls with no discernable talent.” Besides, it wasn’t as though I could get up on stage and dust the microphones for fingerprints. In beauty pageants, amateur sleuthing didn’t count as a “talent.”
Who knew beauty pageants were such hard work?
And even now that we were finished, Cupcake was reminding us to keep practicing all day. “Girls, keep rehearsing that hop-turn-kick move and the ‘star’ as best you can alone,” she encouraged. “And remember to eat right, and cut back on the salt so you don’t retain water for the pageant. No matter what you do, don’t skimp on those workouts!”
I cringed. Workouts, on top of this nightmare? She must be kidding. My plan for the rest of the whole day was nap, nap, and, if I had time after my nap, have ice cream. But I guessed that was why I wasn’t a beauty queen. “You must be kidding,” I murmured to myself.
“She’s not.” Fallon, Piper, and Deirdre suddenly appeared at my side, all looking fresh as daisies. How were they not exhausted after that grueling rehearsal? Fallon continued: “Pageants are hard work, Nancy. Your practice time shouldn’t end once you leave the auditorium. Real beauty queens eat, sleep, and breathe the pageant until the crown is theirs.”
I just stared at Fallon, too tired to be offended. “Wow.”
Deirdre tossed her hair. “Isn’t this fun, Nancy? I feel totally reinvigorated after that rehearsal. I almost can’t believe I haven’t entered a pageant before.”
I nodded. “Me either.” In fact, Deirdre was shaping into a surprisingly tough competitor.
“Nancy!” Piper broke in, smiling widely and pushing a jar of murky copper-colored liquid in my direction. “Girl, I promised and now I’m delivering! Will you really stick to this and take it seriously? Will you?”
“I will!” I promised automatically, not quite sure what I was agreeing to. Stick to the pageant and take it seriously? Stick to…
“The Master Cleanse,” Piper announced, and my stomach dropped, “is a detox program that will make you feel stronger, happier, and more energized.” She grinned. “And the most important thing, ten pounds thinner! Girl, you don’t want those love handles showing through your bathing suit.” Before I could stop her, she reached out and grabbed a little pinch of my belly, squeezing it between her fingers. “I’m not trying to be mean! I’m only telling you because I love!”