other call rolled Audra’s line. “You should probably
get that. I told you earlier that we’ve been getting re-
quests from all kinds of media. All the morning
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Karyn Langhorne
shows want to interview you and Dr. Goddard. To
talk more about color consciousness in the black
community and—”
“I’m not answering that damned phone,” Audra
snapped. “I don’t want to talk about color con-
sciousness in the black community. I don’t want to
be on the morning shows or—”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to, Audra,”
Shamiyah said in a voice that had more than a little
of Camilla’s hard edge to it. “I’m sorry, but you’ve
got a contract with this show . . . and it includes par-
ticipating in show promotion. These interviews are
the perfect lead in to the Big Reveal in two weeks.”
She paused, her voice becoming steely with deter-
mination. “And you will do them.”
“And if I won’t?”
“Well,” Shamiyah dropped any pretense of the
enthusiastic, bubbly woman Audra had come to as-
sociate with her name. “I think you can expect some
serious legal consequences. Not the least of which
might be the bill for all the professional services
you’ve received, gratis, from Ugly Duckling. Last I
heard, the tally was close to two hundred thousand
dollars in surgeries and consultations, airfare,
lodging—”
“Those papers I signed can’t be any good!” Audra
shouted. “You manipulated me! You talked me
into—”
“Nobody talked you into anything,” Shamiyah
snapped back. “You were all too eager to do it. You
were the one calling herself fat, black and ugly . . .
and when we offered you the chance to be some-
thing else, you jumped on it like a crack addict to a
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
349
pipe. If you’d had even a little of the self-respect
you’re claiming we took, you’d have done what the
others did and refuse to have anything to do with
the whole thing—”
“Others?” Audra frowned into the telephone.
“What are you talking about . . . others? I thought
out of all the tapes, I was your pick. I thought you
wanted me because I was the perfect messenger—”
Shamiyah’s laughter echoed around her as
though piped in by speakers and amplified to the
point of pain.
“Oh, Audra, Audra,” she chuckled. “The perfect
messenger is anyone willing to deliver the message.
We’ve been looking for an African-American
woman willing to do the skin lightening procedure
since last season. We must have flown two dozen
women out, put them through the same procedures,
offered them the same arguments—and all of them
refused. They had too much pride in what they
were: strong, black women.” She sighed with the
memory. “Camilla was ready to scrap the whole
thing, but it was my concept, my idea, and I wasn’t
going to give up that easily!” she said vehemently.
“By that time, my job was on the line and I knew if
I didn’t get someone to sign on, Camilla would fire
me, bad-mouth me in the industry and my televi-
sion career would be finished.” She paused. “And
then you came along . . . and saved my life. Do you
realize already this show has had more buzz than
all the prior episodes of Ugly Duckling put together?
With all the press this episode’s getting, we’re an-
ticipating the Big Reveal to have a shot at being one
of the most watched events on television this sea-
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Karyn Langhorne
son. And that’s because of you, Audra. You’ve made
my career—I’ve been pitching this success around
town and I may even get my own show out of it,
thanks to the controversy and the media exposure.
Hell, I don’t know what you’re complaining for:
You’ve got a good chance to walk away with the
grand prize.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you watching? The votes are in. You just
made Top Three! Congratulations—”
“I don’t want it.”
“Well you got it. See you in three weeks,”
Shamiyah said calmly. “And Audra, don’t even
think about skipping the interviews or not showing
up for the Big Reveal. You’ll be on the Today show
and the others tomorrow. You’ll do the interviews
and, when the time comes, you’ll get on that plane
to join us for the Big Reveal, Audra . . . or there will
be legal hell to pay, I promise you.”
“But—”
“Ciao,” Shamiyah said brightly and hung up be-
fore Audra could say another word.
“We’ll just have to bust up that contract,” Edith was
saying for the thousandth time.
The last of the guests were long gone, slinking out
in embarrassment for Audra, Edith and the whole
situation. Penny had escorted Kiana to bed with the
promise of a story and now Edith and Art joined
Audra in the kitchen, as she tried to sort through her
options.
Audra sighed, feeling as though a big steel cage
had been dropped over her head, windowless and
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
351
without air enough to breathe. She wanted to protest,
to argue, but mad as she was at Shamiyah, she knew
well there was no one to rave her fury against but
herself.
They’d had to turn off all the phones, since
they were ringing incessantly—and not with well-
wishers. It seemed every angry black person in the
five boroughs of New York had looked up their
number and decided to call. Although there was se-
curity in the building, Audra was grateful for Art’s
presence: There were certainly more than enough
crackpots in the city to make it possible for one or
two to attempt to express their anger in person.
So this was the concept, the concept Shamiyah had
been so vague on from the beginning: a dramatic
makeover show about a black woman who wanted to
look white. And with a little tweaking and twisting
of the facts, the girl had definitely accomplished her
goal: Here stood one Audra Marks, once a dark-
skinned woman, now a light-skinned one. And the
complex personal reasons for that transformation
had been completely eliminated, painted over in
simple black-and-white.
“We can talk to a lawyer, but . . .” Audra shook
her head and sighed. For the first time in months,
she longed for an Oreo, could almost taste its
creamy goodness on her tongue. “I’m
