Part 2 (1/2)
”Ohhhhhhhhhh.” Andrea gripped her stomach, which seemed unusually bloated. ”I have to go again. I'm not sure I can do this!”
A doughy man with a low ponytail, wearing a black Limp Bizkit concert tee, appeared in the open doorway. ”What do you mean you can't do do this?” he barked, adjusting the headset to his walkie-talkie. ”Aren't you one of the dancers?” this?” he barked, adjusting the headset to his walkie-talkie. ”Aren't you one of the dancers?”
Andrea nodded yes, and then accidentally gave him a taste of her Egg Mcm.u.f.fin. ”But I'm kinda getting stage fright.”
”I can smell, I mean tell tell.” He fanned the air.
Alicia and Brooke burst out laughing.
”Enough!” Mrs. Fossier snapped. ”A dancer's body is beautiful no matter how toxic.” She looked warmly at Andrea, whose brown eyes were now filling with tears. ”You go ahead. The show won't go on without you.”
”Maybe it should,” Andrea squeaked. ”I don't feel so well,” she moaned and then sprinted down the hall toward the bathroom.
”It can't,” insisted the stage manager. ”The director camera-blocked the performance during rehearsal. It's too late to change it now. Either you have three dancers or the Canine Chorus will get to bark two verses of 'Auld Lang Syne' instead of one.”
The stage manager consulted his clipboard and made some notes. ”You have fifty-two minutes to figure out a solution.”
”Done,” Alicia blurted, refusing to let the biggest opportunity of her life go to the dogs.
MERRI-LEE MARVIL'S NEW YEAR'S YVES PARTYMERRI-LEE'S DRESSING ROOMFriday, December 31st8:26 P.M. P.M.
”Where are my girls?” Merri-Lee Marvil stormed into her dressing room and kicked off her five-inch YSL heels. ”I need my girls girls.” She slid into a pair of pink Ugg clogs and shuffled over to her daughters, snapping her fingers urgently, like their flight was about to board and they were stuck on line at the Starbucks kiosk.
”Over here!” Dylan leapt out from behind the white satin changing screen, thras.h.i.+ng around in spastic homage to the heavy metal song blasting from the stylist's boom box. In her low-rider leather pants, gold YSL wedges, black cashmere tank, and leopard faux-fur collar, she felt s.e.xier than Shakira. Oh yeah! She was ready for her close-up.
”I'm not coming out!” whined her fourteen-year-old sister, Ryan.
”Me either,” added Jaime, the thirteen-year-old.
”Why not?” Merri-Lee shouted at the screen, finger-fluffing her red curls.
”They think they look fat.” Dylan rolled her green eyes. She was so over her sisters' pathetic weight obsession. Partly because they looked malnourished to begin with, but mostly because it was boring. They never wanted to have giant cookie-baking contests or eat fast food or pound soda and squish the empties. They were too afraid of getting ”carby.” Not that they would. Dylan did those things all the time and she was still ramen-noodle thin.
”The whole eating-makes-you-fat thing is a lie,” she explained for the billionth time. ”Advertisers just say that to sell gym members.h.i.+ps and Lean Cuisine.”
”If they think they're they're fat, I must be a Pig Newton.” Merri-Lee checked the giant digital clock on the wall. The red LCD numbers indicated that she had four minutes and twenty-two seconds left in this commercial break. ”I'm coming in,” she announced. ”Make room for the belly of the ball.” fat, I must be a Pig Newton.” Merri-Lee checked the giant digital clock on the wall. The red LCD numbers indicated that she had four minutes and twenty-two seconds left in this commercial break. ”I'm coming in,” she announced. ”Make room for the belly of the ball.”
Seconds later, the usual, ”You're so thin, no you're you're so thin, no so thin, no you you are, I wish, no are, I wish, no I I wish...” wafted from behind the changing screen like the fresh-baked smell of sugar-free, low-fat brownies. Dylan ignored her size-two mother and her size-zero sisters and hopped up into the makeup chair so Kali could tame her long red curls. She was about to make her first TV appearance ever. Frizz was not an option. wish...” wafted from behind the changing screen like the fresh-baked smell of sugar-free, low-fat brownies. Dylan ignored her size-two mother and her size-zero sisters and hopped up into the makeup chair so Kali could tame her long red curls. She was about to make her first TV appearance ever. Frizz was not an option.
Facing the mirror, she crossed her legs and-pop. The b.u.t.ton on her leather pants snapped open. A stomach tsunami surged toward her lap. Gucci pants should not malfunction like this, Gucci pants should not malfunction like this, she thought before quickly b.u.t.toning them back up. she thought before quickly b.u.t.toning them back up.
”Stop moving.” Kali lifted the flatiron away from Dylan's head.
”Sorry.” Dylan exhaled.
Pop!
The tsunami surged again.
”Yazzz-min!” she managed without moving.
Merri-Lee's longtime stylist stuck her head over the white screen, clutching four safety pins between her lips. ”Hmmmm.”
”I think you gave me the wrong pants.”
”Hmmmm?” Yasmine hummed.
”These are kinda tight.” Dylan lifted her pelvis and sucked in her stomach, trying to create s.p.a.ce between the digging b.u.t.ton and her flesh.
Yasmine spit the pins into her hand and sighed, ”The pants are the right size. They look great. You all all look great. Now stop stressing and finish dressing or you're going to miss your segment.” look great. Now stop stressing and finish dressing or you're going to miss your segment.”
”She's right,” Kali muttered, pressing a chunk of Dylan's hair between the hot clay plates. A puff of steam billowed around her head.
”I'm keeping my whale b.u.t.t right here where it's safe!” Ryan called. ”I don't want to get harpooned.”
”Ugggggh,” Yasmine groaned, marching toward the full-length mirror, the heels of her black boots click-clacking years of frustration in ways her mouth wouldn't dare. She rolled the mirror toward the girls and huffed, ”Look!”
The three Marvils inched out from behind their silky cover.
”See?” Yasmine positioned the mirror in front of them. ”You're twigs.” She rubbed the messy blond hair-bun on top of her head, rolled up her white sleeves, then stuffed her quaking hands in the deep pockets of her black trousers. Yasmine always rocked the hot-woman-in-men's-clothing look. On her, it was s.e.xy. Whenever Dylan tried it she felt like a bar-mitzvah boy.
Merri-Lee c.o.c.ked her head and examined her reflection. ”Hmmm, must be hormones.” She c.o.c.ked to the other side. ”I look loads thinner than I feel.”
”Me too.” Ryan sighed her relief, a strawberry blond tendril twirling in the updraft.
”Same.” Jaime shrugged, dismissing her freak-out with the wave of a hand.
”Good.” Yasmine wheeled the mirror away, never bothering to put it in front of Dylan, an oversight Dylan took as a compliment. b.u.t.ton-pop or not, the stylist knew the youngest Marvil wasn't a weight watcher. And even though Dylan was slightly curious about the tight Guccis, she refused to let on. Because that would make her like them them-boring as low-sodium rice crackers.
”Merri-Lee, you're back in a minute thirty,” crackled a male voice over the dressing room walkie.
”Blus.h.!.+” Merri-Lee snapped her fingers.
Kali tossed the flatiron on the makeup-filled table and raced to her boss's side.
”Girls, gather 'round.” Merri-Lee sucked in her cheeks for Kali while reaching for her daughters. ”Hold.” Merri-Lee offered her hands. Jaime grabbed one and Ryan took the other. Dylan forced herself between her sisters like a ring-around-the-rosy reject.
”I want you three to know how proud I am. Not because I host the highest-rated morning talk show in the nation. Or because I landed on my feet after divorcing a man whose fragile ego couldn't cope with a wife that People People magazine named the thirty-sixth most beautiful woman in Hollywood. But because you are my daughters.” magazine named the thirty-sixth most beautiful woman in Hollywood. But because you are my daughters.”
”Aing together for a four-way hug.
”Thirty seconds,” crackled the voice.
”Gotta jump.” Merri-Lee ripped herself away and scampered for her YSL heels. She slid them on and hurried back to the cameras. ”See you out there!”