Free Massie by Lisi Harrison

pillows. “Massie, what in the world possessed you to transform Ellie Neufeld into a Paris Hilton and then
charge
her for it?”
    “Whadaya mean?” Massie asked innocently. She slid her Tory Burch flats back onto her Be Smooth–moisturized feet, preparing to make a run for it.
    “That’s not going to work this time.” Kendra glowered at her. “Trini Neufeld is absolutely furious, and after the incident at the club—”
    “What happened?”
    “Trini was mingling at brunch this morning when Ellie, along with five of her little friends, sauntered by wearing Trini’s stilettos, gray eye shadow, and red lipstick, shouting, ‘Be brash,’ at everyone they passed.”
    Lip stain,
Massie thought. Nawt
lipstick
.
    “Why would you sell a ten-year-old girl three hundred dollars’ worth of makeup?”
    “Have you
seen
her?”
    “She’s
ten
!” Kendra shook her shopping bags in frustration.
    But Massie didn’t defend herself. Not when her Visa was at stake. Instead, she dug her nails into her clammy palm and silently begged her mouth to stay out of it.
    “Your job is to be a
makeup
artist, not a
con
artist.” Kendra squinted in disappointment. “Taking advantage of friends is completely unacceptable.”
    Massie lowered her amber eyes, the way someone who felt bad would do. But how could she
really
feel bad when she’d saved Ellie from drowning in LBR quicksand? The girl obviously felt more confident or she wouldn’t have been
Be-ing Brash
at brunch.
    Massie thought back to the afternoon of her one—and only—Be Pretty sale. Ellie had been a prematurely B-cupped caterpillar until Massie’s alpha instincts and good old-fashioned honesty turned her into a butterfly. And she’d done it without that corn-dog script from Be Pretty Cosmetics. In the words of Anastasia Brees, beauty
is
truth.
    And then, for some reason, that phrase repeated itself over and over in her head, like the chorus of a song you just
    can’t seem to shake.
Beauty
is
truth. . . . Beauty
is
truth. . . . Beauty
is
truth. . . .
    Ehmagawd! Beauty is truth!
    It was so obvious. All she had to do was tell her clients how sincerely ugly they were and they’d load up on product. Just like Ellie had. And then the silver card and the purple streak would both be hers.
    Done, done, and done.
    KEARNS ESTATE
    FOSTER CROSSING
    Thursday, June 18
10:22 A.M.
    This time, when Frizzy Lindsey opened the smoky glass doors, Massie was ready.
    “One question. Do you want to hang ten or
be
a ten?” She pushed past the surfer girl and marched straight into the stark-white, kitschy plastic furniture–filled home.
    “Huh?” Lindsey dried her hay-hair with a bleach-spotted green towel.
    “Where’s your bedroom?” Massie gripped her purple makeup caddy with both hands and rocked back and forth on the heels of her red Prada wedge sandals.
    Lindsey pointed down a blue-lighted corridor. Extra-long aquariums filled with exotic fish had been built into the stucco walls, reflecting rippling water onto the ceiling.
    “Great. Let’s go.” Massie led the way, trying not to make eye contact with a creepy pink squid that followed her down the length of the hallway.
    Barefoot, Lindsey follow-chased her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    Massie stopped in front of a tank filled with bumpy starfish.
    “The same thing a clean mirror and some natural light would do if you let them.”
    “And what’s
that
?” Lindsey pushed the sleeves of her light blue GOT SURF baby tee over her peeling shoulders. She rubbed off a layer of skin and released it, letting it drift to the espresso-stained floor.
    “I’m going to tell you exactly what I see.”
    Massie let herself into what she assumed was Lindsey’s bedroom. Glossy posters of surfers charging cobalt blue waves covered every inch of wall space. Her canopy bed frame was built from shellacked wooden longboards, and strings of brown-and-white pukka shells surrounded it like a curtain. It was to the rest of the sleek, modern