Free Massie by Lisi Harrison Page B

shimmered. Her skin glowed in all the right places and, with the help of various blushes and brushes, her cheekbones had emerged from hiding. The wild frizz had been tamed into glossy blond tendrils that bounced just above her shoulders and framed her now-pretty face.
    “Can I look?” Lindsey squirmed under Massie’s translucent powder brush.
    “Almost.” She gave Lindsey’s nose a final tap.
    “Now?” Lindsey bobbed up and down on the beanbag.
    “Now.” Massie handed off the Be Reflective mirror with pride. “You look so good for you.”
    Lindsey gasped. “How can ever I repay you?”
    “Visa works.” Massie grinned.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION
IN
OUT
Be a ten
Hang ten
Grooming LBRs   
Grooming horses
Be honest
Be Pretty
    THE BLOCKS’ SOUTHAMPTON ESTATE
    THE BACK LAWN
    Sunday, June 21
10:17 A.M.
    Word spread quickly after Massie rehabilitated Lindsey’s face with her unique “Truth Is Beauty” philosophy. For the last three days, Massie had been pounding the pavement like a pair of clunky Ecco clogs, giving free physical evaluations, drying tears, and selling thousands of dollars’ worth of Be Pretty Cosmetics.
    Encouraging “congratulations” and “keep up the good work” e-mails from the company flooded Massie’s inbox. And promises that she was on Anastasia’s radar fueled her drive. But purple streak aside, the last seventy-two hours were starting to take their toll. Dark circles had formed on the tender tissue beneath her eyes, and her hair was losing its luster. Her lips were dry from hours of fake smiling, and her tweezing hand was starting to cramp. It was time to fast-track her sales, cash out, and retire early.
    Her solution had been to invite every girl between the ages of twelve and sixteen—with authorization to sign her parents’ Visa—to a Be Made Over party. And all thirty-eight of them had showed.
    They mingled on the elegant lawn, drinking antioxidant-rich Bossa Nova açai drinks and nibbling on sushi-grade salmon rolls packed with skin-beautifying Omega 3s. Waiters in purple lab coats offered complimentary straw hats to keep the sun from burning the girls’ product-free faces. Star-shaped Be a Star mirrors hung off the branches of the big oak. Five lavender satin–covered tables were packed with products that had been overnighted from the SoHo office. But no one dared purchase a thing until she had her free consultation with the hostess.
    Massie, feeling confident in a lime green silk Marc Jacobs dress and silver woven Tory Burch wedges, sat in the leather wing chair in the center of the lawn. All the guests were wearing Be Pretty name tags that spelled out their names in purple glitter. Except Massie. Everyone already knew who she was.
    She applied a final coat of Be Nude peach gloss—her Piña Colada Glossip Girl was safely hidden away until the customers cleared out—lifted her legs onto the matching ottoman, and crossed her ankles. It was time. “Line up, ladies!”
    Instantly, the girls raced over and arranged themselves single file as if visiting Santa at the mall.
    “Welcome to the Be Made Over party.” Massie smiled humbly while everyone applauded. “One by one, you will approach the chair so I can analyze your face. I will give you instant feedback and tell you what products to buy. Everything you need to look
Be
-yoo-tiful is on one of those tables behind me. Grab what you need, and Isaac will check you out.”
    The driver, decked out in a purple lab coat and dark Versace sunglasses, smirk-waved from behind a white Mac PowerBook.
    “Let me remind you, this is not for the thin-skinned.” Massie took off her white MJ push-lock sunglasses and replaced them with a pair of sophisticated antique silver Chanel frames from her mother’s vintage closet. The prescription-free lenses gave the illusion that she could detect all flaws, no matter how tiny. “Prepare yourselves,” she said to the eager faces staring back at her. “I am going to be brutally honest,