Massie by Lisi Harrison

here to do some last-minute touch-ups on you before you go out there but”—she clutched Massie’s chin and angled her face toward the light—“I can see you don’t need any.” She exhaled some curiously strong Altoid breath. “You did this yourself?”
    Massie nodded yes, wishing the camera had been rolling.
    “Very nice.” Katsura turned on the heel of her three-inch gold Louboutin sandal and left out the open door. “She’s all set,” she announced to whoever was lurk-waiting for her in the hallway.
    Major flutters erupted behind Massie’s abs. Her throat locked. Her lips dried. And her palms self-moisturized. Just outside these VIP walls was a room full of makeup moguls waiting to honor her. And when they were done, she’d have lifelong access to the inaccessible. The only thing missing was the Pretty Committee. And Brownie. But she’d be sure to share every detail with them once she was anointed.
    “Ready?” asked a twentysomething girl with short curly blond hair.
    “Yup.” Massie exhaled. She rubbed her hands together to warm her icy fingertips.
    The girl pressed her black headset against her ear, straining to hear her cue. “Okay. Let’s move!” She gripped Massie’s arm and led her down a coral-carpeted corridor that smelled like a mix of chicken noodle soup and gardenias.
    Before Massie had a chance to reapply her gloss, she was thrust into a bright, sun-soaked banquet room, inside which purple glitter was raining down.
    “Introducing BPC’s top seller of all time. She’s beautiful on the inside
and
the outside—Miss Massie Block!” Anastasia announced into a lipstick-shaped microphone. A gold Grecian-style dress hung from one bronze-dusted shoulder. Her signature black bob had been slicked into a tight bun, offering hints of purple if examined from the proper angle. Her feet, as always, were bare.
    The guests rose out of their gold velvet chairs and applauded. Proud smiles lit their faces. But no one looked prouder than William and Kendra Block, standing beside Anastasia at the head table, dabbing their eyes as their daughter walked to the front of the room to the sultry beat of Gwen Stefani’s “Cool.”
    Fifteen cube-shaped video monitors descended from the ceiling, one above each of the mirrored tables.
Queen Be
appeared on the screens in a purple swirling font
.
    Somehow, despite her trembling legs, Massie managed a sincere smile when she passed un-frizzy Lindsey, acne-free Cathie, freckle-free Marin, and all the other girls she’d rehabilitated.
    As rehearsed, Anastasia handed Massie a shimmering gold makeup caddy with
MB
engraved on the clasp. They shook hands, smiled for the photographer, and lowered themselves into a purple double throne, from which they looked out at their adoring public.
    Muse scurried up the plush armrests and licked Massie’s cheek. She hugged him once for the camera and a second time for herself. Everyone took their seats, but kept their eyes on her. And it felt so right.
    Anastasia stood. Her regal posture and gold dress made her look like an Academy Award. She held the lipstick mic below her shimmering mouth and began her address in her usual low, measured tone. “Not since
me
has a young woman sold so much to so many in so little time.” She paused for applause.
    Massie looked down and twirled her charm bracelet to keep from revealing her overwhelming joy. But truth be told, even her intestines were smiling.
    “And I want you to know that by spreading the Be Pretty philosophy, Massie Block is helping a generation of young women
embrace
their imperfections. Not
erase
them. Because after all, isn’t that what makes each one of us so special?”
    Just then, table seven burst into an “Embrace, don’t erase” chant. The West Coast high seller with abnormally large ears pounded her glitter-covered table. Soon, everyone followed suit.
    “Embrace, don’t erase! Embrace, don’t erase! Embrace, don’t erase!”
    Massie moved her lips in time with