First Stop, New York (9 page)

“Creepy. Your sister subscribes to a dermatology magazine?”

“No. I read it in
CosmoGIRL
!
” said JB without flinching.

“And you’re sure you’re not gay?”

“Outside of a tiny bro-crush on Justin Timberlake, I’m as straight as Ashlee Simpson’s new nose. Hey—wait a gosh darn minute.”

“What is it?”

“Weren’t we supposed to get a complimentary glass of bubbly with our mud bath?”

“You’re worse than my uncle Ross! We’re not exactly legal drinking age, JB.”

“Corliss, with an attitude like that you’re never going to get
anywhere
in this town.”

“That’s exactly what my uncle Ross says! You’re
completely
sure you’re not gay?”

The Corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Rodeo Drive—5:10
P.M.

Corliss tingled all over. “JB, my skin feels amazing. Like a million tiny happy bugs are crawling all over it.”

“And you say
I
say weird things.”

Corliss didn’t care how she sounded. The mud bath made her feel like years of decrepitude had been washed away forever. (It didn’t hurt when that complimentary glass of Dom Perignon finally showed up.) She kept running her fingers up and down her forearm, marveling at how silky smooth a person’s skin could feel. And now she was shopping.

Shopping!

She’d never really been shopping before—unless you counted the Circle Center Mall in picturesque downtown Indiana-no-place. That’s where her mother bought her clothes at Gymboree until she was fifteen.

“But Mom, the sizes at Gymboree stop at twelve!” she’d complain.

“That would only matter, Corliss, if you were physically mature. Once your breasts come in, we’ll start shopping at T.J. Maxx.”

Corliss shuddered at the memory. Then she reminded herself that all of that was behind her. She was now at one of the
world’s most famous shopping intersections. Bentleys and Rolls Royces pulled to the curbs, where women in towering Ferragamo heels emerged and handed off pocket pooches to their drivers before heading into Barneys.

“JB, I don’t know what to say…” She clutched bags from Lisa Kline, Neiman Marcus, and Saks. “How can you pay for all this stuff? I’ll have to find a way to pay you back as soon as I have a real job.”

“Never you mind that, little lady, I’m doing quite well at the moment.”

Corliss wondered just how much the actors on the show made. It must have been a lot. “Where do we go next?”

“We’ll hit one last store and then on to another spa!”

“JB, another spa?! Isn’t that too much?”

“Corliss, we’ve only addressed the parts of you no one ever sees. Now we have to put on the finishing touches.”

Bella Vista Day Spa—6:21
P.M.

Corliss and JB sat side by side in big white terrycloth robes. A gaggle of spa technicians fluttered about them. Corliss was getting a full-on beauty makeover: a mani-pedi, a facial, and blond highlights.

“Okay, my bad, this will
never
be too much,” said Corliss, swooning. “Every part of me is getting attention.”

“Except your naughty bits!”

Corliss was mortified. She nodded in horror toward the lab technicians. How could JB embarrass her in front of total strangers?

“Oh, they don’t care. Yon Sun here specializes in Brazilian bikini waxes.”

“She does?” Corliss didn’t know what a Brazilian bikini wax was, but she sensed it was something only people in Brazil could speak openly about.

Yon Sun smiled and nodded.

“See? If Yon Sun was embarrassed every time she took out a big plastic spatula dripping with hot wax and began to spread it liberally on the area of the female anatomy better known as—”

Corliss clamped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know!”

JB giggled. Yon Sun joined him. So did the other lab technicians. Everybody there thought JB was a riot. Except, at the moment, Corliss. She was about to reprimand JB for the last time when two spa technicians slipped her feet into silk socks filled with warm paraffin. Suddenly she felt so gooey-good, her eyes crossed a little.

“Good look for you,” said JB. But Corliss wasn’t going to pay attention to his teasing anymore. She’d decided she’d block JB out and succumb to the pleasure…

The Sea Mountain Inn—7:46
P.M.

JB hurried back to the table. He’d been away for almost fifteen minutes and he wondered if Corliss had noticed.

“Where’d you go? I almost thought you ran off to make over someone else!”

“And cheat on one makeover subject with another?” he said. “Not my style. I just got turned around looking for
the bathroom and the next thing I knew I was in the kitchen shelling shrimp.”

“You crack me up, JB.”

“I aim to please,” he said, turning toward Corliss. That’s when he realized how different she looked. Her hair was now a shade lighter and it hung in soft ringlets around her shoulders. Her skin was burnished shades of pink and gold. She wore a cute little camisole top she’d picked up at bebe and skinny Diesel jeans the color of midnight. Sure, she was still sporting her prescription granny glasses, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Why were you thinking that?”

“Because I have a keen interest in Italian architecture?”

“Liar. You think I look weird.”

“Quite the contrary! I think you’re a babe waiting to happen. You’re a babe who’s just about to take off the training wheels. You’re pre-babe-a-licious.”

Corliss waved all this away and looked at the ocean below. “It’s gorgeous here,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you so much, JB. Today was amazing. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this. I called my uncle when you were in the bathroom and he insists on paying for the entire makeover.”

“Really?”

“Well, the parts he approves of.”

“Fair enough. In any event, you are now prepared to conquer Trent Owen Michaels.”

“You think so?”

“I do! And I did it all out of the goodness of my dweeby little heart.”

Corliss smiled shyly. “I bet it’s not as dweeby and little as you say.”

“But it is! And it’s located in my concave chest—just in case you ever want to know.”

But Corliss wasn’t taking the bait. “Your chest isn’t so concave. In fact, I think with a few push-ups you might fit into a large boy’s size at Gymboree.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“You weren’t really in the bathroom, were you? You came back to the table looking all guilty.”

“Me?” JB fidgeted in his chair.

“Yeah, and you went to the bathroom at the spa half an hour ago. You either have a bladder the size of a tic tac or you’re up to something.”

JB hung his head. He knew he’d have to make up an excuse—and quick. “I, uh, went to the reservation office to use their computer.”

“To check your e-mail?”

“No.” He looked across the restaurant patio and saw a little boy sitting with his mother. “I’m bidding on eBay for a gift for my mother’s birthday.”

“Oh my God, that’s so sweet.” Corliss’s face softened.

“Mom’s crazy about garden gnomes. Those little cement elves that stand out on the lawn looking all, like, tubby and mystical?”

“Totally! Indiana-no-place is garden gnome central.”

“She likes this one in particular—from her childhood. It’s got a furry cap and a big gold belt that says HUG ME. But
she’s never been able to find it, so I’ve been searching online.”

“That’s
so
sweet of you. I can’t believe I suspected you were up to no good!”

“The best news is that I found that very gnome on eBay two days ago, but now I’m in a wicked bidding war. That’s where I was. Sorry about keeping you waiting, Corliss. It’s only because I love my mother so much.”

Corliss made a pouty face and looked at JB with puppy dog eyes. At least, as far as he could tell through her thick glasses.

“Strangest thing. When I was online waiting to put a bid in, I Googled our show and guess what?”

“What?”

“Someone’s writing a blog about it.”

“Seriously? We’re not even on the air.”

“Right? And it’s got all kinds of inside dirt about production and stuff. I thought you might want to let Max know.”

“Hmm, that’s probably a good idea, JB. Thanks. Then I can resign with a feeling of completion.”

“I still don’t think you should resign. We’re just starting to have fun, right?”

“I know. But I’m so
conflicted.
That’s a psychological term for ‘I have no freakin’ idea how I really feel.’”

The waiter arrived. “Have you both decided?”

Corliss pointed at the menu. “I’ll have the salmon, thank you.”

“Excellent choice, Corliss,” said JB as he sat up tall and ordered. “I’ll have a grilled Tofurkey burger.”

Corliss laughed. “JB, you weirdo, we’re not at some vegan diner. This place is a famous fish restaurant.”

“Then they can fish me a Tofurkey burger.” JB looked to the waiter. “Can’t you?”

The waiter didn’t flinch. “Of course we can. The only thing we couldn’t fish you would be a more charming and lovely dinner companion.” He smiled at Corliss and left the table.

“See?” said JB. “‘
Charming and lovely!’
Today’s makeover is already beginning to work its magic.”

Corliss’s mouth hung open. “Wow,” she said, looking a little fearful. “Me? Charming and lovely? I’ve been called ‘
okay’
and even ‘
not offensive from certain angles,’
but never ‘
charming and lovely
.’”

“You know what this means? We better eat fast.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got a date with Trent Owen Michaels tonight.”

“T-t-tonight?”

“Yes, Corliss Majestica—
tonight
.”

Trent’s Condo—8:59
P.M.

Corliss could hear the shower running as she let herself in.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She wanted to kill JB for ever making the suggestion.

First, how is Trent Owen Michaels ever going to look at me as an alternative to Tanya? Second, how could I stoop so low?

Sure, she was feeling pretty great about her new look. And, yes, she was styling pretty in her itty-bitty Juicy shorts and top, complemented by silver-and-white Puma Miharas. But none
of this mattered: She was still a slimy secret agent.

Corliss forgot all her negative feelings, however, when Trent wandered into the room wearing nothing but a towel.

“Corliss? Is that you?”

“Hi, Trent,” Corliss managed weakly. She gulped. His white-blond hair was slicked back against his neck. Tiny beads of water trickled down his pecs. Corliss felt light-headed. It was like looking at an Abercrombie & Fitch layout, but in 3-D. “Um, I guess you’re wondering how I got in.”

“No. I was wondering when you got to be so smokin’.”

Trent scratched his slippery six-pack. Corliss felt her knees go wobbly.

“S-smokin’? R-really?”

“Yeah, if you just, like, ditched those granny glasses, you’d be a real babe.”

“Well, I plan on ordering contacts tomorrow,” she said a bit too loudly.

“Excellent. You are totally approaching hotness in a serious way.”

Corliss tried not to look at his rock-hard bod. “Thanks, Trent, and you—you—you—”

“What is it, Corliss? You’re, like, pale.”

“No, it’s just—don’t you want to put some clothes on?”

“Oh,” said Trent, looking down as if he’d forgotten he was wearing only a tiny piece of terrycloth. “Good idea.” He went into the bedroom and Corliss sighed a sigh of relief.

Thank God! I can’t concentrate with all that boy flesh on display.

Trent returned a few seconds later wearing a Speedo. Corliss gulped.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

“Um, so, Trent. Sorry to just barge in and all—”

“Is everything okay? You and me don’t usually hang out. Unless I’m with Tanya and you all of a sudden show up.”

“Oh, yeah. The restaurant. Sorry about that. The thing is—the thing is—” Corliss didn’t know how she was going to go through with this.

Trent’s mouth hung open as he waited for her to speak. “I know what the thing is,” he said, moving to the large white canvas couch as a fire in the huge fireplace shot up.

“Wow, how’d you do that?”

“It’s on, like, a switch. Have a seat, Corliss. I think I know what you’re gonna say.”

“You do?”

Trent sprawled on the sofa and put his big feet up on the glass coffee table. The lights lowered in the room.

“Another switch?” said Corliss, fearing for her life.

“I can turn on the Jacuzzi upstairs with a snap of my fingers.”

“Oh, no need for snapping those Jacuzzi fingers!” Corliss realized she was starting to not make sense.

Trent patted a place next to him on the couch. Corliss hesitated, then ran over quickly before she lost her nerve.

Corliss’s brain raced.
Take a breath. Pull yourself together. Make conversation like someone who isn’t developmentally impaired.
“You have a nice condo,” she said, now inches from the still nearly naked Trent. “I guess everyone’s condo is different,” she blathered on. “I especially like your conch shell coasters and the bronze seagull wall mountings.”

Trent grinned his crooked grin. Light from the fire glinted off his perfect teeth. “You don’t want to talk about my mountings, do you, Corliss?” Trent slid closer to her. Corliss gripped the sofa.

He smells so clean!

“I d-don’t?”

“No. You want to talk about why you, like, showed up at the restaurant that night when Tanya and I were having dinner.”

What?!
Corliss couldn’t believe it. Was her cover blown?
How could this gorgeous lunkhead have figured out my secret mission? And what if he tells Max?! I’ll be fired! But wait—that would be a good thing. Wow, sometimes things just work out on their own…

Trent moved closer, within inches of Corliss’s nose. “The reason why you showed up is ’cause
you
want to be with me, right?”

Corliss’s face fell.
Now what? Guess I’m back to being a secret agent.