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STEPHANIE BOND

She Did A Bad, Bad Thing

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

“Listen…I’m sorry—what was your name again?”

Jane Kurtz turned off the handheld airbrush machine that was depositing a perfect layer of

makeup over the zits of celebutante Casey Campella, today’s guest on Just Between Us. “It’s

Jane.”

“Oh…right.” Casey wrinkled her nose. “Listen, I don’t want to look orange on camera. I

have a lot of friends and family here in Atlanta, and they’ll all be watching the show.”

Watching for tips on how to make their own home sex tape reminiscent of the one of Casey

and her current boyfriend that was making the rounds on the Internet.

Jane bit her tongue to keep from saying that as far as Casey appearing on camera looking

too orange was concerned, it was too late.

Instead Jane wet her lips. “I promise you won’t look orange, Ms. Campella. But I’m afraid

you’ll have to be still in order for me to do the best job possible.”

Casey sniffed and looked away.

Jane turned the airbrush machine on again and continued to apply a flawless application of

makeup on the young woman’s face, conceding that what she lacked in skin texture, she made up for in bone structure. The only thing higher than the woman’s cheekbones were her boobs, which allegedly had their own fan club and Website.

When the foundation layer was complete, Jane turned off the machine and proceeded to

enhance the woman’s deep blue eyes with strategic applications of false eyelashes, highlighters, shadows, and liner.

Next came the cheeks, which needed only a touch of sparkle, then the biggest challenge—

creating the illusion of a pouty, well-defined mouth from pencil-thin lips in a shade of red that would make the woman’s nicotine-stained teeth look as white as possible. All this while Casey talked on her phone with her boyfriend, who, from the one-sided R-rated conversation, appeared to be as immature as the giggling starlet—and very possible masturbating on the other end.

“I had a dream about you last night, baby…no, me first…no, me first…okay, you go

ahead…oh, baby-cakes, that’s so hot I can hardly stand it…uh-huh…I want you so bad right

now….”

In the midst of her frustration and embarrassment, Jane tamped down a stab of jealousy.

What would it be like to have a man so crazy for you that he called you up to say naughty

things?

“Five minutes,” an associate producer cued from the doorway, and Casey indicated that

she’d heard.

“Gotta run, baby. Be sure to tape the show…we’ll watch it together.” From her throaty

laugh, it was clear what they planned to do while they watched her discuss their sex life on the hottest regional talk show around.

Fighting an eye roll, Jane sensed another sex tape in the making.

Casey disconnected the call, then leaned forward in the bright illumination of the mirror to

scrutinize her makeup from every angle. Her forehead furrowed in a frown.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Campella?” Jane asked.

“No. In fact, I look…amazing.”

Jane smiled and gave a little nod. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“Thank you, uh—what was your name again?”

“Jane.”

“Right.” Casey stood and tore off the paper cape protecting the red trench-coat style mini-

dress that Jane had chosen for her from wardrobe. It struck the perfect balance between classy and trashy. The curvy celebrity did a twirl in the full-length mirror, winked at herself, then looked Jane up and down. “I’m just wondering, if you can make other people look this good,

why don’t you do something for yourself?”

Jane’s smile dissolved as the woman strode away in the decadent Donald Pliner black

stiletto boots that Jane had spent the better part of two days hunting down. A few seconds later, music sounded and the audience burst into wild applause and cheers, indicating that the current

“it” girl had blessed them with her appearance.

In a spin that only host Eve Best could put on the eyebrow-raising topic, this episode, she

claimed, was for women who wanted to add a little spice to their marriage. To hear Eve tell it, revealing the DOs and DON’Ts of making an at-home sex tape was practically a public service

for housewives.

Jane shook her head and expelled a little laugh as she watched the monitor overhead. With

the host of the show and today’s guest both looking better than nature intended, her workday was essentially over, although, officially she stayed until the show signed off in the event of a shine-blotting emergency.

She carefully cleaned all the tools and containers she used to cleanse, moisturize, exfoliate, shave and tweeze, plus the appliances to apply makeup and false eyelashes and to fill in the

occasional over-plucked eyebrow. As her hands moved automatically, performing the job she’d

performed every day for the past three years, her mind wandered back to Casey Campella’s

cutting remark.

Jane glanced into the mirror that was her customary work environment and acknowledged

ruefully that the bouncy celebrity had only voiced what every other person whom Jane worked

on probably wondered:

How could a talented and sought-after makeup artist and stylist be so unattractive?

For the most part, Jane avoided mirrors. When she brushed her teeth, for instance, she

didn’t stop to analyze the ordinary placement of her unremarkable features—the common pale

blue eyes, the standard eyebrows, the average nose, the regular mouth, the unexceptional skin tone, all framed by run of the mill light brown hair of middling length.

All in all, an extremely forgettable face.

She hadn’t been blessed with the natural good looks of her two childhood friends Eve Best

and Liza Skinner. Over the years, Jane had settled into her role, living up to the nickname of Plain Jane. She preferred blue jeans and Merrills to dresses and Manolos.

But Jane had enjoyed it when her friends played dress-up, had delighted in using cosmetics

to make them even more beautiful. By the time they all were in high school, she was doing their makeup every morning in the girls’ restroom. Jane discovered she had a keen eye for

camouflaging flaws and highlighting assets…in others’ faces. The few times she had

experimented on her own face had been dismal failures—she had looked as if she were trying too hard to be pretty…as if she were trying to compete with her friends.

Making other people look good had become second nature…and in some cases, her

plainness helped those under her ministrations to relax. Most celebrities were so insecure about their flaws, the last thing they wanted was to be at the mercy of a makeup artist who was prettier.

Her plainness had become her trademark, she reminded herself. She had taken the

mediocre hand that life that dealt her and bluffed her way to an enviable job…a job that some might even call glamorous, although when Eve had first asked her to come on board, it had been a risk. In the beginning, she and Liza both had done whatever it took to get the show on the air, even if it fell outside their job description. But over the years the skeletal staff had grown to more than forty technicians, office and production staff, and station executives. Now Jane could concentrate on being the show’s stylist and makeup artist. It was challenging and rewarding. It allowed her to rub elbows with the rich and famous. It made up for the social life she didn’t have.

When the pep-talk smile she gave to herself in the mirror fell short of convincing, Jane

simply looked away.

While she sterilized every brush and applicator, she watched the television monitor,

pleased that both Eve and her guest looked great from every camera angle—somewhere between

radiant and matte under the glare of the hot lamps of the set lights.

“So, Casey,” Eve said with the solemnity of someone who was interviewing a political

candidate, “what should our viewers know about making their own intimacy video at home?”

It was just the kind of scintillating topic that had increased the show’s viewership by leaps and bounds over the past three years. Just Between Us was now commanding high advertising

rates. A feature piece in a national media magazine had put the talk show and Eve on the radar of the major networks. The energy level on the set had increased—along with the pressure to

deliver.

Everyone seemed on edge lately.

Jane dropped a tray of makeup samples.

Including her.

She crouched to clean up the mess, chastising herself for her clumsiness. It was the

uncertainty of the show’s future, she reasoned, that was making her feel so…restless. It had

nothing to do with the fact that she seemed destined to stay under life’s radar. People couldn’t even remember her name.

Jane watched Eve work her magic on the unwitting guest and audience and wondered idly

if Liza was keeping tabs on the show wherever she was. Flamboyant and volatile Liza Skinner

had been the show’s first story producer and was responsible for some of their most successful segments. But a year ago a disagreement over a segment that had gone badly had led to Liza

blowing up and walking out on the show. They hadn’t heard from her since. Jane missed her and knew that Eve did, too. And deep down, they both expected Liza to reappear one morning in her office and pick up where she’d left off as if nothing had happened.

Jane thought of her every time they took up money for the Lot O’ Bucks lottery—pooling

their money for tickets was a tradition that she and Eve and Liza had started, with each of them choosing two of the six numbers. Since Liza had left, three other employees had joined the pool and contributed what they hoped would be a winning number, but she and Eve had stubbornly

held on to one of Liza’s numbers as a gesture of their friendship. They had joked it was like leaving a light in the window. Meanwhile, Jane hoped that their friend was safe.

By the time she stored her tools in their proper places, the show had ended and the director

was giving everyone on the set a thumbs-up.

Jane turned down the monitor and took inventory of the shades of foundation, eye, cheek,

and lip color. She noted which rows were running low and phoned in replacements orders. Then

she did a quick survey of the clothing racks and made a few notes on new spring accessories she wanted to add. From her mail crate, she opened and sorted through dozens of sample products

and catalogs that had been sent to her from various manufacturers and retailers. The promising ones went into a large canvas tote for closer scrutiny in her home office.

When she stepped out into the hall, she smiled at Eve who was striding her way.

“Great show.”

Eve grinned. “Thanks. I was a little nervous about how Casey would come across, but she

did a good job. And her makeup and outfit were perfect, thanks to you.

She looked downright credible.”

“Good.”

“But you have your work cut out for you tomorrow. Bette Valentine with the unibrow will

be here to talk about unleashing your inner wild child.”

Jane winced. “And those muu-muus she wears are hard to do anything with.”

“You’ll think of something,” Eve said with a wink. “Do you have a hot date tonight?”

“Yeah—with my remote control.” The season finale of her favorite show, Dirty Secrets of

Daylily Drive, aired tonight. She was eager to see who had murdered the neighborhood bimbo.

Eve made a rueful noise. “When are you going to start dating again? It’s been months since