If I Were Beautiful (If I Were... #1)

by Devon Hartford

  “Sure?”

  “Don’t tell anybody about this. I mean, nobody. I don’t want anyone finding out. This is bigger than the Love Jug.”

  “Yeah it is.”

  “Can you keep this a secret?”

  “Totally. You know I’ve got your back.”

  “Please, George. You’ve gotta promise.” I squeezed his wrist.

  He nodded. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

  “Promise?”

  “Do you need me to take a blood oath?”

  I looked at him for a long time.

  He said, “You can count on me, J-Chan.”

  “All right, G-Chan. I believe you.” But I prayed he would stay good to his word.

  If there was one thing I’d learned growing up as a little nerd girl, it was that I hated being singled out for being different. I didn’t want to be a novelty or a sideshow circus freak. All I could think about was the abnormal amount of attention beautiful people and celebrities already got. Imagine how bad it would be for someone who had transformed from plain to beautiful in five short days? The media scrutiny would be unprecedented. For all intents and purposes, I was a walking miracle. Everyone would want to know my secret, which I wouldn’t be able to tell them. A magical ring seemed the least likely explanation. Maybe I was some genetic abnormality. Whatever the cause, if word got out, I’d be all over CNN and TMZ and every other news outlet on the planet. Scientists would want to do experiments on me. Opportunists would want to exploit me.

  I didn’t want any of that.

  I preferred to remain in the background and live my life like a normal person.

  The last thing I wanted was people paying any more attention to me than they already did. That meant avoiding jobs like cosplay modeling and stripping.

  I needed to find a regular job and keep my head down.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, I walked out my front door after breakfast and a shower. While I was locking the deadbolt, Brodie’s door opened and he stuck his head out.

  “Hey, Chelsea,” he drawled.

  I didn’t even look at him. “Fix my front door, Brodie.” Like he’d done to me the first day we’d met, I turned and walked away without looking back, but I was kind enough not to flip him off dismissively.

  Was he staring at my ass as I walked?

  I didn’t turn to check.

  But the heat on my backside told me he was.

  Whatever.

  After I drove off, I spent all of Saturday job hunting.

  There had to be somebody in town other than a strip joint who would hire me without checking my ID. The only question was, if someone did hire me, would they ask for my ID when I filled out my W-4, emergency contact info, health insurance, etc.? Some places wouldn’t offer health insurance, but what about the other forms?

  I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, and if I had to, I’d keep crossing different bridges until I found one without a gatekeeper or whatever.

  In the meantime, I needed to find somebody who was actually hiring. This morning while eating breakfast, I had started an online job search, but I quickly realized I needed to create a new email and a fake online presence first. Hot Jane Johnson didn’t have a Facebook page or Instagram or any kind of social media. She didn’t even have email or a LinkedIn page. I didn’t want a potential employer doing a search and coming up with nothing. That would raise more questions. I needed to land a job face to face with a handshake. Not online.

  Did that even happen anymore?

  I was about to find out.

  In preparation, I did doctor up the stack of résumés I carried in my purse. My job for the past five years had been at the 95 Cent Store. They had stores all over LA. Everybody knew the 95 Cent Store with its Walmart ripoff blue awning and uniforms and decor. So I changed my résumé to say I’d worked at Dollar Tree instead. They had stores all over the country, but I didn’t say which one on my résumé. The last thing I wanted was a potential employer calling the Dollar Tree down the road in Culver City or Marina Del Rey only to find out I’d never worked there. If someone did ask me which one during an interview, I’d say it was the Dollar Tree in Orange Park, Florida or Little Rock, Arkansas, or Bumfrack, Iowa, and hope they didn’t know anything or anyone in Florida or Arkansas or Iowa. Nobody would bother to call Iowa, right?

  Fingers crossed.

  I started out at the Third Street Promenade, an outdoor mall near the beach in Santa Monica. It was also right next to Santa Monica Place, an indoor mall. I’d hit it up later. Between the two, there were probably a hundred shops and restaurants to choose from. At least one of them had to be hiring, right?

  I spent hours going from shop to shop.

  It was grueling work.

  First, nobody was hiring. Second, I was starting to notice a trend.

  Every single male manager I talked to was very friendly and wanted to hire me on the spot, but none of them had any job openings. At first, I thought they were being nice. But eventually I realized most of them were just flirting. They didn’t want to give me a job. They just wanted in my pants.

  With the female managers, I sensed an undercurrent of cattiness. I knew catty behavior, when I saw it, but I’d never seen so damn much of it directed at me. At least I didn’t have to waste time being flirted with. Well, one woman was gay and she definitely flirted, but more cautiously than any of the men. I think she wasn’t sure whether I was gay or straight, so she didn’t push it.

  Several hours later, I was exhausted. What a hassle. I didn’t have a job but I did have five applications I didn’t want. Several male managers insisted I take one and made me promise to fill it out and submit it so they could keep it on file. On file. Pfft. Yeah, right. I wasn’t stupid. They just wanted my phone number. I threw the applications in the trash. Like I said, I needed to get a job with a handshake. Maybe the Promenade was the wrong place to look.

  After all the walking and talking, I needed a break and some food. I bought a slice of cheese pizza at Stefano’s and sat down on a bench outside, right in front of the Abercrombie & Fitch store. Since it was Saturday, the entire Promenade was packed with people going in and out of the shops, and street performers trying to make a buck from the browsing crowds.

  I nibbled on my pizza while watching a street magician do tricks in front of about a hundred people.

  “How’s your pizza?”

  I looked up into the face of some random guy hovering over me. “Uh… just fine. Thanks.”

  “Looks really good,” he said. This guy was reasonably attractive and wore a stylish leather jacket. Had he walked up to me a week ago when I was plain Jane, I would’ve been shocked he wanted to talk to nerdy little me. But after all the men who’d bugged me today, I was over it.

  “Yeah,” I muttered, taking another bite.

  “Can I ask where you got it?”

  I didn’t want to be rude. “Stefano’s. It’s around the corner.”

  “Which corner?” He looked around like he was really interested.

  Please go away. “That way.”

  He nodded. “Got it. Hey, if you want another slice, I’ll buy one for you. You wanna come with?”

  I smiled politely, “No thanks.”

  “You sure?”

  Please take the hint and leave. “Yeah, thanks.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.” He sounded disgruntled, but he walked away.

  I would’ve thanked him for leaving, but I didn’t want to encourage him. That was the other thing about today. Random guys like him were constantly stopping me for the lamest of reasons. At first I was flattered. It didn’t take long before I was annoyed. But I remained polite and tried to keep the conversations short. Sadly, it got to a point where I was spending more time being polite to random men than I was job hunting. So I started ignoring them. I felt like a rude bitch, but I needed to find a job.

  Now I knew why Chelsea tended to prefer staying in.

  Men could be pests.

  My big plan to
keep a low profile and go unnoticed was backfiring magnificently. Maybe I needed to start wearing a big hat and big sunglasses and a scarf so I would be less conspicuous. As it was, I wasn’t wearing any makeup, but it didn’t make a difference. The new me was a man magnet. Maybe I needed to shave my head and get a full facial tattoo. I’d probably get less attention that way.

  I took the last bite of my pizza.

  “For this next trick,” the street magician said over his microphone (it was attached to a couple of portable PA speakers on stands), “I need a volunteer.”

  I wasn’t listening. Having finished my pizza, I blotted my lips with my napkin, stood, and dropped it and my paper plate in the nearest trash can.

  “Yes, you! Miss! Over here!” The magician waved and caught my eye. He pointed at me and made his way through the spectators watching his show. He hooked a finger at me. “Come on over, miss!”

  “Me?” I touched my fingers to my chest. “I can’t. I’m late for an appointment.” I tapped my wrist and shook my head.

  “Come on,” he waved me over. “You’ve got two minutes to help me with my magic trick. Let’s hear it for this nice young lady!”

  The excited crowd started clapping and hollering at me.

  Great. I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to look like a bitch. I reluctantly walked over to join him. So much for fading into the background. Let’s just get this over with.

  “Give the young lady a hand, everybody!” The magician grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his stage area on the street. He was cute and about my age. If I was him, I would’ve picked me out of the crowd for sure. Great scam for meeting women.

  I snickered to myself while the crowd applauded.

  “What?” he said quietly, covering the microphone on his collar with his hand.

  “Nothing.” What I was thinking was: I’ve been beautiful less than twenty-four hours and I’m already sick of it. Since you’re a magician, maybe you can change me back to normal?

  He was about to turn to the crowd, so I tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Yeah?”

  I muttered in his ear, “Hey, do you think you could make me shorter?”

  “Huh?”

  “And, I don’t know, give me bad hair and some glasses?”

  He frowned, “Why would you want me to do that?”

  “Never mind.” I shook my head and my blonde straight hair waved gently around my shoulders. It never did that before. Anyway, asking this guy to change me back was stupid. I knew magicians just did tricks. It was all sleight of hand and misdirection and special props. They weren’t really magical. Oh well.

  “Okay, everybody,” the magician said to the crowd, his microphone amplifying his words through the PA. “How would you like to see me read this young woman’s mind?”

  Some grungy woman in the crowd yelled out, “Good luck with that! Everybody knows blondes like her are brainless bimbos! Nothing to read!”

  Everybody heard her. I scowled. A few people laughed but a few others booed. Were people really this rude? Yes they were.

  The magician said, “I doubt she’s brainless.” He was trying to make me feel better. “Or a bimbo.”

  I grinned and said loudly, “No. That woman was right. I’d have to be an idiot to come up here and make a fool of myself in front of everybody for free. Maybe you oughta split your tips with me.” I smiled at the magician and nodded toward the black silk top hat that sat on the ground near the front of his stage area. A bunch of ones, fives, tens, and a few twenties sprouted out the top. To me it looked like rent money. I could definitely make use of all that cash.

  Scattered applause from a few people. Some guy shouted, “She ain’t dumb! Give her some money!”

  More applause from the crowd and a few whistles.

  The magician said, “Okay. How about this? You think of a card. Any card from a normal deck of cards, and I’ll try and guess which one. If I can’t guess what card you’re thinking of, I’ll give you all the money in that top hat.” He looked at the crowd. “Huh? Whaddya say, people? Does that sound like a fair bet?”

  More cheering and agreement.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “That’s not fair. We all know this is just a trick and you can’t actually read minds. We also know you’re a good magician because you have a big crowd. That means you have some way of tricking me into picking a certain card so you can guess right and look all magical. Otherwise, you’d look like an idiot and wouldn’t be out here in the first place. So the safe bet for me is that you will, quote, read my mind, and you will guess which card I picked. In other words, if you guess right, I should get paid. Not you.”

  The crowd was silent. I think they were as confused as I was, but I was pretty sure I’d said it right.

  The magician stared at me, also trying to sort out what I’d said.

  Some guy yelled out, “What she said!”

  A few people clapped and laughed.

  “Okay,” the magician said, “let me get this straight. If I guess which card you picked, you don’t get the money, right?”

  “Don’t get the money?” I shook my head and giggled. “No no no! You’re twisting my words. I said, if you guess which card I pick, I get paid! Me! Not you! I get the money if you’re right! Got it?”

  He wobbled his head and stared right in my eyes. He was trying to confuse me again.

  I grabbed his collar and spoke into his microphone so my words went out over the PA. “Let me make this simple for you. If you guess right, I get the money in your top hat. If you guess wrong, you get the money.” I smiled at him. “Your reputation is on the line, Mr. Magician. You just have to decide if it’s worth all the money in your top hat or not.”

  Now the whole crowd was clapping and cheering.

  The magician said, “How about this? I get it right, we split the money. I get it wrong, you get all of it. Deal?” He held out his hand.

  “Mmmm. Okay. Deal.” I shook it.

  “All right, let’s get this show on the road!” The magician walked over to a little table near the side of his stage area and grabbed something. “Miss…” He walked back up to me and put his arm around me. “What’s your name, miss?”

  “Ch-Chelsea.” I’d been telling people I was Chelsea all day. No reason to change things now.

  “Chelsea. Got it. Lovely, Chelsea. Lovely. Now, I want you to think of a card you would find in a normal deck of cards.” He made all these rhythmic hand gestures as he said it. “Any NUMBER,” more hand gestures, “or any of the THREE face cards.”

  “Okay.”

  “LOVELY. You got it in your mind?” He nodded at me three times.

  “Yeah.”

  “Lovely. Now think of any suit. HEARTS, diamonds, clubs…”

  “Okay.”

  “Think real haaard.”

  “Thinking,” I smiled.

  “You got it? Number, face, suit?” As he said it, the fingers of his left hand flicked out, flick, flick, flick.

  “Yeah.”

  He handed me a scrap of paper and a black Sharpie pen. “Lovely. Now, I want you to do THREE things. Can you do that for me, love?”

  “Sure.” I nodded.

  “Turn around so I can’t see you, write down the card you’re thinking of on that paper. And THREE, show it to the crowd so I can’t see it. So I can’t see it.”

  “Okay.” I turned around and did what he asked. Without thinking, I wrote down the three of hearts. “Do I show it to the crowd?”

  “Please. But make sure I can’t see it. So don’t turn around. Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  He waved a stopping hand at the crowd and shook his head at them, “Please, keep the card to yourself. Do NOT say it out loud.”

  I capped the Sharpie and handed it to him. Then I held up the paper with both hands carefully, so only a few people in front of me could see it.

  Numerous people leaned over to get a good look. I walked from side to side so at least two dozen of them saw it. Right at that
moment, I glanced past the crowd and into the eyes of a tall man who slowed down to watch the magic show.

  The stranger’s eyes locked right on mine.

  In response, my chest locked up tight.

  It was Wes. From the mansion. Wesley Callaway. I will remember your eyes forever. That Wes. I nearly collapsed seeing him here now. After saying goodbye to him the other day, I was convinced I’d never see him again.

  Yet here he was, standing twenty feet behind the gathered crowd while more people passed back and forth in front of him. Maybe the stage magician really was magical. He’d summoned my dream man out of thin air.

  Wes stared right at me. He wore a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, oblivious to the hundreds of people on the Promenade.

  For a second, it seemed like the whole world disappeared and it was just me and Wes standing here staring at each other.

  All I wanted to do was run and grab him and talk to him. I had no idea what I’d say, but I wanted to talk to him. Badly. Too bad I was stuck in the middle of this stupid magic trick. Could I leave? Could I crawl over the crowd standing between me and Wes and go to him? No, there were too many people. I’d have to step on babies and young children to get to Wes. I could go around the crowd, but what if Wes suddenly left? There were so many people here on the Promenade, I could easily lose him.

  My hands started to shake.

  The magician said, “Have you people in the front row seen what she wrote down? Don’t say it if you have. Just say yes.” A bunch of yeses and yeahs from the people in front of me. “Now Chelsea, I want you to carefully fold the paper up so I can’t see what’s written on it. Can you do that?”

  I was afraid to turn around. I didn’t want to lose sight of Wes, so I folded up the paper while keeping my eyes on him. “Yuh-yeah.”

  The magician rattled around behind me. He said, “Okay, as you all can see, I have a fresh unopened pack of pristine playing cards.”

  I didn’t turn to look.

  “Chelsea? Can you turn around for me, sweetheart?”

  “No!” I blurted. Some of the crowd started laughing. The last thing I cared about was this stupid magic trick. I wanted it over with. I couldn’t even remember what card I’d written down. I just stared at Wes.