Hania pointed to an enormous desktop machine, the kind few owned anymore. “I’ll start there.” She sat in front of the screen and bent the tower to its right, pushing buttons and bringing the monster to life.
Daphne and Alice prowled the room, following wires, hunting for phones and laptops. The room was small, perhaps ten by twelve, and so cluttered they were forced to move slowly. After a perimeter search, Daphne found two ancient laptops: one sleek, newish Mac; and a wrinkled, though sealed, bag of Reese’s Pieces candy, which she held up and shook like a trophy.
“Our reward for success,” Daphne whispered. She brought the machines to Alice. “Try these while I keep looking. I’m awful with computers.”
She got down on her knees and crawled along the floor, chasing wires until she came to a phone base. Somewhere in the chaos might be an actual landline. After dividing the room into quadrants, she ran her hands in sweeping motions over the oak parquet flooring, the complicated patterns of the past at odds with the tangle of electronics everywhere.
Dust rose. Daphne raised her arm to stifle a sneeze. Gray particles covered her. Dim light—they only allowed themselves one small lamp—hampered her efforts. Her wound from the nail slowed her.
Alice muttered in the corner as she tried out the devices. “Passwords on these. And, of course, the Wi-Fi has a password.”
“Keep trying,” Hania said. “Maybe he left something connected. Or has a ridiculous password.”
Alice closed the ancient laptop and picked up the Mac. “At least this one I’m familiar with.”
“I can try the ones you can’t figure out,” Hania said. “I’m bi-computer.”
“Bang!” Daphne held up a phone pulled from the back of a table. She pressed the talk button, praying for the stutter of a dial tone, her stomach sinking as the sound of nothingness greeted her. “Damn. No charge.”
Alice looked up from the computer. “Can you put it on the base?”
“If I find the base in this mess. And then what? We wait three hours until it charges?”
“Is that how long it takes?” Alice asked.
“No idea.” Daphne banged the phone against her thigh. She should have spent less time on cosmetics and more on technical learning. “Ask Hania.”
“Landlines aren’t my specialty. But since we don’t see a base anywhere, it’s probably a piece of junk that migrated here ages ago. Anything from you, Alice?”
Alice stared at the screen, peering closer, turning her head from side to side in disbelief.
“Jesus.”
“Jesus, what?” Daphne asked.
“Dear Jesus, these pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“No. Really. These are stills. From what he’s shooting.” She held up the small laptop and turned it. “Like this.”
Hania swiveled in her chair. Daphne went up on her knees and leaned forward. A frighteningly crisp image of a naked Susannah took up the screen. Though the perspective hid her face, they recognized the insane disconnect between her massive hips and thighs and her far smaller waist. The angle ensured the viewer would be both mesmerized and disturbed.
“ ‘Jesus’ is right. What else is there?” Daphne asked.
Alice clicked a key, and Hania appeared, grimacing, bent over mid-crunch, triple chins emerging along with rolls of fat pressing through the stretched jumpsuit. Click. Lauretta standing on the scale naked, an apron of flesh hanging over her thighs. Click. Another one of Lauretta, this time from behind, back padding pointing down to her bare bottom filling the screen, dimpled and saggy.
“Stop!” Daphne demanded, not able to face her own image. “What the hell is this?”
“We knew they were filming,” Alice said. “But not like this.”
“What else do they have?” Hania clutched her throat.
Alice held up one finger and bent over the computer. “I’m looking for the video. It must be somewhere. Hania, how about that desktop? I bet he’s using the most powerful machine—that one—for the footage. Look for Sony Vegas Pro, Media Composer. Anything like that.”
The bag of Reese’s Pieces screamed out to Daphne. Monkeys jumped around her brain, brandishing the hard-shelled candies. Melt in your mouth! Just one would release a storm of want.
TIP: You often think about the next piece of candy before finishing the one you have. To slow down and enjoy each piece of candy as you are eating it, eat with your nondominant hand. (If you are left-handed, eat with your right.) This will help prevent you from mindlessly popping candy into your mouth. Research indicates that this simple swap can cut down on how much you eat by approximately 30 percent.
—Dr. Susan Albers, author of the national bestseller Eat.Q.
ADVICE: Probably true.
WEIGHT LOST: Never took advice.
Daphne’s craziness led her to believe the candy would all be taken away unless she ate it immediately. She and Sam should move far away from her mother’s claws. She should stop gussying up women and begin a life of goodness. Teach Audrey and Gabe about a world away from sparkling jewels and layers of camouflage. Join the Peace Corps.
“Here,” Hania said, “I found something. But I don’t know this program.”
Alice put down the laptop and went to the desk. She bent over Hania’s shoulder. “Magix. Sometimes Clancy uses it. I played with it making movies of Libby.”
Hania rose and gave the seat to Alice. Daphne stuffed the bag of Reese’s down her shirt, came up from the floor, and stood behind Alice with Hania.
After a few clicks, they saw what looked like, even to Daphne’s unschooled eyes, a rough cut of a movie. “This is saved to the disk. We don’t need Wi-Fi,” Alice clicked a few keys.
The screen filled with unedited footage and sound, opening with the day of their arrival, still in street clothes.
Tension thickened as a gasping Alice came on-screen, straining to gallop around the room with Coleen on her back. Daphne tugged at her hair, trying not to throw up as she watched.
Narration began with Jeremiah’s voice: “This is the beginning of our experiment. What would these women do to lose weight? Would they degrade themselves? We knew the answer immediately. The next question was this: How far would they go?”
The shot dissolved to a new setting, as though Mike were experimenting with ideas and cuts. Alice saw Clancy perform the magic enough times to know how making a film resembled working a jigsaw puzzle.
The shot began as a close-up on Seung and her purple hair, moving downward, revealing her removing her clothes until she stood bent over and nude.
Jeremiah’s voice-over continued: “We thought for sure we’d get a ‘No way!’ when we insisted on complete disrobing for the weigh-in, but the more we pushed, the more these women acquiesced, until occasionally one or two protested enough to provide a stopping place. Sometimes, after hours, we’d laugh; sometimes we’d almost cry at the misery they would undergo to meet the American ideal.”
Images of thin, beautiful women, interspersed with the Waisted women undressing, shame and discomfort showing in their bent bodies, arms covering stomachs, breasts, and privates, flashed on the screen, rolling out with a quality that terrified Daphne.
The slick footage scared Daphne. She possessed no inside knowledge of the documentary field, but could imagine this getting nationwide coverage. Worldwide.
Her stomach fired with bubbles of rage.
The film switched to a scene with Lauretta and Susannah eating. Lauretta, her dark hair wet with sweat, minced an egg into the tiniest flakes and placed them one bit at a time on her tongue. Susannah pushed the whole egg into her mouth, seeming to swallow it whole.
“Might as well get the misery over,” Susannah said.
An image of Lauretta wetting her finger and placing another bit of egg in her mouth dissolved, replaced with stills of children from all countries and cultures, bellies distended from hunger as the narrator spoke.
“As children and adults throughout the world famish, these women volunt
eered for forcible starvation. They are willing to wear the ill-fitting, bizarre clothes . . .”
Daphne appeared, her stomach pressing out against the garish jumpsuit, running next to Alice. With sweat-slicked hair, without makeup or jewelry, she was reduced to nothing but a hideous fat woman stumbling along.
“They spend hours on end exercising in a manner impossible to replicate when they are released—and yet they continue to believe.”
The ill-intentioned camera lingered on Jennifer riding a stationary bicycle, her thick thighs engulfing the machine as though she were smothering it to death.
“None of them is giving a thought to those who spend those same hours just to bring water and food to their families . . .”
Video of women and children carrying buckets and balancing baskets on their heads replaced Jennifer. Dust kicked up with every stolid step.
“What if this energy went toward water parity instead of vanity?” the narration continued. “The following week, we began our second experiment: How far would our trainers Coleen and Valentina go to win? Prize money was shifted, to see the difference in how their clients were treated. After being warned against speaking to each other, ever, about the competition, we promised Coleen five thousand dollars if she won the contest for aggregate pounds lost by a team. This was on top of her fifty-thousand-dollar salary for the month. Valentina was working toward a sixty-thousand-dollar bonus, which would augment her twelve-thousand-dollar paycheck for the month of work.”
The camera lingered on Valentina’s bony hand placing a pill in each of their hands.
Our house doctor approached Valentina with so-called vitamins—which were, in fact, dextroamphetamine, the generic form of Dexedrine. The willingness she showed in taking the doctor’s advice without question was in direct conflict with Coleen’s request for a list of the ingredients in the pills.
The doctor never complied with Coleen’s request, and she never brought it up again, while Valentina pushed her three to take the unknown vitamins. They, in turn, once feeling the euphoria, took them, even begging for more.
Hania appeared with Valentina, wheedling pills with flattery, offering the trainer a golden bangle for two dozen.
“Eff these men,” Alice said. “Clancy was right. Acrobat is filled with pigs.”
“They’ll show this film over my dead body,” Daphne said. “We need to do something. Now.”
The camera panned on Hania, collapsed in a chair, removing her gold bangles, and then flashed her naked on the scale.
“Oh, we will,” Alice said. “We will.”
CHAPTER 18
* * *
ALICE
Alice flew back to their room powered by wrath, her mental knives sharpened with each step she took. Never again would she allow herself to be anyone’s joke or object lesson.
Years working at the Cobb, forced to fill out long-range and short-range goals for the board of directors, including action steps, hadn’t been for nothing. Even as she walked, she began planning their revenge and getaway.
Mission: Take back their personal agency by ruining Acrobat’s film.
Goal: Find the film and escape. Publicize this bullshit.
Actions Steps: Strategize fast.
“We need to sleep, but we can’t take a pill,” Alice said. “We’ll need it for tomorrow, for the plan I’m forming. And we’ll have to beg a few more from Valentina. What do you think, Daph?”
“That should do it. I’m more concerned with titrating our speed for tomorrow—making sure we can stay awake.”
“I have plenty,” Hania said.
They turned to her. Alice glared. “We thought you only had the one extra.”
“What? Valentina wanted me to lose more weight. I also got extra sleeping pills. I’ve been hoarding them for when I’m home.”
“That’s dangerous, Hania,” Alice said. “And stupid. Especially now. But thank God. Now give them all to me.”
• • •
When the alarm rang at seven o’clock, Alice rolled over, saw her family photo, and vowed that Libby would be in her arms by tomorrow.
Adrenaline overtook her exhaustion. Well, adrenaline followed by pills. The day was a blur of exercise, weigh-ins, and thinking through the plan until Alice became certain of every detail.
She wanted to attack Jeremiah, but she did the opposite. Each of them had her prey, and hers was the big man. This much she knew: most men wanted admiration. Susceptibility to vanity often became their Achilles’ heel. Therefore, Jeremiah could be weaponized by using the ongoing feud between Acrobat and Prior Productions.
Every afternoon, Jeremiah took a slow stroll through the weight section of the cavernous gym, fancying himself a paragon when it came to lifting. Alice made sure Valentina assigned her to that area.
As he moved toward her, she called his name. “Am I doing this as well as I can?” she asked as he stood over her. She put down the kettlebell. “Release is getting close, and I’m scared.”
“What are you nervous about?” Jeremiah asked. “Keeping the weight off?”
“Of course. That and much more.” She swept her hands toward him. “I mean, look at you. And then me.”
Jeremiah puffed up, crossing his arms in a manner that emphasized his every muscle.
“Face it. You’re a damn Adonis. I don’t care what I say anymore. We leave in a week, and I need every bit of help.” She moved closer and whispered, ready to feed him catnip. “You know who my husband is, right?”
Jeremiah nodded, his curiosity apparent.
“My husband may have the reputation of an avenging angel, but trust me, my marriage is nowhere near heaven. I came because of Clancy.”
“What? Are you undercover?” His laugh sounded nervous.
“God, no! I thought he might lock me up when I told him that I was coming here. But it’s his fault. Because he can’t stand touching me anymore.” Who cared what she said, how much she exaggerated. “He hates Acrobat. When you guys won at the Mobius Awards, he had a fit. He thought he deserved the top prize.”
“You should have left the asshole.” Jeremiah leaned in. He looked her up and down as though he hadn’t seen her nude and humiliated, as though she were his slave, one whom he just might take to bed for the night.
Alice dug deep. “When I leave, it will be with the rocking bod you guys give me. I am so grateful.” She went closer. “You. You’re the true expert here. I don’t just want to be thin; I want to be cut. I really need your help.”
• • •
By eight o’clock that evening, they were back in their rooms, ready to debrief and prepare for their postmidnight assault. “What happened with you, Hania?” Alice asked.
After swinging her hair out of her eyes, their golden girl ran her hand over her jaw, simulating pain.
“No!” Daphne said. “You didn’t.”
“I did my job.”
Alice closed her eyes and tried not to imagine Libby at twenty-eight years old. “Your job didn’t include fellatio.”
“Don’t be so shocked. We came close to, um, intimacy, before. Yes, I lied to you. Anyway, my job was to get information. I got that and more.” She reached behind her and held up a key on a small chain, the sort with a pop-in connector. “Say hello to the master.”
“Seriously?” Alice thought of Hania’s pretense at innocence and smiled. Women had a way of hiding their lights—and intents—under a bushel. Men were usually easier to read. Too many of them forgot to peer down from their positions of power, even if that power was only over a fat girl at a fat-farm mansion.
“Yup. Love me or hate me for it, I cooked up a mash of tears and sex. Irresistible to men who’ve been locked up surrounded by almost naked women, albeit fat ones, and had only their own hands. And now, through my sleight of hand, we have the master key.”
Wearing a huge smile, Daphne rose slowly. Alice didn’t know what to expect from her coconspirator’s expression. Had she taken her assignment to the extreme and killed Valentina
and Coleen? Daphne rummaged through her top drawer until she gave an evil smile.
“I think now is the time to celebrate.” She held a ragged bag of Reese’s Pieces above her head. “For us.” She tore open the worn sack, spilling the candy onto the small side table, and began dividing the pieces into three piles.
Alice’s mouth watered. Even during her mother’s most strident health food binges, Bebe had still made desserts with fruit and honey. And, of course, it didn’t take much for Alice to cajole Zeke into frequent ice cream trips. Now, deprived of all sugar for so long, her hand twitched toward the treat.
Hania picked up an orange piece and moaned in pleasure as she ate it.
Alice pushed half of her pile toward each of them. “You have it.”
“I did wrong, huh? I just thought this might be our version of a shot of courage. Since we have no liquor.” Daphne sounded hurt by Alice’s words.
Alice worked against sounding superior. “I know how I become after being sugar deprived. One taste and I go sugar mad. I can’t afford it with what’s facing me.”
“I earned it,” Hania said. “Want to hear how I did it? I followed the girl script and made sure Mike found me crying in the corner of his usual path back to his office, postlunch.”
“In the chair down the hall from him?”
“Yup.” Hania made air quotes. “On my way to the lawn for a time-out.”
“Come on, ladies,” Alice said. “Hurry. We have lots to do.”
Hania spoke fast and staccato. “He knelt before me—he’s such a softie—rubbed my knee and—”
“ ’Cause a knee rub is the perfect way to comfort any—”
Alice slapped the arm of the chair. “Daphne! We don’t have time.”
Daphne held up her hands and rose. “Sorry! Must be my sugar rush talking.”
“Anyhow, he asked me what was wrong.” Hania grabbed back the spotlight. “And I gave him the scared-to-be-out-in-the-cold-cold-world speech. Blah, blah, blah. How much he’d come to mean to me.”
Waisted Page 15