Mine Are Spectacular! Read Online Free PDF Page B

nothing as she stares at her reflection. Then she breaks out into a big grin and pats her now-tauter cheeks. “My gosh, I really do look better,” she says.
    â€œYes, you’re beautiful!” Kate exults.
    The audience is on its feet applauding. Loud cheers of “Me next!” and “Where can I get that?” fill the room. Everyone wants to be the recipient of Kate’s next bolt of beauty. The crowd starts pushing toward the stage, whooping and stomping. If Hewlett-Packard stock had inspired this much enthusiasm, Carly Fiorina would still have a job.
    The women gather around and one touches Kate’s sleeve as if she were the pope. Another asks for an autograph. When we were kids Kate used to say she wanted to save the world. Who knew she’d be doing it one pimple at a time.
    Thirty minutes later, the potential patients are finally out of questions and Kate’s out of business cards. She excuses herself and I follow her as we make a graceful exit.
    â€œSo what’d you think?” she asks me happily, on a high from her worshipers’ adulation.
    â€œI feel like I should kiss your ring,” I say, laughing. “That woman really did look good.”
    â€œAnd that’s just a sample. The whole process with the dermabrasion, collagen and vitamin serum takes at least a couple of hours. It costs a fortune, but for you, my dear, I’d do it for free.”
    â€œI’ll add it to the list,” I say with a laugh. “How long do your miracles last?”
    â€œA full twenty-four hours.”
    â€œAnd after that your Cinderellas turn back into pumpkins?”
    â€œAt least they look good for the ball. Or the Oscars.”
    â€œAs long as the show doesn’t run late,” I say.
    Kate laughs and links her arm through mine.
    â€œCome on, I promised you lunch. I owe you a Harrison Hamburger for coming to my speech. Specialty of the house. The chef makes them with foie gras and caviar.”
    â€œCaviar?” I ask. “Hasn’t anybody here ever heard of Hamburger Helper?”
    â€œYes, they have,” Kate says, holding the door open for me. “And that’s why they use caviar. Let me introduce you to my favorite lunch.”
    But it’s not the hamburger I get to meet. As we head toward the forty-dollar sandwiches in the wildly overpriced hotel restaurant—modestly billed as The Cafeteria—Kate suddenly comes to a dead halt. She self-consciously tugs at the hem of her tight Gucci shirt. If she pulls it any harder, I’ll get to see that three-hundred-fifty-dollar La Perla bra she swears by. I follow her gaze and see a man rushing across the lobby in our direction, waving at Kate with one hand and scrolling through his Blackberry with the other. He’s wearing an expensive wheat-colored linen shirt that amazingly hasn’t wilted in the humidity. His crisp olive pants are equally wrinkle-free, and there are no creases on his face, either. Maybe he’s been resculpted. I suddenly have a brainstorm. Can Doctor Kate make over any guy so he’s the man of her dreams? If so, she might have made the biceps on this one a little bigger.
    â€œI’m here,” he says, tucking away his Blackberry and planting a light kiss on Kate’s cheek. “Sorry I missed your speech, babe. I was buying a building on Thirty-third Street and it took longer than I thought.”
    Buying a building? No wonder he’s late. Given the price of Manhattan real estate, it would probably take forever just to write all the zeros on the check.
    â€œLet me introduce you. This is Owen Hardy,” says Kate, never taking her adoring eyes off of him. “My dear new friend, the fabulous and famous Owen Hardy.”
    The very tan man in question looks at me expectantly, tapping his foot and waiting for a reaction. He’s clearly miffed when he doesn’t get one.
    â€œOwen Hardy,”
he repeats, saying it slower and more loudly.