Brittany had her mic to her lips before the woman finished her question. “I think being authentic on camera is the key. Nobody is perfect. No one is niceall the time.” She looked pointedly at Daisy. A few snickers came from thecrowd.
Daisy’s muscles tightened in a weird fight-or-flight response to Brittany’s answer. It was weird, because there was no reason to run away and she certainly wasn’t going to fight Brittany on or off stage. Especially not with Teri in the audience. She doubted KPaka would want to partner with a woman involved in a catfight. There were dozens of phones up, recording every moment of this event. Of all people, Daisy knew how quickly a video could goviral.
Staying true to herdon’t engage a dragonphilosophy, Daisy smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders. It was the best noncommittal move she had. There was no sense jumping in to defend herself—her actions spoke louder than her words everwould.
The next person in line stepped to the mic. “Daisy, what message do you want viewers to take away from watching yourchannel?”
This was an easy answer. “To be their best self and let their beauty shine through. Like Brittany said, no one is perfect, but if we’re trying our best in life, then we are beautiful. It’s a standard my mom instilled in me at a young age.” She smiled at her mom, hoping to win a few points back after not telling her about Beckett. Mom’s small smile said she’dsucceeded.
“So you want every young girl to look just likeyou?”
Daisy whipped her head back to the woman at the mic and her accusatory tone. She hadn’t moved like she was supposed to after asking her question and stood with folded arms, tapping her foot. Upon closer inspection, Daisy could see the 45-degree swoop to her brown eyeliner. A swoop Brittany swore took five years off a woman’sface.
While Daisy could ignore or dodge Brittany’s attacks, not answering this question was not an option. She lifted the mic. “Not at all. I want each girl, each woman, to find her inner beauty. I want to inspire them to stand out because of their individual light andtalents.”
“I disagree,” saidBrittany.
Of course you do.Daisy just managed to keep her smile inplace.
“My mother used to say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” She pulled her braid over her shoulder like a queen draping herself with a cape. “I’m not handing out my beauty secrets so women can pick and choose which ones they think will work best. They watch my channel because I have the training and the knowledge to back up what I say. My tips work foreveryone.”
Daisy almost swallowed her tongue in her efforts not to break apart everything Brittany justsaid.
First of all, she acted like her mom came up with the phrase “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” That saying has been around forcenturies.
Second, Daisy had just as much training—if not more—thanBrittany.
Third, Brittany’s tips didn’t work for everyone. If Daisy used half the pinks and corals Brittany did, she’d look like ayam.
She worked to keep her face neutral as she turned back to face the crowd. As her eyes scanned those seated, she found Teri. It was almost easy, because she was one of the few women who weren’t wearing makeup. Daisy expected to see her frowning or at least impassive at what Brittany had to say. Instead, she wasnodding.
Nodding along withBrittany.
That was just notright.
Daisy had sort of an out-of-her-own-head moment. She could see the people on stage and the crowd, but things were clearer, slower, giving her time before the next question to change her answer or add to it. She recounted her words, looking for a place to edit. Like she could splice in a new sentence or two. No, she’d said what she believed and would let itstand.
Time sped back up and the next question was asked, this one for the cookie guru in themiddle.
Daisy crossed her ankles and angled her knees. She’d done and said the right thing, but something felt very wrong—like a paradigm shift in the universe. She didn’t like the feeling, because it also came with a sense that she’dlost.
It was because she’d had to deal with Brittany. That must be it. Daisy turned her attention back to the panel and learned all about why she shouldn’t grease a cookie sheet if she wanted thickcookies.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beckett awoketo his phone played “You’re a Mean One” from The Grinch. Better to take the call when he was half asleep than when he was fully able to be annoyed. “Morning,Dad.”
His dad squinted at the screen. “Are you still inbed?”
Why, oh why did his parents have to be tech savvy? He’d give anything for a stubborn old man who insisted on posting letters that Beckett could toss without reading. “Yeah, Dad.” He checked the time. “It’s seven thirtyhere.”
“You should be up and going. Attack theday.”
Since all he had planned was answering the list of questions Vivian sent him for their post-makeover segment and taking the orphaned puppy for a walk, he didn’t feel like attacking anything. “Did you need something?” He ran his hand through his short hair and down his beard. It was time to buzz it. After several days, he found that he liked the shorter beard. There was something refined and dignified aboutit.
“Your mother wanted to talk to you.” The screen flashed to the ceiling and then the back wall, where itstayed.
Beckett closed his eyes to keep from getting motion sick. “Then why didn’t she callme?”
