Page 32

Not only do I hate lying, I’m pretty terrible at it.

It’s a great trait when it comes to being a decent human, but it’s not very helpful when it comes to playing a double agent infiltrating a multi-level marketing company.

I was so worried about deceiving the women I’ve spent so much time around for the last few months that I almost called Luke and told him I couldn’t do it anymore.

Not only did I think they wouldn’t buy a word coming out of my mouth, but even though I wouldn’t exactly call any of them friends, I do like them and my stomach has been in shambles thinking about lying to them.

Most of the parties I’ve been to are at one of the consultants’ houses, so when Nora told me she was hosting one, I assumed it would be at her place.

I’ve known her for years, but it’s the first time she’s invited me to her home, and I’ve been dying to set my eyes on the “house that Petunia purchased”—her words, not mine.

So color me surprised when I arrive at the address she sent me and am greeted with a medical spa instead of the residential stunner I was hoping to see. I had to triple-check the address on the invite she sent me to make sure I wasn’t at the wrong address.

“Champagne?” a gorgeous woman with full lips and a crisp forehead offers, and because my mom taught me manners—and absolutely not because I’m anxious—I accept. “And here’s a stress ball for you to hold on to during whatever treatment you have.”

It shouldn’t have taken me this long to finally realize what’s happening, but as I look around the room full of familiar faces that are slightly swollen and makeup free, everything finally clicks into place.

Nora is hosting a Botox party. Super interesting considering that when she raves about how much better her skin has been since using Petunia Lemon products, injectables seem to be conveniently left out. I wonder why that could be?

I just got here and I already can’t wait to call Luke.

I take my first sip of champagne for the night, and the last embers of guilt are finally extinguished as I make my rounds in the reception area.

I stop and say hi to a few people, asking how their kids are doing and getting an update from Hayley about her upcoming wedding.

Small talk feels harder than normal. Now that the glossy facade is gone, I can’t help but wonder if all the smiles are real or if they’re as fake as the Petunia Lemon results we’re being fed.

If some of them are draining their checking accounts, maybe they are too worried about losing friends to do what’s best for them.

But hey, at least there’s good snacks.

I grab a paper plate that’s shaped like a set of very full, very red lips and start filling it up with cheese, fruit, and crackers.

I get a second plate for desserts. I wonder if I eat enough of these cookies, would my face get full without filler?

I should probably test that out. It sounds enjoyable.

“Emerson! You came!” Grace runs up to me waving a syringe filled with something red in my face. “Come do jello shots with us!”

“I can’t.” I pretend to sound upset, but you couldn’t pay me to do jello shots. The last time I did them was in college, and I got so drunk that I was throwing up blue for an entire day. “I drove, so I’m going to stick with my one glass of champagne.”

Also—and not that I would ever drink and drive—but I haven’t even had my car back for an entire week.

There’s no way I’m doing anything that would put me—and my nether regions—in danger of being back on my bike.

In fact, I’m calling Bikes Together as soon as I get home.

I want my bike to have a good home, just not with me.

“Boo. Party pooper.” Grace pouts for a millisecond before she’s distracted by somebody else and runs off. “Janet!” she shouts across the room. “Do a jello shot with me!”

She’s not gone for more than a minute before someone else is shouting my name behind me. I turn around just in time to see Nora and Jacqueline walking toward me arm in arm.

“Emerson!” Nora says. “You came!”

Loose strands of her red hair fall out of the bun at the top of her head, and she’s holding an ice pack in her hand.

Her already full lips look more swollen than normal, and little bumps are scattered across her forehead like she’s been stung by a bee.

Jacqueline, of course, looks like her normal, not-a-hair-out-of-place perfect self.

There’s not a drop of makeup on her face, but I don’t think she’s had anything done yet.

Not that it would matter either way. Botox or no Botox, it’s unfair how beautiful she is.

“Of course I came.” I hold myself back from going in for a hug like I usually do. I don’t want to hurt her face. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Oh please, you’re my girl. You’re always invited.” She unwinds her arm from Jacqueline’s, and the little zap of guilt I thought was gone makes a sudden reappearance. “Have you looked at the menu for the night?”

“There’s more food?” I look at the spread in front of me and my loaded-up plates. I didn’t realize there was a menu too. “This is already so much.”

“No, not a food menu.” Her melodic laughter floats through the room.

She walks to the end of the table to grab a framed card and hands it to me.

“A service menu. Your first treatment is on me, but anything after that is up to you. Chloe is in the back already, I think she’s doing her lips and the fine lines on her forehead. ”

My stomach turns. Chloe is barely out of college; there’s no way she should be back there, and if it weren’t for my party, she wouldn’t be.

“Did Odette come?”

Like Keisha, there’s not one wrinkle on her flawless, brown skin, and her lips have the natural plump no doctor could immolate.

“No,” Nora says. “She couldn’t find a sitter.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” I have to fight to keep the look of pure relief off of my face—maybe Botox would be good for me while I’m undercover. They can’t read the lies on my face if my face doesn’t move, right? “Hopefully she’ll make it to the next one.”

I put down my dessert plate and look at the framed menu she handed me.

It’s like reading a foreign language. The lines that are frozen on her face deepen on mine as I try to figure out what I’m looking at.

I’ve never been to a medical spa before, and the long list of services offered, the resolutions to problems I didn’t even know existed, is overwhelming to say the least.

“You probably want to start with the crow’s-feet.” Jacqueline offers her unasked-for and unwanted opinion. “Or maybe a little filler for your lips.”

I almost laugh in her face because if there’s one thing I know I don’t need, it’s lip filler. I can thank my dad for that. The instant loss of credibility takes away the sting of her words.

“Or whatever you think will make you feel your best.” Nora tries to talk over Jacqueline. “I just thought you’d have fun trying things out. Dr. Hubbard is the best, you’re going to love her.”

I’m not sure why in the world she’d think I’d have fun trying things.

I’ve never expressed any interest in Botox or fillers, and if anything, I’ve told her how much I hate anything having to do with needles.

No shame to anyone who does partake in everything on this menu, but I’m only twenty-eight.

I’d like to give myself the opportunity to age before I decide to do something about it.

Maybe it’s because I lost a parent at such a young age, but the only thing I see to aging is beauty. Reaching an age where your joy can be read on your face, where your story can be seen by all, is a privilege. I’m not in a rush to erase that.

“I’m sure she’s amazing, but I’m not sure I’m ready to try anything right now.” I never thought I’d have to try and gently reject getting Botox with my boss, but here we are.

“Are you positive?” She lifts her ice pack to her mouth, and disappointment is written all over her swollen face. “Dr. Hubbard offers Petunia Lemon products to all of her clients, so you know she only believes in using the top of the line.”

Do I know that? I thought I knew that the stupid serums and spa system they’re refusing to refund me for were all women needed to stay looking youthful and wrinkle-free. Nobody told me that it only worked in tandem with cosmetic procedures.

“I’m sure, I’m just going to be a spectator tonight,” I tell her again, hoping she can hear the finality in my voice.

I already feel bad enough for spying on her party, and no is my least favorite word. If she keeps pushing it, I know I’ll cave. And I like my face the way it is!

“Alright,” she gives in. “But if you decide you want to try, it’s okay to change your mind.”

“Speaking of changing your mind,” Jacqueline cuts in, “I know I signed up to chaperone the field trip to the pumpkin patch next week, but I was invited to Petunia Lemon headquarters as one of their top representatives so I’ll actually be out of town now.”

“That’s huge! Congratulations.” I can’t tell if she’s offering me this information to let me know she can’t attend anymore or if she’s just bragging about her trip. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll send out an email and I’m sure I’ll be able to find another parent to join us.”

“No need.” She waves me off with the dismissive flick of her wrist I’ve become so accustomed to when I’m around her. “Lucas said he’d take my spot since he’ll have her while I’m gone.”

“Oh perfect.” My nerves feel like they’re choking me, and I pray she can’t hear it in my voice. “I’ll reach out to him this week so we can get him approved.”