Resident ugly duckling Angela DeMarcus is so desperate to become beautiful in order to live out her famous, dead mother’s modeling legacy, that she does the unthinkable. She sells her soul to the devil!
“Hello, hi, hey sexy, Angela DeMarcus is the name and beauty is my game,” the red-headed shrew emphasized in her oversized mirror with her oversized lips. After practicing her one-hundred-and-one sex faces, she went to scribble in her new journal.
I, Angela DeMarcus, will be the fashion world’s newest IT girl! I have dreamt of this moment ever since the tragic death of my Mother. Well…probably not ever since her tragic death, seeing as I was too preoccupied with being covered in blood as she bled out on the floor of her apartment to think about anything other than breathing. But a small number of years later, after discovering who my Mother was before I ruined everything, I simply had to live up to her name. You see, my Mother, the ever-famous Ms. Lolita Jane DeMarcus, was a fabulously famous super model in her day.
Magazines, posters, billboards, and even a commercial (which I keep downloaded on every technological device I own for instant inspirational purposes), you name it and my Mother’s classically beautiful face was plastered on it. My Mother was the woman to be, the woman to want and the woman to hate and love every minute of it. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about my Father, a duster buster from North Carolina who despised my Mother’s life in the fab lane. His hatred for her lifestyle and her refusal to abandon it even when she became pregnant with yours truly is exactly why he wasn’t there on the day she gave her life to me. After the demise of Ms. Lolita Jane, I was sent away to live with him.
I believe Mother really wanted me to be raised by her closest model friends, but Father always said they would have just raised me to be a cracked-up, size -0 camera hog. What an ignorant assumption, right? “I raised you to have morals, a conscience, to eat right and not sell your soul to the devil for a piece of pie,” he preached. Whatever that means. Anyway, the minute I turned 18, I high-tailed it out of the N.C. and over to L.A., where my road to stardom truly began. Right now, well, for the past seven years, actually, I have been working as a receptionist for a car dealership. Not to worry, though! This is just the dark before the dawn! I can see it now: me sitting in a clean, plush chair just inches away from Oprah Winfrey, recounting my tale of hardship and despair right before my almost fairy-tale-like rise to international fame and fortune…it’s a beautiful dream.
“Yeah, one you’ll keep dreamin’ about.”
“Dammit, get outta here, Donnie! Jeez!”
Ugh! Snot-nosed brat. That’s my younger half brother Donnie. Father sent him up here to check on me, does it every few months. He seems to think I can’t handle this town, so he sends Donnie to watch over me like I’m some fragile bird who will blow away with the next—
“Heh, heh, you look like a bird, one of them strange ones with a crazy big beak, and big scary eyes that glow in the night. Oh boy…And what’s up with all the ‘Mother and Father’ stuff. You tryin’ to get fancy or somethin’?”
“Donnie, get the hell outta this room…,” she seethed through bared teeth and a menacingly low tone.
“Now tha’s more like it. And jus’ for yer information, Sissy, Daddy sends me up here jus’ to make sure you ain’t dead. Hell, truth be told, I could just knock on the door and as soon as I hear ya ask ‘who is it?’ I can turn ‘round and catch the next flight to Carolina,” he stated simply and then chugged the left-over milk in his cereal bowl.
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t cha? I don’ see any anaconda wrappin’ itself ‘round your legs and dragging you inside, makin’ ya over stay yer welcome.”
“Now see, tha’s where yer wrong. Why, I’m lookin’ at one right now.”
“UGH!”
A bejeweled neck pillow clanked against the door of Angela’s room. Donnie snickered on the other side.
“Ha! You missed! I still got it, Sissy!” he bragged.
Do you see? Do you see what I’m dealing with? I’m gonna I shall make it to stardom and leave the hicks I call family in the dust. If Donnie’s lucky, maybe I’ll give him a temporary job cleaning up the confetti at one of many celebratory parties in my honor. As for Father, I don’t know just yet…maybe I could find him a nice retirement home in Orlando.
* * *
Today a local talent agency is holding modeling auditions. I squeezed into my tiniest dress and then put on my best makeup and accessories. Watch out, L.A.! Your Lolita Jane is back!
Angela strutted proudly into the audition room after waiting in a line for five hours with a thousand and one other Angelas. She walked in, smirked her sexiest, and stood center stage, ready to give her piece.
“Nope. Go home. Send in who’s next, would you?” asked a shadow in the back.
“W-what?” Angela asked through her glued-on smile.
“Ugh, next please! Thanks for nothing.”
South Carolina’s ugliest duckling continued to smile her very brightest even as she less-than-gracefully left the audition room and flew down the stairs.
* * *
Disgrace!! Utter disgrace! How embarrassing it is to have a door slammed in my face before I could even make an entrance! “Next please,” he says. Pssh! The drug addict probably couldn’t even see me behind those thick Lennon glasses he was wearing to protect his red, stingy heroin eyes from the lights. This ain’t fair, I tell ya! That is the 10th time somethin’ like that has happened to me. All they wanna see is some dumb size-0 bleached blonde! I can be so much more if they’d just give me a chance!
You know, for as long as I can remember, I have never been one of the classic pretty girls on the outside, but I’ve lived most of my life believing I could be one day. My lips were too big, my teeth too small. My forehead was so big all the neighborhood kids would chase me with brooms and sticks, yelling out, “The monster is back, the monster is back!” My chest was so small that in high school, I would be mistaken for a rocker boy named Marcus, who must have been a bit girly lookin’. My eyes were too small and lacked any color or luster. Still, I kept a big smile on my face through all those sad and awkward times, and to this day try my best to work with what I got. My dream is to be a model…it is just not fair that no one’s givin’ me any chance to prove I can do it.
Now, my Mom, oh boy, was she a natural looker. She started modeling when she was only 14. Even though Daddy didn’t want me to have anything to do with her life after she died, he kept plenty of pictures around. He may not have liked the life she chose, but he did love her, I like to think. He kept a case, in the attic, of photo albums featuring her. I would study those pictures, wanting to make my Mom proud by walking in her footsteps one day. I’ve always felt a little guilty for causin’ her death, so I wanted to make it up to her by being as beautiful as she was and passing on her legacy. But, it looks like fate is starting to have other plans for me. I hate to say it, but I think Daddy might have been right….
Angela lamely tossed her journal aside and ran into the bathroom. She cried and cried, sticky mascara running down her face, eye shadow smudging her fingers and cheeks.
“I’m so sorry; I can’t do it,” she sobbed.
“Hey, Sissy! You wouldn’t believe what I just saw down at the store today. Hey! Sis…hey, you in there?”
“…No, I’m not. Just go away, Donnie.”
Donnie quickly put the bags on the counter and tried to open the door.
“Sissy, open this door,” he ordered.
After a few seconds, shuffling, sniffling, a click sounded on the other side of the door. Donnie came in, closed the door, and sat across from his sulking sister.
“Wha’s the matter, Sissy?”
“Oh nothing. You and Daddy was just right is all. I can’t be no Hollywood model, no matter how much makeup I put on or how proper I talk. It just can’t happen for me.”
“Now since when was the word ‘can’t’ added to your word list? The Sissy I remember thought she could do everything, even when people a mile long told her it was impossible. You moved out here when the whole town thought you were crazy. So far you’ve avoided becoming a crackhead like most other girls who move here. If you wanna be a model, then you’re gonna be one ‘cause you got the drive for it. You’ll figure somethin’ out.”
Angela sniffed and smiled lightly. “Thanks Donnie.”
Donnie smiled. “Hey, tha’s what I’m here for.”
“I thought you were here to make sure I ain’t dead,” Angela said teasingly.
“That too. Now c’mon. I got us some Mexican chips, some salsa, spicy cheese, and meat o’course. Oh and SNL’s Best of Will Ferrell.”
“Okay.”
The siblings hugged, and then Donnie left to let Angela clean herself up. Before going into the living room to enjoy nachos and Will Ferrell, Angela grabbed her journal.
Okay, so maybe Donnie ain’t all bad. The runt sure does know how to cheer me up.
* * *
“So you got everything, right? Bags, ticket, money?”
“Yeah, Sissy; I got it all right here.”
“Okay.”
Angela and Donnie smiled at each other, then went in for a big hug.
“Alright now, be safe and call me when you get in.”
“Got it. And hey, uh, you keep workin’ on that dream of yers.”
“Awww, you’re so sweet,” Angela mocked in baby voice.
“Shut up.”
She watched the automatic double doors close behind her brother and looked toward the sky in thanks. He turned out to not be a total annoyance during his visit.
* * *
With Donnie’s surprisingly encouraging words under my wings, I am ready to fly again. Now that I think about it, I probably came on a little too strong yesterday. Maybe Hollywood is looking for someone a little more natural but still alluring. I can do that. Ms. Lolita Jane was nothing if not naturally sexy. More auditions are being held at another place downtown today. I heard some girls talking about it. This time, I’m putting on my best Marilyn Monroe-esque outfit and practicing my sweetest smile. No harsh make up or vixen like poses. Wish me luck. J
Angela showered until her body squeaked with every move and sprit lavender perfume on her wrists and neck. She wore her most elegant dress, her Mother’s pearls, and applied light make up. She even kissed Ms. Lolita Jane’s best picture before leaving.
“Wish me luck, Mom.”
Standing in line, she was confident that today would be her day. When she got to the audition, there was a lineup of girls inside a big room. A tiny man with a headset on walked down the line, saying “Go, go, stay, go, stay, stay, go, stay.” When he was two girls away from her, Angela put on the biggest smile of her life. She could already hear the word “stay” exiting his mouth.
“Go.”
What!
This time, Angela would not sadly retreat without any explanation. She went after the man, fury smoking up the bottom of her heels.
“Hey, why not me, huh? What’s so wrong with me?”
The little man stopped to look Angela up and down. He clicked his teeth.
“Honey, come back when you’ve climbed your way up the pretty tree and hit your face on a few branches on the way down. No, scratch that, all the branches.”
“You jerk!” She screeched, pushing wannabe models left and right as she shoved her way out of the building.
Half way home, she stopped at a bookstore to grab some water and cookies. I can’t believe I skipped a meal for this!
As she angrily shoved cookies into her mouth, an old woman watched curiously from the religious section. She approached the rabid Angela.
“Excuse me, Miss; are you all right?”
“No, I ain’t all right, old lady,” Angela muttered through a mouth full of cookies. “I’ve got dreams, you know, just like everybody else. I think I work a hell of a lot harder than a lotta other people in this town. ‘Go,’ he says, the midget.”
“Well…may I suggest something?”
Angela eyed the woman suspiciously, nearly forgetting she was standing there.
“…Sure.”
“Take this book. It tells you everything you need to do to make your dreams come true. I know many people who have picked it up and lived out their wildest dreams for as long as they could. It works.”
Angela felt a strange wave of energy flow through her as she locked eyes with the woman.
“Okay,” she responded in a bit of a daze.
“Good. See you soon, Angela.”
“Wait, how did…?”
The old woman disappeared around the corner.
* * *
Once at home and out of her red carpet garb, Angela opened the book given to her by the mysterious old woman. It was definitely an old book.
I’m surprised they sell books like these at a book store.
The cover was black, worn, even a little moist for some odd reason. Most of the pages were either torn or stained. She couldn’t make out most of the words, except those in the first chapter, which was titled: Make Your Dreams Come True.
In it, she read about sitting at a crossroads at midnight and being granted your wish in an instant.
“Hocus pocus, really? This is pathetic,” she thought aloud and tossed the book on her dresser.
At nightfall, Angela’s nightly shifts and shuffles were more restless than usual. She couldn’t sleep, her languid gaze always going back to that book. She sat up, turned on her lamp, and examined it again.
“What have I got to lose?”
She hopped in her truck with her Mother’s most beautiful picture and the book right next to her. She mentally kicked herself for most of the ride, thinking how stupid she was going to look. She wasn’t even sure how this was supposed to work, and she was almost positive this wasn’t Christian.
She finally stopped the car in a deserted area at a dirt crossroads. As soon as her feet hit the ground, the wind blew dust in her face. The touch and smell of earth, itchy grass, and insects that bite surrounded her. Still, she thought, what do I have to lose?
In her favorite Charlie Brown jammies, she sat in the center of the roads and crossed her legs. She flipped through the book a few more times, then closed her eyes and took deep breaths, chanting in her mind.
I want to be beautiful like my Mother.
I want to be beautiful like my Mother.
I want to be the next Ms. Lolita Jane DeMarcus.
Swoosh! A strong wind blew so hard that she stumbled over. She looked around, but there was nothing. The book didn’t glow, the sky was still eerily dark and cloudy, the bugs still nipped at her legs and, worst of all, after looking into her compact she discovered she was still ugly as ever.
“Idiot. I knew this was stupid.”
Angela reached home early that morning angry and itchy, not realizing her life was about to change drastically in just a few hours.
* * *
The next day Angela grumbled and mumbled down Hollywood St. with nothing on but sweats and a t-shirt. Her hair stuck to the sides of her moist, tedious face.
“What’re you lookin’ at, you stupid Barbie doll. Don’t you gotta Botox appointment or somethin’?”
She scowled at the 20-something blondes making intrigued, yet disgusted faces at her from their table at the café. A few seconds later, the tiny man with the headset from yesterday’s audition came walking by and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Oh my gosh!”
“Oh great,” Angela groaned. “What’d you want? To tell me I need to be hit by a beauty bus again?”
“You, honey darling, are simply gorgeous!” He praised with a twinkle of amazement in his eyes.
Angela looked him over suspiciously with only venom in her eyes from the last time they met.
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“And an accent, too? Now that is just lovely. You must come with me immediately. If you are not the IT girl for our newest catalog, then no one is. Come, I must introduce you.”
The tiny man took her hand and led her out of the café. Shocked and still unbelieving, Angela allowed herself to be led. Hours later, she was sitting around a conference table, in dirty old sweats and matted hair, with top-notch modeling executives making a contract.
The book! No…it couldn’t have been…could it?
Four years later…
“Yes, darling. Give me sex, now give me innocence, now give me innocent but still sexy. That’s it! You’re a rock star, baby!”
No longer the ugly duckling, Angela Lolita DeMarcus posed fiercely for the Englishman showering her with instructions and compliments.
“Alright, that’s a wrap. Angela, dear, you were positively lovely. See you in a month.”
He and Angela exchanges kisses on both cheeks.
“Dennis! Dennis, where are you?” Angela shouted for her assistant.
Dennis stumbled into her crowded dressing room with more gifts, a cookie, and an apple juice.
“Sorry, Ms. Lolita. The crowds just keep getting bigger. One of the security guards even thought I was a crazy fan. I almost didn’t make it in here.”
“It’s okay, Dennis,” Angela said calmly while fixing her makeup in the mirror. Dennis was also transfixed on her reflection. “Just don’t let it happen again,” she winked.
“You got it, Ms. Lolita.” He blushed and squirmed.
Such an adorable loser; reminds me of myself at one point in time, thought Angela.
“Ready?” she asked.
“OH, MY GOD! LOLITA, WE LOVE YOU! YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! AHHHH!”
Outside, a crowd bigger than last month’s screamed, tossing their pens and pads in Angela’s direction. She signed as many as possible before people started getting grabby. Then she posed for a few more pictures before jumping into her limo with her admiring assistant Dennis close behind.
“You really were great today, Ms. Lolita. I mean, you seem to get more and more beautiful with every shoot.”
“Thank you, Dennis. Make sure to have large framed copies of all the pictures from this month’s shoot and have them delivered to my house as soon as possible.”
“Which one?”
“The beach house.”
“Got it.”
Once at home, she threw her bag on the table, greeted her tiny, yelping puppies, and poured herself a drink. Dennis came in shortly after her.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Lolita?”
Angela looked up thoughtfully, then shrugged and sipped her drink.
“No. Not really. You know Dennis, I’ve been thinking about a vacation for some time now. It has been a while since I’ve been home.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Ms. Lolita.”
“Yeah…start working on that. Give me about a week to relax here, then make the arrangements.”
“Got it.” Dennis nodded and smiled obediently. “Anything else?”
Angela smiled. “Go home, Dennis; you could use a break, too. I’ll call if I need you.”
* * *
“That’s the spot,” Angela moaned as she slid her aching body into the steaming hot bath.
Above her lavish bathtub was a mirrored ceiling. Angela gazed up at her new self, her new life and smiled.
Finally, all of my hard work has paid off in full. Internationally known for my beauty and talent, I, Angela Lolita DeMarcus, have traveled the world at others’ request to see my entrancing good looks in person. I am a highly admired member of this world, just as my Mother once was. I knew I would live to be her one day. I hope she’s proud—
“Ouch,” Angela hissed. A sudden burning and pinching sensation seized the middle of her chest. She rubbed the spot, but that only lightened the pain a little.
I had better get to bed. I just got the strangest pain in my chest. Today’s shoot must have really done me in.
In the middle of the night, Angela tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. A breeze burst through the balcony doors of her room and yanked her from sleep. She rubbed and scratched her chest, which became all red and stingy overnight. In the bathroom mirror, Angela caught a glimpse of herself and screamed!
The rash on her chest was worse than she imagined. It was a big, inflamed circle in the center of her chest. Tiny spots of blood oozed out of nearly invisible scratches made by Angela’s sharp nails. She reached for a towel and soaked it in cold water, but that only made the rash burn more. That’s when the coughing started.
Awful, painful retching. Angela bent over the sink, dry heaving until blood sputtered out of her mouth and dripped into the sink. Tears built in the corners of her eyes as she stumbled out of the bathroom in search of the phone.
BOOM! A deafening thunderstorm began, causing her to drop the device. The phone broke and the pain in her chest increased. Her breath ragged and heavy, Angela groaned and torn at the skin on her chest.
Wh-what’s happening to me? I can’t-I can’t breathe.
Make your dreams come true, a squeaky voice whispered.
Who is that? Who are you? Help…me.
* * *
“What…what happened?” Angela awoke groggily.
She picked herself up from the messy living room floor.
“Hello, Miss.”
“Ah! Who the heck are you!”
An old woman in an old coat stood just inches away from where Angela once sat, her hands folded patiently over the other. She smiled a creepy, rotten-toothed smile as Angela backed away. She tripped.
“What the…” Screaming.
“Shhh, hush, child. It’s time to go.”
“Wh-what’s happened to me? Why am I…lying on the ground, I mean how am I?”
“Shhh. Remember what you said to me. You wanted to be your Mother, you wanted a life like Ms. Lolita Jane, and so I gave it to you.”
“B-b-b-but how is this being like my Mother? A-a-am I…dead?”
“Yes. Just like your Mother. At the height of a blissful modeling career, both Lolita beauties are found dead in the living room of their homes at such a young age, too. It is tragic, but it’s what you wanted. I gave you this in exchange, of course, for your soul. Now that my end of the bargain is taken care of, it’s your turn to deliver. Come along now, I have many more souls to take before the night is done.”
“I-I-I…”
“Shhhh.”
There lies Angela Lolita DeMarcus, one drop dead gorgeous young woman. She takes after her Mother, you know?
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