all those people would have thrilled me, but now I’m just terrified.
The second reason is because I have to tell Gigi about a deal I’ve made, one that I hope will save my career. One that I hope won’t make her hate me. This is my second chance, and my stomach churns at the thought of everything slipping through my fingers again.
“I know it’s been a hard couple of months, but things are looking up for us,” Kerri says confidently. “What happened in May was unfortunate, but we have to keep going, full speed ahead.” She turns to my parents. “We’ll fly into New York on Sunday before the ceremony like we planned.” She looks at me. “You just worry about talking to your grandmother.”
My mom’s pinched expression still hasn’t eased. My dad glances at his watch. “Well, I guess you’d better get going.”
I stand and cross the room to hug them. Stiffly, my mom wraps her arms around me. The hug lasts a millisecond. Dad follows up with a similar hug, but he includes a shoulder pat.
“Be careful,” he says sternly.
“Call us as soon as you get to Gigi’s,” Mom says. “And we’ll see you on Sunday.”
“I will,” I promise.
Kerri and I go outside, where a car is waiting to take us to the airport. Once we’re in the back seat, she reaches into her huge purse and hands me a plain black baseball cap and black cat-eye sunglasses. Last, she hands me a wig cap and a black wig. It’s a French bob with bangs.
“It’s a lace front, like we talked about,” she says. “Human hair, so it looks real.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Last month, between cartoon episodes, I cut off all my hair. I’m not even sure why. I just know that one day, I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, thinking that I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. The next thing I knew, I was holding scissors and the bathroom tiles were covered with curls. I had shorn my hair so close to my head it gave not recognizing myself a whole new meaning. Then, naturally, I screamed. When my mom ran into the bathroom, she screamed too.
My Beautiful You campaign was officially out the window, right along with my career.
I haven’t really been out in public since the video leaked. I went to In-N-Out once, but the paparazzi chased me down and I almost crashed my car. We decided for this New York trip, it would be best if I go incognito. I don’t want anyone to know where I am or what I’m doing until the FCCs. It’s possible that people won’t recognize me without the wig anyway, since my hair is so short, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“It’s cute,” I say, examining the wig. I just wish I were wearing it for a different reason.
“Of course it’s cute,” Kerri says. “I wouldn’t have you out here looking a mess. You know me better than that.”
She winks and smiles. To be honest, I don’t understand Kerri’s unending optimism or why she hasn’t just quit yet. She’s anchored herself to a sinking ship, and for some reason, she’s decided not to abandon me.
The morning that the video leaked, Kerri practically flew to my house to do damage control, but by that point it was already too late. Someone from Paul Christopher’s team called and dropped the news that I was fired. Paul didn’t want to work with someone who had so little respect for him. I tried to explain that it was just a joke. I respected Paul more than anyone. But it didn’t matter. The video was already out, and the media was running with it.
Kerri camped out at my house and decided that the best thing would be to issue a statement with a public apology. She wanted to get the right terminology, to make sure that my words couldn’t be misconstrued. She wanted to wait at least a day in case things blew over. But Kerri wasn’t the one getting all of the hateful messages. I was. While she was busy thinking of the best way to release a statement, I locked myself in my room and recorded an apology video. Tearfully, I looked into the front-facing camera and told everyone how sorry I was.
“I have deep respect for Paul Christopher,” I said. “It was just a joke. Please, you have to understand.”
But the video just made things worse. The next thing I knew, people were