Read Online Paint Me Beautiful by C. M. Stunich - Free Book Online Page A

bags under my eyes and no agency in their right mind will hire a girl with bags under her eyes.
    I open my eyes again and stare at myself in the mirror. I try to look past the fat and find something nice to say. Your dye job still looks nice. I touch my blonde hair, arrange it artfully around my face and pucker my lips. I've got on the softest kiss of pink lipstick and the prettiest dress I own. It's a sleeveless Tibi in white with a square of black leather paneling down the center. I paired it with some three inch T-strap sandals by Saint Laurent and ditched the jewelry. I look clean, pretty, perfect. But still fat.
    I grab another sheet from my closet, a pink one this time, and throw it over my vanity table. I usually just spin this mirror around when I'm not using it, but I think I like the sheets better. There's something vaguely morbid about them, like they're death shrouds or something. It's not that I'm into that kind of thing, but it suits my mood right now.
    I grab my water bottle and carry it downstairs with me. Mom can't be trusted to offer anything but sweet tea to drink, and there's nothing wrong with insisting on water instead. Nobody can fault me for that. I look at the skinny wisp girl on the side and press a gentle kiss against the cold metal. My tummy rumbles as if in protest, but I ignore it. This dress is a size two and I swear, it's way too tight on me. I'm starting to fear I might actually have gained weight from my cheese binge a few days before. I shiver.
    “ Don't you look beautiful,” my mother says when she sees me descend the staircase and pause next to the counter island. “What's the occasion?” she giggles as I stare at her. “Heard about how handsome tonight's dinner guest is, did you?” My hand clenches around my water bottle, and I imagine that it is my sister's throat. That bitch. I decide to go with blunt honesty and maybe, just maybe, Marlena will get bitched at for this instead of me.
    “ Didn't Marlena tell you that she snuck into my room, took my friend's phone number without asking and hired him?” I raise my eyebrows for emphasis, but my mom isn't looking at me. She's got some greasy cheese casserole in her hands and is attempting to fit it in the over next to a foil wrapped something or other.
    “ What are you talking about, hon?” I glance over my shoulder and can practically see Big Bob's ears twitching with curiosity. He folds his paper and sets it in his lap. When he looks over at me, I glance away. I'm angry with him; he's frustrated with me. I think it's just best for everybody right now if we don't make eye contact.
    “ Marlena hired the guy in the red two-seater,” I say bluntly. Neither of my parents speak. “She tracked him down, hired him, and invited him over for dinner.”
    “ Oh,” my mother whistles as she closes the oven and turns around, looking past me at my father. He grunts, and I hear his paper rustling again. “What a small world we all live in.” Mom smiles and turns away, switching on the faucet and rinsing a head of lettuce.
    “ It's not a coincidence, Mom,” I say, but she isn't listening anymore. Neither of my parents are. Marlena is like a Goddess in their eyes; she can do no wrong. I, on the other hand, am their wispy demon daughter, a useless throw away child that bleeds their hard-earned money and fancies about at casting calls. They pretend to be supportive, but really, they're just sick and tired of it. “I'm moving out,” I say, but they don't take me seriously. My mom laughs like it's a joke, and my father snorts.
    “ With what money?” he says. I wrinkle up my face, but I say nothing. One day, they'll get up and I'll be gone, just gone. I'll be on a plane to Paris, and the closest they'll ever get to me again will be through the pages of a magazine. It's an immature thought, I know, but I can't resist having it. It's like some sort of fantasy playing through my head right now.
    I grab the stack of white and blue plates my