The Price Of Scandal(27)

I moved down the line. “How about you, Dewayne?”

He leaned his big frame back. “Man, I just want to leave last season behind me. You know? Blew out my knee. Had the surgery. Now I’m training. I wanna come back faster and stronger. I don’t want to live with this big-ass reminder of the worst moment of my career carved into my knee.”

“And you, Mallory?” I said.

She was silent for a long moment, and I thought maybe she wasn’t going to answer me. “I just want to see an improvement,” she said softly. “I’m not greedy. I’m not asking for perfection or for what I looked like before. I just want my scars to be better. I’m better. I want my face to reflect that.”

Emily joined us, giving me a suspicious look. I held up my hands to show her that I hadn’t recorded or stolen anything.

“Are you three ready?” Emily asked, shifting her attention to her subjects.

They nodded, and she ran through the details. “The sensors we embedded under the bandages have been monitoring for things like moisture and bacteria. That data looks great. We’re all excited to see what the visible results are. Does anyone need a drink of water or anything before we get started?”

No one did, so Emily asked everyone in the room to take their seats.

“Don’t be nervous,” she whispered to Nina when the nurse began to gently tug at the edge of the first bandage.

Nina blew out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut as the nurse efficiently peeled the bandage back.

She was telling Nina not to be nervous, but the way Emily flattened a hand to her own belly told me she was the one experiencing nerves. But the moment passed, and the bandage was loosening.

I could see by the spark in Emily’s eye, the parting of her lips that indicated she liked what she was seeing. Her hand left her stomach.

“Let’s take the other one off, too,” Emily said, leaning in.

“How does it look?” Nina asked, trying not to move her lips.

The crowd in the room laughed gently, and the photographer danced his way in and out, capturing reactions.

“It looks good,” Emily said. “Very good.”

“Good how? Good like I won’t need to spackle six layers of pore eraser on every day?”

Emily signaled to the back of the room, and Nina’s before pictures appeared on the screens behind them.

“Goodbye to foundation good,” Emily said, handing the girl a compact mirror.

“Holy shit,” Nina gasped. The room rumbled with laughter again as the occupants craned for a better look.

“Let me just take these quickly,” Emily said, snapping a photo of each side of Nina’s face. Moments later, the new images appeared on the screens side-by-side with the before angles.

The difference was nothing short of remarkable. Nina’s red labyrinth of scarring had become healthy pink like she was fresh from a facial. Even the ice-pick-like scars were more even as if the skin had miraculously resurfaced itself.

“Holy shit,” she said again, looking at the photos. “I can’t believe it!”

She surprised Emily with a bouncy hug, and Emily’s laugh was buoyant. My fingers itched to capture the moment.

“Come on, guys. Me next,” Dewayne insisted.

The nurse slid her wheeled stool in front of him and went to work on the bandage on his knee.

“Come on, big money,” Dewayne muttered like a mantra.

The nurse’s self-satisfied smile gave it away. Emily punched her fist into the air, one moment of unadulterated satisfaction. This was her three-pointer. Her game-winning buzzer beater.

Dewayne’s dark skin was glossy with residue where the bandage had been. The jagged surgical scar had been reduced, smoothed. The discoloration evened. It wasn’t perfect, but it was very damn good.

Dewayne jumped out of his chair and did a little boogie, pulling Emily into it. She laughed, light and easy. The joy of accomplishment flushing her cheeks.

Nina was busy snapping selfies, and Dewayne insisted on getting in on the action. I made a note to find and follow their social media accounts.

Mallory, meanwhile, sat with her jaw tight, staring at the floor in front of her.

“Mallory,” Emily said softly. “It’s your turn.”

“I’m afraid to hope,” she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper, and my heart broke into pieces for her. The damage humans could inflict on one another remained an awful mystery.

Emily sank down in front of her. “You are seven years out of a relationship that could have killed you. You got your master’s degree and landed the job you always wanted. You put your kids through private school. And you make damn fine pottery on the weekends. Scars or not, you are hope.”

I felt my throat tighten uncomfortably when Mallory linked her fingers through Emily’s. She nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The nurse worked slowly and carefully. I could feel the room behind me holding its breath. Tension grew. Anticipation. Hope.

“Oh, my,” the nurse said, dropping her professionalism. “This looks very good, Mallory.”

“Really?”

Emily couldn’t contain herself and leaned in.

Reaching behind her, she held out a hand. A psychic lab tech handed over the camera.

“Mallory?” Emily said as she snapped a picture.