Die Smiling Read Online Free Page B

mean.”
    I considered that. Didn’t know for sure, so I just shrugged.
    â€œI am not an evil genius. Girl, really , how dare you?” Mr. Race was sputtering with full-fledged indignation as he glared at me. Hey, I didn’t say it. I ignored him. He couldn’t get at me. He was tied up nice and tight.
    I remembered my LAPD hostage training and negotiation techniques. “Okay, Corkie, all you’re doing right now is getting yourself in trouble. You don’t wanna go to jail, do you? This is false imprisonment and threat of bodily harm. Assault, possibly. We’ll have to add battery if you throw that stuff on him. Sitting all night in a cell with a bunch of drunks and hookers isn’t going to help you get ready for the competition, now is it? This mistake can be fixed. Have you thought of just cutting it very short? That’s what I’m going to do with mine.”
    Corkie let out a discouraged wail, almost equal in pitch to Mr. Race’s, but not quite there before she gave it up. “But judges at the Lake never choose contestants with short hair to win! They like French twists and French braids! And sometimes big eighties hair!”
    â€œWell, there’s always a first time. Be different, think outside the box this year. Nick Black’s one of the judges, isn’t he? He told me himself that he liked my hair short, the shorter the better, he said.” That wasn’t exactly true, in fact, he said he liked it long enough to tangle both hands in, but luckily, he knew where to put his hands when it was short, too.
    â€œYou know Nick Black personally? My God, he is so freakin’ hot.”
    I nodded, tried not to look smug about my choice of guys.
    â€œYou mean it? He likes short hair? He’s hot, and I mean, whoa , get the ice water hot. Oh, my God, those blue eyes and that black hair, and all that money. He’s so freakin’ hot.”
    Corkie had suddenly turned into Paris Hilton sans the orange jumpsuit, at least not yet, but that might be coming later today. A terrible plight, to be sure.
    I said, “Yes ma’am, that’s the gospel truth. And he told me just the other day that New York and Milan models were cutting their hair ultra short this year. And what’s her name? Petra, maybe, something like that? She’s gone short, and I saw Keira Knightley on TV the other night and she had a pixie cut. You can be the first around here to buck the old long-hair trend. You’ll stand out, Corkie, you’ll be noticed.”
    Bud said, “Yeah. I’m a man, and I like short hair. And that color orange is good, too. Cyndi Lauper had orange hair once in one of her videos, right? And so does Carrot Top.”
    I gave Bud my best are-you-friggin’-nuts look.
    Corkie said, “I know who Carrot Top is and I like his hair okay, but who’s Cyndi Lauper?”
    Bud looked startled that she didn’t know about girls who just wanted to have fun, and I wondered if I was in a particularly asinine dream. Brianna joined our deep, insightful conversation.
    â€œOh, Corkie, please, be reasonable, now. Mr. Race can recut and recolor it, and I’m sure he’ll do it all free of charge. He’ll work on you until you’re completely satisfied, won’t you, Mr. Race?” She didn’t give him time to refuse. “And tell you what, I’ll do your makeup down at Swank’s Couture myself. No charge. That’s a $150 value.”
    Corkie perked up big-time. She lowered the perm solution a bit. Yes, we were good police negotiators. Trained to handle anything, even.
    But Corkie wasn’t done. She hadn’t pouted yet. “Race hasn’t even apologized. He just said I was having a bad hair day.”
    We all looked at Mr. Race. He did not look repentant.
    Bud said, “Mr. Race, now is a good time to say something nice to Corkie. After all, you did burn off one side of her hair and make it