Changing Faces Read online

  KIMBERLA LAWSON ROBY

  Changing Faces

  This book is dedicated to all of my readers everywhere

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Whitney

  Chapter 2

  Taylor

  Chapter 3

  Charisse

  Chapter 4

  Whitney

  Chapter 5

  Taylor

  Chapter 6

  Whitney

  Chapter 7

  Charisse

  Chapter 8

  Whitney

  Chapter 9

  Taylor

  Chapter 10

  Charisse

  Chapter 11

  Taylor

  Chapter 12

  Whitney

  Chapter 13

  Whitney

  Chapter 14

  Charisse

  Chapter 15

  Whitney

  Chapter 16

  Charisse

  Chapter 17

  Taylor

  Chapter 18

  Taylor

  Chapter 19

  Taylor

  Chapter 20

  Whitney

  Chapter 21

  Charisse

  Chapter 22

  Charisse

  Chapter 23

  Whitney

  Chapter 24

  Taylor

  Chapter 25

  Whitney

  Chapter 26

  Taylor

  Chapter 27

  Whitney

  Chapter 28

  Charisse

  Chapter 29

  Whitney

  Chapter 30

  Taylor

  Chapter 31

  Charisse

  Chapter 32

  Charisse

  Chapter 33

  Whitney

  Chapter 34

  Taylor

  Chapter 35

  Taylor

  Chapter 36

  Whitney

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kimberla Lawson Roby

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  WHITNEY

  MY NAME IS WHITNEY, and while it shames me to say it, I’m a compulsive overeater. I don’t want to be, but that’s just what I’ve been since I was a child and I can’t seem to change it. Of course, I’ve tried changing my eating habits a great number of times, specifically over the last fifteen years, but none of my yo-yo dieting has ever worked—at least not for long. And believe me when I say that I’ve tried the very best of them, one right after another. Jenny Craig, Ornish, The Zone, Fit for Life, Slim-Fast, Herbalife, Atkins, and every other low-carb, no-carb, low-calorie weight-reduction fad on the planet. I’ve even gone as far as starving myself completely, which was actually working until that night I passed out in the middle of aerobics class. Good God, I must have been entirely out of my mind.

  But insanity is not uncommon for women like me who are at least one hundred pounds heavier than they should be—women like me who spend every waking moment planning their next delicious meal and then promising themselves that they really will restart their diet this coming Monday. Sure, there are many overweight women who love themselves just the way they are and who walk around proudly with their heads held high, but most of us are not happy with the way we look. More importantly, we are not happy with the way we feel or the way some of us tend to be treated. Like the other day, when I was sitting at the mall in the food court section wolfing down a colossal meal from Taco Bell, and the couple sitting a few feet away looked over at me in disgust. They never said a word, but I knew immediately what they were thinking. They were wondering why I had the nerve to be eating anything at all, let alone two large burritos, a salad, and a large drink. I could read their minds as clear as day, and while I wanted to beg for their understanding, I never looked in their direction again. Instead, I pretended that they didn’t even exist.

  But actually, this was a huge part of my problem. I’ve always searched for acceptance from others and I have my “wonderfully loving” mother to thank for it. From the time I was eight, she was already criticizing the way I looked, the way I walked, the way I did anything. Nothing was ever good enough. She demanded perfection, but I never gave it to her. Tina, my younger sister, on the other hand, did whatever it took to make Mother happy, and Mother has always loved her more because of it. Mother had even slipped and told me so a few years back during an argument we were having, but now she denies ever saying it. Still, I know what I heard and it is the reason our relationship has been terribly strained ever since.

  I drove my SUV onto I-94 West and immediately came to a complete stop. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper the same as always, and I couldn’t help wondering why I did this every day. Obviously, I needed to work for a living, but why I drove all the way to downtown Chicago from Covington Park, the south suburb where I lived, didn’t make much sense. Not when I could have easily taken the Metra train round-trip. But to be frank, I just didn’t feel comfortable doing it. The Metra was nice enough, but for some reason I’d always had this weird phobia about traveling on anything relating to the rail system. Of course, no one understood it, but it was just who I was.

  I continued on my journey and realized I was barely a few miles from the exit that would take me to my favorite Krispy Kreme location. Each day I fought tooth and nail trying hard not to go there, and sometimes I actually didn’t. Sometimes I drove past the exit and even felt good about it, but it was always a major struggle.

  I slowed my acceleration and waited for the flow of traffic to start up again. When I did, my phone rang.

  I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling when I saw that it was my sister.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Where are you?”

  “In traffic, on my way to work. What’s up with you?”

  “Why on earth do you keep doing that?” she said, ignoring my question.

  “Doing what, Tina?”

  “Driving all the way downtown.”

  “I do it because this is a free country and because I want to.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Whatever is right. Now, did you want something in particular or were you just calling to harass me?”

  “I’m calling for two reasons. Well, actually, three. First, I wanted to tell you that I got promoted yesterday to purchasing manager.”

  “Well, good for you. I know you’ve been wanting that to happen.”

  “I have, and it’s going to pay me fifteen thousand more dollars a year. Then, on top of that, Riley Jackson asked me out. You know, that fine-as-wine anchorman on Channel Eight.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Nice? It’s fabulous. He’s a huge local celebrity and that means I’ll be going to the best parties that Chicago has to offer.”

  I couldn’t believe how shallow Tina was. She was so, so my mother and every bit as appalling.

  “What’s the third thing you wanted to tell me?” I hurried to say because I didn’t want to hear any more of my sister’s bragging.

  “That I’m planning a surprise birthday party for Mother.”

  “Oh really? When?”

  “Duh. On her birthday.”

  “I know, Tina. But on her birthday, near her birthday, when?”

  “Her birthday falls on a Saturday this year, so that’s when I’d like to do it.”

  “Actually, my twenty-year high school reunion is in November, but I didn’t pay much attention to the date. I’ll have to make sure it’s not the same day.”

  “Well, it’s not like some reunion is more important than Mother’s birthday, now is it?”

  “And it’s not li
ke we can’t have Mother’s party on a different date, now couldn’t we?”

  “You are so selfish,” she said.

  “No I’m not. I’ve never been selfish when it comes to you and Mother. I’ve always gone along with the program and made my own life secondary. And anyway, the reunion date is already set and it’s not like I can make the committee change it.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not on Mother’s birthday after all.”

  “But if it is, we need to have Mother’s party that Friday or Sunday.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then I won’t be there.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You are so pathetic, Whitney. And it’s not like you should really want to go to some class reunion anyhow—not unless you’re planning to lose some of that weight you’re walking around with.”

  I didn’t know whether to cry or curse Tina out. I wanted to do both. I wanted to tell her how much I hated her and how I honestly didn’t want anything to do with giving Mother a party in the first place. I wanted to tell Tina to…

  “Tina, you know what? Go straight to hell!”

  I pressed the off button and tossed my phone on the seat. I was fuming. I was as angry as ever, the same as every other time I finished a conversation with my sister. The only time I became more irritated was when I, on rare occasion, spoke to my mother. They both made me cringe. In a word, they made me sick.

  I just couldn’t understand why they treated me as if I didn’t matter, but I knew it was mainly because they were ashamed of the way I looked. It didn’t matter that I wore the best clothing a plus-size woman could buy, that most men swore I had a beautiful face or that my hair was never out of place. They didn’t care about any of that. All they cared about was that I didn’t look like them: thin. They despised the fact that I didn’t act uppity the way they did or that I didn’t care that much about status. They despised me for caring a great deal about food.

  Traffic picked up a bit, and while I tried to forget about my sister, I thought about Jarrett, the gorgeous man who’d dumped me just eight weeks ago—which wouldn’t have been so bad had I not fallen in love with him. He’d seemed so into me the first three months, but it hadn’t been long before his daily calls began to lessen and he began wanting to see me only at my apartment. I soon realized that this was all because he didn’t want to be seen with me in public. You see, I was good enough to give him sex and a well-cooked meal, but I wasn’t the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. I know this because he’d told me exactly that, word for word. I remember crying for two days straight over a weekend, all the while consuming two whole pizzas, two twelve-packs of soda, and three-fourths of a German chocolate cake.

  Now, here I was all depressed but still had at least thirty minutes left of my downtown commute. What was a girl to do? The only thing that would certainly make me feel better for the moment—exiting the highway and heading toward Krispy Kreme. As I drove closer, I could already see the bright red light illuminated inside the window, and that meant that the “originals” were warm and fresh. So, I rushed inside and purchased one full dozen. I ate two of them in the car before starting the ignition. I ate four more during the rest of my drive to work and took the remaining six up to my office. I wasn’t proud of it, but I knew I would indulge in the rest of those before lunchtime. And why not, because it wasn’t like I had anything else to comfort me. Food was a very necessary part of my life, and right now I just couldn’t see a reason to go without it.

  Truthfully, I simply didn’t have the willpower.

  Chapter 2

  TAYLOR

  I SWERVED MY BMW into the far left lane of the Dan Ryan Expressway and tried to gain my composure. The driver of a large black SUV had suddenly slammed on his brakes and I had almost crashed straight into the back of him. Even now, as I peered through my rearview mirror, I couldn’t understand why he’d stopped so abruptly and was now causing a noticeable traffic jam. Then again, maybe he’d had some medical emergency and couldn’t help it.

  Although the more I thought about it, I wasn’t feeling all that well myself, even light-headed, and I wished that this legal conference in Los Angeles had been scheduled for another time. Specifically, not close to my infamous menstrual cycle. But with the conference being a very important one and one that the senior partners had been encouraging me to attend, I hadn’t been in a position to argue about it. I did what they expected in hopes of becoming one of them, and I wanted my promotion to happen as soon as possible. The thing was, I was already thirty-eight, and I just couldn’t see waiting until I was forty before I saw more career advancement. Lord knows I worked much too hard and much too competently to have that happen. I was truly the dedicated one and my bosses had praised me many times for being their expert when it came to very nasty divorces. I also second-chaired personal injury and malpractice cases, so I guess I had a knack for representing any client who’d been wronged unjustifiably. I worked hard at representing my clients to the best of my ability and I enjoyed doing it.

  I continued on my way to O’Hare International Airport in what was mostly stop-and-go traffic and I was glad that I’d left home as early as I had. I lived in a south suburb, but at eight in the morning, travel to any Chicago destination took a lot longer than it should have.

  After finding the Tom Joyner Morning Show on the radio, I heard my cell phone ringing. It was Cameron, the man I was deeply in love with, the man I’d been dating for almost two years. He was also the man who was taking much too long to ask me to marry him, the man I was starting to become impatient with.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I said.

  “Hi, baby, how are you?”

  “Just trying to make it through traffic.”

  “I can only imagine, and I apologize again for not being able to take you to the airport.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Work comes first and you know I understand.”

  “But I’ll definitely go pick up your car this evening when I get out of here.”

  “I keep telling you, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I never leave mine there either, because I’m always worried that it’ll be vandalized.”

  “Cameron,” I sang, smiling. “Thousands of people leave their cars at O’Hare every single week and nothing ever happens to them.”

  “Maybe. But I’d rather be on the safe side, Taylor. You know that.”

  “Whatever you wanna do is fine with me.”

  “So, what time are you arriving at LAX?”

  “Around one Pacific Time.”

  “Do you have any events today?”

  “Just early registration. The sessions don’t actually begin until tomorrow.”

  “But you’re flying out as soon as they’re over on Friday, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be back around eleven.”

  “Man, I’m missing you already, you know that?”

  “I miss you, too,” I said, and wanted to ask him why we were still doing this dating thing and didn’t seem to be moving toward a more permanent commitment. I wanted to know why he was satisfied with the existing conditions and why he didn’t seem to mind this idea of living in separate households—even though we were clearly in an exclusive relationship. It wasn’t that I wanted to shack up with him, because I didn’t. But he claimed he loved me and I certainly loved him, so I just didn’t see what the problem was when it came to getting married. I didn’t understand what his delay was in making me his wife. I wanted to ask him a great number of questions, but I didn’t want to complain or cause any unnecessary tension between us. Not when we’d always gotten along so well. Still, it was getting to the point where an ultimatum was going to be inevitable, regardless of what the consequences might be. The bottom line: I was ready to settle down and start a family because my biological clock was ticking pretty loudly. It was time Cameron proposed or else. It was time he played the game correctly or forfeited by default. And I would tell him
so when the time was right.

  “Why don’t we do dinner and a play on Saturday?” he said.

  “Sounds good to me. Do you know what’s playing?”

  “Not in particular, but I’ll find out before you get back.”

  “Oh, and hey, did you get the tickets for the Prince concert?”

  “As a matter of fact I did, and they cost me five hundred dollars, too.”

  “What!”

  “I waited too late to order them, and all the decent seats were gone, so I had to get them from this web site.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “I don’t know,” Cameron said, laughing. “You should be telling me.”

  “Please. I handle divorces, not ticket scalping.”

  “Well, actually, it is legal in certain states, and of course the Internet allows free rein with stuff like that.”

  “At five hundred dollars, our seats should be right on the stage with Prince.”

  “I don’t know about that, but they are second row center.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. You like that, don’t you?”

  “I won’t even deny it.”

  “I didn’t think so. I know how much you love him, though, so they were well worth every dime.”

  “You’re too much.”

  “Well, hey, I’d better get going. We’re meeting with some city officials today about this multimillion-dollar housing development they’re wanting to build, and hopefully we’ll be presenting them with a proposal in a couple of weeks.”

  “This sounds like a big one.”

  “It is. Business has been great ever since I went out on my own, but this would definitely make it better than ever.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get the job. You’re one of the best architects in the area, and you’ve got tons of references to back it up.”

  “We’ll see. Anyway, baby, wish me luck.”

  “You’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, and I’ll call you when I get settled.”