Your Sort of Woman

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"No one has seen Marian all week," the Appointment Coordinator tells Brie upon her return to The Center. "I've called her, like, ten times in the last twenty-four hours alone because of this." The girl gestures into the Waitrium, thick with cables and blinding with spotlights. The I Am Cait crew is jamming to set up on time before Caitlyn, Kim, and the rest of the entourage arrive. Word at the Rehydration Station is that Kendall and Kylie might show.

"They want whoever's going to be in the shot to get into wardrobe and makeup immediately, but Marian said she wanted to do it. Who's in charge if Marian's not here? Who's going on camera?"

"I'm in charge," Brie says, scanning the room. "Deets," she calls out to Dita, who is lurking in the corner waiting for her first glimpse of Kim, Dita's personal beauty icon and role model. Dita looks over at Brie with apprehension. Things haven't been the same since the night at Dita's house. Brie motions her over.

"What's up?" Dita says, not making eye contact.

"Wanna be famous?"

Dita looks up, her eyes bulging. "Really?" she squeals. "Are you serious? Don't you think Marian would want you to do it?"

Brie smiles and shrugs. "Marian's not here, so I say it's you."

Dita throws her arms around Brie. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Whoever's on the show is going to get, like, a million new clients. You know that, don't you? Are you sure? You think I can do it? I'm gonna freak. I have to pee. Holy shit, I'm going to give Kim Kardashian beauty advice. This is the best day of my life."

Brie is laughing. "Make sure you introduce yourself by name so people can ask for you."

Dita has launched into a period of deep breathing, shaking her hands to regain composure. The front doors open and Dita's jaw drops. Kim and Caitlyn have arrived.


Brie is in go mode. All at once she is directing the crew and welcoming The Center's VIP clients who were hand-selected to come today to enjoy their treatments gratis and be part of the fun. Dita is in wardrobe heaven with Kim, chatting away about Kanye and babies and the Armenian Genocide and the difference between American and European paparazzi and the overwhelming splendor of all things Chanel. Caitlyn and Ladie Tomboi are discussing the magnificent struggle of transformation at the boba station. The most competent of the juicing interns arrives every twenty minutes with intriguing infusions and curried chicken collard green wraps for noshing. That's what you do at times like this, you nosh.

Brie pumps Pharell Williams over the speakers and everyone pops out of their seats to boogie when Happy starts to play. Brie films the fun on her new giant rose gold iPhone 6S Plus. This is the stuff social media marketing magic is made of, Kim Kardashian and Caitlyn dancing to Happy in the Waitrium at The Center, Los Angeles's hottest med spa. Brie smells a new transgender client contingent as she tweets the video and posts it to Instagram and Facebook. In a matter of minutes, The Center is blowing up across the Twittersphere and the appointments line is ringing off the hook. Behold the sparkling cudgel of celebrity endorsement!

But despite all her effectiveness, Brie doesn't feel like a room without a roof. She spent three days of bliss with Danny, making love (it felt like love, didn't it?) and revealing every inch of her deep raw self. But you know how it goes, all's Hell that doesn't end well, and he took one look at his phone last night and made his own magnificent transformation, from ardent intimate to aloof male changing his demeanor post-orgasm. For Brie and Danny, the outside world is the enemy, and Brie needn't try too hard to guess their enemy's name.

Terryn: Hey. Call me ASAP, pleeease. I really really really need to talk to you. Seriously. Please call.

Brie shakes her head as she reads Terryn's text message. This woman is a mosquito in Brie's love hut, sniffing around for hot breath so she can buzz their ears and suck their blood and infect them with relationship malaria.

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