Caroline Wilkins ran a comb lightly through her hair and checked to make sure that her makeup wasn't smeared, uneven, or hideous. She pressed her lips together to smooth out her lipstick.
   The constant hum of people behind her had faded into a faint buzz in the back of her mind. The show was over now and she was done for the night. It was time for the after party, and by three tomorrow morning she'd be curled up in her bed watching time tick by until her flight at nine would get her moving again.
   "Come on, Cara-Mia. Tonight is supposed to be ripe with other celebrities," Janelle said as she leaned over Carrie's shoulder and checked her own makeup.
   Nodding, Carrie stepped down off of her chair and gave her hair a quick fluff with her hand. "Let's knock them dead."
   Janelle laughed. "Always, darling. Always."
   Smiling at her friend's accent, Carrie didn't have the heart to tell her how bad her French really was. No one cared anyway. There was so many other fake French models around that one more wasn't going to matter.
   Donata, a supposed Italian model, stopped next to them on her way out. She leaned down into Carrie's mirror. "Cara, Janelle… coming?" she asked as she brushed away an imaginary speck from under her eye.
   Carrie smiled and stood. "Of course," she answered with absolution. "It is a party after all."
   "And wouldn't be one without us," Donata remarked with complete confidence. "Must give the unfortunate people some joy."
   Janelle shook her head and sighed. "If only they could be beautiful like us."
   Carrie winced though Janelle and Donata didn't seem to notice since they were walking ahead of her already. She remembered when she wasn't part of this crowd, but part of a much so-called 'lower class'.
   Biting her lip, she squared her shoulders and caught up with her friends. "A treat we shall be!" she cried out happily. "Their jaws will drop and their mouths shall salivate just seeing us standing there in absolute boredom because of their pathetically mindless driven lives."
   Donata and Janelle giggled at her performance and Carrie smiled to herself as they linked arms and marched.
   The party was in full swing once they entered the hotel's penthouse suite. Several were already deep into their cups and laughing joyfully from the amounts of alcohol they had already drunk.
   It was easy to be invited into a group to talk. There was always someone you knew at these parties. Faces that were familiar because they jet set around living for nights like these. Someone was always introducing you to another, for the more you knew the more powerful you were seemed to be.
   But for some the party was lagging significantly and Isaac stepped up to the wet bar to order a mixed drink. Turning his head slightly he watched with mild interest as a flock of people, dripping with diamonds and designer clothes, hung on the words of a woman standing in the center of the crowd. Her laughter was perfectly pitched, not too high or nasal. Her voice was low and a little husky, which reminded anyone of a nice warm drink.
   He was in the middle of taking his drink when he felt little shivers along his spine as he felt himself being drawn into her magnetic talk. He could not put his finger on it, but there was something fairly… familiar about this person. This glamorous creature before him was a link to a shadow of a memory in the back of his mind.
   Watching her for a minute as he sipped his drink, Isaac thought back to when he might have seen her. When he drew a blank he decided to lump her in with the model friends of Taylor's wife.
   Shrugging his shoulders, Isaac sipped once more at his drink before putting it on the bar. "Thanks," he called to the bartender, and put a ten in the bourbon glass. The bartender nodded to him as he filled a glass with white wine.
   Making his way through the crowd he saw the mystery woman head for the hallway as well and hurried to try and catch up her.
   "Hey," he called once he knew she could hear him.
   Carrie clenched her teeth, she thought she had sneaked out of the party unnoticed. Wiping away a frown, she turned around slowly with cool indifference. "Yes?" she asked.
   The man came towards her, his stride slightly hurried as if he didn't believe she'd wait for him for long. 'How true,' she thought tiredly.
   Isaac stopped before her and peered into her face. "Have we met before?"
   Carrie refrained from rolling her eyes. "I don't think so."
   'That was lame,' he chastised himself. "What's your name?"
   Carrie smiled knowingly and answered in a smoky voice, "Cara-Mia."
   "Cara-Mia." Isaac let the name roll around in his mouth as he eyed her still. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know that name. You must not be who I thought you were."
   She peered closely at him for a moment and then her eyes widened for a split second and Isaac caught the reaction. "You do know me!" he exclaimed.
   Carrie bit her lip, and hit the button for the elevator. "In a past life maybe," she explained hurriedly, tapping her foot with impatience while she waited on the elevator.
   When she got her wish and the doors opened to her chagrin Isaac followed her inside. "Where do we know each other?" he asked in puzzlement. "Because I know I know you, I just can't place you."
   Carrie clenched her teeth tightly and pushed the button for the lobby. "Like I said. A past life."
   Isaac watched her carefully, waiting to see if a certain movement would help spark the memory.
   Feeling his intent gaze, Carrie nervously pushed her hair back and breathed a sigh of relief when the bell dinged and the doors opened.
   "Carrie? Carrie Wilkins?" Isaac asked as he hurried after her. "Rag Doll?"
   She froze in her hurried escape and gasped loudly in outrage. She leaned in and whispered furiously, "Don't ever call me that, Isaac!"
   Isaac reeled back and looked her over again. "You're beautiful."
   Carrie's lips twisted in an ugly smirk. "Of course I am, Isaac. I'm a model. What else would I look like?"
   When he didn't respond she checked her watch and headed for the front desk. After she had the concierge calling for her driver she went and sat in one of the cushy sofas.
   Isaac sat with her. "I didn't mean to insult you," he apologized quietly.
   Carrie scoffed and looked away from him. "You always meant to. You and everyone else always meant to hurt me."
   He continued watching her as he had been since he'd first seen her tonight. "When did this happen?" he asked indicating her new look.
   Staring at her nails looking for a flaw Carrie answered, "I found myself a sugar-daddy. I told him if he wanted someone pretty on his arm I'd undergo any surgery he wanted for that to happen. Turns out, he wanted it a lot more than even I imagined."
   "You had plastic surgery to make some old guy want you?" Isaac asked incredulously.
   She smiled bitterly at him. "Well, I'm not completely made of plastic. He did seem to like my breasts as they were. But this is not my face. He wanted me to look more like a Helen of Troy than some rag doll he found in an old toy box."
   Isaac winced at that lash. "I'm sorry about that. Children are cruel."
   Carrie looked at him with indifference and shrugged her bare shoulders. "People are cruel in general. Children just don't know how to insult or draw blood as politely as most adults do."
   Glancing at her wrist Isaac saw diamonds glittering and flashing and whistled beneath his breath. "So this guy really treats you nice, huh?"
   Carrie rolled her eyes. "He died a year or so ago. I got a nice settlement from his estate, and his wife treats me with polite civility if we ever cross paths."
   "That's disgusting, Carrie," Isaac commented distastefully.
   Her eyes flashed with anger and defiance. "So was how I was treated by you and everyone else. He never hurt me. He never made fun of how I was dressed. And he never called me a rag doll."
   "No, he was a perverted old man who wanted some pretty arm candy," he retorted angrily.
   Carrie stood up and went to the front of the hotel. The doorman opened the door for her and bowed courteously. She tipped him graciously as he moved to open the car door on the white limousine.
   Isaac leaned down in the opened door. "I am sorry, Carrie," he told her seriously. "I am sorry for it all."
   She felt the tears well up, and she shrugged her shoulders again. "What's done is done, Isaac. Nothing can change that now."
   He nodded in chagrin and stepped back slowly. The doorman shut the door carefully but not before flashing Carrie a quick smile.
   When the limousine pulled away the doorman turned to Isaac and shook his head. "Now she was beautiful."
   "Yeah," Isaac agreed. "She was." He walked to the valet's desk and handed him his ticket, then waited for his car to be delivered.
   The next morning over breakfast Isaac passed a plate of bacon and announced, "I saw Carrie yesterday."
   "Carrie Wilkins?" Taylor asked after a moment of silence.
   Isaac nodded. "The one and the same."
   "Who's Carrie?" Zac asked curiously as he drowned a stack of waffles in strawberry syrup.
   "You might have been too young to remember her, Zac," Isaac explained.
   Taylor shook his head in wonder. "Wow. I haven't thought of Carrie in a long time." He looked up with an odd smile on his face. "How is the rag doll doing?"
   Isaac smiled wryly. "Oh, fabulous. And she doesn't like to be called a rag doll anymore either."
   Zac laughed. "Found that out, did you?"
   He nodded. "Uh huh. Learned it rather quick too."
   "What happened?" Taylor questioned, sitting up even more to hear.
   Isaac chuckled. "You know that party you and Zac didn't want to go to last night? She was there. I didn't even recognize her, but like... on some subconscious level I must have."
   "She just seemed familiar?" Zac put in lazily as he licked whipped cream from his fork.
   "Yeah," he agreed. "She seemed familiar. And I'm sure it was her hand movement. Remember how whenever she rubbed her chin or moved her hair she always stuck her pinkie finger out as if she was drinking tea?" Isaac asked Taylor.
   Taylor leaned his head back and laughed. "Yes! Oh man, we tortured her over that. Called her Prissy Princess."
   Zac made a face. "Seems like you were always calling her one name or another."
   Isaac sat back in his seat in thought. He started nodding slowly. "You know… we did. Everyone else was, and it was just… it was normal to call her something other than Carrie."
   Natalie rolled her eyes. "Classy. Real classy."
   "We were kids, Nat," Taylor explained.
   "So you thought it was okay to call her names because everyone else did?" She narrowed her gaze. "That's horrible, Tay."
   "We were horrible," Isaac admitted. "But she's absolutely beautiful now. And a to boot."
   Natalie perked up at that. "Oh?" She was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't remember a Carrie Wilkins," she said in disappointment.
   Isaac shrugged. "She goes by Cara- Mia now."
   Her mouth dropped open for a second. "Cara- Mia? The lingerie model?" Isaac shrugged again and Natalie turned to her husband and went on. "She worked in Europe for like the past five years, she just recently came to the States. Playboy keeps sending her deals to pose for them, but her agent keeps commenting about how she isn't some cheap girl."
   Zac quirked an eyebrow. "If she's a lingerie model, isn't that pretty close to posing nude?"
   Natalie shook her head roughly. "No, no. She only does the most tasteful lingerie. Not the X-rated stuff. She only models certain brands. The kind that does more wistful romantic stuff, instead of the risqué."
   "Wow," Taylor remarked as he cut into his omelet, rather impressed. "Seems she turned out okay, then. Congrats to her."
   Isaac conceded thoughtfully. "Yeah, congrats to her."
   The subject was changed as continued on with their meal and discussions of their plans for the day, though Isaac was a little distracted. It was hard to wrap his mind around how a little girl who was always dressed in hand-me-downs turned into a famous fantasy girl.
   He started humming then sang softly, "Such a pretty face, should be dressed in lace..."