I hoist a pound or two of fuchsia satin gown in my free hand and throw back my shoulders. Jousting with Tiffany has made me a zillion times fiercer than when I stepped into the isolation booth. Now I want to blow that blonde barracuda into oblivion.
We head toward Mario. I’m blinded by the stage lights as I remember the timeless advice of Miss America 1972 Lauren Schaefer—of Bexley, Ohio, mind you—who said that when you walk in your evening gown, you should glide as if you were on rollers being pulled by a string. With applause ringing in my ears, I float across the stage, my smile beatific. I’m no Tiffany Amber in the looks department, I will confess, but I am slender and brunette and the appearance gods have been kind. Buff Dancer #1 deposits me at Mario’s side. The audience settles. I take a sustaining breath.
Mario glances at his index card. I guess he can’t remember the question he’s just asked three times. “Ms. Ohio, if a genie offered you one special power, what would you like it to be?”
I laugh. “Oh, that’s easy.” To my mind rises other pageant winners’ advice: Use a dash of humor! “I’d like to be able to guess the winning lottery number before it’s announced!”
Laughter and clapping burst from the crowd.
I giggle and go on. “But seriously, folks. As a wife and mother, the special power I’d most like to have is the ability to do ten different things at the same time. Then maybe I’d finally catch up with all the To Do’s on my list!”
Both of Mario’s dimples flash. Now I know for sure I done good. He motions me to go stand beside my fellow Top Fivers, then grins at the camera and says, “Very cleverly answered by Ms. Ohio, Happy Pennington. Now for our final contestant, Ms. California, Tiffany Amber!”
Cheers and applause rise to the rafters. Apparently Tiffany has scads of people fooled. As for me, I feel like booing.
Buff Dancer #2 opens the door to the isolation booth, then steps back. I steel myself for Her Supreme Bitchiness to flounce across the stage.
Instead Tiffany pitches forward and crash lands face first onto the stage floor. Twitching ensues. In fact, what with the silver gown, she looks like a marlin gasping for breath on the deck of a fishing boat. Then, after one particularly impressive series of flops, she shudders and goes still.
The crowd’s cheers give way to an audience-wide intake of breath. The orchestra screeches to an awkward halt. Mario calls for a cut to commercial. I can’t often describe myself as flabbergasted but I sure can now. All we contestants are as frozen as marionettes who’ve lost their puppeteer. Except for North Carolina, who grabs my arm. “Good Lord!” Trixie squeals in my ear. “What in the world’s happened to that girl?”
Buff Dancer #2 attempts to find out. He hurries over to Tiffany, still lying face down, then bends toward her and shakes her shoulder. He starts to turn her over. A second later horror crosses his face and he lets her go, tripping backward as if he can’t get away fast enough.
By this point the air is electric. All the judges and half the audience are out of their seats. Uniformed security guards are making their way onto the stage. The crowd is beyond murmuring; we’ve heard a scream or two. Mario races over to Tiffany, kneels beside her, and takes her limp arm by the wrist.
A second later he raises his head toward one of the guards and with his free hand covers the microphone on his tuxedo lapel. I don’t so much hear him say it as I watch his lips form the words. “She’s dead.”
Ms America and the Offing on Oahu is available from all major retailers of e-books.
Now available from Diana Dempsey
Falling Star
To Catch the Moon
Too Close to the Sun
Chasing Venus
Ms America and the Offing on Oahu
Ms America and the Villainy in Vegas
Ms America and the Mayhem in Miami
To Catch the Moon Page 40
