Queen of Hearts

by Sheryl Wright

  Moments later the same helicopter approached. Already the women were speculating. Luckily for her, many of them had sound packs on, and she had several cameras fixed and mounted around the grand entry to pick up their reactions. Yes, the speculation was on, and she could use it.

  When the helicopter landed a second time the side-boys opened the rear passenger door, but no one was aboard. They looked confused, as did all the women. While Tommy speculated for the audience, the helo’s main rotor squealed to a halt, and the sound of the engine died too. Moments later the pilot stepped from the sleek machine. Dressed in a sapphire-blue flight suit and pristine white helmet, she walked toward Tommy and the women with the two castle guards trailing her and still looking confused. When she reached Tommy, she removed the helmet and ruffled her short curls back into order before offering her hand. “Allyson Parker. Pleased to meet you.”

  Tommy, aghast and practically beside himself, let out an excited squeal, “Oh my God. You were flying that thing?”

  She smiled at him, her grin lopsided and cute. “It’s what I do.”

  Aware of who the fourth queen was and what to do, Tommy welcomed her quickly then turned back to the camera. “There you have it. Ladies, please meet your four queens, Rene Santos-Dumont, tech millionaire; Virginia Hazelton-Jackson, debutant and heir to the Jackson family fortune; Pamela Parker, defender of the people of Illinois; and Allyson Parker, pilot extraordinaire.” He eased Ally into place then stepped toward the thirty women contestants. Moving to his next mark, he was in front them all and ready to explain the rules. One of the women dressed in the ornate costume of a castle guard moved to his side with a silver serving tray in hand.

  “Ladies and our wonderful home audience, let me explain how the competition will work. As you see, we have four women competing to find love amongst you beauties, but there’s a hitch. Only one will become a finalist and the Queen of Hearts. You women will be choosing the one whom you most want to get to know. To begin with, we will assign a card to represent each of our four queens, and each contestant will receive the four cards representing all four queens. When the time comes, you will each cast your votes, eliminating one queen at a time, until only one remains. Yes, these queens will have to compete against each other for your affection!”

  Tommy turned to the second uniformed woman as she began handing each of the thirty contestants four oversized playing cards. The logo of the program was printed on the back with standard card deck queen illustrations on the front. Once the contestants had their cards, Tommy called for the four Primaries to choose a card from the four on the silver tray.

  Rene was first and drew the Queen of Clubs. She smiled and held it up for all the women to see.

  Virginia was next and drew the Queen of Spades. She took it with grace, holding it up for the others to see.

  Pam was next and drew the Queen of Hearts. When she held it up there were a few cheers, so she blew a kiss to the excited group. That left the Queen of Diamonds for Ally. She thanked Tommy and displayed her card unnecessarily, but as directed. There were no cheers, just polite applause. Without prodding, Ally took her place back at the end of the four-woman line for the cameras while Tommy waxed on about the competition to come.

  “Cut!” Connie called with the bullhorn. “That was perfect, women. Now let’s move to the ballroom for the meet and greet. Contestants first. Primaries you’re with me.”

  While Tommy corralled the contestants toward the entry door and the grand foyer, Connie marched to the Primaries. “Excellent work, women. All right, this is how the next part will work. I’ll take you one-by-one to the Ballroom Terrace. Once there we will tape you having your initial meeting with each contestant. You get two minutes to sell yourself to these women. Make it short and sweet. It’s going to take most of the day to shoot this scene so if you’re not on camera, get your kiesters to the green room.” Connie pointed to the women dressed as castle guards. “The PAs will show you to your rooms and keep you on schedule.”

  “Who’s up first?” Virginia asked.

  “Queen of Diamonds, Queen of Spades, Queen of Hearts, then Queen of Clubs. Any other questions?” When there weren’t, she clapped her hands like they were pre-schoolers who needed to be rushed. “All right then, chop, chop, we have a schedule to keep.”

  When the four turned to follow the production assistants costumed as historical Irish Borderland guards, Connie called to Ally. “Not you, Diamond. You’re with me.”

  Ally stopped, looking confused. “Don’t I get to change?”

  “No time,” Connie insisted.

  “What about my hair? You don’t want me to go around all day with helmet head, do you?”

  Connie, eighteen years younger and a few inches taller than her cousin, reached over and gave the short dark curls another tousle. “There you go. Hair fixed.”

  Ally wasn’t pleased, but what the hell could she do? It wasn’t like she had expected to last, but she did expect to be given an even chance. Judging by the response, or non-response, to her arrival, she was pretty sure she was already out. Might as well give the women time to confirm their disinterest. This is worse than getting picked last in high school!

  * * *

  Erin Bogner walked with the other women to the ballroom, listening intently to their gossip and speculation. Word was out that Ally Parker was a last-minute replacement and she was surprised to see how quickly she’d been dismissed. She knew of Ally, but had never met her. As Pamela Parker’s legal assistant and secret spy, she was long familiar with the stories of Pam’s adventurous cousin and had seen all the photos of the three of them, sisters Pam and Connie and cousin Ally, that rested on the office credenza. No, Ally wasn’t a great beauty like Pam, but she did feel they weren’t giving her a chance. She knew the two had always been competitive, but this was unfair and certainly not right for the defender of the people, as the host had called her. When she got her chance to speak privately with Pam, she would bring it up. Just when that would happen was a good question.

  In the ballroom, contestants fussed around the craft services table pretending not to be interested while they scoffed down the gourmet offerings. It had been like that last night. They had arrived by limousine in groups and been given tours of the castle-turned-girls-school. Erin knew of the place, having heard stories from Pam. All the Parker girls had attended this Glendennon Castle Academy for Young Women, an exclusive boarding school in the English style. Originally the production had been scheduled to take place at Purple Mountain Ski Lodge, but even off-season the place was packed, and they had lost their spot to a movie-production company with deep ties to the skiers’ paradise. With only days before the production was scheduled to begin shooting, Pam and Ally had called in favors to get the closed-for-the-summer castle opened for them. In her mind, Connie was lucky to have them both come to her rescue, and Erin couldn’t help but wonder just how much they would each have to shell out to this year’s alumni fundraising drive.

  Across the ballroom, one of the production assistants who had led them on the tour yesterday walked Ally across the room and out onto the terrace for the next scene. That seemed unfair too. You would think they would at least let the woman get changed. She knew all about the wardrobe selected for each of the queens because she’d helped Pam choose hers. Connie had provided a list of every scene, and the attire desired, and Pam had wasted no time shopping the best of Michigan Avenue for new clothes just for this occasion. Erin didn’t have to worry about wardrobe with the production company supplying the designer dresses and most of the outfits they would need. Because Erin had no intention of winning, she hadn’t jumped into the fray to get the best of the lot like the other women when the dress racks were rolled out last night. For the opening scene, the production designer had selected dresses and a few slacks suits in all the colors of the rainbow. Later it was clear Erin regretted her indifference when she was forced to accept the only dress left on the rack that would fit her, a tangerine that emphasized her freckl
es and red hair and would make her look like a walking carrot. It was also clear to Erin that Ally was praying to all the gods to get this part over.

  * * *

  Ally planted her bottom on the silly rattan loveseat as ordered and let the makeup person manhandle her with a tight grip on her jaw.

  “I’ll need at least twenty minutes if you expect me to cover this scar and even out the tan lines from her sunglasses.”

  “Leave the scar,” Connie ordered. “Just even out the tan lines and get rid of the shine on her forehead. We don’t have time for a makeover, and besides, we want the audience to see her the same way the contestants do.”

  “Fine,” the makeup woman said. “That will give me more time for the others.”

  As she quickly applied makeup, Ally fussed, “I don’t like it. It’s making my face itch.”

  “Don’t touch your face,” Connie warned, with iron in her voice. “You can scrub it off as soon as we’re done.” Turning her attention to the PA, she ordered, “Get the first one ready for her entry. We shoot in two, people. Time’s a-wastin’, and we only have so much daylight. Let’s go!”

  Ally forced herself to sit still and not let the itchy makeup drive her nuts. Just get it over with, and you’re out of here. It felt like only seconds had passed when Connie called “Action!” and the first of the contestants walked out. Ally began to stand and offer her hand when Connie called, “Cut!”

  “Allyson, for frig sakes, keep your ass on the couch.”

  “But, it’s rude not to stand.”

  “And it’s rude to contradict your director.” For a moment there looked to be a test of wills going on, then Connie explained, “It’s how we blocked the shot, okay? So just do it this way for me, okay?”

  “Okay,” Ally agreed without joy. Oh, this just gets better and better.

  The production assistant had already moved the first woman back to her starting mark, and Connie wasted no time. “Action!”

  She sauntered her way to Ally’s side, pausing for the camera before slipping into the spot beside Ally. She offered her hand with practiced grace, then proceeded to tell her life story in two minutes flat. Ally had yet to get a word in when Connie called, “Cut! That was perfect. Okay, folks, reset for the next contestant, let’s go!” she said, rushing them.

  The next two hours passed pretty much the same for each woman. Some were more polite with Ally and asked a few questions, but nothing to indicate they were interested. By the time they finished shooting the scene, her face hurt from smiling and her heart was aching from the clear disinterest from so many pretty women. Yes, she was plain looking. Yes, she didn’t get to change out of the unflattering flight suit and show off her trim figure; yes, she wasn’t a beauty like Pam, or glamorous like Virginia, or a hot, dangerous butch like Rene, but she wasn’t a complete loser. Was she?

  “Great job everyone. Okay, Ally, you’re done. Why don’t you head up to your room and get ready for tonight’s ceremony?”

  “I have to get the helo back to the island.”

  “What?” Connie looked like she would blow a gasket.

  “Relax, I’ll be back. KC’s going to do the drive home traffic report. I’ll just get the helicopter back and drive right back.”

  “Why can’t KC fly you back?” she demanded.

  Ally shook her head. “Will you stop worrying? I’ll be all of two hours. Now go shoot your other queens in the heart, and I’ll be back.”

  Connie just grunted, “Famous last words!” before turning her attention to setting up the next sequence with Virginia, who had just joined them.

  One of the PAs still in the costume of the Borderland castle guard, minus the sword, had her flight helmet. “I’ll show you out.”

  “It’s okay, I know my way around here, and I can bypass the ballroom.”

  That bit of news pleased the PA, who promptly returned to take care of some other concern.

  Ally walked with her head down. They had made it plain they expected her to be the first queen eliminated, but she didn’t expect it to hurt this much. Trying to console herself, she remembered back to when she was a student here. She’d been a favorite because of her skill on the lacrosse field, but Pam had always been the one the girls on the team swooned for. If they didn’t want to have her, they wanted to be her. Ally had accepted that back then and resigned herself to the preferences of the group. At least everyone loved her when the school won lacrosse games. It was even like that up north when she would take her turn flying during the firefighting season for the company contract. Her business partner, KC, was not the most attractive of women, but she was the life of the party and all the lesbians, the women firefighters and fire jumpers, fell for KC and her larger-than-life personality. When it was Ally’s turn to fly fire patrol they loved her too, at least when she was in the air and saving their lives. On the ground, not so much. Considered too cerebral and not a lot of fun, she didn’t get the same attention, much less action, KC would see every season.

  She took her time with her pre-flight knowing her head wasn’t in the game. It was time to forget about the Queen of Hearts and all the women who didn’t go for her. It was time to concentrate on her job and make sure her aircraft was airworthy, and that’s what mattered. Finally, in the air, she began to relax. Flying was what she was good at. Flying was what she was amazing at. It might not make women swoon, but it did save lives. That had to count with someone. Pam might get all the credit as a champion of the falsely accused, but Ally’s vocation was exciting, dangerous, with far more immediacy. Too bad no one was interested in getting to know any of that.

  Chapter Two

  Rene Santos-Dumont took Erin’s hand in hers, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, beautiful.”

  Erin smiled for the camera while the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. If she thought Virginia was over the top trying to play the femme-fatale, Rene was her perfect opposite playing the super-butch card. It was too bad too. Rene was a good-looking woman. The suit and tie she had changed into from the leathers she arrived in were not off the rack, but they lacked any femininity. Then there was the woman herself. Between the wolfish grin and the overt familiarity, cuddling into her like they knew each other, Rene just gave Erin the creeps. Erin knew some women loved that kind of confidence or forwardness. While she was waiting her turn, many of the women ahead of her had returned to the ballroom all gaga over the woman. Erin suspected the million-dollar car sitting in the front drive, and Rene’s purported personal worth, might be influencing their opinions. She didn’t care though. It was her job to nose around the contestants and learn what she could for Pam.

  When Rene asked about her, where she was from, what she did for a living, she explained on cue that she was a legal assistant and from Wisconsin. That wasn’t a lie. She was from Wisconsin. She just didn’t live there anymore. It was something Pam had come up with, worried the women would naturally be curious to know if their paths had crossed if they both said they worked in Chicago. She listened as Rene shared a funny story about her single pass through her home state, then thankfully the director called “Cut,” and she was marshaled back to the ballroom to rejoin the other women. At least Rene had asked her something. Virginia had been a complete diva, never so much as asking her name. Pam, of course, had a whole routine they had planned, so that was easy, although having her boss’s arm around her did feel weird. Then there was the cousin, Ally. That had been her first one-on-one, and she had been so nervous, her legs shaking as she made her entry walk for the camera. Thankfully, Ally was more down-to-earth. While Erin had worked for Pam for more than five years, she only knew Allyson Parker by reputation, hearing many of Pam’s stories of their teenage adventures. Of course, Pam was always the hero of those stories and Ally the voice of reason. Today she had been a gentlewoman, giving Erin her personal space, asking her more about herself than the others had. For their two minutes, she had concentrated on Erin and her only.

  Ally’s face had lit up when Erin explained
she was from Wisconsin. “Wisconsin’s amazing! I used to go to Oshkosh every year for the EAA Air Show.”

  “Really? I grew up not too far from there. My hometown is small. It’s a good thirty miles east. And right on Lake Michigan.”

  “Let me guess, Sheboygan?”

  More than surprised, Erin couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “No, but you’re so close. I’m from Manitowoc.”

  “It’s great growing up on the Great Lakes. Isn’t it?”

  “I would have disagreed until I went to college. After four years in Minneapolis, I knew I had to live and work somewhere closer to Lake Michigan, I missed it that much.”

  “Cut!” Connie called. “Great work Erin. Okay, let’s keep it moving, folks.”

  As one of the costumed production assistants scooted her back to the ballroom, Erin chanced a look back. Ally was smiling and gave a friendly wave. So much nicer an experience than the two that followed. Finally done with all her screen calls for this scene, Erin headed for the food. She expected it to be picked over, but the caterers had everything topped up so she grabbed a plate, intent on filling up now, since she didn’t know when they would eat again. With her plate piled high and her water bottle in hand, she made for one of the few folding chairs that sat unclaimed. As she sat, another of the contestants joined her, a slender, vivacious brunette.

  “This is so exciting! I just love it. What about you?”

  With her mouth full of chicken salad, Erin smiled politely, trying to swallow without choking. Finally, she answered, “Yes, exciting.” She didn’t know what else to say, then remembered she wasn’t a contestant as much as a spy. “What do you think of the Primaries?” The woman looked confused, and for a moment she panicked remembering that was the pre-production term, not what they were using today. “Queens, I mean queens. What do you think of the queens so far?”