Queen of Hearts

by Sheryl Wright

  With her flight plan filed, she trotted down the stairs and out onto the apron to find KC just finishing the walkaround. “She’s good to go. Thank Chri… Christmas we fueled her yesterday.”

  Ally never felt comfortable taking out an aircraft she hadn’t inspected herself, but KC was a pro no matter how casual her attitude or her potty mouth. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you.”

  “Just get your ass in the air and go take care of our girls.”

  Chapter Four

  The production people had shown Erin and the other women to their rooms. They were staying in what she suspected were first-year dorms with six beds each. She had barely unpacked when the PA returned in a rush and ordered them all back to the ballroom. Being privy to the shooting schedule, she knew something was wrong, but kept her mouth shut. No need to upset the others. Besides, sharing her insider knowledge would cause talk and speculation. Something she didn’t need.

  Erin, her roomies, and several others trotted down the grand hallway to the ballroom to find Connie standing with the bullhorn alongside one of the camera people who had been following them around all day.

  “Welcome ladies! In a moment you will be taken to the dining hall for a light dinner. After that, you will have time to dress for the evening ceremony. Tonight, you will take the playing cards you’ve been given and cast your votes for your three favorites of our queens, the three you most want to get to know.”

  “Wait,” one woman interrupted. “Don’t we get to know them a bit more?”

  Connie just smiled and shook her head. “Before you head to dinner, we are going to give you the opportunity to choose your evening wear from the dresses and suits provided by Holt Renfrew for tonight’s ceremony. And you don’t have to worry about colors, everything is black and super sexy. Are you ready to choose your outfits for this evening?”

  Most of the women cheered as they watched a PA pull out two racks stuffed with evening wear. When some of the women started to make a beeline for the new clothes, Connie with her bullhorn ordered them to halt. “Not so fast, ladies. To make this fairer, we have pre-assigned your outfits, but don’t stress. If you really hate what we selected for you, we have a second rack with alternatives.”

  The PA pushed one rack away from the other. “Over on my right is your pre-selected outfit. Take a careful look at what we have for you. These are truly haute couture and all from local designers who have provided what they believe will work best for each of you specifically. And yes, if you like them, you get to keep them. The second rack, on my left,” she pointed to make sure they understood, “consists of some of the best Holt has to offer. Unfortunately, those we have to return, so please be careful with them. Choose wisely and be prepared to return here to the ballroom in two hours. Any questions?” But the women were much more eager to see what the designers had created just for them. “Okay, on your mark, ready, set, go!”

  Erin was almost trampled as the women raced for the racks. Most were hot-fired to see what had been designed just for them while a few headed straight for the alternative rack knowing it would be quickly picked over by those disappointed with the designer stuff. It took some jostling, but she was able to find the hanger with her name attached with a paper tag. Each dress was concealed by dry cleaner paper overlay and women grabbed and ripped off the paper, leaving scraps all over the ballroom floor. As women cheered, laughed, or complained all around her, she looked over the black sheath designer dress made just for her. It did look to be her size, and it was beautiful, but short, so short. Looking at the women fighting over the alternatives, she sucked in a breath and decided she would stick with the black sheath in her hands. Bare shoulders and a short, short hemline. Did a designer think this would work for her? She’d never worn anything so, so… On the back of the paper name tag was information about the designer. She read it and the attached note. “You have a very athletic figure. I wanted to show off those long legs, slender but strong arms and your square shoulders. With a figure like yours, the dress shouldn’t be the focal point; you should be. Wear this with pride. You have nothing to hide and everything a woman (or man) might want. Be proud.”

  “Be proud,” she said under her breath, “more like, be half-naked.” Still, the dress was a far distance from the thin or cheap material she so often found when shopping off the rack. So, this is what it looks like when clothes are made for you. The dress was of some expensive cloth she couldn’t name, and it was lined and formed so well she was sure she wouldn’t have to suffer from the creeping hemline characteristic of many cheaper dresses. Deciding it would work and too hungry to fight her way to the alternative rack, she followed those satisfied with their designer creations to the dining hall. Like the lunch they had picked at earlier, a buffet was set up, and a line had formed. She listened to the women gossip about their dresses or suits and the upcoming selection ceremony. Deciding she need to fortify herself for the long night ahead she accepted the beef bourguignon ladled onto her plate, added a large salad to fill things out, and headed for a table. She was tempted to find a place to sit alone and relax, but this was a job, so she joined a new group.

  “I’m so excited,” one offered, while a second complained about her designer outfit. Most sounded pleased with the specially designed duds while one questioned just who these designers were.

  “I can’t believe we’ve got to make our first selection tonight. I mean we hardly got a second with the queens. I’m not sure who I want to vote to keep.”

  Erin nodded. “I’ve got a few ideas. What about the rest of you?”

  One nodded enthusiastically, and in an animated tone told the others, “I know exactly who I want to get to know. I’m voting for Pam, Virginia, and the pilot girl. I can’t remember her name.”

  “Allyson,” Erin offered.

  “Yeah her.”

  Before she could say more, another challenged her. “I thought we could only pick two? Are we picking three, is that how it works?”

  “Oh no,” the other complained. “I need more time before we go down to just two!”

  “No,” Erin said, correcting them. “We get to vote for our three favorites now, the ones we most want to get to know. Only one queen goes home tonight, just the one with the least votes.”

  “Are you sure?” someone asked. “I mean, we hardly had a chance to—”

  “Yeah, but we can’t spend time with all of them, so kicking one out now makes sense.”

  “What if we eliminate the one I really like?” another one asked.

  Before anyone could answer that, another said, “At least they aren’t kicking us out. We all have a better chance of making it into the final group.”

  “How many are in the final group? I mean, I don’t understand how we get eliminated.”

  “It’s just like the rose ceremony on The Bachelorette,” Erin explained. “First we narrow down the queens to just three, then tomorrow we get to spend more time with them, then they get to choose who they like by offering us a rose or something like it.”

  “What if I get picked by one I don’t like?” another asked.

  “We can accept their rose or cross over to another woman.”

  “Holy smokes, nothing like a public rejection!”

  “I know, but it means we always have choices right up to the final ceremony. I mean, you’re never stuck fighting for a woman who doesn’t rock your world. Could you imagine going on a show like The Bachelorette and competing for a woman who does nothing for you?”

  Erin nodded her agreement. “So, who are you voting for? I mean these women are so different and so interesting.”

  “I wonder how they were selected. I mean, is it just their money that got them on the show?”

  “Wouldn’t it be cool if they picked them to match our astrological signs?” one asked. Some agreed, while another laughed at the idea.

  “Who are you voting for?” another asked Erin.

  “I’m not sure yet,” she said, then decided to test the water. “I like Pamela.
She seems so together and…”

  “I like Rene. Did you see that car? I mean that has to be a million bucks right there. I wonder what her house is like?”

  “Are you kidding me?” another argued. “That Virginia is loaded and her family… I mean if you want to join the one percent, she’s the one.”

  “Are you guys wacko or what? Just getting married to money doesn’t mean you’ll get some of the pie. I’d rather go with someone who’s made her fortune and knows what the support of a good woman is worth.”

  “What about love?” another interjected.

  The doe-eyed woman beside Erin squealed with delight. “What about sex! I can’t wait to get time alone with Pamela. I just want to rack her bones and make her scream. I bet a woman like that never has time for fun and I’m going to make sure she gets some…”

  “When exactly do you think you’ll get enough time to make love?”

  “Who said make love? I’m talking hot monkey sex. I can’t wait to see a tight ass like hers let loose.”

  Erin stood, grabbing her empty plate and utensils, along with her dress. Most of the women were finished eating and headed for the dorm to get ready for the big night. This, she knew, would be interesting. She also knew the competitive edge was creeping in with most of the contestants. They wanted more time with the queens, that was fair. Some of them, she was now sure, were interested more in the wealth of the queens than the women themselves. A few were stuck on sex. Like there would be time for that kind of shenanigans. At least not until the last night. Which of them were here to find the love of their life, she wasn’t sure, but one thing she did know: Pam was a sure-fire finalist. The other spots were still up for grabs and only tonight’s vote would tell how the women were leaning.

  * * *

  Ally had pushed the big helicopter at top speed, guzzling fuel, and clipping along the lake’s edge all the way to Glendennon Castle. Approaching the grand front lawn, she was glad to see it empty except for Connie, who stood with what looked like field hockey penalty flags in each hand. She had been taught to signal aircraft as a kid and Ally smiled to see her make an effort. Not wanting to make her feel it wasted, she followed the signals, setting down where ordered. She didn’t have a brake on the main rotor of the Huey and would have to follow standard shutdown procedures. Before she could even retard the throttle, Connie made for the left pilot’s door and climbed in. She was shouting something, but Ally couldn’t hear a thing over the sound of the turbine and the added insulation of her helmet. She managed to reach back to grab one of the courtesy headsets hardwired for the passengers.

  With the headset on, Connie’s voice came in loud and clear. Too loud. She was yelling.

  “Whoa there kiddo, I can hear you. What the hell’s wrong now?”

  “Just take off!” she ordered.

  Never one to split hairs, Ally did just that, pulling up evenly and lifting them off the lawn.

  “Keep going,” she ordered. “Get me the fuck outta here!”

  “Roger.” She turned south and took them back out toward the lake, climbing to a safe height. “Where are we going?” she chanced to ask.

  “I don’t care.” She sounded defeated and plainly worn down.

  Allyson flew the big bird to the lake then headed east, away from the city and from whatever had upset her talented and agitated young cousin. She didn’t pry. Connie would talk when she was ready, and if that wasn’t now, then so be it. Not as rushed as she was on the flight from the Island Airport, she cruised nice and easy, heading for the local provincial park, hoping the beach was deserted. This park was one of the least used in the Province. Urban sprawl had long ago made the destination less appealing to campers and this being a weekday added to the good chance it would be empty. Sure enough, as they made their approach, Ally could see only a few folks up on the bluffs and the lower beach was vacant of any life forms. The winds buffeting around the bluff made it a task to get her bird on the ground, especially since she wanted to park with the tail rotor safely pointed toward the lake.

  With the Huey finally on the ground, Ally shut down the turbine and sat patiently as the main rotor slowed and finally stopped. With her helmet off, she waited quietly for Connie to talk. It was a ritual that had begun when Connie was just a kid, allowing her young niece to piece together what was on her mind. This time it didn’t take long.

  “Pam thinks we should halt production.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m so fucked!”

  “Okay, back up. What’s happened since we talked? Geez, it’s only been twenty minutes.”

  “You were right. The chauffeur spilled and Virginia’s gone. If we pull out now, we’ve wasted half a million, and I’ll never get a network to look at me seriously again.”

  The kid looked so broken it almost killed Allyson. Releasing her safety harness, she pointed to a nearby downed tree. “Come on, let’s go have a seat in the sun. I have a feeling we can figure out a workaround.”

  Connie looked dubious, but agreed with a nod, climbing from the Huey and heading for a huge washed up log that had silvered in the sun.

  Constance Eugenia Coen-Parker had always been the tough kid, never crying in front of others even when she broke her arm at hockey or her leg on a family ski vacation. When she began to bawl, Ally was almost beside herself. This had to be bad. Placing a consoling arm around the young woman, she was shocked when Connie threw herself into Ally’s arms, her cry that of a wounded animal. Ally held on while she convulsed with heavy sobs.

  Finally, Connie began to settle, her tears spent and her eyes practically swollen shut. Luckily, Ally had a stash of tissues in the calf pocket of her flight suit, something she kept on hand for those days when the air pollution made her eyes water in flight. “Here you go. Go ahead and blow your nose. I won’t tell anyone you’re a snot face.”

  Connie tried to laugh, but the tears fell again, just a few but enough. It took another ten minutes before she could breathe and talk. Ally didn’t push. As far as she was concerned, they had all day. It was after six already, but if they had to sit here all night, they would, whatever it took to make sure she was all right.

  Finally, Connie admitted, “I don’t know what to do, but if we shut down…”

  “You’re not shutting down,” Ally promised. “Every obstacle is just a challenge in need of a little ingenuity.”

  Connie snorted, but smiled. “You know, you and Pam are like night and day, but good God, you are both tenacious.”

  “As are you, kiddo. Now tell me everything that’s happened and why Pam wants to halt production. Is it some legal thing she’s citing?”

  “No, we’re not in breach of our contracts but losing Virginia—well, it screws us for the whole concept.”

  “Can you use what you have of her so far?”

  “I don’t know. Pam says yes, and even the Jackson legal team conceded the point that Virginia signed a contract. What we have taped we can use, but we can’t use her for the ceremony, even if we manipulate the vote and have her eliminated first.”

  “So…why not just leave her out of the ceremony.”

  “What? How…”

  “Okay, I know I’m not up on all the terms and everything, but isn’t tonight’s ceremony about the contestants and their viewpoint? I mean you’ll film, or tape, or digitize, whatever it’s called, all the women contestants as they pick the three Primaries they’re interested in?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Yeah, but hear me out. You tape them all as they drop a card from their deck and share their choices with the audience or camera or whatever, right?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “So why not shoot the women making their choices or however you were going to film that sequence. Then just use some of the footage you already have when you need to refer to the queens, just pull up some of the shots you already have. Then once the selection is finalized, instead of having all four of us on the stage, just call out the three remaining.
You know, like a big reveal. You could start with me, then Rene, then Pam. I expect Pam to be the favorite, so keep her for last. It’ll be a shock to some that Virginia didn’t make the cut, but so what. It’s not like you can spend a whole episode just covering thirty women making their choice. It’s like on Survivor, when they show who’s being voted off. They never show everyone’s vote.”

  “I wasn’t going to show all the votes, just edit it later to show off more for the finalist, and just a few of the women who will be going home on the first cull.”

  “There you go.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.”

  “But I promised you I’d get you out on the first cut of the queens.”

  “So, I have to stick around a little longer. Whoopteedo.”

  “You’re not mad? What about your work?”

  “I’m not mad, and it turns out I have plenty of time. KC and I weren’t planning on making a big announcement about the airline until next month, so that’s covered. And as far as the charter side goes…well, to be honest, business sucks. Companies are asking, why pay the big bucks to rent a helicopter and pilot when you can buy a drone for less than what it costs for an hour of helo airtime and shoot all the footage you want. Frankly, the only thing keeping our helicopter business in the air is our traffic reporting contract and the firefighting season and KC’s got the traffic handled. As a matter of fact, they love my potty-mouthed business partner and co-pilot so much, they’re training her to be an on-air personality.”