Buck are old enough to take care of themselves, but those girls . . . Clive is irresistible, and trying to get his attention is one more way for them to short sell their value. A number of them will give away another little piece of themselves.”
Tammy spoke from bitter experience. Maybe bringing her to this event was not Cece’s best idea, though it had certainly appealed to me, too. Nothing like handicapping a pageant with help from a psychic.
“Hush!” Cece ordered. “We have to concentrate.”
While I’m no advocate of pageants, I had to admit the energy generated onstage as the girls pranced out was exciting. As they performed a musical number from
Hello, Dolly!
they all managed to act like this was the best moment of their lives. Whatever the truth, the girls appeared to be having fun and reveling in their shared moment. Such is the illusion good theater is able to create. I had no doubt that behind the black velvet curtain, ruthlessness ruled.
They finished the number and rushed backstage for a costume change. Mrs. Phelps took the microphone and enumerated the rules of the talent segment. Any talent or combination was acceptable as long as it was suited for a general audience. The girls had been allowed to bring their coaches, makeup artists, and backup musical accompaniment, whether recorded or live.
Finally, the first competitor was called. Regina Jones, first in the lineup, was an accomplished pianist. But as soon as Karrie Kompton walked onto the stage, I forgotthe first contestant. Karrie had presence, and when the music started and she gave a bump-and-grind medley of Broadway numbers, I was wowed.
She had no real competition until Brook Oniado came out dressed in a grass skirt to the beat of Hawaiian drums. Before she started her number, ten waiters clad in bright island shirts rushed through the auditorium distributing grilled chicken and fruit kebabs and trays of pineapple daiquiris.
“I made the appetizers myself,” Brook said, “honoring my father’s island heritage. My act is a tribute to him and my people.”
She carried three fire batons—and she hulaed, twirled, and juggled simultaneously. Though she was slender, the vigorous motion of her hips could churn butter. Her act brought down the house, and I watched the judges nod and beam, marking on their pads. Brook had propelled herself into a top slot. The refreshments were not only delicious but a stroke of brilliance for someone who wanted to represent a company that specialized in cooking.
The audience finally settled down, and Hedy walked out with a stool and a violin. She sat without fanfare or introduction and began to play. The haunting music swelled over the audience. I saw Tammy wipe a tear from her eye. Hedy demonstrated a talent worthy of a concert tour. She drew a standing ovation at the conclusion. She was definitely in the running.
To my surprise, Amanda Payne belted out a Dolly Parton song that had the audience on its feet stomping and whistling. Who would have thought such a big voice would come from such a tiny and timid young woman. Whatever self-confidence issues Amanda had, once she hit the stage, they evaporated and she was 100 percent dazzle.
Babs Lafitte, wearing a wig, had recovered enough toparticipate, and the audience welcomed her with thunderous applause. Everyone in town knew what had happened, and her “the show must go on” attitude made her a favorite. Not to mention that she could play the piano with real talent. Her medley of raucous blues tunes had the audience whistling and begging for more.
The last of the girls I’d placed in my top five, Janet Menton, did a dramatic monologue from a play I adored, called
’night, Mother
. I couldn’t fault her performance, which was Broadway worthy. The level of talent made me feel sorry for the judges. How would they possibly pick?
Cece made copious notes, and Tinkie rushed up and down the stage taking photographs. As the competition drew to a close, all
Tammy spoke from bitter experience. Maybe bringing her to this event was not Cece’s best idea, though it had certainly appealed to me, too. Nothing like handicapping a pageant with help from a psychic.
“Hush!” Cece ordered. “We have to concentrate.”
While I’m no advocate of pageants, I had to admit the energy generated onstage as the girls pranced out was exciting. As they performed a musical number from
Hello, Dolly!
they all managed to act like this was the best moment of their lives. Whatever the truth, the girls appeared to be having fun and reveling in their shared moment. Such is the illusion good theater is able to create. I had no doubt that behind the black velvet curtain, ruthlessness ruled.
They finished the number and rushed backstage for a costume change. Mrs. Phelps took the microphone and enumerated the rules of the talent segment. Any talent or combination was acceptable as long as it was suited for a general audience. The girls had been allowed to bring their coaches, makeup artists, and backup musical accompaniment, whether recorded or live.
Finally, the first competitor was called. Regina Jones, first in the lineup, was an accomplished pianist. But as soon as Karrie Kompton walked onto the stage, I forgotthe first contestant. Karrie had presence, and when the music started and she gave a bump-and-grind medley of Broadway numbers, I was wowed.
She had no real competition until Brook Oniado came out dressed in a grass skirt to the beat of Hawaiian drums. Before she started her number, ten waiters clad in bright island shirts rushed through the auditorium distributing grilled chicken and fruit kebabs and trays of pineapple daiquiris.
“I made the appetizers myself,” Brook said, “honoring my father’s island heritage. My act is a tribute to him and my people.”
She carried three fire batons—and she hulaed, twirled, and juggled simultaneously. Though she was slender, the vigorous motion of her hips could churn butter. Her act brought down the house, and I watched the judges nod and beam, marking on their pads. Brook had propelled herself into a top slot. The refreshments were not only delicious but a stroke of brilliance for someone who wanted to represent a company that specialized in cooking.
The audience finally settled down, and Hedy walked out with a stool and a violin. She sat without fanfare or introduction and began to play. The haunting music swelled over the audience. I saw Tammy wipe a tear from her eye. Hedy demonstrated a talent worthy of a concert tour. She drew a standing ovation at the conclusion. She was definitely in the running.
To my surprise, Amanda Payne belted out a Dolly Parton song that had the audience on its feet stomping and whistling. Who would have thought such a big voice would come from such a tiny and timid young woman. Whatever self-confidence issues Amanda had, once she hit the stage, they evaporated and she was 100 percent dazzle.
Babs Lafitte, wearing a wig, had recovered enough toparticipate, and the audience welcomed her with thunderous applause. Everyone in town knew what had happened, and her “the show must go on” attitude made her a favorite. Not to mention that she could play the piano with real talent. Her medley of raucous blues tunes had the audience whistling and begging for more.
The last of the girls I’d placed in my top five, Janet Menton, did a dramatic monologue from a play I adored, called
’night, Mother
. I couldn’t fault her performance, which was Broadway worthy. The level of talent made me feel sorry for the judges. How would they possibly pick?
Cece made copious notes, and Tinkie rushed up and down the stage taking photographs. As the competition drew to a close, all
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