Chapter 19
The Cost of Being an Official Candidate
Hearing the title attached to her name gives Cleo a sense of pride and satisfaction. She walks at her own pace, slowing down when she reaches the stage. She giggles like a teenager who finds out that her crush likes her back.
Striding on the stage, Cleo lines up next to the last candidate called. She keeps up her smiling face during the entire hour of deliberation. She doesn’t hear the names of the others. In her head, Cleo Walter, Lady Quezon City, keeps on repeating like a broken record. She searches for Elle and finds her mentor’s first smile of pride.
“Congrats,” Elle mouths the words, and Cleo is on cloud nine.
Once the forty have been called, the candidates get their first official group photo. The panelists congratulate them, saying they’re looking forward to seeing more of them in the next two months. Cleo doesn’t digest any of this, not even until they’re released, and they’re back in the white van. This time, Elle rides with them.
“Eight of you from this camp get to be official candidates. Congratulations,” Elle says, looking at each and every one of them, but she pauses on the other two. “To the two who didn’t make it, I congratulate you as well. You did your best, and I’m proud of you. Rest assured, you will still be welcomed next year. Thank you for all your hard work.”
Chezka begins to clap, and then it gets louder and louder, and suddenly they’re all clapping—a mutual round of applause. For the first time since Cleo’s arrival, Nadia doesn’t have a catty remark or sour expression.
While the group celebrates, Cleo’s phone beeps its familiar notifications tune. She doesn’t need to open it to know it’s her social media on a blast.
“Take a look at what people have been saying to you,” Chezka suggests.
Cleo shakes her head, planning to save the drama and cheesy gossip news for later. She’s fed up with people who make assumptions about everything in her life.
“Cleo, just look at it.”
Cleo opens her social media accounts and finds the news about her.
Just In: Cleo Walter is An Official Candidate for the Lady Pearl of the Philippines!
The actress-turned-beauty queen, Cleo Walter, has not run out of luck just yet. She keeps everyone on their toes with every little thing she does and is quite a strong, brave woman for championing herself into a national pageant.
Meanwhile, the founder of elite beauty camp Reign of Queens, Elle, has confirmed that she has admitted Cleo into her camp.
Click here to check the list of the top forty official candidates for the Lady Pearl of the Philippines.
As for the comments and reactions of people on the social media platform Chirp:
@tellaaachin: woah! That’s some big career change @CleoWalter
@triciavv01: gURRRL LOOK AT THOSE LEGS!!! SHE’S GOT ‘EM GOOD LEGS and could probably slay the RUNWAY!
@adrienneyen: looking at it now, she actually fits the beauty queen role.
@veniceerz: not really a fan of hers, but her history took me here. my personal favorite is
Lady QC. can’t wait to see them compete internationally!
@OnAnna: unbelievable!! this lady ain’t done with TV yet???? whatever floats ur boat
@CleoWalter
“You did great!” Chezka assures Cleo, her eyes obviously looking for Nadia.
Cleo pats Chezka’s back and whispers, “Go check on her. She seems to be in a festive mood. I’ll be fine.”
Chezka grins and sits at the back where Nadia is.
Cleo props her head on the window side, momentarily closing her eyes and taking a break. She wonders how her family and boyfriend will react to the news. Unbidden, a smile plays on her lips. She can’t wait to get home.
“OH MY GOD, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”
Cleo shies away from Anne, covering her ears, unable to stand her sister’s screeching voice. When she got home, Anne was waiting for her in the living room, switching all the lights on like she’s some sort of criminal caught in the act.
“Because I wanted to be sure it would happen. I’m sorry, Anne,” Cleo laughs cheekily at her sister. Anne throws a pillow at her, and she easily dodges it.
Candy struts over to Cleo, wagging her tail and picking up the pillow on the floor. She barks incessantly, joining Anne in her protest. She stretches downward, her tongue lolling out. In her little dog way, she fixes her angry but cute eyes on Cleo, almost as if she’s been betrayed too.
Cleo picks up Candy and babies her. “Aw, little cutie! I’m so sorry.”
“Ma! Leo’s not listening!” Anne complains, burying her head in the pillow. “I can’t believe I didn’t wish you good luck earlier!”
Cleo puts Candy down and goes to find her mom in the kitchen. Thea’s baking cookies, just as Anne said she’d be doing. “I’m an official candidate for the Lady Pearl of the Philippines, and I don’t know if this is good. I know it is kind of too late to say this, but I want to consult you, Ma. My name’s on social media again, and it’s going to be in the tabloids tomorrow, but I can still make it disappear.”
“How do you feel about their comments?” Thea removes her over gloves and washes her hands.
“In an odd way, I feel kind of okay. It doesn’t bother me as much as it did before. There are more positive ones now than negative.”
Thea faces Cleo, offering her the first batch of fresh, yummy dark chocolate chip cookies. “And this is what you want?”
“Yes.”
Thea doesn’t reply right away. She keeps her focus on the cookies she’s been preparing. Unable to withstand the silence, Cleo helps her mom personalize the message for each cookie box.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” Cleo says apologetically, taking a bite of the cookies. “I should have asked you first. At this point, though, no one’s that interested in me. But if by some miracle I get the crown in two months, then somewhere along the way, the story about you will come up. How do you feel about that?”
Thea’s tears fall down her cheeks, and Cleo begins to apologize for even asking.
“No, it’s not that, anak.” Thea wipes her tears away. “I’m just proud of you.”
“If this makes you feel uncomfortable . . .” Cleo trails off, unsettled.
Thea’s sweet aura turns ferocious. As Cleo gazes into her mother’s eyes, she sees a reflection of Thea’s past and of herself. She feels like she’s two people in one body somehow.
“Go ahead and do it. You win it, and you win it for me. You’ll complete what I couldn’t finish. You sure are not the naïve girl that I was,” Thea says firmly, but another intrusive thought makes her waver a bit. “But then what about your father?”
“Exactly,” Cleo confirms. Thea’s decision to support her has made her want to go further than she’s ever been. If she can get the crown for her mother, she can get a reaction from her cowardly father. She understands that what she’s asking of her mom isn’t easy. But this is her mom, who should have won the nationals all those years ago, willing to make that heroic sacrifice.
“I’ll always support you, Cleo.” Thea offers her arms for an embrace, and Cleo gladly goes into them. “It’s been a long day for you, so get some rest.”
“I will.”
Relieved to have her mother’s blessing, and exhausted from the day, Cleo flops down on the bed and pulls the blanket over her. Then, just as she’s about to close her eyes, she gets a call from Owen. Half-asleep, she answers his call.
“Hey, babe. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you anything about it. Too tired today,” Cleo explains, yawning.
“Congratulations. Sorry I called right away. Go sleep, babe. I’ll just let them know you’re too tired to—”
“Who will you let know?”
“My parents want to invite you to the Golden Polo Club tomorrow, but it’s okay, you’re too tired, and you need rest,” Owen says softly.
Cleo jolts awake. “Your parents? As in your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there with you!” Cleo implores Owen. She’ll do anything to be close to his parents, and it’s not because of money. She just wants them to acknowledge her as their son’s girlfriend. “This is a great chance for me to get to know them.”
Owen replies something incoherently.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, babe.”
Drowsy, Cleo pulls her pillow close to her. “Good night, Owen. Love you.”
Out in the open green windy field of the Golden Polo Club with his girlfriend in a lace-embroidered jumpsuit, Owen knows he’s with Lady Quezon City. They’ve only been here for five minutes or so, and his family’s elite friends are already crowding them.
“Owen, won’t you introduce your girlfriend to us?” Vina, their family’s closest friend, asks, her sunglasses uneven on her crooked nose.
Owen wraps an arm around Cleo’s waist, politely introducing Vina. “This is Cleo, my girlfriend of seven years.”
“Wow, seven years, and you’ve only just introduced her now? How can you not introduce a beauty like her?” Vina turns to Cleo, who’s smiling radiantly. “So, how’s the training? I didn’t think you’d be able to come, with your busy schedule.”
Cleo tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “This is my only free day. Tomorrow it’s back to training. Elle is—”
“Right, right! You’re in Elle’s beauty camp. What’s she like?”
While Cleo and Vina converse about Elle and fancy clothes, Owen’s watching his brother, Mark, and father, Luis, play a practice polo match game. Riding their respective horses, they make a good prince and king. Armed with a long, flexible mallet handle in his right hand, Mark swings the mallet, hurling the wooden ball into the goalpost.
Mark has always been the main offensive weapon of the team anyway, while their father plays the role of the tactical leader, who controls the play. They make a good team, only because they always agree on everything. Mark chooses who gets to be his other two members most of the time, and he knows who plays well. And it’s not Owen.
“Hey, O!” Owen’s cousin, Jeremiah, huffs out, removing his helmet. “Want to be number two?”
“I’m with my girlfriend,” Owen calls back, pulling Cleo much closer to him even though she’s busy entertaining Vina.
“Even more reason to join us! Come on. It’s just four Chukkas.”
Owen knows it won’t be four Chukkas. Seeing Mark on the field, it’ll be around six to eight, depending on the team’s play.
Jeremiah snorts, the name of his ex-girlfriend tattooed on his right arm like a heavy weight that’s been pulling him down. He turns his attention to Cleo and listens to her talk about pageantry and crowns. As soon as Cleo stops, he takes this opportunity to butt in.
Owen forces a smile and introduces the two of them.
“So, beautiful Lady Quezon City, would you like to see Owen play the polo game?”
Jeremiah charms Cleo with his smooth words, even going as far as to kiss her hand as if they were living in the age of chivalry.
Cleo flushes red, looking up at Owen. “Babe, do you play?”
Just when Owen thinks it can’t get any worse, his mother, Reyna, swoops in to take Cleo in hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Cleo! Or am I supposed to call you Lady Quezon City?”
“Cleo’s fine, Mrs. Velazco,” Cleo says courteously. She and Owen both know Reyna hasn’t warmed up to her the tiniest bit in the years they’ve been together. “Thank you for inviting me to your game.”
Reyna waves it off and grasps Cleo’s arm, clinging to her as if she’d never said anything hurtful or refused to accept her as Owen’s girlfriend. “I apologize if I haven’t been much of a tita to you. But surely, we can leave the past behind, yes?”
Owen catches how Cleo brightens up at the thought of that. She’s not her usual crazy self. If she were, she’d be nodding frantically by now. Today, though, she’s subdued, a compressed version of herself that he never thought he’d see. It doesn’t suit her.
“Owen, we’ll stay over at the tent area. Why don’t you play with your brother? Cleo will be cheering for you on the sidelines,” Reyna says. A suggestion, firmly given.
Everyone else knows better than to try to gainsay Reyna. But Owen’s not like everyone else. He looks placidly at his mother and says, “No. I don’t feel like playing today.”
Reyna’s eyes darken, smoldering, but Owen’s not bothered by it. He’s spent his whole life going against his mother’s wishes. How is today any different?
“Cleo, don’t you want to see Owen play?”
Of course, Reyna will turn to Cleo. She knows perfectly that Cleo is the only person who can make Owen do what she wants.
Owen’s unmoving. He waits for his girlfriend’s answer. Cleo seems to be thinking it through. She’s biting the inside of her cheek like she does when she’s unsure of something or feels stuck between two very conflicting decisions. Owen stares at her, willing her to read his mind. They’ve known each other so long they can finish each other’s sentences. He’s sure she gets the message: he doesn’t want to play.
“Babe, why don’t you just give it a try?”
Hell. Owen can’t believe what he’s hearing. He clenches his fist and takes the helmet from his cousin, joining his team and playing the game because his girlfriend told him to—oh, she suggested. Same thing . . . .
As Owen mounts his horse, Cleo blows him a kiss. “Good luck, babe!”
Owen refuses to look at Cleo. Instead, he looks down at the number two on his polo shirt. He hates this number. He’s always assigned as the number two who scores but is directly behind number one. He’s just an extra player to complete the four-member team.
Trying not to let it get to him, Owen focuses on the game, swinging his mallet before hitting the ball. He rides his horse well, but Mark, who is on the opposing team, is in a better position to target the goalpost. Through sweat and the exhilarating rush of the game, he releases his pent-up anger by taking over the ball that’s passed to him. Usually, this kind of energy expenditure would cure him of his anger before the game is half over. But this time is different.
Owen’s holding back. To make matters worse, he’s been crossing the line of the ball, causing foul after foul. This fiasco goes on for about an hour until Mark’s team wins.
Mark’s team wins every damned time, Owen thinks, finally back on foot and letting his helmet and mallet fall carelessly on the ground.
Owen comes back to Cleo’s side and takes her hand, grasping it tightly. He leans in and whispers, “Let’s go home. Please.”
“We can’t. Your mom’s not done introducing me to the rest of these people,” Cleo replies lowly, smiling at whoever passes by her.
“Come on, babe. You don’t like this. Hell, they didn’t even like you.”
Cleo keeps her composure, schooling her face with a cool expression. “Didn’t. Past tense, Owen. And no, I like meeting people. You’re the one who doesn’t like this.”
Owen keeps himself from saying things he might be sorry for. He doesn’t want to cause a scene here, so he endures Cleo’s too-pleasing personality.
“Ah! Mark’s team wins!” Reyna exclaims, gushing over Mark and his mallet. “I know! Why doesn’t Cleo, as Lady Quezon City, award the medal?”
Owen stares at Cleo, waiting for her next move.
“It would be my pleasure,” Cleo generously accepts the offer, leaving Owen behind as she makes merry with his family. She stands there in all her radiant glory, flashing her pearly white teeth in a dazzling smile, a medal in her hands, while Owen watches from afar.
It’s Mark’s twentieth medal of the year. Cleo, Owen’s girlfriend, is presenting it.
After a happy little post-presentation moment, Owen pulls Cleo to the side and says three words that burst her bubble. Suddenly, he’s had enough.
“Let’s break up.”
Cleo’s flabbergasted. “We can’t just make up and then break up again. This is insane.”
“No, we’re not going to do that again,” Owen replies icily. “There’s no making up this time.”
“Why? You know this is what being Lady Quezon City means. This is the job, Owen.”
“I just want to be an architect, Cleo. You don’t need me in your life. You’ve done great without me. I’ll never be a star.” Owen glances askance. “I never liked this world I’ve been stuck with.”
Cleo’s face is serious, sincere. “That’s not what I want, anyway. Not Owen the star. I want Owen, the happy architect.”
“But the other stuff you want—fame, stardom, and getting the public’s attention—they don’t interest me. I’m not good at this stuff. We’re just different.” Owen admits, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling totally exhausted from all of it.
“We’ve always been different,” Cleo whispers softly, looking at Owen with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen—the last time he’ll ever see them in person.