Chapter 26
“You’re right.”
Elle gestures for Cleo to take a seat. Her office, as usual, screams power and confidence. The only time Cleo visits her mentor’s office is when they have serious matters to discuss.
“I’m always right about a lot of things, but which is it this time?” Elle asks, inspecting the folders and envelopes on her table.
“I have to be Queen of the Universe. My father thinks I can’t do it.” Cleo laughs derisively. “He’s wrong.”
Elle uncaps her pen and scribbles something on the stack of papers that have been in her “in” tray for weeks now. She pulls a photo out of a drawer and slides it over to Cleo when she’s finished.
“Oh, you will. Trust me, I’m a queenmaker,” Elle points out.
Cleo glances at the black and white photo. A beautiful woman with her black hair pinned up high seems to be staring at someone from a distance. She wears a butterfly necklace and a pair of stunning earrings. Although she’s smiling, her aura is almost the same as Elle’s, but hers is more of a warning. She’s someone who can hide her true intentions, play everyone and everything to her advantage without ever getting her own hands dirty, and everyone will believe her.
“The Lady Manila who went on to become First Lady. This woman is crazy,” Cleo comments, giving the photo back to Elle. “It’s straight out of children’s books, but we all know it’s more of a horror story than some book you read to your daughter before she goes to bed.”
“Actually, it is a bedtime story, Cleo. Written to educate the children while they’re still young. The main point being that she’s a kingmaker. The woman is cunning, and she’s not alone. She’s like everyone who gets a taste of power. Give a man a sword, and he’ll think he’s the greatest man in the world. Wrong. The woman who gave him that sword can survive him. The people will hate him, and rightly so. Soon, they’ll want to oust him, but what happens to the woman? She lives long enough to create more kings she can use to her advantage.”
“That woman is just as bad as the king,” Cleo notes, leaning back in her chair. “I won’t be that woman, Elle. A title and a crown won’t show the world who I am. What I do with the crown and title will do that.”
Elle smiles quizzically at Cleo. “Always such a good person, Cleo. I’m just trying to say that sometimes, you have to think like that mad kingmaker. If you can’t beat them, then join them. Anyhow, I’ll handle your training from now on. I want you to stay in the camp and do as I ask.”
“Anything you say, Elle,” Cleo promises, smiling back at Elle. She knows she can win if Elle is behind her.
“Anything at all?”
Cleo stares at Elle, even more, determined than ever. “Anything.”
“Let’s hit training, then. Oh, and tell your family you’ll be staying with me from now on. Every day and every night. Allowance included.”
Cleo slays the full-on training program Elle devised for her. She’s told Thea and Anne about her decision, and they understand. They’re happy with what she has achieved so far, and Anne tells her to keep her posted at all times. Meanwhile, her mom couldn’t be any prouder. They’ll wait for her to come home with a crown on her head.
Given that Cleo has basically submitted herself to Elle, she’s free from distractions and can perfectly walk her catwalk. The Q and A sessions with Elle are much trickier and harsher, and most of the time it feels like there’s no correct answer.
“If you feel like there’s no right answer, it’s because there isn’t,” Elle explains while Cleo sits across from her in the classroom. It’s the same classroom they used before. The only difference between then and now is that she’s the only student left.
“I mean, really, what am I supposed to say to a foreigner who comes to our country? Mabuhay! Everyone will love you here because we love foreigners and their dollars?” Cleo asks, twirling her pen and wondering what she’s supposed to do if the question is about foreigners.
Elle chuckles at that. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a comedian? And I doubt they have dollars.”
Cleo holds up her hands, thinking about foreigners and dollars. “Foreign dollars then. We love anything foreign, and we’ll probably find foreign dollars to be far superior to US dollars.”
“They are funny questions, and maybe your funny answer can win you that round.”
“For real?”
Elle shrugs. “Who knows?”
Cleo gives Elle a thumbs up.
Elle then stands up and takes Cleo’s pen from her. “Sell me this pen.”
“Are you seriously going Leonardo on me?”
Elle twirls Cleo’s pen, cocking her head to the side to listen. “Aren’t I the Wolf of Wall Street? It’s a brain teaser. Go on.”
Cleo takes the pen back and says, “Do you need a pen?”
“No.”
“Not at this moment, no, but when’s the last time you bought a pen?”
Elle smiles. “I don’t buy my pens. I have my assistant to do that.”
“Then I’d love to talk to your assistant. Your assistant can get great discounts from me.”
And then the charade stops. Elle goes back to her seat and says, “That’ll be great, if the judge will respond to you, but Q and A’s are most often one-liners. Give me a liner.”
“Pens are the key to unlocking that new home, business, security, and leisure, and it all begins with writing a single letter,” Cleo fires off. “How’s that for an answer?”
This goes on for quite a while. Cleo’s enjoying it so much, she doesn’t even mind if they do it the whole day. There are bizarre questions that are fun to answer and serious ones she’s still thinking about, but what matters to Elle is that they can run through any topic and Cleo doesn’t blank out.
Cleo’s finally getting the focus and attention she needs. At the rate she and Elle are going, the crown is an arm’s reach away. She feels sure she can win because she’s doing her best, and her faith and trust in Elle are unparalleled. Eventually, they take a break. Out of habit, she checks her social media accounts. After all, it’s one of the few things she can control on her own. Elle’s not tech-savvy but that’s fine. Cleo has Dom, Erik, and Aira. But what she sees on the internet hits her in the gut.
The Lady Pearl of the Philippines is the Daughter of a Former Lady Siquijor
Cleo Walter is not just the daughter of the renowned Direk Everett. She’s also the daughter of a former beauty queen and Lady Siquijor, Thea Walter. In the—
Cleo doesn’t need to read the entire article. She knows the story, and now everyone else knows the story. She had expected this, but she didn’t expect it to come so soon. Worried, she quickly calls her mother.
“Hi sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Thea asks.
“You’ve seen the news?”
Thea chuckles. “Yes. Sweetheart, I’m okay. I did what I had to do then, and I was able to give you a good life. That’s all that matters. Aren’t you busy?”
“I am, but,” Cleo pauses, catching a glimpse of Dom, who just came in through the door of the beauty camp carrying fabrics and props. “I’m just worried for you, that’s all. I know you don’t like to be in the spotlight, and it’s exactly where I’ve put you. I’m sorry I di—”
“Shh. Don’t worry about me. Just keep giving it your all, okay? No matter how persistent these reporters are, hold on. I’m getting a lot of calls . . . .
“Ma! I knew it,” Cleo says. She knows her mother’s getting a lot of calls. They want her side of the story.
“Don’t worry about me, okay?” Thea repeats. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart. Love you!”
Thea hangs up, leaving Cleo powerless to do anything about this. There’s no deleting anything already posted on the web. This is a risk that she’d accepted early on. Sighing, she turns off her phone and presses her fingers to her temples. This is giving her a headache.
Dom swoops in and grabs Cleo’s shoulders. “So, honey, did you see the dress for the charity gala?”
“Yes, I saw it, but it needs to be more than that.” Cleo doesn’t want anything less. She has to have a dress that’ll be striking. She has to be better than the other foreign candidates because if she’s not, then she’s just wasting her mom’s trust in her, and she’ll only be proving her father right. She can’t make any mistakes.
“More?”
“Yes, more!”
“All right, honey, calm down. We have enough time,” Dom soothes. “I know you’re pressured, but you’ve got to trust us.”
“I know, um, can you just ask Elle about the dress? She knows better,” Cleo tells Dom, trying to think about her next social media plan.
“But Elle’s not you. She’s not going to be the one to wear the dress.”
“I KNOW, DOM!” Cleo bursts out, biting her lip and then rubbing her temples. “Sorry.”
And as if Dom isn’t enough, Erik strolls into the room, taking pictures of Cleo. He smiles at her, enjoying her little show. He takes an apple from the table and bites it, following her every movement.
“You on your red sea?” Erik asks.
Cleo ignores him while Dom presents the national costume he’s designed for her. She takes the design and inspects it. It’s an eagle-themed costume with overbearingly large feather-like wings and a fearsome full mask.
“My face can’t be seen if I’m in a full mask,” Cleo points out, giving the sketchpad back to Dom.
Dom touches Cleo’s face, sliding her hair to one side. “In the parade, you’ll eventually pull it off, exposing a dark makeup that resembles a half-mask. Am I a genius or what?”
“Dom, it doesn’t have a wow factor.”
Dom gasps, insulted. “Excuse me? Am I or am I not the stylist here?”
“You asked for my opinion,” Cleo groans, not wanting to have a row with Dom. “Can we talk about this some other day?”
“I don’t like the way you are right now, honey.”
Cleo feels like she wants to explode. “You don’t have to like me to do your job.”
“Okay. Have it your way, Lady Pearl,” Dom stresses Cleo’s title, relaxing his arms and leaving the sketchpad on the table. He shakes his head, glances at Erik, who’s watching their heated little exchange, and then walks out.
“I didn’t mean it that way—” Cleo takes the sketchbook and writes notes about what she wants to happen with her national costume. “I just wanted to take this matter into my own hands. I’m trying to win here, and people are taking it the wrong way.”
“You know what you need, Cleo?” Erik butts in.
Cleo doesn’t even bother responding. She’s busy making adjustments to Dom’s ideas. Besides, if she says something, Erik might walk out too. She can’t afford to rift with them at a crucial time like this. She’ll just handle Dom and the issue with her mom later on.
But Erik can be very persistent. “Come with me.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Cleo snaps.
“I can see that, but I can see you’re also stressed,” Erik responds, calm and undisturbed. “Catch you later then.”
Just as Erik’s about to leave, Cleo changes her mind. She draws in a deep, calming breath. “I’m coming with you.”
For some reason, Cleo’s thrilled at the thought of an impulsive decision. She just wants to get away somewhere far from here, away from the pressure, and he’s her ticket to nowhere.
“Wait.”
Cleo goes back to her room, slips out of her high heels, and wears her running shoes. Since she’s been staying full-time in the camp, Elle’s given her a private room, and it’s great. She ties her hair in a bun, rushing outside in fear he might have gone off. But he’s there, waiting by his car.
Erik stares at her, amused. “Come on.”
Cleo sits on the passenger side with the car window open. Erik makes sure she isn’t going to forget about this mini-adventure because he quickly speeds off into the highway. Around them, the city lights twinkle like tiny little stars. It’s a lovely scene to take in as they race to the unknown destination and it gives her adrenaline a fresh boost. Only now does she realize that, maybe for the only time she can recall amidst all this pageantry intensity, she’s actually living in the moment, free of outside expectations—just her and her soul reaching toward her dreams.
But she’s loving this space between all that pressure and the end goal. She wants this ride to go on and on. She feels free after a long period of striving and setbacks and obstacles tossed in her way, and freedom has never felt this good.
Just for tonight, Cleo doesn’t need to worry. She’s Cleo tonight. No Walter, no Lady, no anything; just a girl in a car trying to map out her life, but knowing she can loosen up every once in a while.
“Amazing, right?”
Cleo grins gratefully at Erik. “Thank you for this.”
“Anytime,” Erik smiles at Cleo.
Erik is reminding her what it’s like to soar—it’s free-falling, jumping out in a parachute thinking she can die any time, but also realizing it’s only then that she can truly enjoy the best part of the life she has because life has no second takes. Just through having a little time with the wind in her face and no knowledge of where she’s going, Cleo feels braver and bolder. But rides like this one don’t last long. They come to a plaza full of dancing people. Erik parks at the side of the fence and waits for her to get out.
“Is this even safe?” It looks like Little Tondo, one of the poorest areas in Manila. The streets filled with batang hamog, children from broken families, and living under the open sky. They’re known to rule every corner and highway, growing up to be thieves and gangsters.
Erik smiles warmly. “A revel of some sort.”
Getting out of the car, Cleo comes close to the plaza and finds several teenagers and children dancing around the dimming lamppost. Their oversized shirts and tattered shorts are obviously from the dumpsters, but their grinning faces invite her to join them. Even though they’re dirty on the outside and probably hungry on the inside, they’re happy. Genuinely and truly happy doing what they’re doing.
As soon as they see Erik, they run to him, saying, “You came!”
“Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I?” Erik says, smiling as Cleo has never seen him smile before. “How are you?”
One of the little kids pointed at Cleo and said, “You brought a girl with you!”
“Hi,” Cleo greets, finding it hard to connect the children standing before her with the children who are forced to wander around and sleep on the streets.
“She’s prettyyy!!!” the little girl holding a torn teddy bear chimes in, pulling Cleo with her.
“They’re my foster brothers and sisters,” Erik begins, ruffling the hair of the little boy. “We used to live together with our adoptive parents. They weren’t anything close to having real parents, but my mother has been a mother, one way or another. We had a strictly enforced set of chores—housework for the girls and heavier work for the boys. My little brother, that guy with a fake mustache, was always sickly and would always get slapped around by our father. Being the eldest, I would always take the beating while my mother shielded us from my father. She had never once cringed in front of him, but then she died in an accident, and my father left, leaving us on the streets.”
“And your now adopted family found you. Took you in,” Cleo concludes, afraid that talking about this might be hard for him. “I’m sorry, Erik.”
Erik stares at his foster brother. “It doesn’t matter. Later on, I found them again here, living with an old grandmother who took them in, and I give what I can.”
“But you’ve never known your real parents?” Cleo asks him, sitting on the fountain’s marble stone.
Erik shakes his head, pulling his little brother in for a hug. He pulls a Jack and the Beanstalk book from his bag, and gives it to the little boy. “Here, read this, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow for some snacks.”
Cleo’s at a loss for words. The children are harmless. They don’t even know why they are here on the streets. And here she is, wondering if the area is safe and startled by the news that Erik comes from this. And here’s Erik, full of love for his foster siblings and sharing his good fortune with them. There’s nothing greater than a heart that loves hugely without expecting anything in return.
Cleo glances at Erik, and it hits her how different he is when he’s with them in the competition. It’s these beautiful ragged children, not the flashy world of beauty queens, that fills his heart with light. He’s a beautiful person, after all.
“Tell me if you want me to take you back already,” Erik reminds Cleo, his eyes set on his other siblings.
With all the love Cleo’s seeing before her now, she doubts she wants to ever go back. This is just beautiful. The children remind her of Anne, who’s always there for her, someone important to her but who barely gets any of her time now. Suddenly, she feels guilty for being so caught up in the whirlwind of the competition. She takes a mental note to check on Anne soon.
“Why don’t you dance?” Erik’s little brother insists. “ I’m Jasper. Nice to meet you, pretty lady!
“I’m Cleo,” Cleo replies, surprised at how easily she can get along with them.
Jasper takes Cleo’s hand and places it on Erik’s. “Dance for us, please.”
Cleo pulls her hand back, lowers herself to Jasper, and whispers, “Why don’t you show me how to dance first?”
Erik opens his phone and plays a song for everyone to set off an example. Jasper grabs a partner and begins to dance like crazy. While everyone’s having fun, she just watches them, enchanted to witness their pure joy. The cool breeze lingers in the air, but the tapping feet and crazy dancing made them all sweaty. One of them pulls Cleo out of her seat and tries to twirl her around. She taps her shoes in a whimsical rhythm, genuinely happy. This is the kind of world she has been dreaming of—surrounded by people who are genuinely happy.