Chapter 28

Beauty Queen and Their Pretty Little Secrets

 

 

 

The following day, Cleo finds Chezka pulling her trolley bag out from her room. It turns out that today’s the day Chezka and the others will be leaving for Japan. Cleo would have been one of them in an alternate reality, but that reality isn’t hers to live.

“So, Japan, huh?” Cleo interrupts Chezka’s preparation.

Chezka brightens up as soon as she sees Cleo. She drops her bags and bounces to her side, always so full of energy. “Cleo! You know it’s funny we’re living in the same camp, but we barely see each other. How’s training?”

“Stressful. You know Elle.”

“Totally!” Chezka laughs and then pouts. “I’m going to miss you. It’s too bad I can’t be there for your coronation night.”

Cleo takes Chezka’s trolley bag, helping her with it. “We’ll see each other again soon. Have fun in Japan, okay? You deserve it. I mean, Nadia will be there, too. I didn’t get to ask you this before, but have you ever . . .”

“Confessed to her?” Chezka continues, smiling. “I haven’t. I know she doesn’t like me that way. I’m enjoying the way things are between us—it’s enough for me.”

“You’re a great person, Chezka. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll see you as you are and love you every day for it,” Cleo assures Chezka.

“I hope so. I really, really hope so.”

Once Chezka’s bags are inside the van, she bids Cleo goodbye. Nadia and Julia don’t say much to Cleo, but they wish her good luck for the biggest pageantry competition. They haven’t been the best of friends, but they did compete in the nationals with the best intentions.

“Break a leg,” Nadia tells Cleo, her signature high ponytail still in place. “We hope to see a crown when we get back.”

That somehow touches Cleo. She smiles at Nadia and says, “Thanks. Enjoy your time there.”

A few more words with Chezka, and then Elle comes in. The Elle. The Elle she’s wanted to corner for hours now. But that can wait. They have the entire day to talk about it, and she’s not going to start training without an explanation because last night was just terrible. No one should ever go through something like that.

“Make me proud,” Elle reminds Chezka, Nadia, and Julia.

Julia huffs out a breath. “Of course, we will, Elle.”

“Take care, girls.”

Cleo and Elle stand on the sides as the van drives away. They don’t move or say anything else. It’s a cloudy, windy day, a perfect time to be outside and play outdoor sports, but Cleo doesn’t have that luxury. She’s got to keep moving and working towards the crown after receiving some truth from Elle.

“We need to talk,” Cleo starts like they’re two people in love, and they’re on the verge of breaking up.

Elle isn’t fazed. She schools her expression. One of her many talents is repressing her emotions, and it’s because she has to be in control. It serves her well most of the time, but not this time.

“It seems that we do,” Elle goes back inside, and Cleo trails after her. They lounge in a once lively living room that’s now charged with tension. Silence hangs in the air, deafening their ears. It’s louder than the ghostly chatters of the beauty queens who used to occupy this space. But aren’t all silent truths deafeningly loud?

“What was with last night, Elle?” Cleo begins, shuddering at the mere thought of the man who for sure fantasized about a night with her. “I was so, so terrified. I thought it was for your business or something!”

Elle drinks her cup of tea, quiet for a few moments.

“Well?” Cleo presses Elle.

“I understand you’re angry, bu—”

“I am!”

Elle raises one hand as if to calm Cleo down. She stares at Cleo, her eyes smoldering with unmasked anger and irritation. It’s the first time she’s showing her true face. “Grow up, Cleo. If you’re serious about winning the global title for the Philippines, it’s time for you to realize that this is what winning is. Winners do what it takes to win. Whatever it takes.”

“So, what is this envelope for, huh?” Cleo hands the envelope over to Elle, but her mentor refuses it. Exasperated, she opens the envelope instead and brings out documents containing information that’s damaging to the other candidates. Her stomach churns. She can taste bile stuck in her throat. She can’t begin to understand what this all means, but it makes her feel sick.

Elle spreads out the documents on the glass table. The documents are about some of the foreign candidates who apparently have had facial surgery, a history with a notorious drug, a relationship with a sugar daddy, a secret marriage, and a woman who used to be a hostess, to name a few. Quite simply, these documents can ruin the chances of the other candidates. But whatever some of them may have done or been through, the past should not define who they are right now.

“Subtly tip off the reporters about this. Be smart, Cleo. Don’t involve your name so—”

Cleo gasps. “You think I’m actually going to do it? You don’t know why Lady Kenya, Lady Vietnam, Lady Bolivia, and whoever other lady is in those documents did whatever they did. I’m not judging them because of their pasts. They’re running towards a better future, and I’m not going to take that away from them!”

“You’re favored to win, just like your mother before you. If you stop now, you’ll lose your standing and you won’t be able to gain it back.”

Cleo puts the paper down. With her mouth set in a hard line, she snaps at Elle. “This is not how I’m supposed to win, Elle.”

“You can’t win at this moment being such a good Samaritan. You gotta be dirty. You’ve got to be bold. Nobody wins something out of being just good, and that is the reality of life, Cleo. You can’t make it to the top if you don’t go beyond what you are taught, so do it,” Elle insists, her voice clear and almost laced with threat.

Cleo smiles coldly at Elle. “No.”

“No?” Elle repeats, tipping Cleo’s chin up like she’s a broken doll. “Do you think Thea would have survived without me?”

Cleo doesn’t say anything, but she keeps her eyes on Elle’s. She knows the answer to that question anyway.

“Thea wasn’t going back to Siquijor. She had to make it to Manila. You almost certainly would have never been born,” Elle declares. She recalls Thea’s journey to the crown and her downfall, making Cleo’s blood boil.

Cleo pulls away from Elle. “That’s not fair, Elle.”

“Nothing ever is. Oh, and Everett only came back in the country because he was required to support you and Thea financially, not because he’s a good guy. And the money? Thea had to use most of that to pay back her sponsors from the competition. She worked hard, so she didn’t have to rely on your father,” Elle reveals, putting her teacup on the table. “Life is never fair, dear.”

Everett.

The hard truth from Elle strikes Cleo. She didn’t know her mother had had to pay many debts. And all because of her. She had to withdraw and use the money to pay her sponsors back. Cleo owes Thea more than just the crown.

With a heavy heart, Cleo can only nod at Elle’s commands. She’s choosing her mother because her mother chose her. Elle has been Thea’s friend, and if this is how she’ll secure the coveted title, then so be it.

“Good. Let’s get on with the training.”

 

 

Aira’s bored. She’s been waiting for Lady Crazy to meet her at their usual hidden café spot, and she’s on her fourth coffee of the day. Work has been stressful and hectic the last few days. With the Queen of the Universe coronation night happening in their own country in just one week, she and her fellow candidates have been going from one hotel to another.

Representing the host country also means more pressure for Lady Crazy, so Aira can’t blame the woman if she’s in a complete and total meltdown. As to that lady, Aira’s bosses have been praising her sky-high for following the story of an actor-turned-beauty queen who’s been criticized her whole life. Surprisingly, Cleo’s immunity to the public eye makes her even more of an interesting subject.

“Sorry, I’m late! Elle’s making every minute count.”

Aira observes Lady Crazy as she drops her bags down under the table. Quickly, she pulls out brown envelopes and lays them on the table without so much as a hint as to what it’s about. But that’s who she is, always running off in every direction.

“And this is?” Aira asks, stirring her cup of coffee and adding a bit more sugar into it.

Cleo grips the chair and sits on it, catching her breath.

Aira wants to give Cleo points for rushing out in her six-inch heels. It takes a good balance to walk it the whole day. Women are superheroes.

Cleo leans in close, so Aira does the same. “This is a secret.”

“Um, FYI, I’m a reporter, and I expose secrets,” Aira points out, arching an eyebrow at Cleo.

“So, unless you want to keep it safe from everyone, then I’m not the person you should be meeting. Also, where are Dumb and Dumber?”

Cleo looks aghast. “Dumb and Dumber? Dom and Erik aren’t dumb.”

“Oh, I thought I’m the only one in this group who’s thinking.”

“Talking about fashion isn’t dumb. Fashion is an industry of its own, and it feeds families—just like media and entertainment people feed theirs,” Cleo reasons. “Your family.”

“Okay, okay, point taken. What do you want me to do?”

Cleo purses her lips. “Before I tell you anything, how willing are you to go beyond what you know so that you can write a great story out there? I mean, on a scale of one to ten, how evil are you?”

“Satan.” Aira winks at Cleo, pointing at her red bobbed hair. “Red is such a passionate color. It’s hardcore love, revenge, and hell.”

Aira loves red. It’s always been her favorite color; it burns, sets other things on fire. She grew up wanting to be a detective but decided instead to write scandalous and entertaining articles. She’s always been the tattle-tale and the rumor-monger in the family, so she figured she could try the entertainment industry. She gets to be in high places, connected with the right people, but so far, no big story ever came to her until she met this Lady Crazy.

Cleo’s a bit taken aback—very candid, is Aira—but she recovers pretty fast. “Okay, that’s great. I knew I picked the right person to team up with. I have here, um, information I got from a concerned citizen who is an avid fan of the pageantry competition.”

Aira takes the envelope and takes out the documents. She reads through it without even a flicker of emotion on her face. She knows Lady Crazy’s watching her and is most likely going crazy about it. Whatever is in this document must be juicy in every way possible.

“Want me to write it?” Aira teases Lady Crazy. She can’t see Cleo spreading this information to everybody else. She has an image to protect, but Aira? Her job is to write about spicy and sensational issues. People will drool over this.

“If you want to,” Cleo pauses, taking a deep breath and then continuing her thought. “Yes. Hidden pasts aren’t fair to candidates who are trying to represent their country honestly. I know this doesn’t look good, but it’ll help those who are competing honestly.”

Aira slips the documents back into the envelope and grins. “You can count on me, Cleo. So, this is everything for now? No content to feature today on your social media?”

Cleo nods.

“I’ll go ahead then. It looks like I have a lot to write. Maybe afterward we can have dinner. My treat.” Aira takes up her bag and slides the envelope inside.

But as Aira’s about to leave, Cleo touches her arm, holding her back. “Can it come from an unknown source?”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m on your side.” Aira smirks at Cleo. The poor girl has been sweating and shaking, but who can blame her? Having this envelope with her makes her a target for every country in the competition.

“Thank you.”

With a lot more to do, Aira hails a cab and gets in. For some reason, she’s thrilled to get back at the office. The rain outside is harsh, but surely her articles will make tomorrow a better day. She can’t wait to be the life of the party once again.

Aira calls her boss. “Good evening, Ms. Roxanne. I’ve got two or three articles you might want to look at tonight.”

“You’re on a roll these past few weeks ever since the Cleo thing. Send them all in. And make sure it’s worth my staying up late.”

Aira grins. “Absolutely.”

 

EXCLUSIVE: Queen of the Universe Candidates and Their Pretty Little Secrets

This year’s Queen of the Universe pageant is the best Pandora’s box the world has ever seen. It looks like the screening committee hasn’t flushed out everything there is to know about the candidates. A reliable and concerned insider has come to our office in hopes of making things right for those who are truly much more deserving of the crown. The documents below contain information about some of the candidates and their pretty little secrets. It starts with Lady Vietnam, who used to have a sugar daddy, and many others with something to hide. Click on the link below to view the documents and photos.

 

The reading public is as judgmental as ever. The victims in Aira’s article are getting all kinds of nastiness all over the internet. None of these posters know the whole story, of course. But when did that make any difference?

“Are you okay?” Lady Kenya asks, her dark, fine chocolate-­brown skin richer than Cleo’s. She’s charming and powerful.

Cleo forces a smile. “Yes, are you?”

Cleo has found that “are you?” to be increasingly important since the dirt on these candidates came out. She’s talked with some of them. Lady USA and Lady Vietnam had told her it was devastating. Lady USA had surgery on her face. It was a nose job that happened years ago, so her team is now defending her to the officials. Meanwhile, Lady Vietnam confirms that the sugar daddy story is true, but again, it was years ago when she desperately needed money. They’re disappointed but not surprised. They know someone’s bound to pry into their lives and dig up any detail that can be pounced on, and they can only hope that people can see them for who they are today.

Fortunately, Lady Kenya is not that bothered by what people tell her. She admits she’s struggled with bulimia before and may still be struggling now, but she’s promised herself she’ll never be pressured again.

“I’m worried about the others. They don’t deserve all the hate, especially if it’s from the past,” Lady Kenya admits. “You know what? I think I will tell all those reporters that they deserve a chance in the competition. Just because they’re smiling doesn’t mean they’re okay. Beauty queens also cry.”

“That’ll help,” Cleo assures Lady Kenya. She wants to say she’ll do it too for the others, but she’ll be a hypocrite. She’s the cause of their misery, and attempting to play as their friend is brutal.

“All right, ladies, line up!” the photographer orders.

At Cleo’s side, Lady USA is trying her best to stifle her croaks. It only makes her feel like the worst person on the planet.

 

 

Along with some of the ladies’ personal photographers, Erik has been continually working for hours to capture the contestants’ growing bond. They get to drink, rest on the chaise lounges, and dip in the pool.

After this competition, Erik’s moving on to street photography. The luxurious, glittering photos are great, but he’s had enough of that. Also, his lens doesn’t capture the enormity of the grandness and luxury of it all. It captures the raw, gentle, and sometimes hard sides of the Lady Pearl of the Philippines.

 

Cleo holds so much potential in her, and it’s a shame she doesn’t know that. Erik can see every facet of her face, and it all reflects power, strength, and vulnerability. And with the way she resurfaces from the pool, hair wet and smoothed over at one side, she’s nature herself. So he quickly snaps a photo of her, but she looks tense in this one. Her usual beauty queen aura is missing.

“Turn to your side,” Erik orders, getting the right frame for Cleo.

Surprisingly, Cleo turns.

“You’re pretty compliant today.”

Cleo flinches. “Is that bad?”

Erik stops, putting his camera down for a moment and walking over to Cleo. He gazes at her, and her eyes capture his. When he finds her face, it always seems like the first time he sees it. Her face is bare, free for him to read. Her thick eyebrows are scrunched together in worry, and she’s biting her lip, indicators that she’s not okay.

 

“That depends on what you’re after.” Erik sees Cleo worrying again. “But you’re you, Cleo.”

Cleo brings her arms to the side of the pool, tilting her head to one side. “What if, all your life, you did your best to be good, but then you did something bad because you want to protect that good?”

“There’s always a gray area, Cleo. It’s part of human nature to protect what we think is good for us. The only question is, do you still want to be good?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t change what you did, but you can always make up for it. You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Cleo smiles at Erik. “Thank you. Really.”

And for the rest of the day, Erik gets to capture one of Cleo’s rarest raw moments. She doesn’t have any barriers around her. She’s letting him in, and he can read her every expression. Everything from what’s going on in her lovely eyes to the expression on her full lips. Her slim and fit body works as if she’s dancing in front of his camera, and only he can hear the soft, thrumming music. She doesn’t just smile. She grins. She acts fierce too, a hint of war in her mind, but underneath it is her softness, like a comforting caress

Whatever it is that’s on Cleo’s mind, Erik’s sure she can solve it. She’s a work in progress. It may also be one of the reasons why he likes her. She doesn’t run away from her problems—she heads straight into it them.

 

 

“Thank you for your concern, but I do not want to be interviewed.” Thea hangs up the phone, sighing. It’s the fiftieth call of the day, and it’s only noontime. There’s more to come later, and reporters and journalists are all waiting at their gate, hoping to get a minute of her time.

Anne takes away the books she’s been reviewing on the table, following Thea over to where the phone is. “Ma, are you okay? Want me to tell Leo?”

“No. She’s doing the best that she can with Elle.” Thea’s determined to do everything for Cleo. She owes her daughter that much . . . and Elle. She wants to see the Elle who helped her back then. But for now, has a lot of damage control to do right here.

“Why not just let them all ring?”

Thea ties her apron around her waist and grabs a spatula. “I did that this morning, but it’s giving me headaches.”

“Okay, let’s plan this. How about we do rounds, ma? My turn on the telephone. You can have the cellphone, and then we switch every hour or so. That way, you can cook, do whatever you want,” Anne suggests, giving Thea a thumbs up. “I’ll take care of the noise outside.”

Thea ties her hair in a bun and looks at herself in the mirror on the wall. She’s got a few creases on her forehead, but she’s former Lady Siquijor; her beauty doesn’t pass that fast. She’s aged well, and she doesn’t seem to be over forty. It has been years since she’s last truly seen herself, so to inspect her face seems a bit unsettling.

“No. I’ll take care of them,” Thea says firmly.

Anne thrusts her fist in the air. “For Leo!”

“For Cleo.”

Thea walks out of the living room and plants herself near the gate. She quickly scans the crowd and finds reporters from different news outlets flocking the streets. They’ve got their mics and cameras ready, which brings back many memories. She didn’t expect to be in the same spotlight again. What does she have? She’s using the apron as her sash and her spatula as the crown, but that doesn’t matter. She’s a mother more than she is a former beauty queen, but that doesn’t mean she’s lost her touch. In fact, she might as well give them the last goodbye wave and a final walk.

“Thea, is it true that you withdrew from the national pageantry because you were pregnant?”

“As former Lady Siquijor, what do you think will happen to your daughter?”

“Miss Thea, how’s your relationship with Direk Everett? What do you think of Cleo, who was originally taking her father’s path and is now representing the country?”

“Isn’t your daughter too skinny for the competition?”

“I also heard about Cleo’s breakup with Owen, the son of Mr. Luis, the CEO of Sta. Isabel Land Inc. Is it because of money?”

Thea understands her daughter has it worse than she did. It’s been a long time since she’s done this, but it has to be done. So, she flashes them her smile, and even without a gown or a crown on her head, she knows she’s still got it.

“I would like to thank each one of you for taking an interest in my daughter, Cleo,” Thea speaks to them softly, making sure they understand every word. When facing the public, always thank them first. “She’s a great woman, and I’m proud of her.”

Everyone’s stopped asking questions. They’re listening to Thea, as they should be. Her warmth makes them feel welcome. There’s no need for the continuous firing of questions that are sometimes, well, more often than not, out of line.

Thea stands tall, one leg in front of the other. “I apologize to the people I disappointed years ago, but the past does not define who I am today. What I do today and tomorrow will define what will become of me. And I choose to be the mother of the Lady Pearl of the Philippines.”

“Wow.” Anne has come out to be with Thea, clapping her hands. Soon, everyone’s applauding Thea as if she’s just answered a Q and A. “Ma, you’re good at this.”

“I missed that.” Thea laughs at herself, and instead of getting questions, she’s getting a lot of picture-taking from the reporters.

“Leo’s gonna flip when she sees this on TV.” Anne makes a peace sign, winking at the cameras.

Thea hopes she’s helped her daughter with the crowd, at least.

 

 

After the press presentation, Cleo goes back to the camp to help Dom prepare the final touches on her costume. Thankfully, they’ve both agreed on the design. It’s a long day ahead, but her mind is still stuck on the issues of the other candidates. They were good women and didn’t deserve what had been done to them. When she confronted Elle about it earlier, she was told she didn’t know any better—that she should let an adult, a senior like her mentor, handle how she’s going to win.

It sucks for Cleo because she’s being treated like someone too naïve to know anything. She’s an adult too. Elle might be older, but maturity doesn’t come from age, does it?

Dom has turned on the TV in the welcoming room while Cleo touches the fabrics he’s brought in. She’s trying her best to focus on the task, but then she hears a familiar voice from the TV.

“Dom, turn the volume up.”

Cleo turns around and sees Thea and Anne on TV. Her mother’s talking about how proud she is of her.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Dom comments, hands on his hips as he smiles. “Looks like you don’t need to defend your mother. She’s freaking Lady Siquijor.”

“She is,” Cleo says wistfully, and she knows she can’t stop now. She’s doing this for the mother she loves, who gave up everything because of her. “Let’s get started.”

“Honey, can you get the black bag in the trunk of my car? My sketchpads are in there, and I have my hands full at the moment,” Dom requests, arms loaded with fabric.

Cleo’s more than happy to help Dom; she doesn’t want to stay still. They’ve only just arrived, but they have to keep things going. They’re one week away from the competition, and they still have to keep her social media content updated. She’s close to winning the hearts of the people. She only needs to . . . .

Elle’s office door is ajar. Cleo’s about to check in with Elle to announce her arrival back at the camp, but then she spots Guinevere and Deborah off to the side. It’s been a while since she’s last seen these two. She wonders where they’ve been, so she stays for a while, listening.

 

 

Guinevere crosses her legs, wearing her former sash. She and Debbie have been busy. Very busy, apparently.

“Remember Maria? She was close to winning the crown, but you exposed her as GRO,” Guinevere muses, smiling at Elle, who’s been staring at the papers on her desk for a while now. “You adored that girl, right? You took her in like a lost puppy. She used to be your charity project until the most attractive offer came in from Russia.”

“And Maria doesn’t matter anymore, right? She’s a guest relations officer—a sex worker,” Debbie adds, going around Elle’s office and smiling at the posters of former beauty queens.

Guinevere throws her head back, laughing at Debbie’s statement. “I mean, with such a great offer like the one you got from Russia, I could probably take a three-year vacation or so! So where did you spend the money, Elle?”

“Please keep your voices down,” Elle pleads, her hands shaking.

“The Elle is begging?” Guinevere taunts. “Hey, Debbie, keep your voice down.”

Debbie rolls her eyes. “You’re the one who’s too loud.”

“Are you afraid your little Cleo will hear us?” Guinevere’s enjoying this. It’s not every day she gets to rile up the oh-so-great Elle. For years, the woman has been untouchable because of her influence and power, but everybody’s got dirt.

Elle composes herself. “It was ten years ago. I did it to save the beauty camp. I was in a bad spot. I had to accept the bribe.”

Guinevere doesn’t believe her.

“Aren’t you the one who taught us that the world is fair because it’s unfair to everyone? We’re only taking advantage of that fairness to keep that balance,” Debbie explains, scrunching up her nose. “Maybe it’s the end of an era for you, Elle. You’ve always been The Elle of pageantry. If we hadn’t found out about the cheating you did in the past, we would still be looking up to you, you know.”

“Not this way. I’m doing what you both wanted me to do, isn’t that enough? I’m making Cleo cheat, so we could expose her in the end and let Lady Russia win. But please, let it be the last,” Elle’s voice is hoarse as if she’s been screaming as much on the outside as on the inside.

Guinevere laughs and says, “That’s what you said the last time. It’s too bad Cleo’s favored to win. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation. She’s just too good, isn’t she?”

“It was the first and last time I did that. After that, I promised myself I would never do it again. I was desperate.”

Deborah gets behind Elle and whispers, “You still cheated. This pageant is rigged. I don’t believe in you anymore, Elle. What if you did that to us too so you can earn more money? Oh, how the tables have turned. You take us in as if we’re your pets, but really, you just want to control us and take all the credit. And what do you know—your favorite candidate’s about to hate you too.”

“And who would refuse such an offer from Russia? This year’s Lady Russia is a general’s daughter, so naturally, the daughter would want to bring glory to her country. So do us a favor, Elle, and make sure our little Lady Nowhere wins the crown. Make her savor it because after that comes hell to pay for the sin you committed—exposure of her massive screw-up.”