Chapter 18 #3
“Your aunt is a great pageant MC,” Jemma admitted.
Then she began talking about how many years she’d competed, about how proud her family was, about how close she felt to each of us.
The minutes passed quickly as she rambled on, and Katie listened politely until the two-minute warning bell rang, and I jumped in.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, but…” I struggled to determine the most pressing question. I needed to know things about the Finches: what had happened to Miss 2001 and what Miss 1962 had meant when she’d said that my aunt was on someone’s bad side. I inched closer to Katie Gilman. “I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering how well you know Dr. Bellingham.” It wasn’t exactly the question I wanted answered, but I hoped she would volunteer even a speck of information like Miss 1962 had done. The universe was pointing me toward him, and I wanted to ensure I heard correctly.
“Jim, oh… I’ve known him… gosh, forever.” Katie looked around the solarium. “Mostly harmless, but just… watch yourself around him. If he’s not trying to sell you on a ‘beauty-enhancing procedure’ he may be trying to woo you—or worse.”
The bell rang a final time as she said the last two words. I wanted to stop her, to call her back, but Dr. Bellingham was approaching our table.
He gave Jemma a quick rub on the shoulder, and she flinched ever so slightly. I was grateful again for her intervention with him last night, even if she had been selfishly motivated, at least in part.
“I know you,” he said to Jemma with an affectionate grin. “Did you have time to think about the Botox we discussed? Actresses need to keep their youthful vigor for as long as possible.”
Jemma nudged away his hand and put on a smile. “I can’t wait to visit your office in New York to get started.”
I hoped she was lying.
Dr. Bellingham sat and rested his hands on the table. I noticed something strange on his pinky finger. A faint white line.
“Do you wear a ring?” I asked as Jemma and Summer both listened, their faces briefly showing their puzzlement at my train of thought.
“Not married, as you can see,” he said, wiggling his fingers in front of me. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he answered. “But, yes, I left my judge’s ring back in my room in my hurry to get out here with all of you beautiful girls.”
Gross. But… a judge’s ring?
I thought about last night, about what Katie and I had discovered in Aunt DeeDee’s drawer. I’d assumed that the ring we’d found belonged to Mr. Finch, but what if it was Dr. Bellingham’s? The two men were buddies, and he was a long-time friend of the pageant.
“Fred gave it to me as a memento for my years of service here.” He studied me and then reached out to touch the bridge of my nose before I could pull away. “I could fix that bump with a very simple procedure…”
I dodged him with my wit. “And here I thought my cheekbones would compensate for my bumpy nose.”
Dr. Bellingham studied me. “You do have a remarkable bone structure.”
The three of us women sat quietly, not knowing how to proceed. Even Jemma seemed at a loss.
“Right-o!” Dr. Bellingham took a deep breath and changed the subject. “So, I’d love to hear anything and everything you girls want to share. Your deepest, darkest secrets…” He looked at us with a playful gleam in his eye. “Or your naughtiest fantasies.”
Jemma was the only one of the three of us able to act like he was winning her over.
She launched into her childhood pageant days and teen years before going into detail about this year’s show schedule, about how we would all have to undress from our opening costumes in a matter of minutes, how she would need to crawl into her red bikini.
She gave him a lot to imagine as Summer and I squirmed uncomfortably.
“I might vacate my judge’s seat and join you all backstage.” He was titillated. “Don’t tempt me.”
Bile rose as I marveled that this man could get away with such comments in this day and age. Summer and I had nothing to contribute to this conversation, and when the bell rang, the two of us scooted as far away from the man as humanly possible.
He reached out a palm to shake my hand, and when I reluctantly took it, he covered it with his other. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, his breath damp. “I wanted to say… I’m so very sorry your aunt has gotten herself caught up in this mess. It really is unfortunate.”
My jaw clenched as I backed away to study his face, to see if his word choice matched his expression. Has gotten herself caught up? What did that mean? Was he blaming Aunt DeeDee for putting herself in jail?
He was at the next table so quickly that I didn’t get to ask him. Instead, I turned to Jemma. “What was that?”
“What?”
“Describing us changing backstage. It was gross.”
“I was doing the job. He gave all three of us the full five points.”
That did not justify the conversation in my mind.
“Don’t you need the money?” Jemma asked, and both Summer and I slumped into our seats because, deep down, we knew she’d done what she thought was necessary. This pageant world was so strange, but also like a mirror to the world in which women found themselves every day.
I studied Jemma more closely and noted the fatigue behind the makeup. She’d been at this for years, and had her own reasons to win.
I couldn’t dwell too long on justifying Jemma’s behavior because just then Savilla Finch ran into the solarium, her eyes wide with concern.
She was breathtaking, far more beautiful than any woman in this sunlit room, in a silky ivory halter dress and champagne pumps with an open toe, the soles of which were muddy, marring an otherwise perfect picture of femininity.
Savilla, clenching and unclenching her fingers, searched the room before hurrying to my side. Everyone turned to watch, likely wondering what she could possibly want with someone like me.
In that moment I realized that I was probably the closest friend Savilla had at the pageant.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I… I need you to come with me.” Savilla’s words were tremulous and uncertain. “It’s StepMommy. She’s…” Savilla paused and sniffled. “She won’t wake up.”