New Beginnings Read online

  “Froggie wouldn’t allow me to do it,” Geneva said, smiling. “Now I am happy he insisted. After a while, the skin comes out looking like a frog’s underbelly.”

  “Is my hair too curly?” Melody asked, peering at her curly hair, which was almost waist length. “Have you ever seen a curly-haired queen?”

  “Well… I can’t remember. This will be the first beauty pageant I will be going to, or paying attention to.”

  “Oh, right. You had dancehall queens in the ghetto. Does Froggie know what your real hair looks like?” Melody asked, changing the subject.

  Geneva laughed. “I honestly don’t know,” she replied, staring at her shortly cropped curls in the mirror. “I did not even remember what my natural hair was like until Pamela dragged me to her hairdresser. My mother processed it when I was young.”

  “That style suits you,” Melody said wistfully. “You should be the one entering this competition, not me.”

  “I have never seen a hair style like this on a reigning queen.” Geneva pointed to her cap of curls and giggled. “Even though it kinda looks a bit chic.”

  “My boyfriend likes you,” Melody said seriously, staring at Geneva. “I see how he looks at you.”

  Geneva felt as if Melody had dropped a brick in her lap.

  “It’s okay. No reason to look so shocked. I think Justin was just paying me some attention because of his mother. I didn’t care because he was so fine and all my girlfriends wanted him, but he treats me like an annoying little sister.”

  “I… thought you guys were tight. Every other word is Justin this and Justin that.”

  “The crush is crashing,” Melody said and looked disparagingly in the mirror. “Besides, Marcia told me he was kissing you at the pool-side last week.”

  Geneva opened her mouth.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to tell me since Marcia said you actually ran into the house mortified at the liberties he was taking,” Melody said, laughing. “You should have seen her when she said 'liberties'.”

  “I'm sorry about that,” Geneva said, shocked that Melody had known all along. “I was just lying there and… he assumed I would be willing to kiss him because I danced in a club… I was outraged.”

  “No worries. Last night he told me that he was interested in someone else. There was no pain. Then I realized I was not that into him. I was jealous, but now I'm not.”

  “If you were kissing Froggie, I would scratch your eyes out.”

  “Then, my dear, you are in a dilemma.”

  “What do you mean?” Geneva asked, sitting up straighter in the bed.

  “Remember, I don’t know Froggie,” Melody said, laughing when she saw the defensive look in Geneva’s eyes. “I just think you are in a dilemma because the uptown hottie has eyes on you, while the downtown don has a claim. I love it.”

  “I don’t. It’s hell,” Geneva said with a sigh. “I don't understand how I could be embroiled in this soap opera. I don’t even think I like Justin. Well, maybe I do. He is handsome and knows all the right things to say, and has what Pamela would call sangfroid. On the other hand, Froggie was there for me for two years, my confidante and friend.”

  Melody stood on the chair in front of her vanity mirror. “Who will she choose?” She intoned ominously. “Stay tuned for the next installment of “Ma soeur et ses hommes—My Sister and Her Men.”

  As Melody spun around to look at Geneva, the chair wobbled and she fell flat on her face. Her ankle twisted in a strange angle.

  “It’s all your fault,” Pamela shrieked at the top of her voice in the hallway.

  The doctor who was called to attend to Melody winced. “Mrs. Walters, you are upsetting the patient.” He gently lifted Melody’s heavily bandaged foot and placed it on a pillow.

  Geneva crouched in the room as she watched Pamela, who looked as if she was about to commit murder.

  “My daughter cannot enter the talent part of the pageant tomorrow. Her ankle is sprained and it's that she-devil’s fault. I can’t take this. I feel pained.”

  The doctor looked up in the air and sighed dramatically.

  “Mrs. Walters, you are not the patient here. Your daughter could use some positive attention.”

  Geneva moved over to where Melody was lying. She was groaning sporadically and knitting her brow.

  “Get her out of here,” Melody whispered to Geneva.

  “Pamela, shut up,” Geneva said, staring directly at her. “You are so selfish, you cannot see that Melody needs support, not recriminations.”

  Pamela was on the verge of another tirade when she realized that the upstart from downtown had dared to speak to her harshly in front of the family doctor.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Pamela hissed. “You cannot talk to me like that and expect me to take it lying down. Did you use the word recrimination?”

  Geneva was confused; this was not a regular Pamela attack. The woman was acting weird. She nodded automatically.

  “Well, that’s it then,” Pamela exclaimed.

  The doctor and Geneva looked at her with similar expressions of horror. Her hair was wild and she was gesticulating like a mad person.

  “You are going to replace your sister in the pageant.”

  Geneva swallowed as Pamela came up to her and spoke in her face. “You look similar enough, and with all the tutoring from Gonzalez, you must have learnt a thing or two. I will speak to Conrad now and inform him of the replacement.”

  “I will not do it,” Geneva sputtered. “I don’t know a thing about pageants. I can’t just enter overnight. What about the practice that Melody has put into her dance moves, the choreography for her talent piece?”

  “Secondary considerations, dear. We have money and obviously one of their contestants is laid up. What can we do but include her sister? We might not even need to have that party to introduce you to my illustrious friends after all.”

  “No,” Geneva shook her head.

  “Yes,” Melody moaned.

  They all turned to her in the bed.

  “I think it is a great idea. You have heard just about everything about the pageant and you can wear the new clothes that mother bought for you the other day, since mine would be a tight fit. Conrad, my organizer, will help you with the choosing.” She gasped, “Doctor, can I have some more painkillers.”

  The doctor, who was silent until then, nodded and said, “You would be perfect, Geneva.” He winked at her.

  “I don’t want to,” Geneva said stubbornly.

  “Do it for the less fortunate,” Pamela snarled, “those people whom you talk about so much. The pageant allows you to actually help them, you know. You get to choose a charity. Meanwhile, the Walters’ name will still be upheld. Good PR for our companies. Next year, Melody can enter and that will be two Miss Jamaica's in the same household.”

  “You can still talk about something at your little parties.” Melody’s voice was whispery.

  “Exactly, dear,” Pamela replied, looking down at her daughter kindly. “Get some rest. At least having a sister is not all bad, even if she is from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  With that she dragged Geneva out of the room. “Come along, Miss Walters. We have only one more night to go.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the way to the Hilton Kingston Hotel early the next morning, Geneva was pouting in the back of the car while Conrad was on the phone talking about dresses and make-up and highlights.

  “She’s perfect facially, but I don’t know about the talent part. After all, this is the part of the competition where talent is emphasized,” Conrad whispered, as if Geneva wasn't sitting beside him listening, “She’s not affiliated with any charity or university.”

  “Yes, she is,” Pamela said and leaned from the front seat and looked at Conrad with annoyance. “She is enrolled at the University of the West Indies and will be starting the summer term. She is a part of any charity that the business sponsors. Just choose one.”

  Conrad relayed the
information over the phone and almost caused Geneva to jump out of the car when he said in his effeminate voice close to her ear, “You might want to give me that, darling.”

  “What?” Geneva asked, on the verge of biting into a donut.

  “That fatty, sugary nonsense that you call food. It is not good for you.”

  “Are you crazy?” Geneva asked, looking through the window. "I was never on a diet before today, and on the day of the pageant you want me to stop eating junk.”

  “Give it to me.” Conrad held out his slim hands and frowned at her.

  She dropped it into his waiting fingers and cut her eyes. “I have never met an outright homosexual before, and I don't think I like you.”

  “What makes you think I'm a homosexual?” Conrad asked, alarmed.

  “You pluck your eyebrows, you have on lipstick and you smell way better than any woman I know. Plus, you do that fluttery thing with your hands. It’s weird.”

  “I am straight,” Conrad stressed, gliding his hand from his head down to his tightly clad jeans leg. “I am not defending why I wear lipstick, and I rather think that a good-smelling man is a pleasure to be around. Besides, you are the pathetic one around here.”

  “Why?” Geneva asked curiously.

  “You have no talent piece and that is a big part of the competition. The beauty-and-no-brains line is worn thin. You have to actually do something, dahling.”

  “You sound like a poor imitation of a lousy sitcom,” Geneva snapped.

  “He’s the best,” Pamela said from the front seat. “You should give him a chance.”

  Geneva made a face at Pamela and then tried to ignore Conrad’s nasal voice.

  “I don’t see why I'm doing this and why Melody couldn't come to watch me.”

  “I wouldn't let her be caught dead in public with that bandaged ankle,” Pamela hissed. “Besides, she is so doped up, I doubt she would be of much use.”

  Geneva looked through the window and wondered, not for the first time, why she had allowed Pamela to drag her into this. She had not even gotten the chance to tell Froggie or Justin the latest developments. Imagine, she was entering a beauty pageant. Never in a million years did she expect to be doing what she was now involved in.

  “I'm only doing this for my sister,” she said out loud.

  Conrad snickered and Pamela snorted.

  It really didn’t sound true when said out loud, Geneva thought silently. Maybe she did want it for herself and not for Melody. Otherwise, she could have plainly refused, and that would have been that. Pamela, in all her glory, could not have dragged her to do something she did not want to do.

  “I always thought that sisters were an unnecessary evil to have around,” Pamela said blithely. “But at times they have their use,” she added, fingering the pearls around her neck.

  Geneva’s ears prickled at the wistful tone of Pamela’s voice. She had never heard Pamela volunteering information on her sister.

  “You have a sister?” she asked Pamela, eagerly pretending that Melody hadn't mentioned it before.

  Pamela turned around and looked at Geneva balefully. “Mind your own business.”

  Geneva smiled. The dragon lady didn't sound as fierce as her usual self, and maybe that was the chink in her armor: the mysterious sister.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They entered the lobby of the Hilton Kingston Hotel, which was teeming with people: girls with sashes and haggard companions running behind them while talking a mile a minute.

  “Where is Melody’s sash?” Conrad asked. He looked as if he was going to panic.

  “In the suite,” Pamela said briskly as they headed for the receptionist’s desk.

  Geneva was looking around in awe. She had never been in a hotel before, and the whole atmosphere was intoxicating. She felt like doing a little jig on the spot.

  “I just heard,” said Justin, who was strolling toward them, his sunglasses perched in his curls. He looked relaxed and handsome. “I called Melody and she slurred the details. This is momentous news.” He dragged Geneva into his arms and kissed the tip of her nose.

  Geneva pulled back a bit because she saw Pamela staring at them, frowning, but mainly because she hadn't forgiven him for previous liberties taken.

  “This way,” Pamela said and looked at Justin. “You switch camps fast.”

  “I switched a long time ago,” Justin replied with a smile and looked at Geneva.

  Geneva smiled back at him. They followed Pamela to the elevator.

  “We have a suite,” Pamela was saying.

  “I have the itinerary.” Conrad had several sheets of paper in his hands. “First thing you are going to do is meet with the interviewers at ten. Then at twelve, there is a luncheon with the Governor General. There will be people there observing your deportment, et cetera. Be very circumspect. At two, you girls will be shown backstage where all the last-minute beauty things are done. I heard that Miss Toys R Us is taking a goat milk bath. Should we order more milk?”

  Geneva looked in the air and Pamela said contemplatively, “I think Geneva’s complexion is alright without the milk.”

  “At four, there will be a photo shoot for the images that will be shown in the night, and Geneva will have to take some extra pictures to make up for the ones that she missed. There you will do the… Oh my, I forgot the dresses,” Conrad said and stalked from the suite looking flustered.

  Geneva sat on the king-sized bed in the room and watched in a daze as the door opened and closed and people rushed back and forth in a frenzy to get clothes and makeup and everything related to beauty. Justin was on the phone by the window. He spun around every second to look at Geneva and wink. There was a lady with a large makeup briefcase mixing and matching colors for her skin. Pamela was in her element, gesticulating wildly and doing her best queen mother impression.

  “Geneva, I am talking to you,” she said exasperatedly.

  “Oh yeah,” Geneva replied, blinking. She hadn’t slept much the night before. “I'm sorry. What did you say?”

  “The last question was phrased well,” Pamela said, beaming. “Do not let me hear you say yeah again, in that vague, vapid manner that is so reminiscent of the popular youth culture.”

  “Okay,” Geneva said with a shrug, unimpressed. She was used to hearing Pamela’s views on what people of class and culture shouldn’t do and the dangers of following the 'youth culture'.

  “I was asking about your talent piece. Do you have any particular talent? It wouldn't have mattered two years ago, but talent is now 40 percent of the total grade. I got a list of the judges, there are ten of them. Only three are on our payroll, so now it actually does matter what you do. Though I could see how many I could bribe to overlook your lack of talent.”

  “I could dance,” Geneva said, glancing over at Justin.

  “Ballet?” Pamela asked stiffly. Her eyes twitched as if she was on the verge of an explosion.

  “No… er… bruck and wine and…”

  “Stop it, you imbecile,” Pamela said impatiently. “I can’t have you doing your downtown nightclub routine here. I will have to call Gonzalez. You should be able to recite a poem.”

  Geneva grinned. “I know one poem: Market Women by Daisy Myrie… ‘Down from the hills they come, with swinging hips and steady strides to feed the hungry crowd’… or was it town?”

  “This is not an agricultural show,” Pamela hissed. She held up her hands for silence and the room went quiet. She dialed the number for Gonzalez and waited impatiently for him to answer.

  Justin sat beside Geneva and whispered, “I would love to see you bruck and wine.”

  Geneva giggled and stopped abruptly as Pamela glanced over at her with a militant gleam in her eye.

  “I am not sure this is going to work out,” Geneva sighed, “I do not like crowds or people staring at me and judging me.”

  Justin smiled. “You are beautiful. Don’t worry about it. Besides, tonight won't be broadcasted on television; the big show i
s next week. That’s when you should worry about being nervous, not now.”

  Geneva threw a pillow at him and laughed as he threw one back at her. She was actually feeling happy, despite Pamela’s harsh tongue and uptight ways; She was beginning to like Pamela; Justin was handsome and charming, and she was going to enter a beauty pageant. Life was surely changing for her. The only cloud on her horizon was Froggie. If only he could see her performing in the competition. He would be so proud of her, especially when she did her talent piece.

  She knew exactly what she would do for the crowd tonight, the one thing that Pamela would least expect from her, the only secret that she had not shared with Melody. Tonight she would allow them to see her talent. The anticipation buzzed through her.

  “Pamela,” she said, getting up from among the pillows, smiling.

  “What?!” Pamela snapped. “Gonzalez is searching for a poem for you to recite.”

  “I can’t recite what I haven’t learned,” Geneva replied.

  “She is going to bruck and wine,” Justin said with anticipation in his voice.

  Pamela’s fingers tightened on the phone. “Justin,” she said softly, her eyes flashing. “Please leave the room.”

  Justin got up grinning. “Later all. I will see you this evening,” he said and kissed Geneva on her forehead. “I owe you an apology and I want to do it over dinner. Is that okay with you?

  Geneva nodded. He squeezed her hands and left.

  “Do you know the poem, Signs of the Bend?” Pamela asked Geneva when Justin closed the door.

  “No,” Geneva said and got up from the bed. “That sounds like a horror movie or a suicide attempt.”

  “Argh…” Pamela growled. “Maybe I was too confident in thinking you could pull this off. Is there anything you can do besides bruck and wine?” she sputtered.

  “Yes,” Geneva said, smiling. “But I am going to need a piano.”

  “What are you going to do, dahling? Dance on top of it?” Conrad asked, strolling into the room with a red dress on one hand and a yellow on the other.