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Several people stopped the interaction. The room spun as someone grabbed Waverly around the waist and twirled her to the other side of the waiting room. Anson tugged Vera out of the way; Blu stood behind his camera, taking pictures, and in the entrance of the delivery room stood Stephen, dressed in mint-green scrubs and a face mask. Waverly didn’t need to see his entire face to read the look of horror in his eyes. Everyone stopped yelling and moving. Someone set Waverly right on her feet.
“I hate to interrupt,” Stephen said, “but it’s a boy. Lexi and Kenneth are resting but doing fine. Not like I can say the same for everyone out here.”
* * *
“Ladies,” Mayor Ascot said to the room of witnesses from the waiting room, the police chief and members of the Morality Committee, a group of former beauty queens committed to preserving the sanctity of the tiaras and titles of regional pageants. “We can’t have altercations going on in our city. The emergency Morality Committee has come to order.”
What a waste of time, Dominic thought to himself. His foot twitched as he waited for the chance to speak with Waverly. Back at the hospital, he knew they’d shared more than just a moment together, where he realized they were on the same page in life. He wanted a family. Given his history, or lack thereof, with his deadbeat father, Dominic had never wanted children until today. First he needed to get her out of this stupid witch hunt.
If Dominic hadn’t seen this with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed such a thing existed. The reporter he met on the docks at the Magnolia Palace sat in the front row, jotting down notes. Dominic hated the helpless feeling of watching Waverly in a chair on the stage of the conference room in city hall. He folded his arms across his chest to keep from crashing the stage and choking the mayor. There’d been no physical altercation. Dominic had seen it himself when he walked back into the waiting room with beverages for everyone. Someone did, however, film the confrontation and send it to the local news. The video showed more of a scuffle than anything else, but someone in the span of twelve hours already managed to turn a few photos of Waverly into a meme, superimposing her face on a bull and Vera’s onto a matador and shading her in red. Someone went even as far as placing a red tiara in Vera’s hands.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Vera said, pressing her hand to her chest. “She attacked me.”
“If she attacked you,” Kimber spit out toward the stage, “you wouldn’t be here.”
“See what I’m dealing with?” Vera whined.
Dominic probably would have seethed as well, but his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Since he recognized the area code, he swiped the red icon to end the call. He needed to focus on Waverly. He knew how important getting into the Miss Georgia Pageant was to her. This scuffle might cost her the second chance she’d been given, and despite his growing feelings for her, wouldn’t want to risk her dream.
“Vera, please,” Mayor Ascot said. “You both have signed a morality clause for your designated pageants and you both are skating on thin ice. I’ve got reporters from all three surrounding cities hounding me concerning this bickering the two of you have been doing at the joint fairs and events.”
Waverly sat onstage with her hands folded in her lap, knees together. A smile was frozen on her face. Dominic couldn’t tell what was going on in her mind and it killed him. His phone buzzed again, and again Dominic declined the call.
Three ladies sat in front of the stage at a long table. The woman who did the most talking wore a pair of cat-eye black-rimmed glasses on top of her pinched nose. She read from a pink-and-silver clipboard and pushed her glasses up on her nose once she looked up.
“Ladies,” she said, “I can’t express how disappointed I was to hear of this unfortunate interaction between you two. Miss Vera, you were at the hospital for a visit to the children’s wing. What if the parents or, worse, the children, saw you two?”
“Miss Lexi Pendergrass Reyes was in labor,” Vera said as if that explained it all.
It must have. The three committee members nodded their heads in unison.
“If I may,” Mayor Ascot said, speaking up, “it is my understanding both women are vying for a spot in the Miss Georgia Pageant.”
“Prior to this altercation,” said the spokesperson, “they were. As of today we don’t know what to do. Neither of you ladies act like you want the title.”
Waverly raised her hand while Vera scoffed.
“Mrs. Ramsey,” Waverly began. “Vera and I have pageanted all our lives. This is all we know. We were both emotionally charged at the hospital. Our coach was in labor and underwent an emergency Cesarean. To say our stress levels were at the highest is an understatement.” Waverly rose from her seat and walked toward the edge of the stage. “While our actions were not mature or a representation of the Pageant Morality Committee, I beg of you all to take into consideration that this lone incident dealt with Lexi, and it will never happen again.”
The thought to start a slow clap crossed Dominic’s mind. If she didn’t have the voice of an angel to woo judges, she needed to get into acting or at least do a monologue for the next portion of her pageant. His phone buzzed again but Dominic focused on his beauty queen onstage.
“We understand the emotional stress between the two of you,” Mrs. Ramsey began, “but we cannot allow these shenanigans to continue, especially by contestants participating in the Miss Georgia Pageant. We arrived today in Southwood with a simple solution. We cannot have you or the other contestants in the region in the next-level pageant.”
The crowd, Dominic included, booed.
Mrs. Ramsey turned to everyone and shushed them with a finger pressed to her lips, then turned back to the ladies onstage. “With all of the local entries for Miss Georgia, we have decided there are too many girls to put forward. Therefore we recommend a runoff before the Miss Georgia application. Whoever wins this region will get the full support of the Morality Committee.” Before the booing began again, Mrs. Ramsey hammered her gavel on her table. She and her committee left the conference room swiftly.
While Vera rushed off the stage in tears, Waverly stood in her spot, frozen. Dominic’s insides ached at the sight of her. She looked lost. The crown meant that much to her. Waverly’s group from the hospital bombarded the stage and patted her back. He waited patiently for his opportunity to approach her. Once again his cell phone buzzed. This time Dominic answered.
“This better be good,” he growled.
“Dominic Crowne?”
“This is him.” Dominic pulled the phone away from his ear and double-checked the number. “Who is this?”
“Mr. Crowne, this is Dr. Brock Rayland, a neurologist at Phoenix General. I’m here with your father.”
Confused, Dominic shook his head at the phone. “Why are you calling me?”
