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Throughout the audience, a low hum began, softly, then swelling like a wave: “Ban-ish, ban-ish, ban-ish!”
Alfred tried again. “I told you, you can’t—”
Queenie threw back her head and roared, “Banished!” Then she pointed that finger at him emphatically, triumphantly, like a witch bestowing a curse with a magic wand.
There was the clamor of medieval trumpets, and the ceiling-to-floor screen behind them blasted forth the words:
Banished!
From!
The!
Queendom!
Immediately, two security officers arrived at Alfred’s flanks. They were both pushing six-three or -four, blond and square-jawed, and their $10,000 custom suits and sunglasses made them look like cooler, sexier Men in Black. The women in the audience let out an ecstatic Ooooohhh! And the catcalling began.
Alfred swallowed hard but got to his feet. He knew damn well what would happen if he resisted. It was time to cut his losses. He said curtly to his wife, “Okay, Vicky, let’s go.”
Victoria looked both incredulous and unnerved. She glanced at Queenie, back at her husband, and then to Queenie again. It was clear what she was thinking: voluntarily walk off the stage of The Queenie Show? Who would be that crazy?
Queenie lifted a single, querying brow. It was a look that nailed Victoria down as if she was a butterfly being pinned to a corkboard.
“I’ll, uh, see you in the green room later, Al.”
There was pandemonium as the defeated man slouched off.
Mollified, Queenie leaned back in her seat after giving Victoria a reassuring smile. “Now then, I have an announcement to make.” She paused to make sure all attention was upon her, and then continued. “You might remember that this summer I will be celebrating the tenth anniversary of The Queenie Show….”
When the cheers died down, she went on. “Every year, we celebrate this great success. How do we celebrate? With a huge par—?”
“—tay!”
“Par—?”
“—tay!”
“Oh, yes. But this summer, my friends, there will be no party.” She shook her head sorrowfully.
“Awww!”
“But weep not.” She made a placating gesture. “You know why? Because….” She looked around and squinted. “Mickey, can we lower the lights? And play me something soft. I’m trying to set the mood here.”
Her stage manager responded immediately, and the studio lights took on a soft, intimate glow, backed up by a slow, dreamy sax solo.
“My friends, I’ve been thinking. In a couple of months, my show will have been on the air for ten years. And in all that time, even leading up to my very first episode, everything has gone my way. I’ve been extremely fortunate; whenever I needed a break, I got it. I know that’s the work of the Lord in my life, because I have been blessed and…?”
“Highly favored!” the audience chanted happily.
“Amen!” Queenie was in full-on preacher mode now. “And that got me to thinking. I thought, Queenie, you know, there are a lot of women out there who had dreams just like you did… only things didn’t work out for them. There are women out there, loyal subjects of mine, who longed to make something of their lives, but whatever break they needed just slipped from their grasp.”
She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, looking directly into Camera 1. “So, in honor of my tremendous milestone, I have decided to make this happen for them. I’m announcing my Missed Opportunities Mission, in which I will give four women a shot at transforming their lives. To grab hold of chances they didn’t have before, and finally live the life they’ve dreamed of.”
The screen behind her flickered and her best friend and sometimes sidekick, Angelica de la Rosa, was grinning at the audience, all full of bubbles and zest. “Ladies! Are you between the ages of 25 and 35? Did you have a great dream for your life, but somehow never managed to make it a reality? Maybe you got your heart broken so you dropped out of college. Maybe you had the measles that one time a talent scout came to your community theatre play. Or maybe life just did you one too many bad turns.”
Angelica clapped her hands and did a little jig of sheer joy. “But Queenie has news for you! All you have to do is submit a three-minute video telling her about your life so far, the opportunity you missed, and what you would do if you got the chance to live your dream. You could win eight weeks in the south of France this summer, with everything you need to reach out and seize a better reality for yourself and those you love. Visit our website for further details,” she pointed at the writing scrolling across the bottom of the screen, “and send your application in today!”
She gestured enthusiastically at the audience. “Who knows? Your destiny might be waiting!”
The screen flickered and reverted to Queenie’s logo as the audience jubilated. Women were already whispering to each other about what they were going to send in, and whether there was a chance they could win.
Ensconced in her huge white and gold chair, Queenie looked beatific, supremely pleased. She faced the camera again. “That’s all we have time for tonight, folks. I look forward to seeing your videos. You and I, we can do this together!”
She waved and gave her traditional signoff. “And until tomorrow, stay royal, my princesses!”
And then the lights went down.
