What happens when Dynasty meets
Honey BooBoo, they have a baby, and that baby is raised by Charlie’s Angels?
You get TIARA TROUBLE, a bedazzled cozy mystery full of gritty glitz.
One foreign policy question five years ago sent Destinee Faith Miller’s dreams of being Miss American Universe up in flames and landed her back in her hometown of Phenix City, Alabama, with her tail between her legs. But like the mythological bird that her hometown is misspelled after, she rose from the ashes to create Destinee’s Dolls, a thriving pageant consulting business knee-deep in pink, prints and tulle.
A death at the local level of a national event lands her the job of pageant emcee, and Destinee dares to dream of bigger things—maybe even a reality TV show! But when judges start dropping like flies, she has her hands full keeping herself alive long enough to see those dreams come true. Contending with catfights, car bombs, and the camouflage-colored funeral of a redneck’s dream, Destinee gets a little help from her friends, family, and a pit bull named Clarabelle.
One foreign policy question five years ago sent Destinee Faith Miller’s dreams of being Miss American Universe up in flames and landed her back in her hometown of Phenix City, Alabama, with her tail between her legs. But like the mythological bird that her hometown is misspelled after, she rose from the ashes to create Destinee’s Dolls, a thriving pageant consulting business knee-deep in pink, prints and tulle.
A death at the local level of a national event lands her the job of pageant emcee, and Destinee dares to dream of bigger things—maybe even a reality TV show! But when judges start dropping like flies, she has her hands full keeping herself alive long enough to see those dreams come true. Contending with catfights, car bombs, and the camouflage-colored funeral of a redneck’s dream, Destinee gets a little help from her friends, family, and a pit bull named Clarabelle.
Interview by Marlene Engel
Lane Buckman is here today to discuss pageants with
us. Thank you, Lane, for taking the time to stop by and chat with us!
I
see that you’ve done pageants in the past. How old were you when you did
them?
I
did my first pageant when I was five. My school entered me to represent
their First Grade girls in the Little Miss Phenix City pageant. I did my
last pageant when I was fourteen. (see attached photo of my first
pageant)
Are
you more tiaras or tennis shoes?
I
am tiaras in tennis shoes. I was always a very girly tomboy, climbing
trees in my tutus. I spent a lot of time in trees, a lot of time running
around barefooted, and an equal amount of time playing Barbies and sneaking my
mother's lipstick.
In
many of the children’s pageants there are a lot of makeup, spray tans, big hair
and fake teeth that are being used. Would you prefer to see a more
natural look or do you enjoy the pomp and circumstance that is today’s
children’s pageants?
There
were no glitz pageants back in my day--excuse me while I take my old lady pill
and drive some kids off my lawn--and the pageants I was involved in were weighted
heavily on interview and comportment. I also never did any swimwear.
I feel like my pageants were very gentle and safe. I worry about
little girls being told that they aren't good enough to compete without fake
teeth, fake hair, fake skin tone, fake nails and slathered on fake faces.
It's hard enough to be a girl without having your parents reinforce that
you're only at your best when you're wearing three pounds of slap, a wig, and
false teeth! I'm all for the fancy dresses though. Sign me up for
fancy dresses any day. (see picture attached. That's me at age 3, in my
Easter get up.)
What can your readers expect next from you?
I am finishing Destinee's second book, and plotting
the third. I've always got some kind of iron in the fire! I have a
romance novel out for submission, and am waiting by the phone on that one.
I'm also working on a psychological thriller I hope to have submission
ready by this time next year, and I have a caper comedy in mind that's a cross
between Thelma & Louise, and the Dixie Chicks' song, Goodbye, Earl.
I want to thank Lane for stopping by! It was a pleasure and you are always welcome to pop in!
Excerpt
The competition for the
Miss Alabama American Universe title that would lead to a shot at the Miss
American Universe event had been fierce. It came down to a real battle between
Tonielle West, the sleek, elegant brunette representing Auburn, and Deenie
Paul, the busty, bubbly blonde from Huntsville. When the final moment came
down, the two of them standing there holding hands, grinning at each other, and
whispering words of encouragement as they waited for the emcee to read the name
of the winner, we were all holding our breath.
Personally, I was torn. I
thought Tonielle’s beauty and interview had been the best, but Deenie had
knocked it out of the park in swimsuit and talent. For me, it came down to the
fact that our family Rolls Tide, so I just could not in good conscience root for
anyone from Auburn—whether she went to school there, or not. For the record,
she did.
Drums rolled for what
seemed like minutes, and the tension built until the emcee opened the envelope
and said, “Your new Miss Alabama American Universe is,” he paused again,
causing Tonielle and Deenie to crunch up their shoulders and clutch hands even
tighter, “Miss Auburn American Universe, Tonielle West!”
I had one eye on Deenie as
I handed Tonielle her bouquet, and I couldn’t help thinking that the way she
was looking between her trophy and the back of Tonielle’s head boded no good.
It looked an awful lot like she might be thinking it was heavy enough to do
some serious damage to her rival’s skull. But violence was avoided for the
moment and Tonielle took her winner’s walk down the runway. Finally, after all
the photos were snapped, short interviews were given, and autographs were
signed, we were on our way back to the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Birmingham, the
official hotel of the Miss Alabama American Universe pageant.
It was a short ride, and we
arrived just after the bus dropping off all the pageant contestants was pulling
away, so we entered the lobby to a rowdy group of young women in sequins,
sashes, and sky-high heels, toasting one another with champagne—a few of them
drinking straight from big, green bottles. Everyone was happy and cheerful, as
most girls are after the stress of an event like that is over with, and the
after party was in full swing only moments after we’d all gotten inside.
Girls crowded around
Tonielle. Every one of the fifty losing contestants came over to offer their
congratulations and make over her crown, her sash, her trophy, and her bouquet,
fairly smothering her with tipsy affections until the pageant handlers eased a
throughway so she could pass all the way inside the lobby.
I saw Deenie Paul in the
crowd and thought she looked especially happy, her lips turned up in grinchy
glee, as she buttered a roll she’d grabbed up from a catering tray nearby. I
thought she might just be excited to eat a carbohydrate, as those are verboten
during pageant events—no one wants to be puffy for her close-up—but then I saw
that she was watching our new reigning Miss like a hawk.
An official pageant
photographer asked Tonielle to climb up the wide, white granite steps that led
up to the second floor conference area. He wanted to get a few shots of her
alone, before having the other girls crowd in to fill the stairwell for a group
shot. Tonielle made it up the steep staircase, holding on to the chrome-plated
rail. She had a funny look on her face when she got to the top, and I realized
she was having trouble walking. I was trying to figure out if the trouble was
her shoes, or how tight her evening gown fit her, when she did a little shuffle
with her feet. Her arms flew out to either side and she started flailing.
It wasn’t a second before
she was falling backwards, crumbling and tumbling. She didn’t even have time to
scream before her head hit the edge of that first stone step with a horrible
crunch, and then
about
every other one on her way down, leaving splashes and slashes of crimson on the
light granite stairs and the glass partitioning along the rails.
When she finally landed at
the foot of the stairs, her limbs were akimbo, and her head was tilted at an
angle far too square to her shoulders. Her mouth was twisted and eyes were wide
and staring up as though mortified by the splatters of blood that painted the
gowns and faces of the beauty queens crowded around her. For a moment it was
absolutely silent. It was so quiet you could hear the false eyelashes batting,
as the gathered girls blinked, squinted and tried to make sense of what they’d
just seen. Then, one girl started to scream and that set off the rest of them
like car alarms in a parking lot.
Deenie Paul put down her
roll, daintily wiped the corners of her mouth with a cocktail napkin, and
strode over; bending to pick up the crown that had bounced off Tonielle’s head,
somewhere halfway down the stairs. She considered it, turning it over in her
hands twice before using her thumb to wipe away a smear of blood. Then, she put
it right on top of her hairdo, whipping out a bobby pin from her chignon to
hold it in place. That done, she walked back over to where she’d been standing.
She noticed me gaping at her, looked me in the eye and grinned. Then, she
picked up her roll again and licked it right down the center, her tongue coming
away yellow before disappearing back into her smile.
