“In Sinful, that’s a sucker bet,” Ida Belle said.
“Tonight,” Ronald said, in his most pompous voice, “I will perform ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ from Les Misérables.”
“Here we go,” Walter said.
The music started and Ronald wrestled with the microphone a couple seconds before getting it off the stand. He was unfortunately successful in turning it on and he began to sing. I wasn’t big on opera, but I remembered the song from a rerun of one of those British talent shows Gertie made me watch. Ronald was not that woman. That woman made opera sound good. Ronald sounded like dying cats.
A lot of people put their hands over their ears and I struggled to keep from following suit. If I’d known I would be subjected to bad opera, I would have brought cotton balls. Carter had taught me that trick at the Christmas Gala. Then Ida Belle jabbed me in the side and handed me some pieces of something.
“Sound-deadening material,” she said.
“Thank God,” I said and pushed the pieces in my ears.
I could still hear the awful singing but at least it was as if the volume were on low. Ronald wailed on for entirely too long, then finally finished with a high note that was so off-key even deaf people would have known. Then he did a curtsy to the crowd before strolling off. The crowd clapped enthusiastically, but I’m pretty sure it was because he was finished, not because they loved it. He tried three different times to sit down next to Scooter and finally they moved the chairs farther apart to make room for his dress.
“Two down,” Walter said as he pulled the material out of his ears.
The curtains parted again and this time Celia came out. A groan rippled through the spectators, except for Celia’s crowd, of course, who all jumped up and started cheering enthusiastically for their leader. I wondered briefly if they really liked her or simply did things her way to avoid listening to her complain. I glanced over at Ida Belle, who looked as uncertain of what was about to happen as I was. Finally, I decided Celia was trying to give Ronald a run for his money, at least in the wardrobe department. The difference, of course, was that while Ronald’s gown was elegant and masterfully sewn, Celia’s gown resembled one of those cheap Halloween costumes. The gown was putrid green and looked like one you’d see the owner’s daughter on a Southern plantation wearing, complete with the huge hat. She looked ridiculous.
“If she’s singing, I’m leaving,” I whispered to Ida Belle. “People will just have to deal with Gertie fallout on their own.”
Ida Belle nodded, her expression pained.
“I will be doing a dramatic reading from Gone with the Wind,” Celia said.
More groans. Ida Belle, Walter, and I promptly popped the bits of material back in our ears. At least it wasn’t singing. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to hear. Unfortunately, Celia’s voice carried, and I figured it was rude to hum, even though some people probably would have appreciated it. Just when I caught my right hand involuntarily reaching for my nine-millimeter, we were saved from listening to Celia’s horrible monologue of the entire movie.
Marie stepped out from behind the curtain and said, “Thank you for that lovely rendition of a beloved movie, Celia. That fulfills your time slot, so it’s time for the next act.”
Based on the way Celia glared at Marie, I had to assume that no time limits had been part of the rules when she’d signed up. But since the audience had started enthusiastically clapping when Marie announced Celia was done, the always disgruntled woman had no choice but to huff off to the side of the stage and flop into a chair. Ronald gave her an up-and-down look and sniffed, clearly not impressed with her gown. It was all I could do not to laugh.
“We owe Marie drinks or a pie or something,” I said to Ida Belle. “Maybe a new bass boat.”
Marie picked up the microphone from the platform where Celia had dropped it.
“Let’s get on with the show,” Marie said. “Next up is one of Sinful’s favorite and more colorful residents—Gertie Hebert.”
Cheers started before the curtain ever parted and then Gertie emerged. The entire crowd went quiet. She was decked out in the most elaborate costume I’d ever seen. It was a dragon, complete with actual scales that glittered and eyes that looked like jewels. No wonder she’d needed a big box. Before she could take the microphone from Marie, Ronald jumped up from his chair and started clapping.
“Bravo!” he yelled. “Absolutely stunning.”
“Sit down, you loon,” Celia said.
“Don’t speak to me,” Ronald said, looking down his nose at her. “You’re wearing machine-produced lace.”
Gertie took the microphone from Marie and called out a hello to the crowd. “Tonight, I will treat you to a show of fire-breathing.”
It was all I could do not to jump up from my chair and yell ‘No!’
Ida Belle clutched my arm, her expression frozen in fear. Walter had paled to the point that I was afraid he was going to pass out. I spotted Carter, who’d been standing in the back, dash for the stage, but he was only halfway there when “Great Balls of Fire” started blaring from the speakers. The entire costume tilted back, which I assumed was due to Gertie consuming something flammable, and then one claw came up with an igniter.
I jumped up from my chair, ready to rush the stage, when the igniter flicked on and a huge flame shot out of the dragon’s mouth. The crowd went wild. Everyone jumped up from their seats, cheering, and I held my position and looked over at Carter, who had stopped just in front of the stage. Ida Belle was standing beside me, still clutching my arm. None of us had any idea what to do. Yelling at her to stop wouldn’t work and tackling her didn’t seem to be a good idea as she had a mouthful of something that would probably eat up her insides if she swallowed it.
Celia jumped out of her seat, giving Carter a dirty look, then strode forward.
“Stop that right now!” she yelled at Gertie. “It’s not safe!”
Unfortunately, Celia’s yelling distracted Gertie right when she was getting ready to let out another breath, and she turned her giant dragon head toward the source of the disruption. Fire erupted from her mouth and caught the edge of Celia’s hat. Celia shrieked and yanked the hat off her head but instead of tossing it away from her, she dropped it right at her feet and the flames shot up her gown.
Half of the crowd—the entirety of which was already on their feet—ran for the exits. The other half pulled out cell phones and started recording. Ida Belle and I bolted for the stage and I saw Carter dash out the side of the tent, yelling for the fire department. People hollered for Celia to drop and roll but instead, she danced around in a circle, jumping as though she was doing a native fire dance. Except the fire was on her and not the ground.
Ronald, apparently deciding he was going to save the day, ran over to her and grabbed the back of her dress. In a surprising show of strength, he ripped the flaming lace travesty clean off of her, leaving Celia standing in her undergarments. It was really a shame she hadn’t chosen to wear a corset with her dress, because her plain white bra and big white panties that read O’Hara on the back were enough to send the second wave of spectators running out of the tent.
Ronald shrieked, yelling something about his eyesight, then tossed the gown onto the stage away from them before fleeing for the sidelines. Gertie, who had been struggling with the enormous dragon head, finally managed to pull it off, and then coughed whatever she had in her mouth onto Celia’s dress, which sent flames up a good ten feet from the floor. By that time the firemen had shown up with extinguishers. They directed streams of foam at the stage and Ronald let out a cry and jumped behind the curtain, yelling about his dress.