by Roz Bailey
The husband folded his arms, obviously bored.
“No problem.” I pressed my hands together prayer-style and waved them under her nose. “It’s a very subtle scent.”
Bossy lady sniffed cautiously. “Nice. And look at your hands. Daryl, look at her hands, they’re like butter.”
Again with the hands. I let myself grin. They were one of my better assets.
“That’s not from the cream, Muriel,” Daryl piped in.
“Who cares?” his wife snapped. “Darling, you have lovely hands. Doesn’t she, Daryl?”
“Beautiful,” he said in a tone that begged “can we go?”
I smiled at them, wondering why Daryl looked so familiar. I could see him in my mind, in another time and place. “Wait a minute, aren’t you the agent? Daryl Mousekowitz?”
“Malkowitz.” He nodded.
“The theatrical agent,” I said, recalling that Hailey knew him from the business.
As he nodded again and Mrs. Malkowitz tried on some lotion, a light bulb popped in my head. Maybe even exploded. This was a big-ass idea. “Your timing is perfect, because I need to engage an agent.”
“You and every waitress in town.” Daryl shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Muriel? She needs an agent. Give the girl a card.”
“You see, I’m going into the business of hand modeling.” I brought a hand demurely to my cheek and batted my eyelashes.
Daryl grunted, but Muriel turned toward me, her eyes growing wide. “Yes, I see it.”
“So call my office next week,” Daryl said lethargically.
His wife slapped his arm. “Don’t be an idiot! This girl has fabulous hands.” She popped open her purse and handed me a business card. “Forget the screening, doll. Call tomorrow and give your information to Sherri. We’ll have a contract out to you next week, and I’ll look tomorrow to see what auditions we can line up.” She squinted at my hands one more time, then smiled. “Exquisite. I’m sure we can set you up with something.”
Can I tell you, I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and do a happy dance right in the center aisle of cosmetics!
But first thing’s first. I had to hit the restroom and wash the tiger stink of Esperanza off my precious fingers.
Then, of course, back to Bare Shoulders for another round of Exotic Cucumber.
Take it from me, exquisite hands are no accident.
21
Hailey
I felt my way along the ledge, my pedicured feet gracefully padding along the fake stone, my fingers trembling over the fake-stucco surface.
“Where is she?” a voice called from beyond the French doors. It was a voice I despised. “Why, she was just here a moment ago ...”
I dared a glance at the street below, then threw my head back as vertigo struck. My body teetered on the ledge, my soul immersed in an exquisite dichotomy of emotion: fall to my death and end the pain, or cling to the ledge and continue this arduous journey in a strange land, never knowing where I came from or where I truly belonged.
I felt tears sting my eyes as the camera moved closer, panning in for my close-up.
“And ... cut!” Stella called. “Great! Wonderful! Let’s move to the next scene.”
Sean waddled over the mat in front of me—the street set that was supposed to be ten stories below— and peered into the penthouse set through the open French doors. This was for the benefit of Deanna, as the diva refused to do much of anything unless she received a personal invitation. “We’re on the same set,” Sean told her. “Direct pickup in the Van Allen penthouse, interior and exterior balcony. Ready, Ms. Childs?”
“Give me a minute, please,” Deanna said calmly.
Oh, great. A diva minute was ten in real time.
Rory sneaked onto the street set below my feet, his face level with my belly button. “You were great! You really nailed it, kiddo! This is going to be a hot day. Does it air on a Friday? It’s real tune-in-tomorrow material.”
“Thanks,” I said, my eyes still brimming with tears from the emotion of my scene. “Can you grab me a tissue from the prop cart?” I asked, determined to stay on my mark. This scene was going well—I could feel it in my heart—and I didn’t want to jinx it or wreck a shot by moving out of place.
He handed me a tissue and I dabbed carefully. “Did I smudge?”
“Nope. You’re good to go.” He peered over toward the open French doors. “I’ll bet she’s steaming that you got the dramatic beats in the scene.”
I smiled. “How’d that happen?”
“An accident, I’m sure. Heads will roll in the writers’ room. But in the meantime, you’re really cutting your teeth on it, kiddo. Keep it coming.”
“I don’t want to lose the lovely momentum we have going, so can we move on quickly?” Stella asked.
“Only if you say please,” Deanna called out sweetly. I was glad that, from my position on the ledge of the building, I couldn’t see her face.
Rory rolled his eyes and hurried to the edge of the set.
“Please, pretty please!” Stella clasped her hands together in a gesture of prayer. “S’il vous plait! Por favor! Bitte!” She turned to the AD. “Okay, Seannie, let’s roll tape.”
Sean moved directly in front of camera one and shouted, “In five, four, three, two ...”
And once again I was Ariel, the ethereal goddess of the water who defied definition, the girl with no past who happened upon Indigo Falls quite by accident and who, finally, found herself a decent dress.
“Ariel?” Meredith called.
“Should I check downstairs?” With his British accent, Horwitz made even the most mundane lines sound distinguished. “Perhaps she’s retired for the evening.”
“I’m afraid that would be too easy,” Meredith said. “A con artist like Ariel doesn’t just leave on her own. She has to be driven out of town.”
I gasped, swallowing hard over the emotion rising in my throat, the camera panning toward me.
“What was that?” Meredith asked.
I flattened myself against the wall, but it was no use. Meredith’s curly head popped out. “Oh, my goodness, Ariel! What are you doing out there?” Her mouth was a wide O as she leaned out—way out.
“Don’t come out here!” I said. The line wasn’t in the script, but Deanna was about to climb onto the ledge to get in my shot! “Stop right there. If you move any closer, I’ll jump, I swear it.”
The set was deathly quiet. She recoiled and retreated, thank God. But who had the next line?
“Ariel? Ariel, darling, it’s Dr. Willoughby.” Good old Ian to the rescue. “Why don’t you come in now, young lady, and we’ll sit down and work this out.”
“I can’t!” I choked out. “Not while she’s in the room. Meredith Van Allen can’t be trusted.”
“Me!” Meredith exclaimed. “I would never, ever harm another soul. Why, I don’t even swat flies. I simply open the window and shoo them out. How could you say such a thing about me?”
“Because I know the truth,” I said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “I know what you did ... to Skip.” The air was thick with tension. Even the normally chatty makeup gals and hair people were watching breathlessly. “I know what you did!” I shouted.
Meredith shook her head, wordlessly suggesting denial of all charges and surprise at my revelation. Nice touch.
“Skip?” Doc Willoughby played confusion.
“How do you know Skip?” Meredith asked. “He was long disappeared before you came to Indigo Hills.”
“He was like a brother to me,” I said. “And you destroyed him. He only wanted to make you happy, Meredith. He would have given you anything, anything, but you wanted it all. You wanted him dead!”
“No!” she shouted, reaching out toward me. “It wasn’t that way.”
“You killed him, Meredith. His death is on your conscience.” I turned toward the street and sucked in a breath for courage. “After this, you’ll be able to add another tally to your scorecard, Meredith.”
“Ariel, listen to me,” the doc said emphatically. “You must not jump!”
“Stop!” Meredith shrieked, sobbing that fake soap-opera sob. “Stop her!”
Ignoring them, I lifted my face to the pretend sky, fixing my eyes on a catwalk along the shadowy ceiling. “It’s OK, Skippy,” I whispered fervently. “You won’t be alone too much longer.”
And with that, I flung my arms wide and jumped to oblivion....
I rose from the mat to applause—roaring applause on the set! Stella was whooping and whistling, Rory clapped to the side of his head like a flamenco dancer, Sean tucked his clipboard under one arm so he could applaud. The people from hair and makeup and wardrobe were cheering. Even the cameramen had lifted their heads to join in. Deanna’s assistants were applauding madly, including the Diet Coke holder, who had placed the drink on the floor to free her hands.
I straightened my shoulders and let myself smile just a little. We’d nailed that scene! Everything had felt in sync, but sometimes it feels just right and some little clunker line or audio glitch pops up on the tape and you have to do it over again.
Not today.
“Bravo and kudos!” Stella boomed, rushing into the scene with her arms spread wide. She folded me into her bulky sweater for a warm hug, then moved on to Deanna and Ian for more fuzzy hugs. “Was that not the most riveting, most dramatic scene in the history of daytime television?” the director exclaimed.
Sean turned toward me and bowed dramatically. “Awesome.”
I turned to Rory, who was dabbing at his eyes, trying to compose himself. When I gave him a questioning look, he flung his hands in the air, a gesture of disbelief. “Didn’t know you had it in you, kiddo.”
“I smell Emmy in the air!” Stella exclaimed. “Two Emmys.”
Deanna walked to the edge of the set and took a sip from the Diet Coke, which her assistant quickly fumbled off the floor. “Two Emmys.” Deanna’s eyes glazed as she lobbed that notion in the air, like a cat playing, batting at a mouse. “I do like the sound of that. But really, how could I win two awards?”
Rory and I shot the panic look at each other. Had Deanna already forgotten that I was in the scene with her?
“Oh, you’re too funny.” Stella passed the gaff off as a joke. “I was just thinking that this year you might want to share one of those Emmys with Hailey. Let her win for supporting actress.”
“Oh, that ...” Deanna assessed me, as if she really had a choice. “Oh, OK!” she teased, reaching out to give my arm a pat. She missed me by at least a foot, but who’s measuring?
“Thanks loads, Hailey.” Stella summoned me back for one more hug. “You’re done for the day. But we’ll see you next week. When’s your call?”
“Tuesday,” Sean jumped in. “Bright and early. We’ve got to get you in swimsuit and waterproof makeup for your landing in the rooftop pool.” Sean rolled his eyes. “Writers.”
“Hey, it’s a lot softer than the street.” I was glad to have the weekend off with the promise of a scene to tape after the holiday. Ariel went off the ledge, but she would be discovered a few days later in some billionaire’s penthouse pool. I guess that mermaid thing just kicked in when Ariel needed it most.
I thanked everyone and said my goodbyes, then headed off to the dressing room I shared with Susan Laslo, another part-time player. From the corner of my eye, I sensed an incipient movement on the set. Deanna was on the prowl, moving in on Jodi, the head of wardrobe.
Stopping at the craft services table, I dipped a baby carrot in humus and tried to listen in. Mmm ... the humus had extra garlic. The gossip was spicy, too.
“Who picked out Ariel’s wardrobe today?” Deanna asked. I couldn’t hear Jodi’s answer, but apparently it didn’t suit Deanna. “Would you talk to Gabrielle about it? Because, frankly, off-the-shoulder dresses have really been my trademark on this show. And I wouldn’t want anyone to say that wardrobe is falling down on the job, but I do have my own signature style. It’s who I am.”
It’s who I am ... Wasn’t that a perfume slogan from three years ago? Jeez, Deanna really fell apart without the scriptwriters to put words in her mouth.
I grabbed another carrot and headed off to change my clothes. I was still so buzzed from hitting my mark on the scene that I really didn’t care that Deanna was being a bitcho supremo. Let her whine and complain and give orders and send her assistant off for more Diet Coke. She was going to be stuck here till Friday, while I was free for the rest of the week.
I wondered if those gowns I’d liked at Lord & Taylor would be going on sale for Memorial Day. I remembered one that fit like a glove, a ballroom gown in diva red satin. It would be perfect for the Daytime Emmy Awards ceremony.
Oh, yeah. Did I mention that it was off-the-shoulder?
22
Alana
“I’m always fighting oil in the T-zone,” I told Karo as she massaged an astringent wash into my face. “It’s a never-ending battle, but they say at least my skin will remain young looking.”
“I hear you.” Karo’s hands worked expertly, dabbing with a cotton ball, then rubbing gently with her fingertips. “Baby, I have customers who would kill for skin like yours. You just keep doing what you’ve been doing, but be sure to moisturize.”
“Twice a day,” I said. With the agent’s card in my pocket and my hand-modeling career off to a strong start, I decided to give my poor feet a break and take a seat at the Bare Shoulders counter. Karo had obliged me with a quick facial that would show off the Bare Shoulders line of skin care.
“How’s that feel?” she asked.
“Nice, but I think I like the Exotic Cucumber mask best. It feels so clean, and it really soothed my sore sinuses.”
“Umm ... excuse me, ladies?”
I knew that angry voice. I opened my eyes to find Marcella on fire.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she reached around me and started capping the Bare Shoulders bottles on the counter. “This is not the way you were trained, either of you, and—”
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, realizing how bad this must look. “But I already signed out. I meant to finish out my shift, but my feet were so tired, and I really am interested in the Bare Shoulders line, and Karo offered to demonstrate. And the main thing is that I don’t work here anymore.” I decided to spare her the really bad stuff—that the perfume was irritating my sinuses and that serious shoppers didn’t want to bother with a spritz and that I no longer wanted to be employed by a celebrity who had been photographed licking tigers. Really, no reason to be such a downer, and it was so nice of Marcella to get me the job in the first place. “I’m quitting,” I finished in a bright voice.
“Well.” Marcella folded her arms. “You don’t have to take it that far.”
“No, I want to quit. I have to. I’m going to need every spare minute to pursue my new career.” I held my hands off to the side, posing them delicately like a ballet dancer. “I’m going to be a hand model.”
“Oh. I’ll call Greg and let him know.” As if changing gears, Marcella looked at my face, my hands, my face, then back at my hands. “Oooh. I’ve always said you have perfect hands. But honey, how are you going to go about this endeavor? Do you know anybody in advertising? You’re going to need an agent—”
“Got one!” I waved Daryl Malkowitz’s card.
“Daily manicures—”
“Already a sacred ritual,” I admitted.
“An insurance policy on your hands. After all, those mitts will be your bread and buttah.”
“I didn’t think of that. Do you know anyone at Lloyd’s of London?” Both Marcella and Karo shook their heads. “I’ll bet Daddy’s insurance guy could help me out.” I touched Marcella’s shoulder. “You’re a genius. You really are. Bon Nuit doesn’t know how lucky they are.” I leaned into the mirror to rub in a smudge of cream Karo had missed. “And now that I’m self-employed, I’m free to head out to the Hamptons house ahead of the holiday traffic. I’ve been wanting
to go out a few days early and make sure the new furnishings are in place for my parents. Memorial Day weekend is always their first time out for the season.”
“I thought your father cut off your shopping sprees?” Marcella said.
“But I purchased a ton of stuff before he lost his mind. And I figure, if I set things out with just the right touch, he’ll begin to understand. He’ll change his mind like that.” I snapped my dainty fingers. “By Memorial Day, Daddy will be begging me to decorate the rest of the house.”
I leaned closer to Karo to confide, “My father is so clueless when it comes to design.”
“Well, what do you want, honey? He’s a man.”
“Please! Don’t get me started on our issues.” I didn’t usually make small talk about family matters, but Karo was so sympathetic and the relaxing facial had broken down some of my inhibitions. “If Daddy would just accept that he’s from Mars and I’m from Venus, it would be a start. I don’t know how my mother does it.”
“Some men will never get it,” Marcella said, rubbing a little cucumber cream into the back of her hand. “They come to things from a totally different place than we do. That’s why we have to reach out for them and pull them in. It’s like they’re drowning in the water, thrashing around, and they need a hand to pull them to shore. They need us. But we can’t stand on the riverbank and preach at them that they should learn to swim. They’re fucking drowning! It’s not about wanting to learn to swim; it’s about knowing how to do it. And they don’t. So it’s up to us. We can save them, girls.”
I put my hands on my hips, amazed. “Oh my Lord, that is the most enlightening explanation I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes, honey.” Karo was nodding. “Mmm-hmm. You tell it right, girl.” She went off to deal with a customer who beckoned at a nearby counter.