by Lisa Rinna
After she blew her line for the fifth time, Carl Norman, the episode’s director, called, “Cut!” and gave her an exasperated look. He walked over to her and whispered, “Jeez, Tally, get with the program. It’s one simple line, for God’s sake.”
“I know! I’m so sorry.”
For a split second, she wondered if she should tell him about Justin’s prank. But she knew Justin would only deny it, and worse, the crew would dislike her for being a tattletale. So she kept her mouth shut.
All I want to do is show up on time and do my job, she thought. That shouldn’t be so hard, should it?
One thing that did make the job a bit easier for Tally to put up with was the thrill of seeing some of her favorite actors who also worked on the Royalton lot. Including Gabriel McNamara.
Even seeing him on the billboard plugging his show, Intensive Care, on the wall near the studio gates made her blush at the thought of their kiss at the Vanity Fair Oscar party.
And during the few times, like now, when she saw him in the Royalton cantina, she shyly turned her head in order to avoid eye contact. She would never presume that he remembered her from that night. Even so, a little voice inside her wondered why not say something to him? What would be the harm in that?
But she was simply too timid, and she had to admit that she would prefer it if he did remember her. What a thrill it would be to have him walk over and say, “Wow, so I was right! You made it, Tally.”
Should that happen, she imagined she’d smile adorably and say something witty and flirtatious.
“Hey, look, I hope you don’t mind—”
Shaken from her daydream, Tally looked up from her script to see Gabriel standing there right next to her.
She was so startled that she forgot she was holding a cup of iced coffee. Otherwise, she would not have jumped straight up in order to shake his hand, and maybe she wouldn’t have spilled it all over the hospital scrubs that were his usual attire for the show.
Gabriel cursed and jumped back as a big, dark wet spot formed on his scrubs.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. It’s just that—well, you startled me.”
“The costume department isn’t going to be happy about this,” Gabriel replied, but his lopsided grin showed he wasn’t too worried about it. “I just came over to ask you if—”
“Yes, yes! Of course I remember you!” She could feel herself turn pink for jumping the gun like that, but she couldn’t help herself.
“OK. Well.” He seemed taken aback. “Does that mean you’d like an autograph?” He patted the pocket of his scrubs top. “I don’t seem to have a pen on me—”
Omigod, she thought. He thinks I’m some rabid fan!
“No! I mean … we’ve met before.” She waited for some reaction from him, but his eyes were still void of any recognition. She frowned. “Isn’t that why you came over here?”
“Not exactly. We were hoping to borrow this.” He pointed to the empty chair beside her.
For the first time, she noticed that he wasn’t alone. Allison O’Connor, the tall, beautiful, auburn-haired actress who played his love interest on Intensive Care, was trying hard to conceal her smirk.
Tally shook her head regretfully. “Oh! Of course. Take it. In fact, I—I have to get back, so if you need this table, to—” She fumbled for her purse but only succeeded in knocking it off the table and onto the floor, sending the contents flying under their feet. “Oh, no!” She scrambled to grab her makeup and keys, but she refused to chase the loose change that had rolled under the other tables around them.
As soon as she’d gathered all of her things together, she made a beeline for the exit. Gabriel called after her, but she headed out the door anyway. She presumed a pen had rolled out of her pocketbook and he wanted to return it—with his autograph.
It wasn’t until she got back to the set that she realized she’d left her script in the cantina. Not wanting to go back to the scene of her humiliation, she was just about to see if she could cajole one of the production assistants into retrieving it when she heard a knock on her trailer door. Assuming it was someone calling her to the set, she opened it. But it wasn’t a PA.
It was Gabriel.
She stepped back as he came through the door. “You found me! How did you …”
He laughed. “Your name is on your script.” He handed it to her. “You’re the girl from the Vanity Fair party, am I right?”
She nodded. “So, you do remember.”
“Well, to be honest with you, I remembered your name.” He pointed to where it was typed neatly on the cover of her script. “It’s somewhat unique.”
“Yep. I guess it is.”
He smiled as he leaned up against the door. “You made quite an impression that night.”
“Apparently, it wasn’t that great,” she answered flippantly. “Look, thanks for returning the script. They’ll be calling me any second now—”
He didn’t believe her. If he had, he wouldn’t have taken her into his arms and kissed her again. It was just as she’d remembered the first time: both gentle and passionate. All thoughts went out of her head, except that she never wanted him to let her go.
As if reading her mind, he jerked her even closer to him. She felt them falling together onto the large-cushioned couch that was the focal point of the trailer, and in no time at all, her blouse was over her head. She should have been worried about where it had fallen when he tossed it aside and whether it was getting wrinkled, but she wasn’t. Nor did she wonder if he was smearing her makeup. She seemed to have lost all perception of time and place as his lips trailed down her neck and over her breasts.
She did gasp, though, when she felt his teeth on a nipple. “Please! We can’t—”
“Am I your first?”
“What?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you asking me if I’m a virgin? Of course not!”
He smirked. “So, you’ve made it in your trailer before?” He seemed intrigued by the thought.
“No, of course not!” She shoved him away. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”
“Too bad.” He sounded disappointed, but he still held her firmly.
“I think you should let me go.” Even as she said it, she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
Obviously, he did, too, because instead, he pushed his tongue past her lips and into her mouth. At the same time, his thumb circled her breast, and his other hand inched up her thigh, beneath her skirt.
She didn’t wear Spanx. She didn’t need them, and this made it much easier when his hand pulled down her panties and wandered between her legs.
Seeing the open lust in his sky-blue eyes, a million thoughts went through her head, all at once: how much she loved seeing him on the screen; her shock when she’d discovered he’d been watching her scrounge under the bushes during the Vanity Fair Oscars party; and how she had burned with desire for him when he’d kissed her that night. Her final thought, however, washed over her like a cold sweat: Is what Ben said true? Do these trailers really rock back and forth when someone is making love?
Because of the production assistant’s loud rap on her trailer door announcing that she was wanted on the set, Tally wasn’t about to find out.
She jumped straight up off the couch. In a way, she was relieved. Yes, she wanted to make love to Gabriel McNamara, but she didn’t want to be a between-scenes trailer quickie.
Gabriel groaned but took the hint. After he gave her a long, slow kiss to remind her of what she’d just missed, he said casually, “I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”
And that was it. He was gone.
It was Tally’s turn to groan. Too bad she didn’t have time for a cold shower.
In her next scene, she was supposed to kiss Justin. Instead, she devoured him. Afterward, he stuttered out an apology for having ruined her close-ups that morning and admitted it was totally unprofessional of him. Besides, he said, what actor was stupid enough to believe the tabloids, anyway?
Tally was. At least, she allowed herself to believe a certain blind item that ran a week later in the New York Post’s Page Six column that asked: “Which hunky TV heartthrob wants to play doctor with the newest leading lady in nighttime dramas? It shouldn’t be long before he drives home his (Dana) point.”
So why hasn’t he called? Tally wondered.
Chapter 11
“WHERE IS SHE?” Josh Gold was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. That was his job: to rein in his insane clients and to read them the riot act when necessary. And Susie Sheppard was the nuttiest one of them all.
“Susie’s killin’ me, dude.” Calvin Walsh looked awful. He was bone-thin, ashen, and disheveled. If Josh hadn’t known better, he’d have thought the man was starring in a remake of Night of the Living Dead instead of directing M*A*S*H*U*P.
That Susie had somehow gone off the deep end was the last thing Josh wanted to hear. He thought this was going to be a simple case of holding Susie’s hand and giving her a pep talk, and quite frankly, he was too tired for anything more than that. The flight from Los Angeles to Cairo was a grueling seventeen hours, with a two-hour stopover at London’s Heathrow Airport. He’d considered taking some coke with him, even if it meant stashing it in some not-so-pleasant body cavity, but Sadie had convinced him that the last thing he wanted was one of the airport’s security dogs sniffing his overnight bag, let alone his butt.
“Look at it this way,” she’d said. “The trip is a full day to get there, a day to talk sense into Susie, and a full day of flying home again. So you go cold turkey for three days—nothing wrong with that. If you’re lucky, you’ll break the habit. It’s not good for you, anyway.”
As always, she was right. But at the moment, he could have killed for a couple of lines.
He stared down at the director. “What the hell is going on here, Calvin? I get this frantic call from Paramount telling me that I’d better get my ass over to Egypt, pronto, to see what’s up with you guys! They made it sound as if one of the pyramids had imploded.”
“If that bitch client of yours had her way, one just might.” He shivered. “What she did to that poor camel … Well, let me just tell you right here and now, I never want to see that woman again. Ever.”
Josh frowned. “What are you talking about? What camel?”
“Don’t ask, Josh. You don’t want to know.” Calvin ran his hands through his hair—or what was left of it. “Look, she and I haven’t talked since the camel incident, and as far as I’m concerned, if I never speak to her again, it will be too soon.” He looked Josh squarely in the eye. “Even before that, she was complaining about everything: the script, the heat, her wardrobe, even the sand! And she bitched out the lead practically every day, claimed his breath stank, and then she had the audacity to come on to him on the one day his wife was visiting the set. And that was just because she wanted to upset her lover.”
“Wait a minute.” Josh couldn’t believe his ears. “I thought you and she had a little thing going on.”
“We did—at first. Until she came on to the cinematographer. No, wait. Before him, it was that Israeli security dude. Or was it the Lebanese caterer? Aw, hell, I don’t remember. The woman is insatiable! She’s also a troublemaker. She lies to everybody about everyone else, and the rest of the cast hates her guts. Did you know I’ve lost two tranny Klingers because of her? Both guys said she was too emasculating! As if I didn’t know that already. And because of her shenanigans, I’m nearly three weeks behind schedule. My crew is ready to walk! Not to mention that the camel master refuses to bring another one of his animals on to the set until she’s out of here. He says he’ll come back after the ‘devil lady’ goes. That’s what the natives here call her, by the way. Quite a term of endearment, isn’t it?” Calvin shook his head in horror. “Look, Josh, the bottom line is, I need the camel. It’s irreplaceable, whereas Susie Sheppard isn’t. And anyway, Scarlett has already agreed to step in as Hot Lips. She just wrapped her last scene on The Avengers, and we’re working around her until she can get here.”
Josh couldn’t believe his ears. His client was being replaced! If the press got wind of this, she’d have a hell of a time getting any work at all in Hollywood, let alone transitioning from TV to film. “So, how did Susie take the news when you told her?”
“Why do you think you’re here, you moron? That’s why you get paid the big bucks.” Calvin opened the tent flap and pointed down toward the end of the row of tents. “Last one on the right.”
Susie did not take the news well.
She cursed and screamed so loudly that many of the exotic birds in the area stayed away from the oasis that surrounded the set for almost a week afterward. At least, that’s what was reported on Page Six.
On the flight back, Susie spent so much time in the plane’s lavatory that Josh wondered if she’d smuggled on any of the cocaine he so desperately needed in some orifice. He considered asking her, but then he remembered Calvin’s curious references to camels, and he thought better of it.
Besides, he got his answer when he saw her emerging from the lavatory with the dude who had been sitting across the aisle from them. The guy was some Texas oil executive traveling back home from Riyadh, and as he walked out, he zipped up his pants with a shit-eating grin.
That did it. Josh was pissed. When she reached their seats, he hissed, “You’re ruining your reputation! You don’t think that creep is going to boast to his drinking buddies that he made it with Susie Sheppard?”
She gave him a pout. “Big deal. What if he does? Who’ll believe him, anyway? Men like that never get lucky with women like me.”
“That’s the point. There is no other woman like you! Look, Susie, I’m warning you to cool it. When word gets out about your antics, you can forget about having a film career. No director in his right mind will want to hire you.”
“To hell with movies—for now, anyway. My therapist told me I was rushing things a bit, putting my television career on ice so quickly.”
“Your shrink said that?” Josh didn’t even know she was seeing one. Well, that was somewhat of a relief. There might be hope for her yet. “So why didn’t you listen to her?”
“It’s a him. And I didn’t listen because I don’t respect men who have Oedipal complexes.”
“How would you know he has an Oedipal complex?”
“Because he screams out his mother’s name when we have sex, silly.”
Well, there went any hope Josh had that he could count on her shrink reeling her in.
“And it’s all your fault, Josh, nudging me to take a role in that vile movie! It’s going to flop, you know. Calvin Walsh is a freak. He can’t get a hard-on to save his life.” She opened her purse and pulled out a compact. “In fact, I think I should go back to Dana Point.”
Josh stared at her in disbelief. “Get real. Do you actually think Burt Tillman will welcome you back with open arms? What were you smoking in Cairo?”
She gave him a knowing smile. “The stuff was sublime. If you want, I’ll turn you on to my source there.”
He paused for a moment—but just a moment. “I’ll pass. Besides, Burt has written off your character and introduced a new one.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I also know that you represent this new girl … what’s her name? Tilly? Trudy? Oh, right, Tally.” She dabbed at her nose with a puff. “As if I were so easily replaceable! What a naughty boy Burt is, to even think that.”
“The ratings don’t lie, Susie. And so far, it looks like Tally is a winner.”
Susie stopped admiring herself in the compact’s mirror to glare at Josh. “We’ll see about that. Don’t you worry, Burt will do whatever I tell him. And what I’m going to tell him is that it’s time for Katherine to make a miraculous recovery from that coma.”
Whatever she’s got on Burt must be a real bombshell, Josh thought. “If you pull that off, then more power to you. It’ll be a miracle, but you’ll be the biggest diva on the small screen.”
“That’s
the game plan.” She smiled smugly. “And while I’m reconnecting with my fans, you can secure me another film deal.” She pulled down her eye shade. “Something where I can really shine. Only next time, no animals. Been there, done that.”
Josh let that one slide. There were just some things he really didn’t want to know about his clients, and he had a feeling this was one of them.
Chapter 12
WHEN THE PUBLICIST Steve Fisher hired for Tally asked her if she wanted to be one of the celebrity drivers in Long Beach’s annual charity event, Racing for the Kids, she had said yes immediately. The sponsor, Toyota, had committed to giving a very large donation to the charity of her choice—the children’s hospital in her hometown of Corvallis, Oregon—if she would agree to participate, and to Tally, giving back to the community was one of the most important obligations that went along with fame.
All of the celebrity drivers were supposed to show up promptly at eight o’clock the Saturday morning of the race. Mandy and Sadie had both agreed to go with her and to act as her pit crew. When Mandy showed up on Tally’s doorstep in a breast-hugging wife-beater and short-shorts, Sadie raised an eyebrow and said, “You know, Tally might actually win this thing. When all the other drivers get a look at you in that getup, they’ll drive straight off the road.”
Mandy smiled as if she’d just been paid a huge compliment. “Hey, do you think they’ll let me wave the checkered flag?”
Tally laughed. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Just be sure to introduce me by my porn name. If they’ve heard of Taylor Made, I’ll be a shoo-in.”
“I don’t know about that, Mandy. I mean, this is a family event.” Tally checked her watch. “Omigod, it’s already past seven! We’d better hit the road. Even on a Saturday morning, the 405 can be a bear.”
Sadie yawned as she climbed into Tally’s backseat. Josh had kept her up late last night, but for all the right reasons. No client business, no angsting over his Machiavellian partners, just the two of them in his big, fluffy bed overlooking Malibu Beach. “The way you drive naturally, you’ll get us there with time to spare,” she said as Tally sped toward Long Beach. “You Oregon farm girls drive fast.”