Catch a Rising Star

by Tracey Bateman

  “What are you talking about?” He frowns and eyes me up and down. “She looks like she hasn’t had a meal in a week.”

  Hello? Remember me? Still in the room here.

  Julie turns to me and gives me a once-over without making eye contact. “She’s at least a full size bigger than the last time she was on the show. Trey would never be attracted to… that.”

  Jerry scowls and I can see he’s growing impatient with her. “Well, this isn’t about what Trey would be attracted to. It’s about what Rudolph is attracted to, and his love for Felicia has nothing to do with the size of her derrière.”

  Oh yeah! My new hero. Jerry Gardner. Who would have ever thought? As much as I hated to be a tattletale, I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Maybe there are just times when a girl needs to go to the powers that be.

  Jerry swings around and shoves his finger toward me. “Next time you have a problem with Julie, go through Zoe. What do I have an associate producer for if people are going to just go over her head?”

  Humiliation burns my cheeks, and I can feel Julie’s mocking gaze on me.

  I stand and give my ex-hero Jerry a two-fingered salute. “Will do. Thank you for not making me lose more weight than is healthy for me.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get out of here. Both of you.”

  Julie jerks to her feet and slides around me, avoiding any physical contact. I guess she’s afraid some of my chub might wear off on her and make Trey lose interest. I mean really, given her track record with cheating husbands, who can blame her?

  I follow her out and she spins on her stilettos, glaring at me like she needs an exorcist. “Don’t get too comfortable, chickee. You won’t be here long.”

  I stand there gaping at her as she sashays away, leaving me slack-jawed and speechless, wishing I had a quippy comeback. But then, I never really do.

  So, how are things going now that you’ve been back to work for a while?” Through an uncommon series of events, Dancy, Laini, and I are all three home tonight for dinner, and Laini has cooked us a fabulous shrimp scampi (from a box, but still), a lovely Caesar salad, and she’s baked a cake with the words Break a Leg written on it. Triple-layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. I’m in heaven.

  We are sitting at our small, neglected kitchen table catching up for the first time in weeks. I relay my day of stardom.

  Dancy spears a juicy shrimp and pops it into her mouth. “Do you have any lines yet?” she says around the bite. Her mother would be mortified with her lack of table manners, but Laini and I couldn’t care less. Dancy’s come a long way out of all that snootiness of Fifth Avenue old money.

  “Oh yes. Want to hear them?”

  They give me an enthusiastic response, so I mold my face into something truly pathetic, I’m sure. “Rudy,” I whisper in a barely audible tone. I open my eyes and look at my friends. “And then the Old Nurse says, ‘Did you hear that? I think she said something. Honey, what did you say?’”

  Mold my face back to pathetic. “Wh-where’s Rudy?”

  Eyes open. “And New Nurse says, ‘Who’s Rudy?’”

  Back to pathetic face. “‘My husband.’ Eyes closed, my head goes to the side as I pass out, camera fades to black, and that’s the way the show will end for the day. Tune in tomorrow for more of Legacy of Life.”

  “Brava, brava!” My friends clap and whistle, and I feel like I’ve just won an Emmy.

  “Thank you, thank you.” I grin and raise my wineglass filled with Diet Pepsi. “To fulfilling our dreams.”

  “Hear, hear,” Dancy responds by lifting her own glass of diet something or other. But… Laini isn’t lifting anything, least of all her head.

  Dancy and I give each other a look and set our glasses down. Clearly one of us isn’t in a toasting mood.

  “Everything okay, Laini?” I ask, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach.

  Her face clouds and sudden tears well up in her eyes.

  “What is it?” Dancy’s voice echoes my concern.

  But ever self-sacrificing, Laini shakes her head. “Forget it. I don’t want to dampen the evening. This is your night, Tabs.”

  Reaching out, I take my friend’s hand. “Are you okay, Laini? You don’t have cancer or anything do you?” I’ll just die if my friend has cancer. Cancer runs in Laini’s family. Or is it lazy eye?

  “For crying out loud, she doesn’t have cancer.” Dancy gives me that “shut up and listen” look of hers. So I do.

  We both turn our silent attention to Laini who finally caves under our scrutiny.

  “Well, it’s just that… ACE Accounting is going out of business.”

  “What? That’s absurd.” I’m shocked. How can the accounting firm with the all-time best accountant ever go under? Especially right before tax season. I voice the questions. Laini smiles. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But it’s not about me not being good enough. Thomas Ace, the older brother, has been embezzling. He’s been brought up on charges, but the other brothers have to declare bankruptcy.”

  “So essentially,” Dancy says, a frown creasing her brow—another thing her Botox-addicted mother would be appalled to witness, “you and the rest of the underling accountants are out on your rears?”

  A miserable nod barely moves my friend’s head. It’s like she’s too depressed to even respond. I can’t believe it! That just stinks for my pal. And I know how she feels, believe me. If anyone can sympathize, it’s me. “Laini, that’s so rotten. What are you planning to do?”

  “Well,” Dancy says. “Obviously Laini is going to have to stay rent and all other bills free until she finds another job.” Dancy meets my gaze. “Right?”

  “No, you guys,” Laini protests. “I couldn’t. Really. I’ll just,” she gives a huge gulp like she can hardly force out the next words, “move home with my parents for a while.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to even think, Laini.” Tragic really. “Of course you’ll stay rent free. You guys saved me from the streets—or worse—moving back in with my mom. Why would you even hesitate to tell us about this? Am I a jerk and don’t know it?”

  “Well, you’ve been talking about saving for your own place,” Laini reminds me.

  “That was before I knew my friend needed me. And you know darned well I’m way too needy and dependent to wander around all by myself in a condo. I’d rather just stay right here.”

  Laini laughs and swipes tears from her cheeks. “You’re a terrible liar.” She squeezes my hand and reaches for Dancy with the other one. “But thank you. Both.”

  I smile at my bosom buddies and raise my glass again. “All for one and one for all.”

  We let go of each other’s hands and this time, we all raise our glasses.

  Apartments are a dime a dozen. Friends are forever.

  It’s been about three weeks since I attended church. I’m ashamed to admit that, but my focus has been a bit off since I went back to work. We film about three weeks in advance, so this past Friday was the first episode with my hospital scene where I’m calling for Rudy. Of course once I’m fully awake, viewers will realize that calling for Rudy was subconscious on Felicia’s part and she doesn’t really have any memories of her beloved husband.

  So anyway, I feel a bit out of the loop as I step back into the four-hundred-member church. People look at me and give me that “long time no see” look. Some are obviously thrilled to see me. Some seem resentful that I’ve been gone and others ignore me like they couldn’t care less if I’m there or not.

  Between Sunday school and church there’s a fellowship time that includes baked goods and coffee. I head to the fellowship hall. And yes, I have ulterior motives. I want to know if anyone saw Legacy of Life on Friday. If they did, will they know I’m the actress in the gauze?

  Of course, the problem with looking for validation among church folks is that those who do watch soaps won’t admit it. So even though I have had a few women and one man give me the thumbs-up, I can tell no one wants to talk abou
t it and take a chance on being overheard. So I figure I’d better just let it go.

  But, I mean, what’s so taboo about it anyway? I don’t do nude scenes, my character doesn’t cuss, any love scenes are going to be between me and my “husband.” So lighten up, people. I have to believe that God is the one directing my life. After all, we make a deal, and right afterward I get fired from my job and whammo—Legacy decides the answer to their falling ratings is none other than little ol’ me. How can anyone not see how much of a God-thing that is?

  I see the worship leader cram a last bite of muffin into her mouth, take a swig of coffee to wash it down, and head out of the fellowship hall so I assume it’s about time for the main service to begin.

  I spot my parents and Shelly when I enter the sanctuary. We’ve been sitting in the same pew for fifteen years. And Mom’s been wearing the same outfit for the same amount of time. I mean, sure, she buys new ones when the old ones wear out, but I’ve never seen her wear anything but a black skirt with a black jacket, a white shirt and a pair of black pumps—one-inch heels. I swear I think we’re in a rut. I hesitate, about to duck into a backseat somewhere and escape the Brockman pew, when Mom turns and spots me. How does she always know? I give a tentative half-smile and with resignation striking a sharp chord in my chest, I drag my feet up the aisle and slide past Dad (who sits on the end) and Mom (who of course sits next to Dad) and take my seat (as the first child) by Mom. Shelly barely looks at me. Which is fine with me. What am I supposed to say? “So, Shell, when is the blessed event?”

  I’m spared the necessity anyway, because no sooner do I sit, than she springs up, shoves past my knees, Mom’s knees, and Daddy’s knees, then sprints up the aisle.

  “Should I go after her?” I ask Mom.

  Mom scowls. “What are you going to do about morning sickness?”

  Oh . . .

  My mother looks downright ready to throw up herself. She has a sick kind of “why is this happening to me?” expression on her face. Like when one of us brought home less than an A on our report card. Or a tattle note from the teacher.

  “Michael didn’t show up?” I say, more to change the subject than anything… get Mom’s mind off my sister who we are probably both envisioning hugging the toilet.

  I guess mentioning Michael’s absence wasn’t a good thing either. Her face clouds, and I swear if she doesn’t stop frowning so much, no amount of Botox will ever be able to smooth out those lines between her eyes. Not that Mom would ever stoop that low anyway. I’m just saying . . .

  She ignores the question and stares stoically ahead.

  Shelly returns a minute later, pale, shaky, and looking as though she might need to bolt again any second. And lo and behold Michael stumbles in ten minutes into praise and worship. It’s obvious he just rolled out of bed. I feel Mom heave a sigh of relief and relax a little.

  I wonder what people see when they look at our family… a decent set of parents saddled with one daughter pregnant out of wedlock, a twenty-five-year-old career college student for a son, and me, an actress on a soap opera—something many people consider evil or at the very least immoral.

  I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I scarcely notice I’m panning the congregation. That is until my gaze comes to rest on a guy who has special written all over him. And he’s looking back at me. He smiles in a knowing way, like we’ve met or something. But I’m sure I would remember if I’d seen him somewhere before. I don’t know, maybe he’s a fan of the soap. Or—and wouldn’t this just be my luck?—what if his wife is a fan of the show?

  I try to catch a glimpse of his left hand, but he’s too far away. Darn it. Just as I’m about to smile back, someone nudges into the row. I look up and there’s Brian staring down at me like he owns me. He stands there making a total spectacle of himself and our family until Shelly scoots over and lets him sit by me. I’m horrified. Truly. And as much as I’m dying to see Mr. McDreamy’s reaction, I’m too humiliated to glance over there again. But then it gets worse. Brian grabs my hand and laces our fingers before I realize what’s happening. Mom smiles and pats my knee.

  Okay, this is the last straw. Mom has got to stop trying to get me to marry this guy. Really.

  Freddie’s really kicking my butt here. Sweat pours from my head like a cloud burst over me. I’m totally soaked, head to toe. “Give me a break, Freddie!” I gasp as he turns the treadmill up to 6.5 mph.

  “You used to run an eight-minute mile, girlfriend,” he says without mercy. “You’re out of shape and flabby as Rosie O’Donnell. I know you’ve been gone for a while, so you have an excuse for being as big as an elephant. But do you want to stay that way?”

  “Hey, don’t be mean. In what universe is a size six big as an elephant?”

  “In this one, baby girl.” He kicks the treadmill up another notch to 6.6. “It’s brutal. I hear Rachel Savage just made ‘Best Bod’ in Soap Mag.”

  “Like I give a flip.”

  “She’s gone from a size six to a size two. I mean her ‘before’ photo is the same size as your everyday photo. What do you think of that?”

  Oh, it’s on! “Crank it up to seven-point-zero, Freddie.”

  Rachel Savage is going down.

  No fat, carbs, or chocolate will touch these lips from here on out. I will not be tempted by delicacies and fetching sweets no matter what yummy smells pour out of my own kitchen. If I’m going to compete in this business, I will have to make some sacrifices. There’s too much at stake. Even if I have to be a skeleton, I’m hitting a size four.

  6

  I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” Dancy and I are standing in line at the grocery store, and all I can do is stare in horror at the cover of Soap Mag. I can’t believe it. I won’t.

  But there it is. A cover story exclusive: Rachel Savage to join the cast of Legacy of Life in the role ofLucy Marshall.

  Mindless of the little checkout girl who is staring me down, I grab the magazine from the rack and thumb through it until I find the story.

  Executive producer Jerry Gardner has confirmed that Rachel Savage will take the role of Lucy Marshall. The role was vacated by Taylor Adams last month. Adams will star opposite Brad Pitt in his new action/romance movie set to start filming next month in Morocco.

  Rumor has it Savage chose not to renew her expiring contract with As the World Turns after being offered the role of Lucy.

  “After six years on ATWT,” Savage says, “I felt my story line had run its course many times over. The writers were not interested in pursuing challenging new paths for my character. I look forward to working with so many talented actors on Legacy, especially Tabitha Brockman.”

  “‘Chose not to renew her expiring contract’? ‘Especially Tabitha Brockman’?—you know that was nothing more than a challenge!” I shake the magazine at Dancy who is starting to look uncomfortable. “Of course she chose not to renew her contract. She lives to torment me. She’s coming to my show to torment me. I’m looking forward to working with Tabitha Brockman, my eye!”

  “Oh sure. It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Dancy grabs the magazine and tosses it onto the conveyer belt.

  “What are you doing? I’m not buying that garbage.”

  “You wrinkled it. You have to buy it, sunshine.”

  I did? Yeah, the paper is definitely crumpled. The checker gives me a bewildered frown and rings it up.

  “Sorry,” I say meekly. “I didn’t mean to.”

  She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me, it’s your money.”

  I slap my palm against my forehead. “I’m going to kill Freddie!”

  “What did he do?” Dancy’s been tossing groceries and diet soda onto the conveyer belt. I help a little, but for crying out loud—I’m in the middle of a crisis. The last thing I need is to break a nail to top it all off.

  “He told me they were going to kill Lucy off. I was counting on it! Now they’re recasting her? With Rachel Savage?”

  “You’re warped. You know that?�
�� Dancy nudges me. “Look, just because Rachel’s coming to Legacy of Life doesn’t mean she’s doing it to yank your chain. Maybe it’s a career booster for her. Legacy is a higher rated show, as you’ve always loved to point out.”

  I give a very unpleasant snort, and I don’t particularly care if I sound like I have sour grapes over the whole “Soap Opera Awards” incident. “I can’t work with her. I mean it. I’m not doing it. It’s either her or me.” What if they pick her?

  “Look.” Dancy lifts a bag into the waiting cart as the checker stares at us, eavesdropping on our conversation. “So what if she’s on the show? Isn’t Lucy Marshall Felicia’s nemesis anyway?”

  “Yeah, what’s your point?”

  “Well, it fits. You won’t even have to work at any scenes the two of you share.”

  The checker lets out a little eep as the man in line behind us sets a box of tampons on the belt and scowls. The man probably just wants to buy his wife’s feminine products and get the heck out of there before any of his buddies catch him being a nice guy. But the grocery store employee just figured it out, and she can’t take her eyes off me. “Oh my gosh. It is you, isn’t it?” Oh great. The girl’s shrieking a little and drawing attention. “I can’t believe Felicia Fontaine is in my line buying… olives.”

  “Down, girl,” Dancy says. “My friend isn’t herself tonight. No autographs please.”

  The girl acts as though Dancy’s not even there, let alone speaking. She stares straight at me, leaning across her register to get a closer look. “So you really don’t get along with Rachel Savage? And she’s going to play Lucy?” Her eyes are sparkling with intrigue. “Are you going to cut up all of Rachel’s costumes and set fire to her trailer?”

  I can’t help but consider the possibilities. “Hey, now that’s an—”

  Dancy reaches around and covers my mouth. “No. She isn’t going to do anything vindictive or illegal. And if any of this ends up in any magazine, we’ll sue your behind for defamation. Got it?”