Fire Goddess

by Crystal Inman

  Pictures of flowers and ladies of luxury dotted her walls. Several garden scenes reminded her of home, and she put those opposite the garage door so they were the first things she saw.

  Kelly shuffled into her country kitchen and threw some leftover egg rolls and Hawaiian chicken into the microwave. Cooking was a luxury. A luxury left to weekends, usually. And not workdays.

  Kelly looked around at her shiny appliances. A new stove, microwave, and sink were practically unused. She felt a small bit of guilt, but reality reared its head. Maybe she’d have the folks out and cook. Lord knows she never invited anyone else here.

  The microwave dinged, and she pulled the food out and forked it onto a paper plate. No dishes, either. She grinned as she walked down her carpeted steps into the sunken living room. Kelly balanced the food on her lap and ate while she watched the local and national news.

  When she finished eating, she tossed the paper plate and utensils in the trash. Maybe she’d call Mom. Glancing at the clock, she grimaced. It would be ten o’clock there. Her mom would already be in bed. Kelly made a little mental note to call this weekend and see how her parents were doing. Ask about the farm.

  Her fingers plucked on the threads of one of her table napkins. Sometimes she wished she had brought an animal back from there. A kitten. A puppy. Something to keep her company.

  She looked around the large house and sighed. The poor creature would be terribly lonely. She was gone all day long most days. And it wouldn’t have anyone to keep it company. Better for her to wait. Not every creature liked a life of solitude. Maybe she’d opt for goldfish. Low-maintenance. Flushable. Kelly shook her head, grinning. Something to think about at a later time.

  A hot shower was exactly what she needed right now. She walked into her room and turned on the light. The master bedroom was adorned in everything from a creamy butter to a sunny yellow. A large four-poster bed was decorated with pillows of every shape and size. Kelly opened her window and let the breeze flow through her chiffon curtains. She quickly stripped out of her clothes and walked into the bathroom. Her spa tub called to her, and she smiled. Maybe a soak.

  Kelly turned on the water and let the tub fill up. She added her bath salts and lit some candles. She put her hair up and walked back into the bedroom. Too quiet. She put on some classical music and swayed softly to the beat. Perfect.

  She dipped her finger into the water and smiled. It was ready. She climbed inside the tub and eased her body down. The day’s tension melted away as she let her mind drift.

  Good day at work. Her character was setting the groundwork for sweeps week. The producers weren’t telling her all the details, but they were teasing her with words like “awards” and “recognition.” For the last four years, she worked her ass off to make a name for herself. The award was nice, but a job doing what she loved was even better.

  She remembered the early years on the farm and trying to explain her dreams to her family. They were supportive, but they were also scared for her. What hope did a small-town Oklahoma girl with a farming background have landing a part on any television show? They were sure she would be hurt. And rejected. And scorned. And she was. But she never gave up.

  An open call for a new character on a soap opera changed her life. One minute she was Kelly Renee Marshall, farm girl. The next she was Felicia Hawthorne, ingénue. That evolved quickly into a character that took on a life of its own. Felicia promptly slept her way to the top of the heap and used her conniving ways to stay there. Each new storyline the writers gave her only broadened her spectrum as an actress.

  And now they were touting her chances of winning a major award. The Sparks was an enormous soap opera event. Fans from all over the world voted on their favorite actors and scenes. The whole soap opera world waited breathlessly to see the results. It was great fun but so nerve-wracking.

  Kelly had been nominated for the past three years but never won. It was to the point now of simply dressing up nicely and drinking water while her cast mates inhaled bottle after bottle of champagne as they danced with people she didn’t remember. Alcohol was something she didn’t indulge in at all. She had seen too many people act like fools when they were in their cups. But her writers pushed her presence every year at the awards, and she obliged. All part of the job.

  Part of the job. The words flitted across her brain, and she sank lower into the tub. Sometimes, just sometimes, this job was a rather large pain in her ass. She stuck one foot up out of the water and grimaced. But tomorrow was an early day. And she needed to make nice with the set guy.

  Bob brought him in especially for the sweeps and to build the castle where Felicia would be held prisoner by the love of her life. She would be taught a lesson in the finer points of love, and her fans would eat up every second of it.

  The set guy had nice eyes. They were either brown or hazel, with green flecks shot through them. His brown hair was cut short and cropped close to his head. His face was angular, and he had ridiculously high cheekbones. They seemed improbable for a man. What did Bob say his name was? Sam? Shawn? It escaped her. She should probably pay more attention. Perhaps next time she would when she wasn’t dying a slow, painful death in heels.

  But his hands…her thoughts trailed back to their meeting. His hands were strong. Capable. She noticed a man’s hands first. Her fascination stemmed from growing up around men who worked with their hands for a living. What would they would feel like on my skin? Kelly involuntarily shivered in the tub. What is wrong with me? Daydreaming about the set man. God, she was in a bad way.

  She saw his hands in her mind again. His nails were cut short, and his fingertips were blunt and obviously used to hard work. There were several scratches and marks across the top and bottom of both. She would find out his name tomorrow. He was, after all, going to build her castle.

  Chapter 2

  Her alarm woke her up at four o’clock in the morning, and Kelly groaned as she rolled over and turned it off. Back when she was a new character, she could sleep until five-thirty or later. But when her character became a focal point, her wake-up time became much earlier.

  Kelly stood up and stretched. She flicked her bedroom light on and looked around. Two more days, and she could enjoy the weekend and relax. She flipped through her wardrobe and settled on flared pajama pants with large, blue stripes on each leg and a white tank top. Kelly dressed in a hurry and pulled her hair up in a clip. Breakfast would probably be a bagel on the set. And loads of coffee. She snatched a diet soda out of the fridge and hit her garage door at a sprint.

  While she let the truck warm up, she sipped on her soda. Her mental list for the day included talking to Marge about those damn heels, making nice with the set guy, and trying not to worry too much about the Sparks. That was easier said than done. The whole set was buzzing about nominations and such. And Kelly was doing her best to ignore all the comments and speculations. She only wanted to do her job. And if there was an award in there, so much the better. But she remembered the first year all too well and the disappointment as her name was not the one called.

  What had been worse was the fact it was her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. She hadn’t been seeing Tad for long, only a couple of months, when he broke it off with her over creative differences. Kelly was creative, and he was a leech. He hitched his train to the actress he thought could help his career. Guess he picked the right train that time.

  The smile she pasted on her face that night stretched to its capabilities but didn’t break. Now that was being a good actress. Tad was beaming as he watched Cheryl walk across the stage. His capped teeth gleamed in the glare of the spotlight shining on him. It took everything Kelly had to watch the spectacle. The only justice was when Cheryl, who worked on an opposing soap, didn’t thank Tad. His smile seemed to wilt considerably.

  Everyone on the set was quick to dismiss the award as a fluke. They rallied behind her and told her that next year would be her year. But it wasn’t. And she wasn’t going to dwell on it any longer.
Kelly had seen firsthand what this business could do to a person. So she kept her professional distance, did her job, and went home. Many of her co-stars thought she was as cold as Felicia, and that was fine. She could play a heartless bitch in her sleep.

  She backed out of her driveway and drove toward the lot. Her music of choice this morning was mellow. Kelly watched the scenery pass by her window as she drove. California wasn’t anything close to Oklahoma. It was glitzy and dramatic.

  Dramatic back home was when something happened to someone’s crop or livestock. And California was cold. Not the temperature, of course. Here it was always a balmy eighty-two degrees with the beautiful people strolling the sidewalk wanting to be seen. The personality was cold. She shook off her melancholy and thought about the day ahead.

  Kelly tapped her fingers along with the music and drove onto her lot. Jim, the morning guard, waved at her and raised the gate up so she could pull in. She drove to her regular spot and jumped out of the truck. Her stomach was already growling. And she needed coffee in a bad, evil way this morning.

  She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked through the door onto her set. People were already scurrying around like worker ants. Bryan, her producer, was motioning from one side of the stage to the other.

  “I need it now, people. The scene sets in ten minutes. That vase does not go with the décor. Have Charlie move it. Turn the rug. It doesn’t look right.”

  Kelly walked behind him and to her dressing room. She stopped at her door and took a deep breath. She had to talk to Marge. Something had to be done about those damn heels. Funny how the word damn always seemed to be an appropriate adjective for them. She chuckled and pushed the door open.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes grew wide. A smile spread across her face as she stepped inside. There were flowers everywhere. Lilies. Dozens of lilies. They were perched on her vanity and spilled over into every crevice and corner in the room. Kelly stooped to inhale their fragrance and closed her eyes in bliss. Yellow and orange petals called to her. She touched the petals with a silly grin on her face, and then the grin faded. Maybe someone put them in the wrong dressing room. Hell. Who would send me flowers?

  “I see you’ve found them.”

  Kelly jumped at the soft, melodic voice behind her. She spun around quickly, ready to demand an explanation, when the words died in her throat.

  The woman was magnificent. Her flaming red hair was pulled back into a chignon, and her make-up expertly applied. The light green eye shadow made her emerald eyes appear even larger. Her lashes were long and curved delicately at the ends. Her nose was slim and perfect. And her mouth. Kelly stared in fascination at the rosebud perfection. A small beauty mark dotted the right side of it.

  The woman stepped inside the room and shut the door behind her. Her crimson pantsuit fit her to perfection, showing off long legs and shapely arms. Gold bracelets raced up and down her arm from wrist to elbow, and she dangled them as she walked. Kelly glanced down to check out the woman’s shoes. They appeared to be silk sandals. Ribbons crisscrossed over the top of her feet and accented the delicate bones.

  “Where did you get your shoes?” Kelly blurted the question out before she had a chance to stop herself.

  The woman’s laughter filled the room. “Is that all you wanted to ask me?”

  Kelly blinked and looked up. “Well. That would be nice to know, but who are you?”

  “Ah.” The woman smiled at Kelly. “I am Wilda. I will be your Wardrobe Mistress/Personal Assistant. Marge has taken emergency vacation, and Bryan thinks you need some personal attention with the big sweeps week coming.”

  “Emergency vacation? Is she okay?”

  “Marge had a sudden windfall and decided to take a small vacation. She is fine.”

  Kelly studied the woman in front of her and wondered what kind of experience her new wardrobe mistress had. And if Kelly would be forced to wear torturous shoes.

  Her immediate instinct was to be leery. Once, when she was very new at this, she inadvertently stepped on some toes. One simple comment in the make-up chair caused a rift between herself and another actress. It was some offhand sentence about the other woman’s coat. The comment spread like wildfire, and Kelly was shocked and amazed. And that was when she started keeping her mouth shut.

  Wilda studied her charge and saw far more than Kelly wanted her to see. The mortal was afraid. She pried farther and saw the distrust. She had her work cut out for her.

  “Have a seat, and we will begin.”

  Kelly glanced around again. “Where did the flowers come from?”

  Wilda smiled. “I had them sent here. I love flowers. And I would say you do, too. Why didn’t you have flowers in here before?”

  “Marge says she’s allergic.”

  “Ah.”

  Kelly sat down, stiff-backed, in the seat in front of the mirror. Surely Bryan wouldn’t have hired the woman if she weren’t any good. And as far as the personal side went, she would bide her time on that one.

  Wilda pulled Kelly’s hair out of the clip and let it spill over her hands. “Your hair is glorious. Why do these people always have it pulled up?” she muttered.

  Kelly fought the grin she felt. It was a question she wondered about some of the time herself. In almost all of her scenes, her hair was pulled up, making her face appear older. She supposed it was to make her character as unsympathetic as possible. After all, who wants to be my friend when I steal their husbands and sons?

  Her new stylist brushed her hair out, and Kelly closed her eyes in bliss. Usually Marge simply twisted her hair up and was done. This felt soothing. Almost as if she were a child. She relaxed farther back into the chair and sighed.

  Wilda smiled as she worked her fingers through the mortal’s hair. “What is your scene today?”

  “More bitchiness,” Kelly murmured. “I’m off on a tangent over some bad business deal at the dock. Something like that.”

  “And what is your wardrobe?”

  Now was the time. Kelly opened her eyes and looked through the mirror at her stylist. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  “Yes?”

  “I would rather not wear any hellacious heels today. My feet are still sore from yesterday.” She held her breath, waiting for a tantrum.

  “Then you will wear sandals.”

  “But I’m short,” she reminded her. “Bryan will have a conniption.”

  Wilda studied Kelly in the mirror and smiled. “Power and strength does not always come from height, child. I have a feeling you can command attention even in your small frame.”

  “Bryan will have a fit,” she repeated. She remembered back in the first year when the other actresses would tower over her. He claimed she was ruining his shot. Whenever she put in a scene after that, she wore enormous heels.

  “Let him. Why don’t we see what we can find that is both comfortable and fashionable?”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  Wilda winked at the woman in front of her. “Indeed. And that is why I’m here. Follow me.”

  They wound through the halls of the building with Kelly following Wilda silently. Many people waved, and she waved back. But she didn’t speak with anyone. They came to a room Kelly hadn’t noticed before, and Wilda opened it and moved aside. Kelly switched the light on and stepped inside. Wilda followed her and locked the door behind them.

  The sound of the lock clicking scared Kelly. She glanced over her shoulder, and Wilda held her finger up to her lips. She walked over to another door and opened it. Kelly’s jaw dropped in amazement.

  God. It is glorious. Kelly sank to her knees and looked at the rows and rows of shoes. The room was big enough for three of her to stand side by side with their arms outstretched. Clothes of every description and color hung on the colorful hangers above her head. But it was the shoes that held her enthralled. She picked one up and ran her hand over the silkiness and sighed in bliss. And they didn’t look like torture devices.

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nbsp; Kelly slid her sandals off and slipped the shoe in her hand onto her foot. It fit like a dream. And it was so comfortable she wanted to weep in relief. Her eyes slid up and met Wilda’s.

  “Whose are these?” she whispered.

  Wilda’s eyes danced. “They are yours, Kelly. I brought them for you.”

  “Wouldn’t happen to have a wand or anything, would you?” Kelly looked at her hopefully.

  The woman’s eyes widened before she threw back her head and laughed. The question tickled her so much it was a minute or two before she could reply.

  “A wand?” Wilda snorted. “That’s old school, honey.” Her eyes were still sparkling as she thumbed through the dresses to find Kelly’s wardrobe for the day.

  She pulled out a crimson sheath with a back cut down to there, and Kelly wrinkled her nose.

  “I have red hair. That crimson will look awful.” She glanced at the dress longingly before she hung it back up.

  “You’re wearing it,” Wilda said firmly. “Try it on. I’ll find the shoes.”

  Kelly looked at her uncertainly and touched the dress. She had been told her entire life she couldn’t wear red. Never mind it was her favorite color. Never mind it made her want to dance. A red dress with her hair was unacceptable.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Wilda stood up and handed her a pair of crimson slippers. “Put these on, and I’ll escort you to make-up.”

  Kelly held her tongue and went back into the other room to change. She slipped her clothes off and slid the dress over her head. It moved down her body smoothly, and she grinned at herself in the mirror. She picked up the slippers and placed them gently on her feet.

  Kelly studied herself in the mirror and smiled. The crimson color brought out the color in her cheeks and the highlights in her hair. It wasn’t too much. She didn’t look garish or overdone. Kelly walked back and forth in front of the mirror, feeling the wonderful satin slippers caress her feet. It almost felt as if she weren’t dressed at all.