Fire Goddess

by Crystal Inman

  “I am Wilda. I’m Kelly’s personal assistant.”

  Sloan took the woman’s hand and smiled. “Pleasure. Who’s Kelly?”

  Bob grinned ear to ear. “The shrieker.”

  Sloan couldn’t hide his grimace. Wilda watched in fascination as many emotions crossed the man’s face. There was a flash of disgust. And then there was desire. It was covered quickly, but Wilda filed the image into her mind. This mortal man was worth looking into for Kelly.

  Wilda cocked her head to the side. “The shrieker?”

  Sloan had the grace to look embarrassed. “Look. Nothing against the queen or anything. But every time she’s in the same room, she’s shrieking at someone.”

  “Ah. Felicia. Her character. I see.”

  The woman’s emerald eyes probed further, and Sloan shifted uncomfortably. What was she seeing? There was no way she could possibly read his carnal thoughts. But the fact they were there made him irritable.

  “Listen.” He looked over at Bob and apologized. “I’m sorry. I need to go. I have another project, which is extremely important. I’ll be back tomorrow. And,” he looked at the light he knocked over, “I won’t trip over my own feet.” He reached down and righted the light on his way out.

  Wilda watched the flustered man walk away and smiled. Yes. Maybe he was the one she was looking for. She turned to the set designer and bid him goodnight.

  * * * *

  Kelly sprinted off to her dressing room as soon as she heard the crash of equipment falling. Her stomach churned, and she tasted Matt in her mouth. It was all she could do to allow him to touch her and pretend to like it. And Bryan allowed the scene to go on and on and on. She had on a strapless swimsuit underneath the covers, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Matt “accidentally” brushed up against her breasts twice. She told him if he did it again, he would never be able to have children. He quit.

  God, she needed a shower. Kelly’s hands shook as she slipped off the swimsuit and struggled with her yellow dress. The smell of the flowers was cloying now, and she wondered if she really would be sick. She hurriedly grabbed a hat out of her closet and shoved it on her head. The sooner she was out of this building, the better. Kelly mentally thanked whoever ended the shot.

  She opened her dressing room door and peeked out. The coast was clear. The thought struck her as absurd, and she tried very hard not to giggle as she raced down the hall and to an exit. Kelly shoved the door open and filled her lungs with the fresh air. She was going to make it. Felicia was gone for the weekend, and Kelly could be herself.

  Her head was down, and she rifled through her purse to find her keys when a horn honked in her ear. Then brakes squealed. Kelly’s head jerked up, and she looked in shock at the black Bronco almost touching her. She stood there like a deer in the headlights when the driver’s side door opened. The set guy cursed under his breath, stalked over to her and pulled her away from his vehicle.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes were flashing down at her, and he was pissed.

  “Hey! I’m sorry. I didn’t dent your car or anything, did I?”

  “Dent my car? Dent my fucking car? Oh my God. You are priceless.” He raked his fingers through his hair and fought the urge to punch something.

  Kelly watched as he paced in front of her. “I don’t know if you have a death wish or what.” He put his hands on his hips. “But watch where you’re going next time. I’ve already had one accident today and had my ass reamed. The last thing I need is an actress on my hood.”

  “Wait!” Kelly called out. “What accident? Are you okay?”

  “Peachy.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Your producer thinks I sabotaged his shot of you and your boyfriend in the sheets. My damn foot tripped on a cord.”

  “That was you?”

  * * * *

  Sloan watched as a smile flitted across her face. Damn, she was gorgeous. Her straw hat was low on her face, probably so she wouldn’t be recognized. And that yellow dress clung to her curves and reminded him of the scene earlier. He could only imagine how her skin would feel next to his.

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “That was me. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be.” She flashed her deep green eyes at him. “I’m not.”

  Sloan puzzled over that piece of information when Kelly nodded to him. “I’ll try and be more careful. And thanks.” She waved to him, and he watched her go. The sway of her hips mesmerized him, and he watched as she stepped up into a ridiculously large red pickup. She started the truck and music poured out of the windows. Nickelback, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  He walked back to the door of his Bronco and climbed in. So she did know how to speak to someone without shrieking. The image of her semi-naked body flashed through his mind again, and his body tightened in response. Kelly. He rolled the name around in his mind a few times and then thought better of it. Maybe her preferred her with the shrieking. Hell. He didn’t want to prefer her at all.

  * * * *

  Kelly left the studio lot and tried to forget her horrific day. And being almost ran over wasn’t helping. She felt sorry for the guy. Here she was, off in her own little world. It’s a good thing he had fast reflexes. It really was her fault. And then to find out he was the one to end the shot and save her. The thought stopped her short. Wait a damn minute! What in the hell was he doing on the set? Didn’t Bryan assure me it was closed?

  All those good feelings she felt toward the set guy vanished in an instant. He was there to witness her rolling around in the sheets with Matt. And after she specifically asked to have minimal people around. Humiliation burned in her cheeks. Who did he think he was? He was hired help. The hideous phrase stuck in her mind, and she bit back a scream. Hired help. God, that was awful.

  Kelly drove home, shaking. She was more upset than she originally thought. There was no need to treat him like nothing. He did save her from having to roll around in the sheets with Matt. But the simple thought of having him witness one of the most unpleasant moments of her life made her want to hit something.

  She slammed her truck door and practically ran up the steps to her house. Her hands shook, and she scurried to her kitchen for some tea. Kelly thought of all the times she heard that phrase, and she couldn’t believe she used herself.

  “Hired help.” That’s what her Daddy had been for a long time. And he was the strongest, kindest man she’d ever known. The teakettle whistled, and Kelly poured herself a cup. She added some lemon and stirred it. Daddy was a hard worker. He took care of his family with love and pride.

  An overwhelming urge to talk to her parents welled up inside her. It had been two weeks since they last spoke. It was only five o’clock now. It would still be early evening there. Kelly went to her room and changed into an orange jumper and slid some cow slippers onto her feet.

  She sat on her couch with her feet curled up underneath her and dialed her parents’ number.

  “Hello.” Her daddy’s voice welcomed her.

  “Hello,” she responded, in her best British accent. “I was wondering if you would care to comment on the story about your daughter in the…” Kelly laughed aloud as her daddy hung up the phone. She waited until she quit chuckling to dial again.

  “Hello.” His gruff voice warmed her heart.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  “Kelly. Were you playing on the phone a minute ago?” His voice was suspicious.

  She snickered, and he sighed. “One of these days I’m going to give those people an earful. Starting with the time you went skinny dipping with Roger Bent. See what happens then.”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, sugar. When are you coming to visit? Won’t be long before the garden starts sprouting watermelons and cucumbers.”

  His words took Kelly back to all the summers she spent working in the garden at the farm. She and Mom would weed while Daddy tilled and planted. It produced enough every year for them to go into town to the Farmer’s Market. She
received all the money from the fruits and vegetables she sowed. Her daddy insisted.

  “I’ll try to get away soon. I promise. What’s Mom doing?”

  “That woman is baking pies again. I swear. I hardly fit in my overalls anymore,” he grumped.

  Kelly laughed aloud, and her daddy chuckled. “Hold on. I’ll get her.”

  Kelly heard the phone being put down and the sound of her parents’ voices. The gruff voice first, and then the lighter one with laughter at the end of it.

  “Hi, Kel.” Her mother’s voice still had that southern lilt in it. “Your daddy tells me you’re going to try to come and visit?”

  “I’m going to try. No promises. Sweeps are coming up. I have a major storyline developing.” She paused. “I just wanted to talk to you two.”

  “Honey. Call anytime.” Her mother’s voice was gentle. “We miss you, but we know you have work to do. And we’re proud.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Sometimes that’s exactly what I need to hear.”

  Her mother lowered her voice. “But if you could get away soon, your daddy would appreciate it. He’s been having problems lately.”

  “What problems?” Kelly’s voice was shocked and concerned. Sure, her parents were growing older, but they were still both healthy and productive. What was wrong?

  “Can’t talk.” Her mother brightened her voice again. “You let us know, hon. Can’t wait to see you.” She gave the phone back to Kelly’s dad.

  “Darn woman has timers dinging everywhere. Enough to drive a man crazy. I think that’s the purpose.”

  “Dad,” Kelly began.

  “I have to go, hon. Time to feed the cows. Hope to see you soon. Bye!”

  “Bye.” The phone clicked in her ear.

  Kelly replaced the phone in its charger and sat there. What was wrong with Daddy? George Marshall was a big bear of a man. He was well over six feet with shaggy brown hair that had more gray than brown these days. His piercing blue eyes didn’t miss a thing. He never needed glasses, and he was as sharp as a tack.

  She had seen him just last year about this time. And he was fine. What was going on? Her parents were growing older, but they were still as active as ever. Her mother, Christine, still baked pies for all the fundraisers in town. She supported all the local businesses and township. Her apple pies were to die for, and she whipped out six or more a week in the summertime.

  Christine was short and curvy. Her auburn hair was cut to the shoulders, and she perpetually had an apron on. She had gentle green eyes, and those are what George swore he fell in love with. Christine would always pat him on the hand and say, “That’s not all.” It made Kelly laugh every time. They still looked and acted much younger than their years.

  Daddy would be fifty-six this year, and Mom would be fifty-four. That wasn’t even middle-aged these days. Kelly stood up and walked into her kitchen to look at the Irish calendar she had displayed by her refrigerator. The rolling hills and cottages called to her. When she cooked, and that was rarely, she loved to pretend she was actually there. Looking out her window. Waiting for her husband to come home.

  Kelly flipped through the months and tried to find a time when she could go back home. Her mother’s words worried her far more than she was willing to admit. Maybe next month she could go. Her scenes were fairly short now as they were gearing up for her big storyline.

  Every word she said now, every inflection, would point to her next demise. And Bryan promised her it would be one she and the soap opera world would never forget.

  Chapter 5

  Kelly slept in on Saturday and woke around nine o’clock. She stretched luxuriously and looked around her bedroom. It was quiet. And she didn’t have any place to be today. No photo shoots. No publicity. Nothing. Kelly threw open her arms and beamed. What do I want to do?

  Watching television was out. There were only so many things she could watch on TV these days. Most of them she could pick out the flaws with her eyes closed. It took a hell of a lot of fun out of it. She sighed.

  The conversation with her parents played over again in her mind. She needed to get back home. Soon. And find out what in the world was wrong with her dad. The thought put a damper on her good mood, and she swung her legs over the side of her bed.

  A big breakfast. Read the newspaper. And then she would find something worthwhile to do with her day. Kelly walked into the kitchen and looked around. Really looked. It was the kitchen of her childhood. Sure, she had all the newest gadgets and appliances. But she also had the country kitchen motif. Her mom’s influence.

  There were glass pie dishes in the cabinet, and she took one down. Cherry. That’s what she wanted. Kelly set the pie dish down and began making breakfast. She wanted bacon. And sausages. Toast and eggs. Perfect. Kelly hummed as the meat cooked. She whisked her eggs and poured them into the skillet.

  Pretty soon, it smelled like home. Mom would always make breakfast everyday when Kelly was home. She would wake up to the smell of a country breakfast wafting up the stairs to her room. The sausage and bacon were fresh. So were the eggs.

  Kelly’s mouth watered. She poured her milk and fixed her plate. If she ate like this everyday, she wouldn’t fit into any of her costumes. But once a week was enough to satisfy the urge to bring a little piece of home with her. Her version didn’t taste nearly as good, but it was the best she could do.

  Kelly thumbed through the newspaper while she ate. More strife. Rarely any good news. And then she dropped her fork onto her plate. No way in hell.

  It was the rumor mill section of the newspaper. What was hot. What was not. And there she was. Her picture. It was one of the better ones. She was wearing make-up, at least. Bryan wouldn’t kill her. But it was the caption that sent her over the edge.

  Daytime Diva rumpling the sheets off-camera?

  Kelly read the story with her teeth clenched.

  Rumors abound that Daytime’s Queen of Bitchery, Felicia Hawthorne, may have finally found her leading man in real life. Kelly Marshall has reportedly been seen getting cozy with one of her co-stars on the set. She is known for bed hopping on the show. But has she finally found a bed she won’t hop out of?

  The story went on to detail all of her sordid affairs on the soap as the reporter tried his damndest to make a link that wasn’t there. The story set her teeth on edge.

  Pompous son of a bitch. What she wouldn’t give to call him and give him a piece of her mind. Her temper simmered. That’s what he wanted, though. A reaction. And she would be damned if she’d give it to him. Her eyes found the byline. Mark Jeffries. For some reason it rang a bell.

  Kelly thought back, and then cursed loudly. He had written another slam piece on her. It was the plastic surgery scandal that revealed several stars had been under the knife. That bastard named her as one of them. It was the only time her parents were concerned enough to call. They didn’t want her taking risks. Kelly assured them she had never, would never, go the plastic surgery route.

  She had come to accept certain aspects of her life changing with the soap role. That was a no-brainer. But the constant poking and prodding at her private life irritated the hell out of her. She was paid to act. Period. Nothing else she did or said was pertinent. Or so she thought.

  The first time the reporters had taken a picture of her without make-up, Bryan was in her dressing room the next morning. He shoved the article in her face and demanded to know what she was thinking.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You look like you’re fourteen.” Bryan’s jaw clenched. “How in the hell are viewers supposed to buy into the vamp/bitch angle if you look like that?” He rattled the paper in her face one more time for good measure.

  Kelly glanced at the picture taken of her in shorts and a tank top with a ball cap pulled low over her face. Her ponytail hung jauntily out the back. “I look at least sixteen.”

  Bryan sputtered until he was red in the face. “You represent this show. Put in a little upkeep. Hell. Lipstick. Mascara. Anything would do
. But not this.” He stomped out the room in a huff.

  And so she had. Whenever she went out, she slapped on a little polish and tried wearing hats to hide her face. Most of the time it worked. If she tried to be invisible, she could almost pull it off. As long as she didn’t lift the bill of that ball cap too much.

  Kelly finished her breakfast and crumpled the newspaper into the trash. Which, in her opinion, was exactly where it belonged. She walked over to her answering machine and saw the blinking light. Five new messages.

  The first one was from her agent. Raymond called her once a week to inform her of the various offers that filtered through his office. Apparently word had spread about her Sparks chances because there were more offers than usual. A commercial. A possible made-for-TV movie. She listened to the messages with half an ear. She was content where she was right now.

  The second message was from Matt. Her fingers itched to erase it as soon as she heard him speak. He went on and on about publicity and the show. And would she be willing to go to a charity dance with him? Kelly scowled. Not only no. But hell no. She erased the message and listened to the next. Or tried to.

  The third and fourth messages were hang-ups. She rolled her eyes. She sometimes had four or more a day of those. It absolutely drove her nuts. The person could at least leave a damn message. Her home phone screened her calls for her. Only a select few had her cell phone number. And she warned Raymond if he tried to call it for business, she would find another manager.

  The fifth message was from Bob. Kelly listened with half an ear while she made her cherry pie. Two sentences in, she stopped with the pie and listened carefully. Her fingers dug into the piecrust as his words filtered through her mind. Now the show was taking over her personal life. Kelly walked over to the phone and played the message again. So much for free time.

  * * * *

  Kelly finished baking her pie and set it on the top of the cabinet to cool. The smell drifted through her house and brought a smile to her face. It reminded her of picking cherries with her daddy when she was younger. They would pick, and Mom would bake. Nice system.