Catch a Rising Star (26 page)

“Where’s your gal pal?”

I cringe, but somewhere inside I’m grateful for a friend like Dancy who isn’t afraid to say what I’m thinking. I cut a glance
to David, and I’m relieved to see he’s smirking. Totally not offended by Dancy’s blunt question.

“If you mean Rachel, I imagine she’s sleeping in.”

“And where is she sleeping in at?”

Okay, besides the fact that her sentence is completely incorrect grammatically, and that’s a little disconcerting coming from
an assistant editor, I think that one might have been a little over the top. I step in, looping my arm through hers. “Okay,
well. David, it’s been great seeing you again. I’ll see you on the set tomorrow.”

Without even waiting for his farewell, I pull Dancy down the row, with Laini following closely behind. “What’s wrong with
you?” I demand when we get to the parking lot.

“Oh, don’t tell me you weren’t wondering how he knew she was sleeping in.”

“You know what? It’s none of my business. And it definitely isn’t your business.”

“Let’s take this home, you two,” says Laini, the voice of reason.

“Fine,” we say in unison and actually, that’s all there is to it. We never finish our conversation because my cell phone goes
off the second we pile into Dancy’s BMW.

David’s voice greets me. “Hey, look—I’m sorry about that,” I say as soon as he identifies himself.

“That’s why I’m calling. Tell Dancy that I don’t know where Rachel slept last night, and I’m just guessing that she’s sleeping
in.”

My face goes hot. “Well, um, thanks for calling, and I’ll certainly let her know.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He hangs up just like that, and I can tell he went from amused with her first question to a little ticked
at the innuendo of the second. I scowl and relay the message to Dancy.

“Well, now we know, don’t we?” she says without so much as the tiniest smidgen of remorse. I want to rail at her. To tell
her she can’t just go around insinuating that David is having an inappropriate relationship with Rachel Savage.

But you know… now we know.

Monday morning I wake at four a.m. to the sound of the garbage truck on the street. As if Mondays weren’t bad enough. “You
awake?” Laini whispers from her bed.

“What do you think?”

“I’m worried, Tabs.”

Turning onto my side, I prop myself up on my elbow. “About what?”

“What if I’m making a bad decision here? Maybe I should just go back to accounting and forget about design.”

Forget interior design? What was all this trouble for if she’s just going to make a run for the math as soon as she gets a
little nervous?

“Come on, Laini. You don’t really mean that, do you?”

“I’m honestly not sure. I’m good at accounting, you know.”

“You’re lucky you’re so good at two professions. When I lose this job on
Legacy of Life,
I’ll have nothing to fall back on.”

Laini laughs, just like I’d hoped. “Come on. This is about me, not you.”

“Okay, so which do you want to do? Accounting or interior design?”

“Design. But I like numbers too.”

Okay, that’s just weird. How can anyone like numbers?

“I don’t know what to tell you, Laini. Maybe it’s not your career that’s giving you all this angst. Maybe you need change
in another area of your life.”

“Listen to who’s waxing philosophical,” she teases.

“Listen to my words of wisdom, Grasshopper.”

“You watch too many old TV shows.”

“Look who’s talking.”

The hallway light switches on and glows beneath our door just before we hear a knock. Dancy pokes her head in. “Are you guys
awake?”

“Of course.”

She sighs and flops down at the end of my bed. “The Bakers are yelling again. Why don’t those two just split up and put each
other—and me—out of their misery?”

“Or go to counseling and work out their problems,” I say.

Dancy gives a short laugh. “My parents have been in counseling for ten years and they still don’t get along. They only stay
together so they don’t have to split the money.”

I never know what to say when Dancy gets all bitter about her folks.

“How are things going at the office?” I ask. Sometimes it’s better to just change the subject.

My tactic works. Dancy shakes her head. “Jack is an English egomaniac. I swear, he thinks all he has to do is walk into the
office, flash that Hugh Grant boyish grin, talk in that accent—which, by the way, I’m not completely convinced is real—and
everyone will just do whatever he wants. It’s sickening to watch the other women in the office go la-la over him.”

“Is he that cute?” Laini asks.

A careless shrug lifts her slim shoulders. “If you like that type, I guess.”

Intrigued, I can’t let it drop just yet. “What type?”

“You know, tall, cute, dark hair, hazel eyes, soft-spoken.” Her voice has taken on a dreamy tone.

Laini is the first one to give in to laughter. Actually a little giggle. But it’s enough to set me off. “Sounds like my type,”
Laini says. “How about you, Tabs?”

“Definitely my type too. Bring him home for dinner and let’s see if he ‘takes a fancy’ to either of us.” Of course I say “takes
a fancy” in a bad English accent.

“Fine. Mock me.” Dancy hops up. “Just for that, I’m taking the first shower, and I just might use all the hot water.”

Our laughter follows her.

“What do you think?” Laini asks.

“Oh, she’s got it bad.”

“Yep, I thought so.”

And if anyone can spot a girl who’s got it bad for a guy—it’s me.

T
urns out, it’s not hard to ignore someone who doesn’t even show up. The twins are on set, back to their energetic selves,
but David is nowhere to be seen. It’s odd.

Rachel isn’t on set today either. To be perfectly honest, that particular coincidence doesn’t sit well with me, but hey, I’m
not dwelling on it. I’m going to be a professional and do my job. After all, somewhere between getting into the shower (last,
so my water was barely a notch above icy) and arriving on the set, I’ve definitely decided to move on and stop dreaming about
David Gray’s gorgeous navy blue eyes, or the way he looked on Valentine’s Day in that suit, and oh gosh, the way he smelled.
And the way his shoulder felt against mine during church. Man, how am I ever going to stop dreaming about this guy?

I swallow hard. Get a stinking grip, Tabby.

I’m just finishing up a scene with the twins, where Felicia has a rush of motherly love. She takes both children in her arms,
and in an Emmy-worthy moment—if I do say so myself—allows tears to travel down her cheeks.

Even Blythe says, “Finally got the motherhood bit down, haven’t you, Tabby? It’s about time.” From Blythe that’s high praise
so I walk to my dressing room feeling pretty pleased with myself.

I grab my cell phone from my purse and check messages. My heart picks up at the sound of David’s voice.

“Tabby, I’m so sorry to bother you. But I have an emergency. Can you give me a call back on my cell phone?”

I dial and he picks up immediately. “Tabby?”

“Hey, David. What’s up?” Okay, that was a nice blend of distant, but concerned. Nice job, if I do say so myself.

“Listen, I had a meeting with a client and he’s late.”

Oh, and is his name Rachel? I just can’t believe him. Rachel’s gone, David’s gone. It’s too obvious what he’s really doing.

I bristle. Meeting with a client? Is that what we’re calling clandestine tête-à-têtes with supporting actresses these days?
“A business meeting, huh?” Sarcasm drips from my lips.

He hesitates. Ha! Caught. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I give a little carefree laugh. “What can I do for you?”

“Okay, look. I don’t have much time. My meeting was changed from noon to three, which is terrible, because the twins have
ice skating lessons at three.”

I feel a premonition coming on. What am I now? Convenient babysitter whenever Rachel and David want to go off and be alone
together? Doesn’t he even have a clue about my feelings for him? Or maybe he does and just doesn’t give a rip.

“Let me guess, you want me to take the kids to lessons and then back to your apartment?”

“Would you? I’m so sorry to ask, but this meeting could mean the difference between staying independent or having to take
a job I don’t want.”

Oh, he’s good. A great liar really. “Oh, sure. No prob. We’ll get along just fine. You and your, um,
client
feel free to take your time. The twins are in good hands with me.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Tabby? You don’t sound… right.”

“Who me? Oh, I’m fine. Just had a very emotional scene with my children so I’m pulling myself out of it.”

“Tell them I love them, okay? I’m going to call the kids’ advocate on set and let her know it’s okay to send the kids with
you. And I’ll call Randy to let you in the apartment after the lessons.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” I say shortly because I can just imagine Rachel standing beside him, kissing his ear and playing with
the black curls that cover the back of his neck. “Good-bye.”

The kids and I actually have a great time at Rockefeller Center. Much nicer than last time we were here together. They hold
my hand as we move through the crowd, and the feel of their tiny fingers does something I can’t quite put into words.

We arrive a little while before the lesson is to begin, so the coach allows the kids to hit the ice for free skating before
knuckling down for their lesson. I watch as the pair do their best to one-up each other.

“Watch me!” Jenn calls just before spinning into a single loop.

I hold my breath until she lands sure-footedly and poses with her arms in the air. “Way to go, Jenn,” I call out, expelling
my pent-up breath. “Look out Michelle Kwan!”

Her face glows under the praise.

“Now watch me,” Jeffy calls, and he does the same jump.

“Amazing, Jeffy! You rock!”

A pleasant-looking woman moves next to me. “I don’t think we’ve ever met,” she says with a friendly smile. “I’m Erica Johnson.”
She points to a lovely little girl of seven or eight wearing a leotard. “That’s my Angie,” she says with motherly pride. “This
is her third year.”

“Tabby,” I say. “I’m with the twins.”

“Your husband usually brings them, doesn’t he?”

“My . . .?”
Oh!
“Wait. I’m not—” I shake my head and open my mouth to set her straight, but she’s not interested in me anymore. A small gasp
escapes her as Angie goes down on the ice.

“Angie, get up some speed before you try that jump. You know you can’t do a double if you’re just going to drag along the
ice!” She shakes her head. “I swear.” Without saying another word to me, she moves away, motioning frantically for her poor
kid. The woman reams Angie with a string of insults. Compassion for the child tugs at my heart, and I look away. It occurs
to me that I never set the woman straight, but I seriously doubt she’ll remember even seeing me.

The twins go through a series of jumps and spins, sometimes landing on their bottoms, sometimes landing the jumps. I honestly
don’t see how anyone can berate a child for falling. That’s so… I don’t know… heartless.

Finally the instructor follows the twins off the ice. He smiles at me and shakes my hand. “David couldn’t make it?”

“Not tonight.” I smile back and turn my attention to the twins. “You two are fabulous. Want to order pizza to celebrate a
fantastic lesson?”

“Yeah!” they say in unison.

“Okay, go get your shoes on and we’ll go.”

“You must be David’s fiancée,” the instructor says. “Jenn told me they’re getting a new mother.”

My heart stops, and I’m finding it difficult to breathe. What if David and Rachel are secretly flying to Vegas and getting
married at one of those drive-through chapels? Maybe Rachel got a quickie divorce and now they’re ready to take their relationship
to the next level. Oh gee. Am I ever a loser. I’m babysitting while the guy I have a crush on is marrying my nemesis.

“I’m just a friend,” I say as brightly as possible.

“Oh? It must the other woman I’ve seen the kids with then.”

A knife-sharp pain slices through my chest at the mention of the “other woman.” Oh golly, I wonder who that might be.

“I’m really not at liberty to discuss David’s private life,” I say with a lift of my chin and what I hope is an air of indifference.
After all, I really should be above idle gossip, shouldn’t I?

“I understand. But please tell him not to schedule the wedding for April eighth. The children are giving an exhibition.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say, wanting desperately to get away from the man. “Ready, kids?”

We order a thick pepperoni and cheese pizza and make it to David’s apartment around five.

“Good evening, Randy,” I say brightly, smiling at the doorman, who I have to say turned out to be a great guy after all.

“Good evening, Miss Brockman. And good evening to you two,” he says to the twins.

“Want a slice of pizza?” I ask on a whim. After all, it’s huge and there’s no way we’ll eat even half of the pie.

“I’d love one,” he says as we head to the elevator together. Once we reach our destination and he lets us in, I hurry to the
cupboard, find a paper towel, and pull out a slice of pizza for him.

“Here you go,” I say brightly. “Enjoy.”

“You’re a nice girl, Miss Brockman,” he says, accepting the offering. And as I close the door, I have to say, that’s a compliment
I’ll cherish for a long time.

I stride back to the kitchen where the kids are waiting at the table and pull down three blue plates, setting them down along
with napkins. “This looks great!”

We bow our heads and Jeffy says a simple prayer. “Thank you for the food. God bless Daddy at his meeting and God bless Miss
Tabby and us here at home.”

Sigh. Home . . .

The phone on the wall rings just as I’m taking my first bite. I pick it up. “Hello?”

“Tabby, it’s David. How are things going?”

“Oh, we’re having a great time. How about you and Rachel?”

“Rachel? How did you know… ?”