Catch a Rising Star (9 page)

“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 about 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.

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 of
Lucy 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?”