The Fatal Funnel Cake (9 page)

Chapter 12

“I
'm sorry. I really have to go now,” Phyllis said.

“If you could spare us just a few more minutes—” Gloria began.

Phyllis shook her head and muttered again, “I'm sorry.”

Gloria moved her arm and stepped away from Phyllis, hardly missing a beat as she faced the camera and went on, “We've been talking to Phyllis Newsom, blue ribbon winner of the funnel cake competition of the State Fair of Texas, and my, didn't those funnel cakes sound delicious! And remember, you heard about them first right here on
The 44 News
.”

Phyllis heard Gloria's voice clearly behind her as she walked toward the building, and she winced slightly at what had just gone out over the air. Beside her, Sam said quietly, “You probably shouldn't have done that, huh?”

“Probably not,” Phyllis agreed.

But it was too late to do anything about it now. Still, she was a little worried about what had happened. She wouldn't blame Bailey at all if the young woman withdrew the invitation for her to appear on
The Joye of Cooking
. Even though Phyllis had been halfway dreading being on TV, she would be disappointed if the opportunity was taken away now.

As she came up to Bailey, she said, “I'm so sorry about what just happened—”

“I can't believe it,” Bailey said.

Phyllis tried to defend herself. “I'm not used to all this, and I just didn't think—”

“The nerve of that woman, ambushing you like that.” Bailey glared at Gloria Kimball, who was still facing the camera and talking into the microphone. “You know why she did it, don't you?”

Phyllis was relieved that Bailey seemed to be more put out with Gloria than with her. She said, “No, not really. I guess she just saw the opportunity to get a story.”

“She did it because she hates Joye.”

The flat statement surprised Phyllis. She said, “But Joye used to be Gloria's assistant. I thought they were friends.”

A curt, humorless laugh came from Bailey. “Gloria hates Joye's guts. She thinks Joye forced her out and stole the show from her. I don't know all the details, but there was definitely a falling-out between them. When you see them making nice with each other on the air, like they did the other day, that's just for appearance's sake.” Bailey shook her head. “But you didn't hear any of that from me, okay? It's really none of my business.”

“We won't say anything,” Phyllis promised. She looked around at the others, and they all nodded their agreement.

“Okay, fine,” Bailey said. “We'd better get inside.” As they started into the building, she added, “And maybe it would be better if none of us said anything to Joye about what Gloria just did. I understand how she ambushed you, and I'm sure Joye would, too, but let's not tempt fate by mentioning it.”

“That's fine with me,” Phyllis said. “I already feel bad about letting her take advantage of me like that. But isn't Miss Jameson bound to find out what happened sooner or later?”

“Yeah, but later is better. After the broadcast. Trust me, we don't want to upset her this close to going on the air.”

Phyllis glanced over at Carolyn, who raised her eyebrows. It sounded like Joye Jameson had a temper, which agreed with what the security guard, Chet Murdock, had told them.

Bailey led the way across the big hall, where more cooking contests were going on again today, along with competitions for jams and jellies, pickles, canned vegetables, and nonfood items such as needlepoint, dolls, and quilts. The sight of beautiful handmade quilts on display made Phyllis think fondly of her late friend Mattie, who had been an expert quilter.

The bleachers were empty at the moment, but people were already lining up to attend the broadcast. Phyllis saw that Chet Murdock was one of the guards keeping an eye on the audience and gave him a friendly smile and nod as Bailey took her and her friends around to the back of the set.

Reed Hayes was waiting for them. He wasn't wearing a headset this time, but he had one of those little Bluetooth phones tucked into his ear and was talking to someone on it, although anyone who didn't notice the tiny gizmo might think he was just talking to himself. For a long time, Phyllis had seen people using those things and thought that they were perhaps not right in the head, before she finally figured out they were actually talking on the phone.

Hayes's job seemed to consist of talking to people all the time, Phyllis thought. She had never seen him when he wasn't connected in one way or another.

When he noticed that Bailey had arrived with Phyllis and her friends, the producer ended the conversation he was having and came over to them. “Hello, Mrs. Newsom,” he said. “I've got those papers for you to sign.” He held out a clipboard with several legal documents on it.

“What am I signing?” Phyllis asked as she took the clipboard from him.

“Standard boilerplate,” Hayes said. “Liability waiver, waiver of personal appearance fee—”

Carolyn said, “You mean she doesn't get paid for being on the show?”

“Our guests generally aren't compensated,” Bailey said. “Unless, of course, they're members of the Screen Actors Guild or something like that and union rules require it.”

“In other words, you only pay stars. Nobodies don't get paid.”

“Carolyn, it's all right,” Phyllis said. “I never expected to be paid for being on the show. Goodness, just getting to cook with Joye Jameson is payment enough, don't you think?”

“Well, there is that, I suppose,” Carolyn admitted. “And it's a pretty big deal.”

“That's right, ladies,” Hayes said. “Now, Mrs. Newsom, if you could just sign there where the
X
's are . . .”

A pen was attached to the clipboard. Phyllis used it to sign the three documents, although she took the time first to scan over them and make sure they were what Hayes said they were. She knew the producer was impatient, but she wasn't going to sign anything without being certain what it was.

When she handed the clipboard and papers back to Hayes, he said, “Great. Now Bailey can take you to makeup. Charlie will be along to see about getting you miked up, too.”

As Hayes walked away and started talking on his phone again, Phyllis asked Bailey, “Who's Charlie?”

“Charlie Farrar, our director,” Bailey said.

“The show's director handles things like that?” Phyllis was a little surprised.

“He's something of a perfectionist,” Bailey explained. “Likes to check all the equipment himself.” She smiled. “Besides, we have a pretty small crew, so people double up on jobs sometimes. Our budget isn't as big as what you might think it would be.”

Peggy said, “I thought TV shows always cost millions of dollars to put on.”

“Well, when you count what the talent makes . . .” Bailey stopped and shook her head. “But we don't cut any corners. We're just efficient; that's all.”

Phyllis saw proof of that during the next forty-five minutes. Everyone involved in the broadcast seemed to know exactly what they needed to do and when they needed to do it. It was a beehive of activity, bordering on chaos to her inexperienced eye, but even she could tell that it was controlled chaos.

Charlie Farrar, the director, was a slender man with a lined, pale face and a shock of dark hair with threads of silver through it. His eyes were baggy, but whether that was from lack of sleep or just his natural appearance, Phyllis couldn't tell. He had a tiny microphone that was attached by an almost invisible wire to a battery pack that Phyllis would wear clipped to her belt. He told her how to put it on, then handed the equipment over to her and watched as she clipped everything in position.

Farrar wore a headset, too, and when Phyllis had the microphone on, he told her, “Count to five, Mrs. Newsom. Just use your normal voice.”

“One, two, three, four, five,” Phyllis said.

“How was that, Jerry?” Farrar asked, and Phyllis realized he was talking to someone over the headset. “Levels okay? Good.” He nodded to Phyllis. “Just talk naturally to Joye and we should be fine.”

“Is it all right to talk to my friends until then, or will that mess anything up?”

“Nah, that's fine. Your mike's dead right now. Jerry out in the truck killed it after we checked it. We'll turn it on again when we're ready for you.”

“All right. Thank you, Mr. Farrar.”

“Just part of the job,” he said. He turned away and started talking to Jerry over the headset again.

Phyllis's makeup was done already, and the girl who had put it on hadn't really done anything except touch up what Phyllis already had in place.

“Well, now I suppose we wait,” Phyllis said.

“Not for long,” Sam said. “It's only five minutes until the show starts.”

“But I don't know how far into it I'll be on,” Phyllis pointed out. “No one's said anything about that yet.”

Bailey had disappeared earlier, going off to take care of yet another responsibility that had been given to her, but after delivering her warm-up speech to the audience in the bleachers, she came backstage and hurried up to Phyllis and the others, giving them a breathless smile.

“Almost ready,” she said. “Mrs. Newsom, you can just wait right here, if you would. The rest of you need to come with me. I'll show you where you're going to be sitting.”

Phyllis took advantage of the opportunity to ask, “Do you know when I'll be going on?”

“The second full segment,” Bailey said. “That'll be about fifteen minutes in. I'll cue you.”

Phyllis nodded her thanks. Everyone wished her good luck, Carolyn and Eve hugged her, and Phyllis gave Carolyn her purse to hold while the show was going on. Then Bailey ushered the others away around the end of the set.

Phyllis took a deep breath. With everything that had been going on around her, she had been somewhat distracted, but now that a lull had descended on the set, she felt that nervous anticipation inside her again. She told herself that the experience was going to be fun, but at the same time, she knew she would be very glad and relieved when it was over.

The prerecorded theme music took her a little by surprise. She saw Joye Jameson come out of the dressing room and stride purposefully toward the door leading onto the set. She seemed distracted, and Phyllis wondered if even someone as experienced as Joye got butterflies before a broadcast.

Joye noticed her standing off to the side and smiled at her. Phyllis returned the smile. Joye didn't pause or even slow down, of course. She opened the door and stepped out onto the set, waving a hand as she did so, and applause swelled up from the audience to compete with the theme music.

Phyllis could hear every word clearly as Joye greeted the audience and told a brief anecdote about having her picture taken in front of Big Tex. The show went to a commercial, and Bailey opened the door and stuck her head through.

“Doing all right back here?” she asked Phyllis.

“Just fine,” Phyllis said. She thought she sounded a lot more calm and confident than she really felt.

Bailey gave her a smile and a thumbs-up. “I'll be setting up for the funnel cake segment off camera while Joye's interviewing her first guest. We'll have everything ready.”

“You're amazing, keeping up with everything you do.”

“Tell that to my boss.”

Phyllis didn't know if Bailey meant Joye or Reed Hayes or both, and there was no time to ask because the young woman was gone again.

Joye's first guest was a local politician who talked about how much money the state fair pumped into the economy and then ate some cotton candy, getting the sticky stuff all over his face and prompting quite a bit of laughter from the audience. They sounded like they were in a good mood, Phyllis thought, and that was promising. She hoped they would be equally receptive of her.

The first full segment was over before Phyllis knew it, seeming to fly by. During the commercial, Bailey came backstage and closed the door. She motioned Phyllis closer.

“When we come back, Joye will talk a little about the funnel cake contest and then introduce you,” Bailey said. “When I point at you, you just open the door and go on out. You can smile and wave at the audience, but after you've done that, try not to pay much attention to them. Just talk directly to Joye like you would if you were in a friend's kitchen. That's the feeling we want to get across. If you can, just forget all about the fact that you're on TV.”

“I don't know if that's going to be possible.”

“You'll be surprised how quickly you relax and get into it. Just have fun, Phyllis. That's what we're all here for.”

Phyllis nodded, swallowed, and then took a deep breath. It helped a little, but not much.

Then Joye was talking again, saying something about the funnel cake competition and how it was different this year. The words sort of ran together in Phyllis's ears.