Catch a Rising Star (28 page)

Amber: “It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t remember either.”

Felicia: “I have an idea.” (I smile and slip my arm around the child.)

Jenn looks up with beautiful wide blue eyes and my heart melts a little—I’m having trouble staying in the scene. I must have
waited too long because Jenn bails me out with some ad-lib.

Amber: “What’s your idea, mommy?” (She lays her silky head against my chest and my arms encircle her. For some reason, I’m
honestly fighting back tears.)

Felicia: “What if we just stop trying to remember back then? What if I start being your real mommy right now and you start
being my real daughter?”

(Jenn pulls away slowly and places one hand on either side of my face the way only a five-year-old can. Her lips tremble and
her eyes fill with unshed tears.)

Amber: “I’d like that, Mommy.”

I stop fighting my own tears and gather Jenn tight, even though the script doesn’t call for it. I drink in the soft scent
of baby shampoo and rest my cheek against her hair. Blythe calls “Cut.” But neither Jenn nor I move for a second.

“Great job, sweetie,” I whisper.

“You too,” she says back, and I relax my hold until she’s at arm’s length. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I nod and wipe away a few remaining tears from her face.

“I wish you really could be my mom.”

My heart squeezes and I realize something… I wish I could be her mom too. I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead.
“Thank you, sweetie. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. If I had a little girl, I’d want her to be exactly
like you.”

I want so much to ask her, “What about Rachel?” But of course, I don’t go there. It wouldn’t be right. And I’m not sure I
have the heart for the answer.

“Come on, Jenn!” Jeffy calls. “Dad said we can have a donut.”

I smile at the little girl. She grins back, and off she goes to get her cavity-inducing snack.

Well, that’s that, then, isn’t it? Actually, a donut doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I start to head that way, still thinking
about Jenn, when Julie Foster pops up out of nowhere. I stop short.

“Good job with that scene,” she says grudgingly.

I almost croak at the compliment.

“Thanks, Julie. Good writing.” Who am I to withhold credit where credit is due?

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

And there you have it. She walks on by, presumably going to her office.

David is standing with the twins at the food table by the time I get there. I swear, I didn’t see him before I decided to
get my donut. I reach for one and my hand gets smacked, but not before I grab hold of the treat. “Hey!”

Freddie—of course—is standing next to me. “I saw you making a beeline and came over to save you from yourself. Put that thing
down. Have you seen your butt lately?”

“Yes, and it’s smaller than ever thanks to a little bout with the measles.”

“Exactly. Do you want to make it stretch?”

I’m aware that David is not only listening, but laughing at my expense.

“Freddie, is this really the place to have this conversation? Save it for the gym.”

“The gym? Do you even remember where the gym is, honey? I haven’t seen you there in about… for
ever.”

Whatever! In a split second of defiance, I put the donut to my mouth. “You can’t tell me what to do.” I stick my tongue out
at my friend and take a huge bite. Too huge. My eyes go wide, and I’m trying desperately to chew enough to swallow.

“Oh look, little Miss Piggy,” Freddie says in his mocking girlie tone. “Bite off more than you can chew?”

All the things I’d like to say fill my head, but of course I can’t speak around the massive chunk of fried, sugary dough.

“Are you okay, Tabby?” David stops pretending he’s not eavesdropping, and I hear the concern in his voice.

I raise my index finger and nod. But I’m really not okay. A chunk has slipped down my esophagus, and I can’t breathe. Panic
hits me full in the chest, and I reach out and grab David’s arm.

As soon as he realizes what’s going on, he springs into action, positions himself behind my back, wraps his hands around my
waist, and presses on my stomach area. Once, twice, and the piece of donut flies out, whacking Freddie between the eyes.

“Ew!” he squeals.

I’m working on catching my breath when I realize David’s arms are still around me. “Thank you,” I finally manage.

Freddie is still freaked out about me spitting on him. He gives me a once-over to make sure I’m okay, then holds up his hand.
“I have to go wash myself.” He takes off before I can even apologize.

David turns me in his arms. “You okay?”

I nod and I’m about to say something like “Where’d you learn that?” or something equally asinine, when Rachel’s lithe form
shows up next to David, and she lays her fingers on his arm, forcing him to let me go.

“You’re a real hero, David,” she murmurs seductively. Why does that woman always have to butt in?

He clears his throat. “Just doing what needed to be done.” His modest, slightly embarrassed answer definitely adds to his
strong, silent type appeal.

“David, don’t forget we have dinner at Trey and Julie’s tonight. Have you thought about getting a babysitter?”

“Uh, no. To tell you the truth I forgot.”

Rachel gives a little pout. “Oh, I’m so disappointed. But wait a second…” She turns to me then, and I know what’s coming.
“Tabby, do you have plans tonight?”

“Why, Rachel? Am I invited for dinner with Julie and Trey also?”

Her cheeks flush. And I decide to let her off the hook. I focus on David. “Actually, I don’t have plans, and I’d be happy
to stay with the kids again if you need me, David.”

Rachel’s face brightens. “How sweet! Thank you ever so much, Tabby.”

David frowns and shakes his head. “No, Tabby. That’s asking too much of you.”

“Don’t worry about it. The twins owe me a rematch of
Chutes and Ladders
anyway. I’m down about ten games.”

“Wonderful,” Rachel says and removes her hand from David’s arm. “Pick me up at seven. Thanks again, Tabby. Ta-ta.”

Personally, I think anyone who says “ta-ta” should be placed in front of a firing squad and forced to promise they’ll never
say it again. Unless they’re saying it as a joke, that is.

“Tabby, I don’t want you to do this.” David’s warm hand is on my arm, detaining me from walking away. It’s all I can do to
cover his with mine and revel in the touch, but apparently, Rachel is in and I’m out. So what’s the point?

I lean in close to him and whisper for his ears alone. “I owe you for saving my life just now,” I say. “But next time you
have a date with Rachel or anyone else, I have two words for you: plan ahead. Because my babysitting services are out of business.”

“Hey, I said—”

“Too late,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you a little before seven.” I wink at the twins. “Be prepared for a
Chutes and Ladders
rematch—you’re going down.” They snicker. I wiggle my fingers at David. “Ta-ta, dahling.”

Back in my dressing room, I find my script for the next day’s scenes. I give it a once-over. “Oh no. That’s not going to happen.”
No wonder Julie was nice to me. Nice to my face, stab me in the back. She really thinks Felicia would fall in love with her
psychiatrist? No way!
No
way! I jerk to my feet and yank open my door.

When I get to Julie’s office, I don’t even bother to knock.

She looks up from her computer and sits back, eyeing me with a squint. “What can I do for you, Tabitha?”

I drop the script onto her desk. “What’s the meaning of this?”

She flips through the pages, then meets my gaze with cool indifference. “Which words are you having trouble with? Maybe I
can help. Is it that one right there?” she asks pointing to the first page.

Okay, I walked right into that one. “Don’t play coy with me, Julie. Felicia is not going to sleep with her psychiatrist.”

She stands and her eyes narrow dangerously as she leans across her desk. “Felicia does what I say she does. I think you’d
better remember what happened last time I decided Felicia was going to go away.”

“You’re seriously threatening me?”

“Call it whatever you want.”

I snatch up my script and head for the door. “We’ll see what Blythe and Jerry have to say about this.”

“Memo to you,” she mocks. “I already ran these scenes by them both before we finalized them.”

“And Blythe agreed to this?”

“Thought it was brilliant.”

“We’ll see.”

I slam out of her office and down to Jerry’s. His door is closed, and his assistant isn’t at her desk. I give Jerry more respect
than I did Julie. At least I knock.

“Excuse me, Miss Brockman.” The assistant has returned and is frowning at me. “Can I help you?”

“I need to see Jerry right away.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s gone home for the weekend.”

I give a frustrated sigh. “Is Blythe Cannon still here?”

“I believe so. Want me to page her?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. Tell her to call my cell phone.”

The director calls me within five minutes. “What’s wrong, Tabby?”

“Have you read my scenes for Monday?”

“Where Felicia and the psychiatrist… ?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

“I questioned that, Tabby. But Jerry sided with Julie. I honestly don’t know what she’s thinking.”

But I do. I know exactly. Felicia is starting to remember the love of her life—Rudolph. And Julie doesn’t want me in her husband’s
arms.

“Blythe. You know what’s going on. You must.”

“I know, but what can we do? Unless you’re willing to walk and risk a lawsuit.”

I groan. “The fans will be fit to be tied if Felicia has an affair. Especially now that she’s starting to get her memory back.”

“Oh, great scene with the kid today, by the way.”

“Thanks. I’ve been working on that.”

“It shows. Very convincing.”

“I appreciate the affirmation, Blythe, but I’m still not doing this scene. I’m not doing this ridiculous story line. It’s
just not right. First of all, Felicia wouldn’t have an affair out of wedlock just because she can’t remember her husband.
Her morals run too deep.”

“You mean your morals run too deep.”

“Okay. Maybe so. But my convictions will not allow me to do a story line where my character sleeps with someone who isn’t
her husband. My fans know I’m a Christian. My pastor’s wife watches the show, for crying out loud!”

“Tell you what. Let’s take it up with Jerry on Monday. Okay? I’ll back you up.”

Relief shoots through me. “Thanks.”

I return to my dressing room, grab my coat, and look ahead to my evening with the twins.

T
he group around Jerry’s conference table is a somber lot—myself included. Mondays are bad enough, what with the weekend over,
the garbage truck waking me up at four in the morning, and just the whole thought of Monday in general. But add to it that
I’ve been dreading this confrontation all weekend, and I really wish I could have stayed in bed. Here we are, Jerry, Blythe,
a very belligerent Julie, myself, and Kyle, my agent. I need someone on my side in case Blythe Cannon bails on me.

Jerry folds his hands and meets my gaze across the sleek oak table. “What seems to be the problem, Tabitha?”

Oh boy, just like your parents, you don’t want the producer calling you by your formal name in a situation like this. It doesn’t
bode well for what’s to come.

“Well, first let me start by saying that I believe Julie is an incredibly talented writer.”

Okay, Julie just rolled her eyes. Did I sound insincere? Fine, I’ll just cut to the chase and forget the credit where credit
is due strategy.

“I’m sure Julie appreciates your thoughts on that,” Jerry says with a tight smile like he’s not buying it either.

This acting ability of mine is a curse… no one ever believes a thing I say.

“Here’s the thing. According to the script, Felicia is supposed to start having an affair with her psychiatrist. And that’s
just not something she would do.”

Jerry draws a long breath. “I see. Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Felicia do what Julie writes for her to do?” Have
these two been comparing notes or what?

“She does. Yes. But I think maybe in this case Felicia needs to be allowed to stay faithful to Rudolph and not muddy the relationship
with this affair. She’s starting to get her memory back in snatches. Why would she just hop into bed with a man she barely
knows?”

“The point is,” Julie interjects, “that she doesn’t actually know either of them.”

“That’s true, but she knows Rudy in her soul. Theirs is a love that can never be forgotten.” I glance at Blythe and invite
her to jump in.

Apparently Jerry picks up on my plea for help. “What do you think, Blythe?”

“Well.” She looks around the table. “I think Tabby may have a point.”

Julie slaps her hand on the table. “What?”

“O-on the other hand,” Blythe continues, “maybe we should up the tension by allowing this relationship with the doctor to
be a sort of triangle. Only maybe not lead it into anything physical.”

“Of all the stupid—” Oh shoot. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. That’s no way to get support from these people.

“I agree,” Julie says.

Uh—what?

Julie continues. “It’s stupid to give them a platonic relationship. The fans have been watching tension build between Felicia
and her shrink for weeks now. It’s time to take it to the next level.”

“No!” I say. “It most definitely isn’t.”

“Well, Tabitha,” Jerry says, “I believe we’ll go with the script as it’s written.”

Anger shoots through me. Have they not been listening to a word I’ve said? Felicia Fontaine has her faults, yes, but she is
not going to turn her back on the man she’s learning to love all over again and the children she loves even though she can’t
remember them. I can’t help it. I stand on shaky legs and sweep the table with my firm gaze. “I’m not playing it that way.”

“Are you saying you’re going to walk off the set and breach your contract?” he asks, driving home the statement with an icy
stare.