Fame (16 page)

Katy pulled the little girl into a hug. Warmth and goodness and everything right flooded her soul. So what if Dayne Matthews never called back? She didn’t need an acting job, not when she had this. CKT didn’t have much money in the budget, and she didn’t make enough money to live on her own. But working with these kids was what she loved. The child in her arms was proof.

“Ready for the song?” Katy brushed her nose against Mary’s. “Yep. Ready.” Mary stepped back and took Katy’s hand.

Then Katy raised her voice so the kids around her could hear. “Circle up, guys.”

Katy ended every practice the same way. The children circled her and she led them in a nonsensical song. “Bang-bang, choochoo train, wind me up and I’ll do my thing …. ” The song took the kids from their very loudest voices to barely a whisper before they erupted into cheers at the end and headed home with their parents.

When the kids were gone, Katy glanced at her watch. It was nine o’clock, and the next two hours were designated for painting sets. Nancy Helmes brought coffee for everyone, full cups for the others, half a cup for herself.

“I’ll never understand the half-cup thing, Nancy.” Katy grinned at the woman.

“Tell me again?”

“I can’t stand drinking cold coffee.” Nancy made a funny face.

“I take only half a cup because that’s the part that stays hot.” “Right. That’s what I thought.”

“She’s a little crazy.” Al gave a lighthearted, sarcastic raise of his brow.

“That’s why I love her.”

Heath Hudson was here helping that night, along with Ashley Baxter. Her husband was home with their son. Since this early session was more about creating a design, he figured he could wait and come to one of the later work nights.

The first step was moving the plywood in. Katy placed herself 125

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at one corner of the stack of wood and scanned the sanctuary. . “Everyone over here for a minute.”

Rhonda, Heath, and Ashley hurried over and helped her pick up the corners of three awkward sheets of plywood and Carry them to the stage.

‘Easy does it, everyone. Don’t drop your corner.” Katy led the way up the stairs.

Rhonda set her corner down and dusted off her hands on her jeans, then picked up the corner again. “If I get another splinter I won’t be able to hold a paintbrush.”

“Yikes.” Katy tightened her grip on the board and helped lift it, moving it toward the back of the stage. Her hands were getting cut up too. “It was supposed to be the finest grain. It shouldn’t be splintering like this.”

Ashley poked her head around the plywood. “The grains okay. Even with the splintering, we can still paint on it; pretty sure.”

“Good.” Katy moved in sync with Rhonda’s steps, and in a few seconds they had the board flat on the stage. She smiled at Ashley. “Thanks for doing this. It’s just like God to bring you. She looked from Heath to Rhonda. “We prayed for someone with an art background to help with sets.” Her eyes returned Ashley.

“And God brings us a professional artist. How great is that?”

When all three boards were lined up side by side, Katy explained what they were for. “These’ll make up Aunt Pollys house.” She gave the other three a look.

“Aunt Polly’s on a budget these days, so no fourth wall.” The paint was already sitting a few feet away on a spread of newspapers. Katy pointed it. “We’ve got red, blue, green, yellow, and white. Enough to make pretty picture windows and a roofline.” She gave Ashley a hesitant look. “That is, if you can take a pencil and sketch out the design so it looks like the roofline’s coming down along the top of the three walls.”

Ashley laughed and rolled up her sleeves. “No problem.”

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Heath was still in a white button-down and a tie from work. He slipped an old T-shirt over his head and stood back a little. “Okay, Ms. Baxter, give us something to paint.”

Rhonda smiled. “We’ll stand here and watch.” She positioned herself next to Katy and elbowed her in the ribs. Her next few words were hushed. “I watched her sketch something the other day. She’s amazing.”

Before Katy could respond, her cell phone rang. Rhonda’s eyes lit up as Katy took it from her pocket. Rhonda mouthed the question on both their minds: Dayne?

Katy made a face at her, put the phone to her ear, and turned her back to the others. “Hello?”

“Hi, Katy, it’s Dayne.” He hesitated. “Dayne Matthews. Are you busy?”

The floor beneath Katy felt suddenly molten. She steadied herself. “Hi. No…

just about to paint some sets.” She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she waited.

Dayne chuckled on the other end. “That’s so great. Painting sets.” He drew in a slow breath. “It’s been a long time since I did that.”

“You should join us sometime.” She was regaining her balance, finding her way in the conversation. “Nothing beats an all-night sets party.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.” He laughed again, and then his tone grew more serious.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to call you, but I had to make sure about the audition time. Mitch and I would like you to come back, do a scene with me this time.”

Katy clutched the phone more tightly. This wasn’t happening, was it? Dayne Matthews wasn’t really chatting at the other end of her cell phone, asking her to come back to Hollywood to do a scene with him, was he? “When… when would it be?”

“Tuesday morning. You could fly out Monday if that works for you. The studio already has a flight lined up if you’re interested.”

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If she was interested? “Yeah.” She forced herself to take slow breaths. “Tuesday works.”

Katy glanced over her shoulder. Heath was watching Ashley, taken by her pencil sketches on the plywood. But Rhonda was only a few feet away, her eyes round.

This time she mouthed the words I knew it.

Katy waved her fist in a silent cheer and held one finger to her lips. She didn’t want Heath or Ashley knowing about her CA auditions—not yet. Dayne was explaining what time her plane would take off and assuring her that someone from the studio would call her with a confirmation and the specifics.

“What should I wear? Is it a city scene or something from her hometown?” She kept her voice quiet, her back to the others.

“You know, Katy—” she could hear the smile in Dayne’s voice—”I don’t think it really matters.”

Then—and only thenmdid she admit the truth to herself, a truth that built and grew and consumed her even after the phone call with Dayne Matthews ended. After a lifetime of dreaming about making it as an actress, after coming close in Chicago and walking away from it—here, now, the long-ago dream was about to come true. The reason it didn’t matter what she wore to the audition was obvious.

Because the truth was, the part of Tory Temblin was practically hers.

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DAYNE COULD FEEL HIMSELF falling for Katy Hart.

That didn’t surprise him. He’d been taken with her from the moment he saw her at the Bloomington Community Theater a year earlier. What did surprise him was the fact that he couldn’t control his feelings.

In his world, women were as plentiful as the grains of sand on the Malibu shoreline. When he came across one he couldn’t have—because she was married or seeing someone—he would flirt but never fall. Not hard, anyway. But with Katy things were different. He hadn’t met anyone like her since his days of boarding school in Indonesia. She was as genuine as a summer breeze, and no matter how he tried to clear his mind of her, he failed.

Now it was Saturday morning, and Katy would be back in town on Monday. He wanted badly to call her and make plans to take her out, maybe show her around. But it wasn’t possible because it wouldn’t be fair to Katy. Her innocence even went so far as to her lack of understanding of what might lie ahead for her— the world of Hollywood living.

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Dayne was barefoot as he padded across his kitchen and pulled a carton of eggs from his refrigerator. Four egg whites and sauteed mushrooms were on the menu for the day. One of his favorites. He took a bowl from the cupboard and snagged a fork from the drawer.

He liked Saturday mornings in June, liked the fog that hung around his patio, liked the quiet way everything felt when the ocean disappeared from view and his estate became a comfortable

cocoon of normalcy.

If just for a few hours.

A pretty instrumental flowed through his house from the sound system. He had a collection of such music, and this one was called Creek something or other.

Gentle guitar melodies mixed with the cry of an occasional bird or the soft sounds of a babbling brook.

This was peace, these Saturday mornings.

He cracked the eggs, separated the yolks, and whipped the whites with his fork.

Katy’s face came to mind again as he poured the mixture into a small frying pan.

It wasn’t that she was glamorous. He’d been around women like that most of his career. But what she lacked in glamour she made up for in natural beauty. She was gorgeous, pretty in a simple way, with a style that Hollywood had forgotten.

It was what made her perfect for the part in Dream On and what would catapult her to the top of the Hollywood list if she won it.

And she would win it.

He remembered the conversation he’d had with Mitch Henry about Katy. After her first audition and Dayne’s lunch with her at the commissary, Dayne had returned to the studio office and found Mitch at his desk looking at his computer.

Dayne was breathless, energy and enthusiasm flowing through his veins. “Well?”

Mitch took his wire-rimmed glasses from his face, set them on his desk, and focused on Dayne. “You look like a schoolboy, 131

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Matthews.” He lowered his chin, his expression that of an indignant father.

“Don’t fall for her.” He hesitated and looked at his ‘computer screen again.

“She’s too good for you.”

“I know it.” He pulled up a chair and leaned on the edge of the desk that separated them. “But what do you think? The real deal, right?”

Mitch gave an exaggerated sigh and turned toward Dayne again. “You were there.”

“Right.” Dayne wasn’t sure where the casting director was headed. …. In the room watching her audition?”

“Yeah, so?” Dayne sat back a little. “I still wanna know what you thought.”

Mitch crossed one leg over the other and gripped the arms of his chair. “I thought she was brilliant. The most natural talent I’ve seen come through those doors in years.” His expression cracked, and a smile softened his eyes. “But you already knew that.”

Dayne rose and tossed his hands in the air. “Why aren’t you more excited?”

“Because..” He faced the window for a moment and then ;.i”:i’ stoo, d. When he turned around his eyes were serious again. “I don’t think she’ll take it.’

“Of course she’ll take it.” Dayne had felt the excitement surge through him.

He’d wanted to shout to the heavens. Mitch Henry liked her, liked her so much he already expected to offer her the part. Dayne could imagine himself working alongside her, getting to know her better, becoming friends with the girl who had captured his imagination the previous summer. “She wouldn’t be flying out here for an audition if she wasn’t interested in the part.”

“I’m worried.” Mitch tapped his fingers on his desk. “Katy Hart doesn’t belong here.” He waved his hand in the air. “With all the craziness in Hollywood.”

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“Maybe she wants it,” Dayne’s answer had been fast—too fast. Even as he said the words, he knew Mitch was right. The lifestyle of the Hollywood elite, the type of actress who would play site him in a major film, was something Katy wasn’t prepared for. Not at all.

“Be careful with her when she’s out for the next audition.” He pointed at Dayne, the stern-father look back in his eyes. ‘I can see it, Dayne. I know how you’re feeling about her. Just do everyone a favor and keep your feelings to yourself.

I don’t want that girl’s face on the cover of any magazine, you understand?”

The memory of the conversation fingered as thick as the outside.

Was that what he had to do—keep his distance from everyone he wanted to get to know? everyone who might be good for him? The idea brought back another memory, one that was so sad he rarely thought of it. The memory of his birth mother lying in the hospital bed in Bloomington, the feel of her dying arms around his neck as she told him what he’d always wanted to know.

That he’d been loved by her. By her and his birth father. And that if his siblings had gotten the chance to know about him, he would’ve been loved by them too.

Dayne adjusted the fire beneath the eggs. He gripped the granite countertop and closed his eyes. He could still remember how it felt sitting in that rented SUV, watching the front door the hospital from the back of the parking lot, and seeing the group come out. The group that he quickly realized was his family, his biological father and siblings and their spouses and children.

Even now he could feel his fingers wrapped around the handle of the driver’s door, feel himself opening it and putting one foot on the ground. He would go to them, introduce himself talk to them. Maybe even hug them. And just like that, in a matter of seconds, he would have the family he’d always wanted. He would never feel disconnected again.

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‘But as he stepped into the light of day, he heard the first series Of clicks—paparazzi camera clicks—and in that moment he made the decision. He wouldn’t pull the Baxters into the tabloids with him. They were private people, good people from what he knew of them, doctors and lawyers and teachers and artists.

whose lives centered around the comfortable town of Bloomington, Indiana.

So instead of going to them, he stayed in the SUV and let them walk past him to their cars, where they climbed in and drove away. And that was the end of that.

Dayne opened his eyes.

In light of his decision that day, he had promised himself he wouldn’t think about them, that he’d put them out of his mind. But the memory of them stayed with him like a favorite song,