Fame

by Karen Kingsbury

  A verse came to mind, one from the sermon earlier that day. “You must be holy because I am holy.” It was something Jesus had told His followers, something that had never quite sat right with Katy. How could a person be holy when only God was capable of holiness?

  But that morning Pastor Mark had cleared it up. God wanted His people to be holy, not perfect. Holiness for God meant perfection, of course. But holiness for His people meant being set apart. Different.

  Katy uttered a sad laugh. Lying to the people she lived with was hardly different. She could tell the Flanigans later tonight, maybe have a little extra time to talk with Jenny about things.

  A clock on the wall caught her eye. She was still twenty minutes early. She tapped her fingers on the table and remembered Rhonda. Of course! Inviting Rhonda for dinner would be the perfect solution. That way Heath couldn’t possibly mistake it for a date. Rhonda had gone home a few minutes earlier last night, so she’d missed Heath’s idea about dinner. But he wouldn’t mind if Rhonda joined them.

  She flipped out her cell phone and punched in the number. The conversation lasted five minutes, and when it was over, Rhonda promised to come.

  Just as she was hanging up, she saw Heath park his car, roll down his window, poke an umbrella through it, and then open the umbrella.

  Katy wrinkled her nose. What’s he doing?

  With the open umbrella stuck on the other side of the window, he opened the car door, jumped out, and tried to take a few steps. But the umbrella was too big to fit back through the window, and it caught Heath in his tracks, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  A giggle slipped from Katy’s lips, and she put her fingers over her mouth. “Come on, Heath,” she whispered, “collapse it or push it the rest of the way through and take the handle with your other hand. Something.”

  For another few seconds, Heath fought with the umbrella, trying valiantly to pull it through the window toward him. When it began bending the wrong way, he stopped and clicked the button on the handle. Once the umbrella was compact again, he finally pulled it through the window. By the time he closed the window, opened the umbrella, and placed it over his head, he was drenched.

  “Oh, Heath.” Katy exhaled slowly. She watched him head across the parking lot and into the restaurant. He spotted her right away.

  “Hey.” He gave her a crooked grin as he took the seat opposite hers. With his head he motioned toward the storm. “That’s some wicked rain. Hard to believe that a few hours ago it was bright sunshine.”

  Water dripped down his face and hung in droplets on his eyebrows and lashes. As goofy as he looked, something about him was endearing.

  “Yes.” Katy bit her lip so she wouldn’t laugh. “And a wicked umbrella.”

  His expression fell. “You saw?”

  “Yeah.” She winced. “Next time open the door, not the window.”

  “Right. Good tip.” He shrugged and smiled at her. “You’re early.”

  “Yep.” Katy handed him a napkin and pointed at his eyebrows. “You’re still dripping.”

  “Nice.” He took the napkin, pursed his lips, and gave a few slow nods. “Just the impression I was trying to make.”

  She laughed, and the conversation shifted to the progress they were making with Tom Sawyer. Katy kept up her end of the conversation, and she found herself enjoying it. Heath told her about a presentation he’d made at a sales conference, a story that was funny and compelling. Outside the world of CKT, without a hundred kids spying on them, she should have had every reason to like Heath Hudson.

  Despite the bumbling bit with the umbrella.

  Their conversation was light and pleasant, and after a while they ordered. Then Katy remembered Rhonda. “Oh . . . I forgot to tell you—” she took a sip of her water—“I asked Rhonda to join us.”

  The light in his eyes faded a little. “Okay. Sure.”

  Katy lowered her chin. After a year of working around Heath, she had only wondered at his feelings. Maybe she should ask now, before things got too far. “Heath?”

  “Yeah?” His eyes found hers.

  “Was this a date?”

  “This?” For a few seconds he looked like he might deny it. But then he lifted his hands and dropped them again. “Okay, yeah. I guess so.”

  “Heath . . .” Katy reached out and covered his fingers with hers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s okay.” He forced a smile. “No big deal. Rhonda’s fun too.”

  Katy slumped slightly. “I’m sorry, Heath. Really.” She hesitated. “But can I tell you something?”

  He leaned back and studied her. “I think I can guess.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” She released his hands and sat up a little. “I like being your friend.” Her shoulders lifted. “Could that be enough? For now, anyway?”

  His eyes softened, and for the first time the strength of his feelings was painfully clear. “That’s fine.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Can you do me a favor, Katy?”

  A warm feeling spread through her heart. The way Heath looked right now, sincere and vulnerable, she could almost imagine feeling something more for him. “Anything.”

  He held her gaze for a moment. “Could you let me know if you change your mind?”

  “Yes, Heath.” She allowed the connection she felt with him to last a little longer. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  He looked outside and pointed. “Rhonda’s here.”

  Katy turned and saw her friend jogging toward the front door, a book over her head to keep herself dry. She met Heath’s eyes again. “Are we okay?”

  A comfortable confidence filled his face, one that made it clear his heart was no longer exposed. He chuckled low and quiet. “So long as you don’t tell Rhonda about the umbrella.”

  Rhonda approached the table, breathless and damp. “Forecast calls for two inches in the next few hours.” She dropped to the spot next to Katy. “Where’s the menu? I’m starved.”

  They ate dinner and discussed the sound setup—which characters would have cordless microphones and which would be positioned near mics hanging from the theater rafters. After a short time, Heath picked up the check and left, explaining that he had errands to run. As he walked away, he gave Katy a last glance, one that lingered a few seconds longer than usual.

  When he was gone, Rhonda gave her a pointed look. “What was that all about?”

  “What?” Katy picked at the remains of her sandwich.

  “Heath. The look there at the end.” She raised one eyebrow. “What did I miss?”

  Katy laughed. “You never miss anything.”

  “Exactly.” She took a sip of pop. “So tell me.”

  “It’s nothing.” A moment passed, but still Katy felt her friend’s eyes boring into her. Finally she let out a quiet moan. “Fine. I guess Heath wanted this to be a date.”

  “I feel stupid.” Rhonda leaned back and crossed her arms. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what? That this was a date?”

  “No, that Heath had a thing for you.”

  “Everyone knows it.” Katy pushed her fork around the scoop of coleslaw on the side of her plate. “That’s the problem.”

  “It’s not a problem if you’re interested.”

  Now it was Katy’s turn to raise her brows. “I’m not.” She looked down at her plate. “I told him I just want to be friends.”

  “I bet that went over well.” Rhonda sat still for a moment. “He’s not bad, Katy. I think he’s kinda cute.”

  “He is.” Katy opened her eyes a little wider. “There you go. Why don’t you date him?”

  A shadow fell across Rhonda’s face. “He doesn’t have feelings for me. Anyone can see that.”

  “How do you know?” Katy’s tone wasn’t convincing. “What if he’s never thought about you like that before?”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Okay, but, hey.” Katy felt a surge of hope. Maybe this was the answer, Rhonda and Heath. “Never mind him—what about you
?”

  In all the time they’d known each other, Rhonda had never looked embarrassed. She could walk like a walrus or sing like a chipmunk, turn cartwheels across the stage or wear a purple wig, all in the name of working with the kids at CKT. But at the mention of Heath, Rhonda seemed suddenly shy.

  She stared at the straw in her drink. “I told you, I think he’s cute.”

  “Rhonda?” Katy lowered her voice. “You really care about him, don’t you? How come you never told me?”

  “Katy . . .” Rhonda shook her head and picked at a cold French fry. “The feeling isn’t mutual. He doesn’t care about me. It’s silly to talk about it.”

  For a while they were both quiet. Katy didn’t want to push the issue, but she guessed Rhonda’s response had something to do with the way she saw herself. Rhonda was a few pounds heavier than she wanted to be, and her makeup left her skin a little uneven. She wore her blonde hair in a fashionable cut, but she rarely took the time to style it.

  Of course, none of that mattered. Rhonda was beautiful; everyone always said so. Maybe Katy could get someone to drop a bug in Heath’s ear, let him know Rhonda was interested.

  Rhonda broke the silence first. “Sometimes I wonder. . . . You were raised to believe in God, right?”

  “Right.” Katy blinked. Where was Rhonda headed?

  “Weren’t you taught that God had a plan for your life, that He wants to give you a hope and a future?”

  “Sure. Jeremiah 29:11.” Katy dabbed her lips with a napkin. “My mom used to remind me of that verse all the time.”

  “You know what my mom would do?” Rhonda didn’t wait for an answer. “She’d sit down next to me on my bed each night . . . I don’t know, from maybe sixth grade on. Then she’d pray with me and almost always she’d pray about my husband.”

  “The guy you might marry one day?”

  “Right.” Rhonda folded her hands on the tabletop. “Wherever he was, my mom would ask God to take care of him and raise him up in a good home, believing in the Lord—that sort of thing. Then she’d pray that God would let us meet each other when the time was right.”

  Katy felt her heart drop. “So where is he; is that it?”

  “Yeah.” Frustration rang in Rhonda’s tone. “I’m ready, you know? I’ve waited for Mr. Right. I feel like telling God, ‘Okay, anytime now.’”

  “I know.” Katy twirled a section of her hair. “It’s supposed to be easier than this.”

  “Easier . . . sooner . . .” Rhonda tossed her hands. “Anything but this loneliness day after day after day.”

  Katy was quiet for a minute. “Do you believe it still?”

  Rhonda’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Believe what?”

  “That God has someone out there for you, that you’ll meet him when the time’s right?”

  “I want to believe it.” She sniffed. “What choice do I have? But every day I feel my chances getting smaller.” Her voice was calmer than before. “You know what happened the other day? It was seven fifteen and I was leaving my apartment for work, me and about twenty other people. We all wound up squeezed in the elevator at the same time, and somewhere around the third floor the thing stopped, just quit on us.” Rhonda looked at her plate. “There was a guy stuck right next to me, shoulder to shoulder. I’ve seen him a few times before, nice dresser, a little older than me, no wedding ring.”

  Katy leaned in across the table. “What happened?”

  “Okay, so I’m standing there stuck in the elevator. Everyone’s complaining and pushing buttons and using the emergency phone to see what’s wrong, and half the people are shouting for someone to get the thing moving again. And you know what I was doing?”

  Katy shook her head.

  “I was breathing in the smell of this guy’s cologne, feeling his shoulder against mine, trying to remember the last time I stood that close to a man.” She exhaled sadly. “All I could think was, please let it stay stuck like this for an hour.”

  Katy hung her head for a minute and then looked at Rhonda. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She managed a partial laugh. “I mean, think about it, Katy. The closest I’ve come to a guy in five years is getting stuck in an elevator with one? It’s pathetic.”

  “Well—” Katy gave her a half grin—“did you get his name?”

  “Hardly. He was one of the ones trying to get us out, you know, shouting for someone to help us. The elevator started up about a minute later.”

  “Hmmm.” Katy frowned. “Not very promising.”

  “No.” Rhonda drew a long breath. “Anyway, yes. I care about Heath. But I see the way he looks at you, Katy.” She took a sip of her water. “I gave up on him a long time ago.”

  “Heath isn’t my type.” Katy used her straw to break up the ice in her glass. It was still hard to believe that Rhonda had feelings for Heath. After all this time. “I don’t know what my type is.”

  Rhonda pushed her glass back. Then she leveled a knowing look across the table. Her eyes danced the way they always did when she was teasing. “I think I know.”

  “What?” Katy smiled. This was why she liked spending time with Rhonda. They could be serious, but they were just as often silly. “You know what type of guy I like?”

  “Yeah.” She placed her napkin over her plate. “Mysterious guys, guys who drop in on a CKT performance and then disappear, guys who just so happen to be among Hollywood’s most famous leading men.”

  Katy twisted her face. “Dayne Matthews?”

  “That’s right.” Rhonda tapped her chest. “You heard it here first.”

  “What?” Katy’s pulse quickened. She laughed to cover the flustered way she was feeling. “That’s crazy, Rhonda. He’s a playboy, a movie star. He’s the last person on earth I’d fall for.”

  Rhonda nodded in Katy’s direction. “Just remember what I said. You heard it here first.”

  “I hardly think Dayne Matthews is the sort of guy God would have planned for me.” Katy stood and grabbed her purse. “Come on, crazy friend. I have errands to run before tomorrow.”

  Even after they left in Katy’s car and the subject changed to Tom Sawyer and the progress the sets committee was making, Katy couldn’t get the wild notion out of her head. Dayne Matthews? The idea was insane. The guy had nothing in common with her, and even if he did, he had starlets hanging all over him.

  But as Katy dropped off Rhonda at her own car and Katy climbed back into her Nissan, she realized her heart was still beating faster than before. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw something else—her cheeks were red. She held the backs of her hands to her face, doing her best to tone it down.

  What was wrong with her? Was her body betraying secrets even her heart hadn’t considered? Did some small part of her agree with Rhonda? That she just might be attracted to Dayne Matthews?

  Katy frowned and turned on the radio. Of course she wasn’t attracted to him. She would fly to LA, read for the part, and get back home. That was all there was to it. The idea of her and Dayne was laughable, and something more than that.

  It was dangerous.

  Chloe was fed up.

  She hated the idea of sitting in her Honda all day watching the studio driveway. After all, there was another entrance. Just because Dayne came in through the front didn’t mean he’d leave this way. It was hot and stuffy, and the knife in her pocket kept poking her in the ribs.

  With any luck, he’d be in and out. An hour or two at the most. Anna had wanted to come along for the ride, but Chloe pulled away before she could grab her shoes. That was the best part about this Tuesday morning. At least she was alone.

  She started the day in her usual spot, on the hill overlooking Pacific Coast Highway. It wasn’t her favorite place to watch him, but she’d been noticed too often lately. Once outside Ruby’s restaurant and once walking around that Kelly Parker’s house.

  The police had almost figured things out the first time; at least that’s what Anna had told her.

  Fr
om the hillside, she could see everything she needed to see. Her binoculars worked well, and it was a straight shot down the hill to the place where she could tail Dayne.

  She pressed her head against the driver’s-side window and stared at the studio entrance. What kind of husband was he, anyway? Living by himself and keeping her locked in her Honda outside the studio? Worst of all, sleeping around with Kelly Parker.

  The knife in her pocket pulsed against her rib cage. Kelly Parker wasn’t long for this world. Neither was anyone else who messed with her husband. The nerve.

  “Go home, you wacko.”

  Chloe jerked around and looked at the passenger seat. It was empty, nothing there but her binoculars. “Who said that?” She stared out the windshield. “Anna? Are you there?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Anna laughed, that same witchy laugh. “You’ll wait here for Dayne and follow him to whatever restaurant he’ll eat at, and maybe this will be the day he’ll claim you as his wife.” She laughed again, and the laughter filled the car, seeping into Chloe’s mind, filling her head, and pounding through her veins.

  “Anna?” Chloe looked on the floorboard beneath her feet and then she remembered. The backseat! She turned all the way around and gasped. Anna was sitting directly behind her. “Have you been there the whole time?”

  Her sister sneered. “Don’t kid yourself, Chloe. You can’t get rid of me.” She jerked her thumb toward the studio entrance. “This is stupid, sitting out here. The guy’s not your husband.”

  Anger rose fast and certain, and her heart pounded with the immensity of it. She pointed at Anna. “Don’t say another word, you hear? Not another word!”

  Anna rolled her eyes and made a zipperlike motion across her lips.

  “Good.” Chloe liked when this happened, when she got so angry it actually silenced her sister. “Stay that way!”

  She looked out the windshield and focused on the studio driveway again. Now the day was definitely shot. Anna would ruin everything. Dayne would never go home with her, never treat her the way a husband should, not while Anna was with her. Dayne had already told her that—although not so much with his words as with the look he gave her that time he saw her parked in his neighbor’s driveway.