“This one’s for mold.” I felt a little stick on my back. “And this one is for cat dander. Do you have a cat?”
“No.” But I sneezed just thinking about it.
“This one is for pollen.”
On and on she went, doing the little needle pricks down my back and my left arm. Dogs, ragweed, a variety of foods and trees—she tested me for them all.
As she worked, she continued to pepper me with questions I couldn’t avoid about the show. “Okay, I know the episode with Angie’s delivery airs soon, but what comes next? How are you guys filling in the gap for the rest of this season? I’m assuming she’ll be back in the fall, right?”
“Right.” I fought the temptation to tell her about Brock Benson’s new role on the show or his upcoming stint on Dancing with the Stars. That would surely send her over the edge. Instead, I talked about the children and the role they would play in wrapping up the season. That seemed to satisfy her.
Dr. Kennedy finished the testing, then told me to wait twenty minutes for the results. By the time she came back in the room, I would’ve given my left arm for a back scratcher.
“Interesting.” She nodded as she examined me. “It’s not just mold and dust. You’ll need to keep your distance from dogs too, I’m afraid.”
No wonder I always got hives around my mother’s Chihuahua. I’d considered it an aversion issue, not allergies.
“I see several positive reactions here.” She pointed to my arm. “No wonder you’ve been sneezing.” Dr. Kennedy wrote out several prescriptions, instructed me to come back in a week to start allergy shots, handed me an allergy tablet to take ASAP, and sent me on my way.
The trip to the studio was miserable. Every square inch of my back itched. I found it maddening. I’d hoped the itching would resolve itself before I got to the studio, but it did not. I arrived inside, leaned back against the doorjamb, and scratched until I felt some relief. Finally I headed down the hallway to see if our writers had arrived. It was Monday, and Monday always meant baklava. Thank goodness Athena and Stephen had brought a large tray. I’d skipped breakfast.
“Wow, Tia.” Athena laughed. “You must be in love.”
“What?”
“Well, when I fell for Stephen, I couldn’t stop eating.”
“I thought it was the other way around. I thought being in love made you unable to eat.” The itching in my back began again, and I squirmed.
Athena gave me a funny look. “I’m Greek, Tia. To not eat would be a curse, not a blessing.”
“Ha.” That got me tickled. Great. Tickled and itching. “Hey, I stopped by to ask a favor.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Erin did such a great job, so can we keep her character going?”
Athena laughed and looked at Stephen, then back at me. “It’s so funny you should say that. We were just talking about how awesome it would be to keep up that relationship between Brock’s character and Erin’s. The viewers are going to love it.”
“I read the final script over the weekend, but I really want to add Erin into it before the roundtable reading. Any chance we could pull that off?” I continued to squirm but did my best not to let it show.
“Watch me try.” Athena reached for her laptop and dove right in.
I stopped off in the ladies’ room to pull up my shirt and look at my back. I’d never seen anything quite like it. Rows and rows of blisters. Why hadn’t that antihistamine kicked in yet?
Oh well. Maybe if I stayed focused on my job, the itching would subside. I went in search of Rex and found him in his office. I rapped on the door and he looked my way.
“Rex, I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” He swiveled his chair around and gestured for me to come in. “Something happen?”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get you alone for a while now to tell you.”
“What’s up?”
I released a slow breath, trying to work up the courage to share. “I hate to tell you this, but Lenora was the one who leaked the story about Little Ricky to the tabloids.”
“What?” His eyes narrowed into slits and he shook his head. “How? And when?”
“She told me a few days ago that she’d called some reporter named Ted Holliday at The Scoop. I’m not sure when it happened exactly. Must’ve been right after the baby was born.”
“Ted Holliday?” Rex sighed. “Tia, he died years ago. I tried to tell her that, but she doesn’t remember.”
“I figured. But she talked to someone there and told them everything—the sex of the baby and the name.”
He pursed his lips and swiveled his chair back around. After a couple minutes of strained silence, he glanced back at me. “I’m sorry it happened, Tia. But it’s a wake-up call.” Another pause followed . . . so long that I finally slipped out of the room to leave Rex alone.
By the time I made it back to the soundstage, most of my crew had arrived. When I saw Jason approach, I held my breath, wondering if he would talk to me.
“Tia.” He reached for my hand.
“Are you still speaking to me?” I whispered. “I didn’t hear from you all weekend.”
“Yes.” He groaned. “I feel terrible that I didn’t call you. You’re not going to believe what happened. We went to the beach while we were at my uncle’s place, and one of the kids got ahold of my phone.”
“Oh?” The itching in my back kicked in again, but there was nothing I could do about it. I wriggled and twisted, but nothing seemed to help.
He gave me a funny look, then dissolved into a dramatic sigh. “Yeah. I didn’t even realize it until after the fact, but she got in the water with it. The whole phone was shot. That’s why I’m a little late this morning. I had to stop off at the cell phone place on Sunset and get another one to replace it.”
My heart wanted to sing at this news. To dance around the soundstage and proclaim that he hadn’t run for the hills after all. I gazed into those beautiful green eyes and grinned. “I’m sorry about your phone, but I’m glad you’re still speaking to me. After Friday night, I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”
“Friday night?” He looked perplexed.
“Well, yeah. After all that stuff with my sister.”
If this itching doesn’t stop, I’m going to scream.
Jason chuckled. “I can’t believe you were worried about that. How could I possibly blame you for something one of your siblings did?”
Whoa. Why those words hit me so hard, I couldn’t be sure. All my life I’d taken the blame—or would that be shame?—for the things my siblings had done. And now here stood a man telling me I didn’t have to do that anymore. Quite a revelation.
“I’ve spent most of my adult life making apologies for things my family members have done. And I’ve gone overboard trying to make things better for all of them.” I gave a little shrug. “I’ve always wanted things to get better.”
“Maybe they will.”
“I used to hope for it all the time. Every time my dad would come back home, I’d get my hopes up again. And then they would be dashed. So maybe I’m just jaded.”
“This is Hollywood, Tia. Everyone is jaded.” He gave me a little kiss on the cheek, and I didn’t even mind that the rest of the crew was looking on. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I tugged at my collar, hoping the movement of my shirt against my back would help the itching.
“You wish you knew what was coming next with your parents, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. It would be nice.”
“Are you saying you wish you could see into the future?”
Interesting question. “I don’t know. I mean, no, I don’t. Or yes, I do.” I groaned. “I’m glad I can’t see what’s coming tomorrow, because what if I didn’t like what I saw? It’s probably a blessing that I don’t know the bad stuff. But there would be a certain sense of security in knowing the hard things—the things I’m unsure about—were going to work out okay. Is that so bad?�
��
“Just one more question.”
I shrugged. “What’s that?”
“If you got your wish and could see that everything was going to work out, why would you need to have faith?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there would be no need for faith at all if you already knew the outcome.”
“Ah.” I took a few steps toward my director’s chair and sat down. “Never really thought about that. I’m just always thinking like a director. You know? A director always knows what’s coming next. All I have to do is flip the page and read the dialogue and narrative. And if I don’t like what I see, I send the script back for a rewrite.”
“Tia . . .” He took my hand. “You can’t send the script of your life back.”
“I know.” A lingering sigh followed. “That’s the problem, don’t you see?”
“I see one thing, Tia. I see a girl who’s wrestling with letting go of the reins. And I don’t claim to have a lot of expertise in this area, but I do know that it’s always better to take your hands off of situations that aren’t yours to control. Whether it’s stuff to do with your family or things in your personal life, you’ve got to let go and admit you’re not supposed to be the one directing the show.”
“Mama and I were just talking about this. She says I’ve been a fixer ever since I was a little girl.” I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the itching sensation was finally subsiding.
“So it’s going to be harder for you than most people. I get that.” He gave me the sweetest smile. “But I can tell you, based on personal experience, that letting go—really letting go—will change your life.”
At this point we stopped talking for a couple minutes while others—mainly Scott and Lenora—passed by. We said our good mornings, Jason commented on Lenora’s costume of the day, and then I looked back at him.
“Sometimes I think it would be easier to be like Lenora, to have no memory of the things that happened yesterday.”
“Tia, you don’t mean that.”
I bit my lip. “If you can’t remember the horrible things that happened yesterday, then they can’t hurt you.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that’s true. But the past is what makes us who we are. It shapes our character.”
“I feel overshaped.”
He gave me a playful look. “I’m not going to respond, on the grounds that it could incriminate me.”
His words lightened the mood.
“Promise me one thing, Tia.” He gave my hand a squeeze.
“Sure. What’s that?”
“When the weather warms up, you’ll go surfing with me.”
“S-surfing?” Was he kidding? I’d kill myself.
“Remember what we talked about that day in Scott and Kat’s kitchen? About the feeling of freedom you get when you’re surfing?”
“Well, sure, but we were just talking. Talking about it and doing it are two different things.”
“Exactly my point. I want you to experience what it feels like to let go. To really, truly let go and just ride the wave. Let it take you where you need to be.”
“I don’t know, Jason.” I stood and took a couple of steps away from him. “I would be so afraid—”
“Exactly.” He grabbed my hand. “On the water, you have to admit your fear and give it up—all at the same time. It’s a great rehearsal for life, Tia. And I promise you’ll love it.”
“You think?”
“I know. And you’ll thank me later.”
“You obviously haven’t figured out what a control freak I am.”
“Yes I have. But I see something else. I see a girl who’s capable of forgiving and moving forward.”
His words boosted my confidence, though that part where he agreed that I was a control freak did sting a little. “Hey, speaking of forgiveness . . .” I looked across the studio and saw that Benita had entered. “There’s one more thing I have to take care of before we start the roundtable reading.”
My heart felt heavy as I saw the sour expression on Benita’s face. How many times would it come back to this? Were the two of us really going to be at odds—again?
Not if I could help it. While I didn’t agree with what she’d done, I had to be the bigger person. Lead by example. Use a more laid-back approach.
Turning in her direction, I made up my mind to do just that.
After drawing a deep breath and ushering up a quick, silent prayer, I walked over to my sister and asked if I could speak with her alone. She looked like a nervous wreck as she followed me into the hallway. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Beni, there’s something I need to say.”
Before I could utter a word, her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand up. “Tia, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Apologize.”
Actually, I hadn’t planned to apologize this time. I’d just wanted to break the ice so we could get on with the day without all of the tension.
She sniffled. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right.”
“I am?”
“I was flirting with Jason on Friday night. I admit it. He’s a great-looking guy.” She sighed. “You know my problem, Tia. I can’t seem to help myself around hot guys. I can’t.”
“You can try.”
“I should.” She spoke the words as if this were the first time she’d considered that option. “Maybe I will.”
“Beni, you know I love you, right?”
“Yeah. So why do I have the feeling you’re about to chew me out?”
“I’m not going to chew you out. I’m just going to tell you something that came to me when I was praying for you last night.”
“Wait. You were praying for me last night?” Her mouth rounded in a perfect O.
“Yes. Before bed. Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe the reason you’re so drawn to guys is because you’re trying to fill some sort of hole inside of you.”
“Hole?”
“It’s just a thought. After all the stuff Dad has put us through, I thought maybe you were looking for some sort of validation from men that you have value, since Dad never stuck around long enough to offer any.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly brushed them away. “I never really thought about it. I just thought . . .” She shrugged. “I just like flirting.”
Clearly.
“I know, but you’ve got to remember how pretty you are.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks turned pink.
“I’m just saying it makes it harder for the guy to resist when the girl is a knockout. And it’s not fair to the guy’s heart either. Sometimes innocent people get hurt.”
“Like Bob.” She sighed.
“Yeah.” I glanced across the studio and caught a glimpse of Bob standing with Paul and Stephen. “He’s a great guy who deserves someone’s full attention.”
“He is pretty great. I think maybe I took advantage of his kindness.”
You think?
“What happened after I left with Julio the other night? Did Bob cry?”
“Cry? No. He ate some flan, drank two cups of coffee, hung out with us for a while, had a few laughs, and then went home.” I paused. “See? That’s the great thing about Bob. He’s easygoing and very forgiving. I’ve seen him get his feelings hurt by some of the cast members, and he always has a more humorous way of reacting. So even if he’s hurt, I’m pretty sure he’ll get over it. You two will probably be friends for years to come.”
“I hope so.” She bit her lip as she looked his way. “Because he’s a really great guy.” A pause followed, then she turned back toward me. “And just for the record, Julio’s not that into me.”
“He’s not?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it, but after we left the house the other night, we didn’t go to a movie or anything. He spent the whole time talking about insurance rates and cars and stuff. It was so boring.”
She glanced at Bob once more, then back
at me.
“What’s wrong, Beni?”
“Tia, do you think Bob is handsome?”
“I’ve loved Bob from the minute I met him. He’s a great guy and an even better writer.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what I asked. I asked if you thought he was handsome.”
I paused to think about it. Bob wasn’t Hollywood hot, but he was relatively nice-looking. One of those boy-next-door types. Kind of a paunchy middle and thinning hair. But I’d never really considered his looks before. “I think he’s a nice-looking guy.” I shrugged. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” She paced the room, finally pausing to look my way. “Maybe I’ve been a little mixed up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve only ever looked at the really handsome guys.”
“Like Julio?”
“Yeah. And you have to admit, they’re fun to look at. But I’m starting to think . . .” She sighed.
“What?”
“Starting to think they’re just superficial.”
Whoa. Open up the earth and swallow me whole. For my sister—the one who couldn’t even go out to check the mail without makeup on—to be having this revelation was truly shocking.
“Handsome is good, but I got to thinking . . . if I marry a really handsome guy, I’ll always have to worry that some other woman will be trying to tear him away from me.”
“In other words, you’ll be like Mama?” I asked.
“Yeah. Never thought about that before.” She leaned in close. “Have you seen pictures of Daddy when they first got married?”
“Yeah.”
“Tia, it’s kind of weird, but he looked a lot like Julio looks now. Tall, dark, and handsome. And I know he’s still handsome—for a fifty-something—but see the price Mama’s had to pay?”
“What are you saying, Beni? You suddenly want to marry an ugly man?”
“No, not an ugly man. But someone in between. Someone like . . .” The edges of her lips curled up in a smile. “Someone like Bob.”
“You want to marry Bob?”
“Well, maybe not today. Or in a week. But I’d like to have a guy like that—one who makes me laugh, and who flatters me not just so I’ll turn around and talk about how pretty he is too. If that makes sense.”
The Director's Cut Page 20
