Stars Collide Read online

  Ironically, the lead story that morning in nearly every newspaper was the impending writers’ strike. I glanced over a couple of the articles, more than a little worried about how this would affect Stars Collide. How could we finish out the season if the writers abandoned us?

  Apparently I wasn’t the only one in a dither over this. By the time we arrived at the studio, terror had struck every heart. Well, maybe not terror, but a healthy fear. We depended on the writers to give us a sense of direction. And as much as I hated to admit it, I depended on the writers to point me in the right direction, both on the show and off.

  Strange, how scripted my life had become.

  Rex called all of us together on the set at 10:00. I looked around for Scott, wondering why he wasn’t there.

  “I know you’ve heard the news,” Rex said. “Looks like we’ve only got a day or two till we lose our writing team. That means we’ve got to get that script for the wedding pounded out today.” He crossed his arms and looked at Athena, Bob, and Paul. “Do you think you can do it?”

  “It’s mostly done,” Athena responded. “Lenora has been very helpful.”

  “Oh yes,” Grandma said, her eyes now sparkling with pure delight. “I love planning weddings. This one’s going to be a doozy.”

  I’ll bet.

  Rex gave her a wistful look, and I wondered if anyone else in the room noticed it. Before long, these two wouldn’t be able to hide their feelings from the masses. What had been buried for years was sure to come tumbling out for all to see, if they weren’t careful.

  “Well, I for one don’t mind admitting I’m nervous,” Tia said. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “Our writers are a loyal bunch,” Rex said. “They’ll give us their best while we have them.”

  “I promise,” Athena said. “It’s going to be great.”

  Rex turned to the rest of us. “Still, we need to be prepared for how this is all going to play out. We’ll go ahead and film this week’s show, then probably take a few days off to watch and see what happens with this strike.”

  “This isn’t going to be like last time,” Athena said. “I doubt it will affect the show for more than a couple of days, at most. Just long enough for all of us to take a much-needed break.”

  Not that we needed to be breaking at this particular juncture in the show’s history, but I wasn’t about to say that.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Scott. He approached from behind my grandmother, who turned and gave him a little wave. He nodded in her direction, but I didn’t see his usual cheerful countenance. Yep, he’d read the story. And from the looks of things, he wasn’t happy. Who could blame him?

  Rex continued to talk about how we were going to handle the writers’ strike, but he lost me after just a few sentences. I tried to catch Scott’s eye, tried to see if he would respond to me in any way, but his gaze remained fixed to the floor. This was not looking good.

  “Tell me what you have so far,” Rex said, his gaze falling on Athena and the other writers. “I want every detail of that wedding.”

  She proceeded to fill him in, giving every last snippet of information. The wedding scene sounded both sweet and funny. I particularly liked the part where my grandmother and the children did a little song-and-dance number at the reception. That would go over well with her. Still, there were a few details left undone. Hopefully the writers would get those parts written today, while they still had time.

  When the meeting ended, I glanced Scott’s way. When our eyes met, the color seemed to drain from his face.

  The others left, and we found ourselves alone on the talent agency set. Ironic. This is where it had all begun. Angie, the fledgling talent scout, up against the best in the business—Jack, the determined businessman, savvy but set in his ways. They’d started out as mortal enemies. Would they end up that way too?

  Hmm. There I go again, jumping back into the script.

  The lines of fiction and reality really were blurring in my life. Maybe Grandma wasn’t the only one having trouble distinguishing between the two.

  Scott approached with a pensive look on his face. His words were soft but firm. “We need to talk.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. “You, um . . . you got my messages?”

  “Yes.” He released a sigh. “The battery on my cell phone had died, but I didn’t realize it till late last night.”

  “Ah.” I paused. “So, um, I guess you’ve seen the paper?”

  “I have.”

  Tears slipped over the edges of my lashes. I brushed them away. “Scott, I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. She meant well. And that whole Beverly Hillbillies thing was a complete misunderstanding. No one ever, at any time, compared your parents to the Clampetts. I promise.”

  He released a slow breath, then began to pace the set, finally coming to stop in front of the Stars Collide sign. “I’m only worried that they’re going to get wind of this and be hurt,” he admitted, his voice now so low I had to strain to hear. “But more than that, I’m upset that my dad’s business is in trouble and he didn’t come to me about it.”

  I waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought. I could tell Scott had a lot on his mind.

  “My dad is a proud man. Too proud sometimes. But he should know I would be there for him.” Scott’s jaw tightened.

  “You had no idea?” I asked.

  Scott shook his head. “None. Every time I ask him about the store, he always says the same thing: ‘We’re hanging in there.’ ”

  “I’m surprised your mom didn’t tell you.”

  “You want the truth?” He paused, gazing intently into my eyes. “I’d be willing to bet she doesn’t know either. He’s a very private man.” Scott ran his fingers through his hair. “Only, now his privacy has been invaded on every conceivable level.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “I know.” He shook his head. “This is all my fault. I don’t really know my dad. Maybe I never did. If I knew him, I would be aware of the problems he’s going through. But he’s never been the sort to ‘be known,’ if that makes any sense.”

  “You’re talking to a girl whose father took off when she was seven,” I said. “So trust me. I understand.”

  “I’m sorry, Kat.” Scott reached to grab my hand, the first visible sign that he wasn’t angry at me. “It’s crazy to be nearly thirty years old and still so wrapped up in trying to please my father.”

  “Maybe he won’t see the paper,” I said. “Maybe this will blow over.”

  “Even if he doesn’t, someone is sure to tell him. I have to let him know. He needs to hear it from me.”

  “Well, when you call, please remind him that my grandmother isn’t well and that her comment about the Beverly Hillbillies had nothing to do with them. It was taken completely out of context.”

  “I will.” Scott offered a faint smile then shook his head. “I’m trying to envision my mother swimming in the cement pond. Crazy, the image that brings.”

  I chuckled, relieved to have the hardest part of this conversation behind us. Surely God could work this out. In time. In his own way.

  “Hey, Kat!” I looked around as I heard my name and saw Jana. “We need you in wardrobe as soon as you can get there. Time to have that wedding dress altered.”

  “Wedding dress.” Hmm. I wondered what Scott must be thinking. My gaze shifted back to him and I noticed the sadness in his eyes. Whispering “I’m sorry” didn’t really suffice, but what else could I do, really?

  He nodded and slipped his arm around me for a quick hug before I headed back to wardrobe. But somehow that hug didn’t feel the same as the ones we’d shared before. Though I hated to admit it, our relationship had changed . . . and not for the better.

  So many troubling thoughts rolled through my mind as I walked to the wardrobe area. IHOP. Steak and eggs. The map of Beverly Hills. Liz Taylor’s honeymoon suite. Doris Day’s soothing voice. My firs
t stolen kiss with Scott. The sound of Candy’s pitiful cries inside the bathroom stall. The letters Rex had written my grandmother. The dream I’d had about my parents. The call from that so-called reporter. Carolina’s ceviche. All of these things ran together in my head, creating a jumbled mess.

  One thing stood out above all others, though, and it could not be denied. My grandmother was clearly in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. I hadn’t voiced the word till now, but that’s what it was. Her wackiness and fun-loving ways were always offbeat and unusual. But her erratic behavior, which I’d once considered quirky and humorous, could no longer be ignored. It genuinely concerned me, in fact. Everything in our world was changing, and I needed to figure out a way to get used to my “new normal.”

  When I arrived at the wardrobe department, I found Jana unzipping the plastic bag that held my wedding dress. Er, Angie’s wedding dress. Sure, I’d picked it out. And yes, I would wear it. But ultimately it belonged to Angie, the fictional character who didn’t really have a heart or soul and would never even know she was having a wedding.

  Jana chattered with great abandon as she helped me into the gown. Fastening up the buttons in the back, I held my breath, anxious to see if it still fit after all of the salmon and ceviche I’d consumed the other night. Thankfully it fit like a dream.

  I looked at my reflection in the full-length, tri-fold mirror and gasped. In that moment—that magical, ethereal moment—I felt like a bride. A real, honest-to-goodness, gonna-walk-down-the-aisle-into-the-arms-of-my-lovin’-man bride.

  It terrified me.

  And exhilarated me.

  A rap at the door interrupted my reverie. Jana looked at me with straight pins in her mouth, gesturing for me to answer it.

  I opened the door, stunned to see Rex Henderson on the other side.

  He took one look at me in the white dress and his eyes grew wide. “Oh my. That’s . . . you’re beautiful. Radiant.”

  “Thanks.” I swished to the right and then the left, showing off the dress’s amazing skirt. “They gave me several to choose from, and this is the one I picked. I like the fitted waist and the full skirt.”

  “You’re like a picture from a magazine,” he said. “Oh, and speaking of magazines . . .”

  “I know.” I groaned. “You saw the article?”

  “Well, Tia did. She brought me a copy. Thought I needed to know what was going on.”

  “Rex, I didn’t set that up. I need you to know that.”

  “Lenora?” Just one word, but it spoke volumes.

  “Yes.”

  “Say no more.” He grinned. “She always did have a way with reporters. The woman knew how to get the papers to cover just about anything.”

  “She still does.”

  “Could I come in so we can talk?” he asked, a look of concern registering in his eyes.

  Jana continued fussing with the hem of the dress then looked up, pulling the pins out of her mouth. “Should I leave you two alone?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Do you want to get out of this dress first?”

  “Are you done pinning it?”

  She shook her head, so I agreed to keep it on until after she returned.

  When she left the room, Rex took a seat on the sofa and gestured for me to join him. I wasn’t sure how to go about sitting in the cumbersome dress, so I opted to stand. I caught a glimpse of my profile in the full-length mirror. Except for the messy hair and unhemmed dress, I almost felt ready to walk down the aisle. And Rex could very well be the father figure, heart swelling with pride as he escorted me to meet my groom. What would that feel like?

  I shook off my daydreams, ready to deal with reality. For a change.

  “Kat, I just talked to Scott,” Rex said. “I know he’s really trying to sort through all of this.”

  “Me too.”

  “I hope you two don’t let this little situation keep you apart. That would be awful.”

  “Keep us apart?” I feigned innocence.

  “Kat, you’re a brilliant actor.”

  “Th-thank you.” His words threw me a little. “I’ve spent years studying the craft and—”

  “You’re good,” he repeated. “But not that good.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I can tell when you’re acting and when you’re not. The day you told me about your relationship with Scott, I knew it was the real deal. And because of that, I’ve been praying. For both of you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. Relationships in Hollywood are tough. Tougher than any other place I know. So you’ve got to work extra hard to hang on to what you’ve got.”

  “Ah.” I paused. “What did you mean with the brilliant actor line?”

  “I’ve got you figured out,” he said. “You’ll forge ahead and act like everything’s okay when it’s not. You’re the kind to just keep going, to make sure everyone else is okay, even when you’re not.”

  Ouch.

  “It’s clear you and Scott are in love,” he added, giving me a tender glance. “I’d have to be a fool not to see it.”

  I plopped down on the sofa next to Rex, not even caring about the dress now. Well, until a straight pin jabbed me in the side. I shifted positions and sucked in a breath. For whatever reason, I could only manage four words: “You’re right. About everything.”

  He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile. “Don’t let any walls rise up between you, Kat. That would be tragic, especially over something like this.”

  I looked at him and sighed. “I guess I thought you’d get a kick out of all of this publicity. This is going to be great PR for the show, right? Lots of drama.”

  “I like to keep my drama on the set, thanks,” he said. “And to answer your question about publicity, no show—not even Stars Collide—is important enough to pull two people apart. Are you hearing me, Kat?”

  Loud and clear. His words jumped straight out of those letters from 1958 into my heart. Though I didn’t have the details, I knew the man spoke from experience.

  “Do you mind if I share something with you?” he asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “This is just between us, Kat.” He paused and I nodded. “One of the reasons we let Mark go was because of a difference in philosophy. Do you remember hearing him say that the show was as much about the chase as it was the catch?”

  “Sure. He said that all the time. He wanted to drag the story out as long as he could to keep the viewers chomping at the bit.”

  “Right. Well, the chase is good, up to a point. We all love that feeling of being pursued.” For a moment I thought I’d lost him—his eyes took on a faraway look. Then he snapped back to attention. “But we can’t live there, can we?”

  “I . . . I guess not.” Though I wasn’t sure what this had to do with anything.

  “Relationships are tough, like I said. They take work. It’s never as easy as it looks in books or on TV.”

  “I’m figuring that out.”

  “Scripted romances are formulaic,” he added. “And sometimes I think we do our viewers a disservice by sticking to the formula.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In a typical romance, the hero and heroine don’t even kiss or express their feelings until near the end of the story. It never ceases to amaze me that women will spend two hundred eighty pages reading a book, waiting on one kiss.”

  I shrugged. “Nothing new there. That’s how the great Jane Austen stories were. People love that sort of thing. They always have. I guess that’s why our viewers have been willing to watch for three full seasons, waiting on Jack and Angie to share their feelings.”

  “Yes, but this is what bothers me about it.” Rex shook his head and gave me a fatherly look. “It’s like people think the only love story is the ‘falling in love’ part. The part that produces romantic feelings. They forget that the story is really just beginning at that first kiss. The true love story—in real life, anyway—is the part that comes a
fter. Walking with each other through thick and thin. Staying with that person when he does something stupid and you feel like killing him. Marrying him and having his babies and dealing with dirty dishes and laundry. Walking someone you love through a health crisis. The ravages of Alzheimer’s, even.”

  I hardly knew what to say in response. The impassioned look on Rex’s face told me he wasn’t quite done yet.

  “That’s real love, Kat. It’s ‘I’m going to stick with you whether you have a job or not.’ And ‘I’m going to walk with you through the deepest valleys, overcoming every obstacle, even the worst health crisis.’ That’s real, God-breathed love.”

  “Wow.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. Where was all of this coming from?

  “We think that the only sellable love stories are the ones based on feelings,” he continued. “But I’d challenge you to think about the fact that real love is the stuff that takes place after the feelings have been exposed. The day-in, day-out stuff.”

  “I guess that’s true,” I said. My mind shifted to the situation with Scott. If he and I really loved each other, that love would sustain us through the ups and downs we faced. Realizing this suddenly gave me hope that our relationship could continue to blossom and grow no matter what.

  “That’s where the story is,” Rex said. “And that’s why shows like Everybody Loves Raymond and I Love Lucy worked so well. We got to follow the couple beyond the point of expressing their feelings to the working out of their relationship. Maybe those shows didn’t give us goose bumps, but they certainly made us laugh. And they taught us that love overcomes obstacles. They were wacky, but they were real. On some level, anyway. As real as we’re able to handle.”

  Double wow. Was this guy on a roll, or what? I stared at him, still unsure of my response.

  He reached to take my hand. “Kat, listen to me. Don’t let life rob you of the real love story. Do you hear me? I’m trying to share my heart here.”

  “Y-yes.” I heard him all right. Loud and clear.

  “I’ve been in this business too long. And the scripts don’t always play out the way you think they will. It’s not always ‘Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl.’ Sometimes we lose each other and the pieces never get put back together again.”