Stars Collide Read online

  “What’s that one line where I say something about the agency?” I took another sip of my latte, awaiting Grandma’s response.

  “You’re supposed to say, ‘We’ve already merged our agencies, Jack. Makes perfect sense to merge our hearts as well.’ ”

  “Ah.” I had to smile at that one. I ran the line a couple of times before asking for my next cue.

  “Now you’re supposed to say, ‘The kids love you, the directors and producers love you . . . and I love you.’ ” Grandma gave me a knowing look and I grinned. No way could I say that line. Not yet, anyway. I’d have to work on that one back at the studio.

  “Ooh, stop the car, KK!” Grandma pointed to a newsstand. “I want to pick up a copy of The Scoop. I just love their stories. Did you see the one they did last week about Audrey Hepburn? She’s just signed a contract with Warner Brothers to do a film version of My Fair Lady. I had no idea the girl could sing.”

  “Hmm.” Better not comment.

  “I always thought Julie Andrews was perfect as Eliza Doolittle,” Grandma said. “I saw the stage play last week and Julie simply took my breath away.”

  Hmm. “Yes, I’ve always loved Julie Andrews too,” I said. “But you must admit, Audrey looks the part.”

  “I suppose.”

  Grandma purchased a copy of The Scoop and got back in the car, clutching it like a prized possession. I groaned inwardly, knowing how cruel the stories buried within those pages could be. What had the reporter done with the photos he’d taken outside of Worth Manor? I had a feeling I was about to find out.

  Grandma flipped through the pages of Hollywood’s most notorious gossip rag with reckless abandon. Finally she found what she’d been looking for. “Here it is! He wrote an article about . . .” She paused, staring at the page. “Oh. It’s just about you and Scott. Great picture of you kissing him, by the way.”

  Nothing could stop the groan from escaping. Why I’d kissed him in front of a reporter, I could not say. And the fact that he hadn’t mentioned the great Lenora Worth in the article was sure to be a blow to her ego. I knew she’d hoped to lure in the paparazzi by telling him Scott and I would be at the impromptu photo shoot, but I also knew she’d secretly hoped for a bit of exposure herself. Who could blame her? She rarely got any recognition these days, at least not in the positive.

  “Oh, look,” she said at last. “They did mention me.”

  Thank goodness. “Read it out loud.”

  “Sure.” She paused, trying to find her place. “ ‘Lenora Worth, onetime Hollywood legend . . .’ ” She paused and looked my way. “What do they mean, ‘onetime Hollywood legend’?”

  I realized how the article must sound to her. Maybe I could put a positive spin on this. Ease her mind. “You know how they are. If you’re not filming blockbuster movies in the moment, they treat you like a has-been. It’s wrong, but that’s just the way things are.”

  Another huff and her brow wrinkled further. “Back in my day, Hollywood stars were treated with respect, even those whose movie days were behind them. They were revered.”

  I stifled a chuckle. Grandma Lenora was revered, at least by those who knew her well. Still, I understood her plight. Aging Hollywood stars didn’t get the same treatment these days. They were often overlooked. Well, maybe I could change that. I’d do my part. Starting today, I’d make sure everyone I came in contact with knew exactly who she was and who she used to be. In other words, I’d build her up. Maybe I could even talk that so-called reporter into doing a separate piece on Grandma. Something affirming.

  She went back to reading. “ ‘Lenora Worth seemed a bit off-kilter, wearing a mink stole and sequined dress on a warm Saturday morning in July. One has to wonder if she’s been hitting the bottle again.’ ” Grandma made a grunting sound. She wadded up the magazine and tossed it over her shoulder into the backseat. I didn’t blame her.

  “Grandma, you . . . you okay?”

  “How could I be?” she said. “They think I’ve been drinking? And why would they say ‘again’ as if it had happened before? You know I’m not a drinker, KK. Why would they think that?”

  Looked like I had more to talk with the reporter about than I’d thought. How dare he say such a thing? And yet, as I thought about it, I realized she did appear pretty off-kilter to those who didn’t know her. I could almost see how they would assume her erratic behavior came from hitting the bottle. Almost.

  The most I could offer was a shrug. I knew this article had to hurt, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Secretly, I was dying to know what the reporter had said about Scott and me but didn’t dare ask Grandma to keep reading. I’d have to search through the magazine later on, when she wasn’t looking.

  She leaned her head back against the seat, tears now covering her lashes. It broke my heart.

  “You know, KK, I’ve always hated my name,” she said with a little sniffle.

  “What?” This was news to me. “Lenora is a beautiful name.”

  “No, my last name,” she said. “I hate the Worth part.”

  This intrigued me. She’d never let on that she didn’t like the Worth name.

  “I came to Hollywood as Doris Mayfield,” she said. “The studio gave me the new name. At first I enjoyed it. When I heard the word ‘Worth,’ it made me think of dollars and cents. You know? Like I would finally be ‘worth’ something once I broke into the movie business. But now . . .” She shook her head.

  “What, Grandma?”

  “Let’s just say it’s been a haunting reminder of how worthless I’ve felt lately. How washed up. A has-been.”

  “Grandma!” I gave her a stern look. “I hope I never hear you say anything like that again. Besides, you know that your worth isn’t in the things you’ve done . . . your accomplishments or your fame. It’s always been who you are in him. In the Lord.”

  “I know that in theory,” she said. “But feeling it—especially at my age—is tough. KK, you don’t know how many older people feel like I do, like their days of being valuable to others are behind them.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way, but you’re wrong about that,” I said. “You have so much to teach up-and-coming actors and actresses. You’re creative and imaginative, and you know what it takes to balance the spiritual life against any fame you might achieve in the limelight. Most of all, you’re genuine. You’re the real deal.”

  “No.” She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “That’s just it. There’s nothing real or authentic about me.”

  Now I knew her memory was slipping. Obviously she’d forgotten just how real she’d been to me over the years. And to Carolina. And her fans. How dare she think she had no worth? Why, the very idea offended me at the deepest level.

  Thankfully Grandma shifted gears. She pulled a compact out of her purse and touched up her makeup. Interesting, since she already had on more than enough. The pancake base—in a creamy ivory—was lathered on pretty thick. And she certainly didn’t need to add any more of the coral-colored blush to her cheeks. However, that’s just what she did. Only when she reached for the liquid black eyeliner did I begin to get nervous.

  “Um, Grandma, are you sure you want to do that in the car?”

  “Drive slowly, KK. I just see a little spot here that needs touching up.”

  Unfortunately, driving slowly wasn’t an option on the 405, which was where I now found myself. And I couldn’t very well pull off, could I? How would I explain this to a police officer if he noticed my car on the side of the road? “Sorry, officer, but my grandmother’s eyeliner took precedence.”

  “A lady always has to look her best in public,” Grandma said, opening the container.

  Hmm. Well, at least she wasn’t driving. It could be worse.

  Seconds later she gave a little yelp, and I glanced away from the road long enough to notice the thick black smudge under her left eye. She reached for a tissue and did her best to clean it up, but when we arrived at the studio, I noticed she still looked l
ike she’d just climbed out of the boxing ring. Hopefully no one would pay much attention. They were all used to her eclectic look by now, anyway.

  I pulled up to the door to let her out before parking the car. Grandma eased her way out. She turned back, showing off her gown and makeup. “Well? What do you think?”

  “Very Grace Kelly–like,” I said with a nod.

  “You think so?” She grinned. “If only Fred Astaire would sweep me off my feet.”

  The Lord, with his wonderful sense of humor, provided just the right opportunity to play out this fantasy. Rex Henderson happened by, took one look at her, and let out a whistle. “As I live and breathe, it’s . . . wait, let me guess.” A few seconds later, he snapped his fingers. “Grace Kelly in the flesh. A vision of loveliness, as always.”

  Grandma’s cheeks—already heavily blushed—turned crimson at his words.

  “Aw, go on with you,” she said. He offered up a shrug, and she punched him in the arm. “No, go on with you. You were saying?”

  Rex chuckled. “I was saying that Fred would like to escort Grace inside the studio.”

  He offered his arm and she took it, then turned back to me with a grin. “You know what I always say, KK. It’s not the men in your life that counts, it’s the life in your men.”

  I paused until it registered, then responded, “Mae West. I’m No Angel. 1934.”

  “1933,” Grandma corrected me. “And you’re right, KK. I’m no angel. But I did play one once in a movie.” She disappeared into the studio on Rex’s arm.

  After parking the car, I joined them inside. Something about walking into Studio B put me at ease every time. I thought it weird that I often felt more at home on a television set than in my own house. Maybe it was because the house really belonged to my grandmother and carried her signature. Her mark. This place—albeit completely fabricated—was my home. The Stars Collide set was my favorite. With its childlike qualities, it really looked like a children’s talent agency. I loved the kid-friendly colors and decor. I also loved the furniture they’d chosen for my living room set. That’s where I’d been when Scott—er, Jack—had kissed me for the first time. Seeing it brought back lovely memories.

  Hmm. Thinking of Scott made me wonder where he was. My heart fluttered in anticipation. I thought again of the words in the script. Angie had fallen in love with Jack and was ready to tell him so. How long would it be before I could honestly convey my feelings to Scott as well? Oh, if only I could find him.

  I rapped on his dressing room door, then popped my head inside after a few seconds of silence. Nothing. I made my way to the round-table reading room to see if perhaps he’d already ventured inside. Nope. Not wanting to appear anxious, I headed back to the set, my thoughts shifting to other things.

  Ironically, Scott wasn’t the only one missing. I searched through the various crew members in search of our director, but Mark was noticeably absent. I needed to run a couple of things by him before we did the round-table reading. If only I could find him.

  “Where’s Mark?” I looked around, perplexed.

  “Oh, he’s gone today,” Athena said as she passed by. “I think I heard someone say something about a meeting. Or a doctor’s appointment or something. I’m not really sure.”

  “Gone?” I couldn’t quite believe it. “In three years, Mark hasn’t missed one day on the set. Remember? He even came when he had the flu. Wore a mask.”

  “That’s right. We all ended up getting sick in spite of it.” Athena laughed. “He’s always been so good at sharing.” She headed down the hallway, continuing to talk to herself.

  My mind reeled as I thought about all of this. Had Mark given us any signs he was sick? If so, I hadn’t picked up on them. I ushered up a silent prayer on his behalf, asking the Lord to heal him—quickly!

  Fortunately—or unfortunately—I didn’t have much time to think about Mark’s disappearing act. Jana, a petite blonde from the wardrobe department, stopped by.

  “Hey, Kat.”

  “Hey.” I leaned in to ask, “How are we doing on our little project?”

  “I’ve found quite a few more dresses in Lenora’s size.” Jana chuckled. “I think we can keep her stocked for a few more weeks. After that, I’ve got a friend I can call over at Paramount. She’s got a huge stash of evening gowns from the ’40s and ’50s. Really nice things. They’d just be on loan, you understand, like the ones I’ve already passed your way.”

  “Of course.” I laughed. “I still can’t believe she hasn’t noticed that the gowns are coming and going from her closet. Carolina has done a fine job of helping me shuffle things around. Thanks for sending a driver with the dresses each week.”

  “You’re welcome. Anything I can do to help. As long as we get them back before they’re needed elsewhere, it’s no skin off my teeth. And it’s not like the studio executives are going to argue about it. They love Lenora. And they love you too.”

  “This means so much to me.” I felt tears well up. “The gowns really seem to be energizing her . . . and helping with her memory too. She always had a closetful of beautiful dresses from the old days, but I was getting a little tired of seeing the same ones over and over again, so this helps. Besides, some of her old gowns don’t fit anymore. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s lost a little weight.”

  “Yes.” Jana nodded. “She tells me she’s a size seven, but a five swallows her alive. I’ve been disguising the size tags so she won’t notice I’m giving her threes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And get this . . .” Jana leaned closer to whisper, “She tells me nearly every day that she’s still five foot eight.”

  “I’m sure she was . . . at one point,” I said. “I’m guessing she’s . . . what? Five six?”

  “Five five. But she looks great in the gowns, and that’s really all that matters. Keeping her happy is my priority.”

  “Mine too,” I whispered. In fact, it was one of the top priorities in my life.

  I was just wrapping up my conversation with Jana when Rex walked up. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. Worry? Fear? Sternness? Hmm.

  “Kat, do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Jana excused herself and headed back to the wardrobe room.

  I turned to Rex with a smile. “What’s up?”

  “I know we need to get through our round-table reading, but I wanted to talk to you and Scott before meeting with the rest of the cast.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It is. I’ve already asked Scott to meet me on the set. He should be here any moment. Will you join us?”

  “Sure.” As if I would dare turn my producer down.

  Scott appeared moments later. He looked great in his UCLA T-shirt and jeans, and I couldn’t help but notice he’d had a haircut.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Had to stop for a trim.”

  “I like it. Very nice.” In fact, it was so nice that it made my heart flutter.

  Scott responded with a grin and a “we’ll talk about this later” look.

  Rex led the way to Angie’s living room set and took a seat in the wingback chair. We tagged along behind him. I had a feeling something was amiss.

  “So, I have some news.” Rex shifted in the chair.

  “Oh?” Scott and I settled on the sofa across from him.

  “Actually, I have two pieces of news.” He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “First, Mark is gone.”

  “Oh, right, I know. He’s got a doctor’s appointment or something.” I reached to brush a piece of lint off the arm of the sofa.

  Rex shook his head. “No, I mean he’s gone. I let him go. He won’t be coming back . . . at all.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “R-really?”

  “Are you serious?” Scott asked. From the look on his face, I could tell he didn’t quite believe this.

  Rex nodded. “Yes. I called him Saturday morning, so we’ve known for a couple of days
now that he wouldn’t be back.”

  I had to wonder who “we” was. Network executives, likely. But why?

  My reaction to losing Mark as a director surprised me. We’d never been very close, and he certainly wasn’t the type to make friends. In fact, he’d frustrated me on at least a dozen occasions with his on-again, off-again ideas. Still, there was something about the ornery fellow that I’d grown used to.

  I pondered this for a moment before responding. “I . . . I don’t know what to say, Rex. I really don’t.”

  “No need to say anything, I guess,” he said. “It’s not like talking about it can bring him back. And I can assure you this is the right thing for the show. It’s a step in the right direction.”

  Scott shook his head. “Rex, I know you and Mark didn’t always agree on how things should proceed, but there’s got to be more to it than that. What’s really going on?”

  Rex cleared his throat, and I could read the anxiety in his eyes. “If you really want to know, the advertisers are worried about the slip in the polls. One of them actually threatened to pull their ads.”

  “No way.” Scott shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

  “It’s true,” Rex said. “And I don’t doubt for a minute they’ll do it if we slip one more point. So it’s critical to keep the show in the best possible slot.”

  “I just don’t understand,” I said. “It’s not like we’re truly dropping in the polls. We’re just down from three to four. Big deal. The viewers are fickle. Next week we’ll be back up again. And it will keep shifting over time. That’s the way the game is played.”

  “The studio execs are under the impression that we need some fresh blood. Someone with a firm plan who isn’t afraid of moving the show forward. So I, um . . . I’ve been looking.”

  “And?” Scott looked worried.

  “I found a gal. She’s young—just thirty—but she’s got an impressive résumé. Very impressive.”

  “What’s her name?” I asked. “Do we know her?”