Secrets of a Soap Opera Diva (35 page)

“You guys are still rolling, right?” Julius whispered from the control booth. “Guys?”

Guns drawn, Jay and the rest of WBC security began carefully surrounding the set.

“Man, you had too much tequila,” Javier said.

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, you worm? I’m a graduate of the
theater
, Yale. I know you
R&R
snobs thought I was beneath you because I was on
Obsessions,
always seated in the back at the Sudsys . . .” Pacing back and forth, Roger continued as security, now joined by LAPD, closed in. “But let me tell you somethin’, I’ve been on Broadway in a Tony Award–winning show. How many of you can say you’ve done
that,
huh?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought! I know what it’s like to do eight shows a week, performing to
throngs
of fans. You know why? Because I was the original Carbucketty in
Cats
! That’s right! Me! Roger Cabott! I deserve
respect
!”

As Roger got ready to squeeze off a bullet, Wolfe heroically head-butted
him from behind, knocking him out cold, sending him crashing to the floor.

Security flew in to apprehend a limp Roger, while Phillip rushed to Shannen, saying, “Are you all right?”

“No thanks to you,” she said, trembling as she fell into Javier’s arms.

Running from the sound booth as sirens sounded in the background, Julius asked the cameramen, “Did you get it all?”

“Yep,” replied one.

Randall flew in. “Are you all right, my darling? I ran all the way from my office as fast as I could!”

“Oh, Randall!” Emmy called, thinking he’d seen the light. “I’m barely alive! Thank G—”

Randall dashed past her to Alison, sweeping her into his arms, instantly unleashing all Emmy’s inner demons.

“Mr. Hudson, where did you learn to do that?” Jay asked.

“Yes, where did you learn to do that?” asked tabloid reporter Mitch Morelli, who’d been interviewing Shelly Montenegro across the lot on
The Daring and the Damned
.

“It vas nothing, I vas an amateur vrestler in the Old Country of Skagen, Denmark, and I hail from a long lineage of fearless Vikings.”

“And Javier, man, that’s what I call bravery,” Jay added.

“You can say that again,” said LAPD Officer Bodine, stepping in. “I’m going to personally report your heroism to the chief of police. You both deserve a Citation of Bravery. Javier, I never could’ve imagined that you of all people, a gangbanger from South Central with a rap sheet a mile long, would turn your life around like this. I’m proud of you, son. Ms. Lassiter, are you all right?”

“Yes, just a little rattled. I’m so glad no one got hurt.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you some questions.”

“Sure, no problem. Oh Javier, how can I ever thank you?”

“I can think of something, my
palomita
.” He smiled as they relaxed into a deep chemical kiss.

WBC News reporters swarmed the set; more were on their way. Never shying from an opportunity to be in the media’s glare, bubblers Emmy, Randall, Alison, Jade, Ethan, and Phillip were firmly planted in front of cameras, giving melodramatic interviews.

“It was the most horrid moment of my life!” Alison hyperventilated.

“Ohmagod, it was like totally
Blair Witch Project
scary,” reported Jade. “Oh, and meet me in St. Louis for my personal appearance at Caleco’s next Saturday at noon.”

“Wow, dude, the whole thing was like so Pacino, super surreal. Roger must be on roids or something. What a nut job! It took like six security guards and half of LAPD to hold him down,” embellished Ethan. “I’m sure you guys have worked up an appetite by now. You should go check out my new restaurant, Studs, in the valley,” he finished with a cheesy smile into the camera.

“I just want to assure my Tweethearts that I’m fine,” Emmy said emphatically to Mitch Morelli. “Have almost fifty thousand now, you know. I love being accessible and involved with my fans. Would’ve totally tweeted while I was a hostage but I had nowhere to keep my iPhone in this Ed Hardy string bikini.” The human billboard continued, “This is an exclusive, I’m thinking about adopting . . . out of
Africa
!”

“Really?” Mitch asked.

“And did you catch me on
Big Love
?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. What happened? I reached for my popcorn and you were gone.”

“That’s so freakin’ harsh, Mitch. I had a much bigger scene but those blockhead producers trimmed my lines.”

“Emmy, I know this is a weird time, but while I have you here can I ask a few questions about those bitchy scenes between you and Justine?”

“Sure! Ask away.”

“How difficult are they to do?”

“Would you believe those scenes are the hardest for me to pull off?
I really detest doing them. It turns me into a monster and takes me the rest of the night to settle down.”

“But Emmy, you’re masterful at them.”

“Yeah well, I consider myself an escapist. That’s why doing the soap is so natural and therapeutic for me. I can lose myself in an unbelievable character and save tons of cash not going to a shrink.” Lowering her voice, she continued, “I work my issues out on the other actors in the scenes . . . it’s brilliantly cathartic. After I get my soap fix I feel completely liberated and primed for the real world. That’s why I get paid the big bucks, ’cause I’ve figured this whole thing out. Oh yeah, and I’m a
Method
actor, too. But seriously, I love Shannen, I really do. We’re super tight. I even voted for her to get a Sudsy. She tries so hard. But as you know, I won . . . again. And every time Felicia writes for me to wind it up for those psychological mind-bending Gina/Justine scenes and those three cameras start rolling, I
bring
it.”

“Thank you, Emmy. I better move on and see who else I can get a quick interview with.”

“Who else? Are you joking? You’ve got me all to yourself. Who’s to move on to?”

“You’re right,” Mitch said, trapped. “What was I thinking? Well, Emmy, there have been some nasty rumors circulating that maybe there’s a little tension between you and Shannen. Is it true?”

“Oh for crissakes, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I just told you, we’re BFF soap buds.” Emmy rambled off subject, “Last year, Edith Norman personally called to tell me I was the most popular actress in daytime drama after those scenes Shannen and I had fighting over Barrett, when I pushed her over the second-floor banister, do you remember those?”

“Who could forget? It’ll go down in the soap opera hall of fame.”

“Anyway, Edith Norman suggested I read about the
Gin-arrett
versus
Just-arrett
frenzy on the
R&R
blog to see who was more popular and I was absolutely shocked at what I read.”

“What’d it say?”

“There was a whole culture of haters on the site that referred to me as a shrunken apple face and one of the chatters even insinuated that I was really a man. I was devastated and wished I could hire a private dick to find that person and throw acid in their face, just kidding. But what was
really
bad, was how many people thought I was sexier than Shannen. I mean, I know I
naturally
have a killer body and Shannen doesn’t, she’s had a little work done, but that doesn’t make her chopped liver. Thank goodness she knows nothing about that mean blog. She’s so fragile, you know? Especially with Roger going friggin’ crazy, nearly killing us all. If she knew that this blog existed and that”—lowering her voice—“they called her a slutty whore, it would probably send her over the edge. Anyway, I just love her.”

“Over here! Maeve Fielding’s been shot!” the stage manager yelled.

“Ohmagawd. Sorry, Emmy, we have to end it here.”

“Not yet. Maeve has ice for blood. She’ll live.”

“Hurry!”

“I just wish the fans would keep the show and our personal lives in perspective. My name is not Gina; it’s Emmy. And Shannen, soon to be ex-Mrs. Roger Cabott, is not Justine Lashaway Fink. And one more thing,” she said, staring into the lens. “To all the number one wannabes flockin’ to the Golden State from NYC, stay off from my turf.”

Running back into the booth, Jules directed, “Cue the organ music.”

“Are you serious, Julius?” asked the sound technician.

“You heard me. Cue it! And call post, tell ’em to slap some slow motion on it before it goes to air.”

The cast and extras stampeded across the loose sod to where Maeve had been pushed by Phillip earlier. The lifeless legend was wedged between the potted ficus and overturned plastic geraniums.

“Get an ambulance over here now!” the stage manager yelled.

Shedding hopeful tears, Phillip crouched down next to the EMT, asking, “Is she dead?”

  *    *    *

After they finished being questioned by LAPD Shannen remembered. “Oh Javier,” she cried, racing upstairs, “I left Mrs. Jones in my dressing room watching us on my monitor, she must be petrified.”

Calling out, “Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones . . .” Shannen and Javier burst through the doorway, finding the room empty.

A note, scribbled on the back of a script page, was on the coffee table.

Shannen baby, Thanks for everything, but I gotta get outta here quick in a hurry. Things is dangerous round here. Weren’t kiddin when they said California is the wild, wild west. Expectin an earthquake and got a dang shootout instead! Thought it was part of the scene at first, but your husband ain’t on my story. That gun is real and so is them bullets and I have a lotta livin to do. Dont worry, always kept my bus ticket in my pocketbook and one of them nice guards called a cab to take me to the station. Like I said, show business is for freaks and strange folk. You can send my suitcase US Postal Ground. Thats what the $20 is for. Come visit anytime.

Have a blessed day—love,

Grandma Jones

T
he next morning, I climbed into the “We Do It One Day at a Time” activity van with the TT gang for our weekly field trip. Destination? Über-expensive Malibu Country Mart.

With Rihanna and Justin warbling “Whyyouwannabringmedown” on the radio, Rock drove everyone off the compound, gossiping about the shootout on the
R&R
set the day before. The sensational news was splashed across the cover of every newspaper.

Erroll commented from behind the
L.A. Times,
“I can’t believe you worked with these people, Calysta.” The front page featured a large picture of Shannen, Javier, and Wolfe, the caption reading, “Heroically saving the day, Wolfe Hudson commented, ‘It vas nothing . . . I’m a Viking.’”

“This Alison person sounds like an absolute loon,” he continued,
reading on before licking his pointer to flip the page, adding, “Oh, look, Dylan, there’s a wonderful review on your new album.”

Dylan, wearing a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt, always dozed off in the backseat the moment the sober buggy moved.

“This would never have happened on
The Daring and the Damned
,” Gretchen chirped, reading over his shoulder.

“I’m just glad Shannen’s okay,” Jerome commented.

Earlier, I’d felt a weight had been lifted after talking with Grandma Jones and Veronica’s visit yesterday; now all that was dampened by the shock of knowing Shannen’s life had been threatened by that predator Roger. Thank goodness Wolfe and Javier were bubblers with balls and used them.

Kelly Lava spiraled around in the passenger seat, looking over her Ray-Bans, and ordered, “Okay, everybody, settle down. Dylan, do you have your seat belt on?”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted.

“We’re almost there and I want to make sure you’re all clear on the buddy system. The strip mall is spread out, so everyone’s only allowed in one section at a time and always with your TT buddy. Today’s pairings are Gretchen/Calysta, Dylan/Dolly, Jerome/Erroll, and Chad, since Toby had to stay back on behavioral probation, you’ll be accompanied by Rock.”

“Great,” he murmured disappointedly.

“Yay, Calysta, we’re buddies!” Gretchen said, grabbing my arm excitedly. “We’re going to have such a blast. This place is bananas, it has all the shopping you could possibly want and a Nobu, they have the best shrimp and lobster roll with spicy lemon sauce.”

“I’m familiar,” I said, still worried about anyone spotting me toolin’ around in the TT druggie van or clumped together like kindergarten camp kids connected with a leash. For good measure, I pulled on my shades and tucked my chin.

Just as the door of Strutters Skin and Nail Care came within reach, I
saw my neighbor, Kat, approaching me with shopping bags and her two squirming kids.

“Calysta, hi,” she said politely. “Haven’t seen you in spin class forever. How are you?”

“I’m fine, I’ve been working a lot lately.”

“Calysta, don’t drop behind,” Kelly snapped.

Kat took in the motley crew ahead of me and arched an eyebrow. “You’re not with
them
, are you?”

Cringing, I replied, “I’m doing some volunteer mentoring. Gotta go.”

As I scampered away, Gretchen hooked her arm in mine, babbling, “After we get our pedis, and by the way I’m getting the deluxe silk-wrap airbrush French with rhinestone charms, we have to go into Malibu Shaman next door, they have the best crystals and dream catchers, and the metaphysical books are to die for. Of course we’ve gotta stop by the Makeup Hut, I’m all out of orgasm pink lip gloss. And Juicy just got new stuff in yesterday! Also, we just have to stop by John Varvatos and get something for Toby to cheer him up. And maybe something for my husband, even though I’m super mad at him right now, he says he’s not bringing the kids to the next weekend.”

Gretchen briefly took a breath to select her toe charms as I stepped up into the vibrating spa chair.

Erroll took the seat to my right while Gretchen, yammering away like a bell clapper, attempted to bookend me on the left. Mercifully, a nail technician stopped her, saying, “Sorry, ma’am, that chair’s reserved,” leading her next to Erroll.

“Great, now she’ll be talking
my
ear off,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.