13
Jason’s faith in her talent kept Callie going, even when she began to hear the renewed gossip making the rounds on the set. The rumor had it that she was on the show only because the network president had insisted on it. She couldn’t very well argue with that. It was the truth. But behind the whispered remarks were all sorts of unspoken innuendos about exactly where her skills lay. And the comments were getting nastier all the time, fueled by jealousy and fear, according to Terry.
If someone had questioned her abilities as a stockbroker, her ego had been strong enough to withstand any sort of speculation. As an actress, she had only Jason’s conviction, bolstered by Terry’s support, to rely on. Most of the time that was sufficient. Some days—and today was one of them—it wasn’t nearly enough. She felt as if she were drowning in a sea of uncertainty. The first few days of shooting, which had run smoothly enough, had convinced her that she had a lock on acting. More recent disasters had told her otherwise.
“Don’t mind them, dollface,” Terry whispered just as they were about to shoot a scene for the third time because of her inability to respond to a flubbed line by another actress quickly enough.
Reacting to the scowls of derision being sent her way, she moaned, “But it’s my fault.”
“Hardly,” Terry snapped, returning the scowls of their costars with a quelling look of his own. “They’re blowing lines deliberately to rattle you.”
“Well, it’s working,” she said. “If we have to do this again, I won’t even be able to remember my name, much less save the scene by covering for them.”
“It’s not just you. Everyone’s nerves are shot today,” he consoled her. “One of the sponsors has been making noises again about pulling out.”
“Even though the ratings are up?”
Terry shrugged. “Ratings fluctuate all the time. They dipped again at the end of last week. The sponsor has been looking for an excuse to cancel for months. Now he has it.”
The butterflies in Callie’s stomach danced a rumba. No wonder the other actors were taking it out on her. She was supposed to save the show. That had been the very public explanation for bringing in an unknown. Now the show appeared to be sinking, even with her on board.
Suddenly the pressure overwhelmed her. How had she gotten herself into this position in the first place? She had no business being on television. She couldn’t even get a simple scene right. And every time the camera stopped rolling because she’d fouled up, costs escalated. The producers had coldly made her aware of that basic fact very early on.
“I must have been out of my mind when I agreed to this,” she muttered to Terry as she awaited a cue from Paul Locklear to begin the scene again. Even the habitually complacent director was impatient today.
“You have no control over other people not knowing their lines,” Terry retorted just loudly enough to be overheard by the two other actresses in the scene. “It is not your job to ad lib them out of the mess they created.”
“A professional would be able to,” Lindsay Gentry shot back. “Instead, we get this amateur who’s sleeping with the network president.”
The unexpectedly crude and vicious attack left Callie breathless for the space of a heartbeat. Just as Terry was about to leap to her defense, her own temper kicked in and she found her voice. She had finally had all she could take. At least the resentment was finally out in the open, where she could deal with it head-on, instead of simmering behind the scenes.
“I’ll deal with this, Terry. It’s my battle,” she said as she crossed to stand toe-to-toe with the other woman, who played a saintly character whose vocabulary was considerably less vulgar than the actress’s.
“How dare you imply that I got this job by sleeping with anyone,” she said in a tight, barely controlled voice. “Until the day he asked me to join the cast to save this sinking ship, I’d never even met Jason Kane. Obviously he didn’t think you were capable of turning the ratings around. Frankly, I don’t know why he thought I could, either, but I’m here and I’m trying my best to do just that. Now isn’t it about time for you to stop whining and start acting like the so-called professional you claim to be?”
“Whoa, honey,” Terry murmured, stepping closer as if he were preparing to intervene in an inevitable fistfight. “That’s telling her like it is.”
Callie’s temper was so hot, she didn’t even acknowledge the interruption. “I’m the first to admit that I have a lot to learn. Since I’m apparently here to stay, at least for the next eleven months, it would be nice if you could see your way clear to helping me, instead of trying to sabotage me at every turn. Otherwise, I won’t be the one responsible for the ship going down.”
“Bravo,” Jonathan Baines called from the shadows, where he’d apparently overheard every word. He applauded slowly and emphatically to underscore his praise.
As one of the show’s three leading men, even though his character was currently mired in villainy, Jonathan was widely respected by other members of the cast, including the suddenly red-faced Lindsay. His quick jump to Callie’s defense apparently signaled the others that it was time to start behaving like adults, rather than jealous, sniping kids. A guilty silence fell over the set. Lindsay sullenly retreated to her mark without responding.
“Now that that’s settled, could we try this scene again?” director Paul Locklear inquired in his usual calm, matter-of-fact tone. Apparently the explosion had had the effect of soothing everyone’s frayed tempers.
Once again, by remaining coolly professional, Paul got them back on track.
But only seconds later, just as the scene was finally progressing flawlessly, a light overhead exploded, sending a shower of
