More frightened than she wanted to acknowledge, Callie retreated to her dressing room. The lighting accident, the flash of tempers and the subsequent tension had left her thoroughly drained. Head resting on her arms, she cursed Jason and the circumstances that had forced her onto such unfamiliar turf and possibly into the path of some deadly mischief maker.
She had to find some way to garner some respect from her costars or this was going to be the longest year of her life, longer even than a year on the family farm. Standing up to Lindsay Gentry had been a start, but she knew better than to think today’s incident would be the end of it. She would be tested time and again, and more than anyone else on the show, she couldn’t ever be found wanting. Worse, she had probably made an enemy of the woman.
She wondered how long it would be before there were leaks in the media about dissension on the set of Within Our Reach, all blamed on the newest addition to the cast.
Befriending Lindsay Gentry or any of the others was probably less important, though, than turning in a decent performance time after time. Maybe she should hire an acting coach or take classes at one of the prestigious acting academies in the city. It seemed like a lot of trouble to go to for what in essence was a temporary job.
No one, least of all she, expected Jason’s predictions of superstardom to come true. A year from now she’d be making the rounds of brokerage houses on Wall Street again. A fat lot of good it would do her then to be able to play a scene skillfully. Of course, it would be nice to get through a job interview without conveying any hint of the desperation she would likely be feeling.
At any rate, she was in no mood to cooperate when the show’s publicity person tapped on her door a few minutes later and told her she’d been scheduled to appear at three shopping mall events and one charity bowl-a-thon over the next few weekends.
Callie stared at Jenny Harding as if she’d just announced that Callie was booked on a trip to the moon. During her initial round of media interviews she had grown used to Jenny’s perky good humor, but not to her enthusiasm for activities that seemed to Callie an awful lot like torture. Jenny was young and energetic and determined to make a mark for herself in publicity and promotion. Callie was her dream assignment.
“You’re kidding, right?” Callie said as she scanned the demanding schedule Jenny had prepared for her. Counting travel time, it appeared she wouldn’t have a day to herself for weeks.
“Oh, no, this is wonderful,” Jenny insisted enthusiastically. “Requests are pouring in. People can’t wait to see you in person. Mr. Kane said to book you for as many events as possible to keep the momentum going. He called it the Big Mo. He said some guy who ran for president a long time ago called it that.”
Callie was not about to educate Jenny on American politics. She had far more pressing concerns.
“A bowl-a-thon?” she repeated incredulously, her gaze locking on the first event listed. “I don’t bowl.”
A minor inconvenience, according to Jenny. “People don’t care if you win. You just have to be a good sport.”
“I’m not feeling like a good sport at the moment,” Callie said direly.
“Oh, you’ll do just fine,” Jenny said, apparently unaware of the events that had preceded her arrival.
She handed over the itinerary and the necessary airline tickets for all of the distant events, one of which Callie noted with an impending sense of doom was in Iowa City, far too close to home and Eunice.
“Everybody just loves doing these things once they’re there,” Jenny assured her. “People are so sweet. You might want to talk to the writers before you go because fans always have lots and lots of questions about what’s going to happen next on the show.”
She literally bounced toward the dressing room door, then turned back. “Oh, and they want to know all about you and Terry.”
The sparkle in Jenny’s eyes was a bit worrisome. “Such as?” Callie asked.
“If you all are lovers mostly.”
“On-screen, you mean.”
“Off, too,” Jenny said, then waved a cheery little bye-bye as she exited.
Callie stared after her. She was going to kill Jason for getting her into this. She really was.
* * *
“You want me to go where with you?” Jason inquired, convinced he couldn’t possibly have heard Callie directly. It was the first time she had ever invited him to spend time with her, but the implication of that was diluted considerably by the destination.
“It’s a bowl-a-thon in Newark,” she repeated.
With her low, breathy tone, she made it sound like a cross between an IRS audit and heaven. Jason wouldn’t have been even remotely tempted to say yes, if it hadn’t been for that seductive promise in her voice. A dozen excuses were on the tip of his tongue, but she didn’t seem inclined to take no for an answer.
“If I have to go, I think you should, too,” she concluded rather emphatically. “For me, I believe it’s referred to as paying my dues. You can think of it as marketing research, perhaps.”
“I don’t bowl,” he countered, wondering if he could convince her to exchange this outing for a more romantic evening of dinner, dancing and gambling in Atlantic City after the charity bowling event.
“Neither do I,” she shot back. “But no one seems to care about that.”
“Do I detect some kind of retaliatory mood behind this invitation?” he asked, surmising that she wasn’t
