Nor did it seem likely that Terry’s rebuff of Lisa could have fueled speculation about his sexual preference. She doubted Lisa would have made a big thing of it and spoiled her reputation as the show’s resident sexpot.
It wouldn’t hurt to find out what others thought of Terry, though. “He’s a sweetheart to work with,” she ventured. “He seems to get along with everybody.”
“Oh, everybody adores him,” Lisa confirmed. “He’s not, like, on some star trip or something. He doesn’t steal scenes or insist on extra lines, the way some of the big shots on the show do. He’s real sweet to the crew, too. Not everybody is, you know. I mean, just because they’re not on camera, what difference does it make? They’re people. We couldn’t very well do the show without them, but you wouldn’t know that from the way some people treat them, like they’re slaves or something. Not Terry, though. He’s nice to everybody. I know Paul thinks he’s the best actor on the show, too. He says he’s a dream to direct. I’ll bet if we had a popularity contest, Terry would win hands down.”
High praise, Callie supposed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite true. Somebody was writing those notes. And whoever it was clearly wasn’t one of Terry’s biggest fans.
17
Callie arranged to have lunch with the producers of Within Our Reach the next day. She set it up under the guise of determining the direction her character was intended to take over the next few months.
Marty Malloy and Katrina Devon had been coproducing the series since its inception. They had been part of the original creative process and its evolution. They had weathered ratings slides and writing upheavals. Somewhere along the way they had formed a romantic liaison, as well. Even so, they clung to their singlehood with all the fervor of two successful people terrified of losing the identities they’d worked so hard to achieve.
Whatever resentment they felt about having Callie forced on them was well hidden.
Skinny, balding and bespectacled, Marty was the more passionate and voluble of the two, talking so fast at times that he kept the crew in an uproar trying to follow his orders. He was Woody Allen on speed.
As plump as Marty was thin, Katrina was the sweet voice of reason, a soothing counterpoint to Marty’s hyper behavior. Her more diplomatic style couldn’t disguise the fact that she was tough as nails in her own right. The term steel magnolia had been created to describe Katrina’s style of demeanor, though she carried it off without a honeyed Southern accent.
They both intimidated Callie. Lunch promised to be an adventure. Only for a friend as dear as Terry would she have willingly subjected herself to it.
The shooting schedule prevented long, leisurely, getting-to-know-you meals. That meant that the three of them were closeted in Marty’s cramped office with takeout from the deli down the block. The aroma of Marty’s pastrami permeated the room. Callie and Katrina dutifully sipped from steaming, low-cal cups of chicken broth. Callie noticed that Katrina kept her gaze enviously pinned on Marty’s sandwich as if waiting for an opportunity to snatch up any leftovers. He hunched over his food as if he knew it was in danger from his constantly dieting significant other.
“Okay, so what’s on your mind, Callie?” he asked between gargantuan bites.
“My role,” she said, her gaze locked on his mouth as he chewed...and chewed. She worried he’d strangle before their meeting ended.
“You’re already complaining it isn’t big enough?” Marty asked.
There was an edge to his voice that gave away his irritation that she had any part at all. It was the first time the facade of welcome had slipped since she’d joined the cast. Callie guessed that Jason had been responsible for any facade being there in the first place. He’d probably issued some sort of be-sweet-or-else order.
“Of course not,” she said at once, hoping to correct any impression he had that she was ungrateful for the opportunity she’d been given or that she was going to become unduly demanding. She’d learned a lot about walking on eggshells the past few weeks.
“I don’t know a lot about writing for soaps, but I’m sure it was difficult to fit in a new character so quickly,” she said smoothly. “The writers have been incredible.”
“Glad you know that,” he grumbled, sounding somewhat mollified.
Katrina jumped in. “What Marty means is—”
“I can say what I mean,” he snapped. “You don’t have to go making nice on my behalf.”
“I do if we’re all going to get along,” she corrected without any hint of rancor. She grinned at Callie. “Marty went to Harvard. He’s afraid it polished away all his rough edges, so he likes to play tough.”
Callie surprised herself by warming to Katrina’s unexpected openness. She smiled back. “He’s very good at it.”
“Hey, you two, I am in the room,” he reminded them.
“We know,” Katrina soothed. “I get goose bumps when I know you’re close.”
Marty scowled at her for several seconds, then grinned, ruining the tough-guy effect once and for all. “Damn, woman, you’re going to turn my head one of these days.”
“That’s the general idea,” Katrina confirmed. She glanced at Callie. “He thinks I’ve been trying to get him to marry me for ten years,” she said, her tone suggesting that was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard. “He’s still holding out.”
“For what?” Callie asked, playing what she gathered was a familiar game.
“Someone who’s not so sassy,” he replied. “Okay, enough of this chitchat. Lunch is almost over and we still don’t know what Callie wants.”
Callie decided to tap dance through an explanation and see which part of her response struck a chord. “Just some idea of where you see this character heading,” she began. “Part of this is my own curiosity, but there’s a practical side to the question, as well. I’m about to go to a bunch
