I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” Dancy and I are standing in line at the grocery store, and all I can do is stare in horror at the cover of Soap Mag. I can’t believe it. I won’t.
But there it is. A cover story exclusive: Rachel Savage to join the cast of Legacy of Life in the role ofLucy Marshall.
Mindless of the little checkout girl who is staring me down, I grab the magazine from the rack and thumb through it until I find the story.
Executive producer Jerry Gardner has confirmed that Rachel Savage will take the role of Lucy Marshall. The role was vacated by Taylor Adams last month. Adams will star opposite Brad Pitt in his new action/romance movie set to start filming next month in Morocco.
Rumor has it Savage chose not to renew her expiring contract with As the World Turns after being offered the role of Lucy.
“After six years on ATWT,” Savage says, “I felt my story line had run its course many times over. The writers were not interested in pursuing challenging new paths for my character. I look forward to working with so many talented actors on Legacy, especially Tabitha Brockman.”
“‘Chose not to renew her expiring contract’? ‘Especially Tabitha Brockman’?—you know that was nothing more than a challenge!” I shake the magazine at Dancy who is starting to look uncomfortable. “Of course she chose not to renew her contract. She lives to torment me. She’s coming to my show to torment me. I’m looking forward to working with Tabitha Brockman, my eye!”
“Oh sure. It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Dancy grabs the magazine and tosses it onto the conveyer belt.
“What are you doing? I’m not buying that garbage.”
“You wrinkled it. You have to buy it, sunshine.”
I did? Yeah, the paper is definitely crumpled. The checker gives me a bewildered frown and rings it up.
“Sorry,” I say meekly. “I didn’t mean to.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me, it’s your money.”
I slap my palm against my forehead. “I’m going to kill Freddie!”
“What did he do?” Dancy’s been tossing groceries and diet soda onto the conveyer belt. I help a little, but for crying out loud—I’m in the middle of a crisis. The last thing I need is to break a nail to top it all off.
“He told me they were going to kill Lucy off. I was counting on it! Now they’re recasting her? With Rachel Savage?”
“You’re warped. You know that?” Dancy nudges me. “Look, just because Rachel’s coming to Legacy of Life doesn’t mean she’s doing it to yank your chain. Maybe it’s a career booster for her. Legacy is a higher rated show, as you’ve always loved to point out.”
I give a very unpleasant snort, and I don’t particularly care if I sound like I have sour grapes over the whole “Soap Opera Awards” incident. “I can’t work with her. I mean it. I’m not doing it. It’s either her or me.” What if they pick her?
“Look.” Dancy lifts a bag into the waiting cart as the checker stares at us, eavesdropping on our conversation. “So what if she’s on the show? Isn’t Lucy Marshall Felicia’s nemesis anyway?”
“Yeah, what’s your point?”
“Well, it fits. You won’t even have to work at any scenes the two of you share.”
The checker lets out a little eep as the man in line behind us sets a box of tampons on the belt and scowls. The man probably just wants to buy his wife’s feminine products and get the heck out of there before any of his buddies catch him being a nice guy. But the grocery store employee just figured it out, and she can’t take her eyes off me. “Oh my gosh. It is you, isn’t it?” Oh great. The girl’s shrieking a little and drawing attention. “I can’t believe Felicia Fontaine is in my line buying… olives.”
“Down, girl,” Dancy says. “My friend isn’t herself tonight. No autographs please.”
The girl acts as though Dancy’s not even there, let alone speaking. She stares straight at me, leaning across her register to get a closer look. “So you really don’t get along with Rachel Savage? And she’s going to play Lucy?” Her eyes are sparkling with intrigue. “Are you going to cut up all of Rachel’s costumes and set fire to her trailer?”
I can’t help but consider the possibilities. “Hey, now that’s an—”
Dancy reaches around and covers my mouth. “No. She isn’t going to do anything vindictive or illegal. And if any of this ends up in any magazine, we’ll sue your behind for defamation. Got it?”
The girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Got it.”
The guy behind us is not impressed to be in the presence of a soap actress. “Hey, can I get some service please?” Thank goodness for Mr. Tampons. His outburst gives us the opening we need to get away from the curious stares of the checker and the other onlookers who are trying to figure out if I’m someone they should recognize.
We walk out with our groceries. “So what do you think?” I ask. “Am I toast?”
“Oh, she’s going to tell everyone who’ll listen. And she’ll have the store cameras to back up her claim that you were in her line, so they’ll believe her.”
“Then we’ll sue her behind like you said.”
“Oh please. What’s the point? She’s a checker who makes minimum wage at most. What are you going to take from her? A ten-year-old car with a hundred thousand miles on the odometer?”
“Yes, I’ll give it to my sister. She needs a car now that she’s going to be a mother.”
“Then buy her one. It’s not that girl’s fault you had to go and open your big mouth in public. What did you expect?”
Oh, I hate it when she’s right. So I do the only thing I can do. I pass the buck. “I blame you for this. Why didn’t you stop me? Friends don’t let friends say dumb things.” My arms are about to fall off from carrying two full bags of groceries while Dancy hails a cab.
“Yeah sure. And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. And for your information, I did stop you. From incriminating yourself.”
Oh yeah, she did do that, didn’t she? I give her a grudging nod. “Thanks.”
“That’s what friends are for.” She opens the door of the yellow cab as it screeches to a stop.
Oh well. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I’m going to try hard not to think about bad things and just be thankful that God gave me back my job. I’ll enjoy a worry-free day with my slightly weird family.
I’m miserably full as I walk into the apartment after Thanksgiving Day with the family. One thing I can say for Mom: the woman cooks like a pro. I mean really, Rachael Ray has nothing on my mom—except maybe a sweet smile and a great sense of humor. But, you know. That’s all.
Laini is watching a marathon of all the Thanksgiving episodes of The Waltons on TV Land as I waddle through the living room to the kitchen and slip plastic containers of leftover turkey, stuffing, gravy, and pie—glorious chocolate, pumpkin, and apple pie—into the fridge. So much for no fat, carbs, or chocolate. In one day I’ve fallen completely off the wagon.
Back in the living room, I drop to the couch.
She looks over at me. “So, how’s the family?”
“Dad announced he’s starting Weight Watchers on Monday.”
“Good for him!”
“Yeah, except he’s eating like he’s storing up for the winter. I swear he ate half of everything Mom cooked—including a twenty-pound turkey.”
I toe off my shoes. “Let’s see, what else. Oh, Shelly can’t stand the smell of turkey so she stayed in her room all day with the ionic breeze blowing on her. And Michael brought a girl without telling Mom.” I grin because really, the expression on Mom’s face was the best part of the whole day. “She has a tattoo on the back of her hand that says ‘bite me.’”
Laini’s eyes go wide. “Wow. I can’t believe your brother had the guts to bring her home.”
“Me neither. I think he really likes her. Her name is Joy.”
“What’s going on?” Dancy enters carrying a huge bowl of popcorn. “Who likes whom?”
I repeat the evening’s announcements.
“Well, you know what this means, don’t you?”
“What?” If anyone can find light at the end of the tunnel, it’s Dancy.
She grins and passes me the popcorn. Which I take because after all, I’ve already blown my diet today, so what’s a couple hundred more calories and a few more carbs? And fat from the butter. I grab a handful of the yummy stuff and wait for my friend to reveal her words of wisdom. She doesn’t disappoint.
“With Mike dating a bad girl, Shelly pregnant, and your dad eating diet food that presumably she’s going to have to cook, your mom is going to be too preoccupied to concentrate on you.”
The light flashes on. My brilliant friend is absolutely right. Finally, for the first time ever, the heat is off me. Hallelujah!