23

Hailey

When I got to my dressing room, there was a note on my table from Susan Laslo, the girl who played the troubled teen, Lizzie.

Saw your scene ... bravo! You rock.

—S

I smiled. Susan was a girl of few words, but I was beginning to realize that there was a solid, spirited person stuck in the role of Lizzie Slate. Since we were both minor players, we shared a dressing room the size of a Mini Cooper, which was just fine for both of us.

I dashed off a little note about enjoying the long weekend, since no one would be taping on Monday, then left it on her dressing table. Susan was scheduled to tape for the rest of the week, but I was done until next Tuesday, with a chance to go to the Hamptons with Alana.

A real vacation, with the promise of acting work when I returned; it was a rare luxury.

I turned toward my skinny closet, threw my arms into the air, and did a little hip-swaying dance. I had nailed an important scene, and now I was free, free, free!

Why didn’t my mother ever call to check in at victorious times like this?

Leaning into my closet, I sorted through the emergency clothes there and decided to leave just about everything until next week. My pink polka-dot shoes were coming with me, along with three bottles of Evian water I’d snitched from craft services. You could never get enough bottled water in this city, especially when the weather began to warm up and the subways and stores held on to the stale winter heat.

Just then there was a knock on my door and I straightened, knocking my head against the top of the closet.

“Come in!” I called, rubbing the tender spot.

Antonio Lopez filled the doorway, his short, dark hair slicked back to appear in his pseudomobster scene. He wore a double-breasted, pin-striped suit in a pale shade of gray—sinister spring fashions. I know it’s wrong to judge a person based on looks, but I couldn’t help myself.

I loved him.

“Hilly,” he said in his beautifully accented voice, though I couldn’t remember if he was from Spain or Portugal or Argentina. Like that mattered anyway. “May I come in?”

“Sure!” I squeaked, stepping back and nearly falling into the closet. As he gracefully squeezed into the tiny space, I quickly closed the closet door to prevent further bodily injury. “How’s it going?”

“Excellent.” There was that killer smile, subtle and over-the-top sexy in one simple flash of the teeth. He was magnificent. “I just had the privilege of seeing your scene with Deanna. I wanted to tell you how fantastic it was.” He pressed one hand to his chest. “I was genuinely moved.”

“Me, too,” I said without thinking. Oh, like that made sense! Jeez, was I an idiot! “I mean, ‘Et tu?’ Like Shakespeare?” Which made even less sense.

Come on, dinglebrain! Pick yourself up here!

“But thanks,” I said. “I didn’t even know you were watching. And coming from you, well, it means a lot. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

In that moment, I realized that a box of tampons had spilled open on my table, and I sort of leaped forward to block it from his view. Not that Antonio didn’t know about those things, but I didn’t want to go there with him.

He held up his arms, as if blocking me from bolting out the door, and we both laughed nervously.

“I’m sorry,” I said earnestly. “It’s just that I’m not used to having stars like you in my dressing room.”

“Stars? There are no stars here.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Well, there’s Deanna ...” I said.

“OK, one star. The rest of us are just actors.” His face was just inches from mine now. “But I wanted to say, I admire what you’re doing.”

I was about to say “me, too!” again, but realized it would be doubly stupid a second time. He seemed to want to kiss me, but he paused, his eyes smoking and glazed. I couldn’t stand it. I reached up, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and kissed him.

He moaned, his lips dewy and moist against mine. Antonio was a fabulous kisser—I remembered that from our one scene together. He had the ability to transport me, to lift me to another place and time with the nudge of his sweet lips.

I was so into it, I barely noticed that my butt was crushing a row of tampons against the makeup table.

He ended the kiss and hugged me close. “We need to get together,” he said. “May I see you this weekend? Outside the studio, of course.”

“Oh, but I’m going out to the Hamptons,” I blurted before I had the good sense to change my plans. “I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’d love to see you.”

“I have a little condo there,” he said, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles. “East Hampton. Perhaps we could meet there? There’s a club on Main Street that really rawks.”

I nodded like a bobblehead. “Yeah, sure! Sounds great!”

We set it up for the following night, then Antonio stepped to the door. “I have a tedious scene to do. Taking another bad guy hostage, I’m afraid.”

“It happens.” I tinkled my fingers in a wave.

“Oh, and just a word of advice? You might want to keep our involvement under wraps around here. At least for now. Don’t want any unnecessary studio scuttlebutt circulating.”

I was impressed that Antonio knew what “scuttlebutt” meant, but I nodded as he blew me a kiss and ducked out the door.

Big sigh, then another thought. He had said “involvement,” hadn’t he?

So we were involved?

Antonio Lopez and Hailey Starrett, a new soap couple. Soap Opera Digest would run a feature on us. We could do one of those joint interviews on Soap Central. Together we would be a powerhouse!

My hands shook as I flipped open my cell and speed-dialed Alana.

“You’ll never guess who I’m hooking up with tomorrow night... .”