Behind the Scenes Page 4

  She certainly hadn’t expected him to admit it. “Oh, gee, and you’re charming, too.”

  He laughed. “Come on, show me Diedre’s after picture.”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me, how did you . . . make her over?”

  She debated telling him, just because she was feeling ornery at the moment. Finally she said, “A new haircut that emphasized her cheekbones. And a little revamping of make-up that brought the focus to her beautiful skin. And a fitness program. She’s lost thirty-eight pounds so far.”

  “Good for her,” he said, and actually sounded sincere.

  They stopped in front of a quaint-looking outdoor café that was about half full. She shoved her book back in her briefcase and felt a boatload of pride when she snapped it shut on the first try. Then she began to scramble out of the car because she was beginning to feel suffocated.

  The door was already opened by the driver. But before she could escape, AJ grabbed her wrist. “Look at me.”

  It didn’t hurt, but she didn’t feel as if she’d be able to lose his grip even with a crowbar. She slowly swiveled her head to look at him, poking her nose a little higher in the air so he knew she was not happy with him.

  He dimpled. “So, how much make-up do you wear?”

  Frowning, Tanya said, “A little.”

  “And how many flaws are you covering?” His eyes grazed her face from forehead to chin.

  “Oh, millions of them.”

  His smile widened. “Somehow I don’t think so.” He let go of her wrist. “Let’s eat; I’m starving.”

  Suddenly, so was she, even if she just couldn’t quite place for what.

  ON CLOSER INSPECTION, Buzzy’s wasn’t so quaint as it was garage-sale eclectic. Still, the tables, though matchsticks and bits of cardboard held their legs stable, were clean, as were the plastic chairs. Small vases held single daisies and the wood-plank floors didn’t appear to be rotting.

  And even out on the deck the scents wafting from the interior of the diner made Tanya’s mouth water. Their waitress, Gina, had appeared before their butts even settled into the seats. It was obvious he was a regular and Gina thoroughly enjoyed having him as a customer. She practically skipped to a sideboard to gather up napkins and utensils.

  Denny Block had yet to appear.

  “Isn’t Mr. Porter joining us?” Tanya asked him. “Or shouldn’t he be?”

  AJ shook his head. “After looking at the test tape, Denny and I realized he didn’t really add anything significant to the show.”

  “But . . . he’s the host.”

  “Not anymore he’s not. You don’t need him. The show doesn’t need him.”

  “So you fired him?”

  “It was mutual. He didn’t see the need to be there, either.”

  “You fired him,” she accused again.

  “He was dead weight. You are the star,” AJ shot back, then almost seemed to cringe. He took in a deep breath. “We didn’t need the viewers to be bouncing back and forth between the star and the trained monkey.”

  She stared at the heartless beast. “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” she said.

  AJ crossed his arms and sat back, looking exasperated. “Listen, my beautiful Pollyanna, I realize there’s a lot you don’t know about this business, yet. But you’ll learn. Cole would be the first one to call himself a trained monkey. And, trust me, he’s a vet of these kind of shows. He knows the score and knows when he doesn’t contribute anything worthwhile to a show. If this takes off, and we kept Mr. Porter, I guarantee the first letters will be from people telling us to quit wasting their time with pointless jokes and chatter from a guy who probably doesn’t know scissors from . . . from . . . something else you use. If it takes off it’s going to be because they love watching you do your thing.”

  “With my scissors . . . and all that other stuff I use.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m all by myself,” Tanya said, more to herself. The full impact of that concept struck her. Terror, thick and acrid, bubbled up to her throat.

  He eyed her for a moment, probably trying to decide if she was about to throw up. She herself wouldn’t lay down bets about that right now.

  The man leaned forward. Cute as he was, he looked just like the dragon monster of her childhood nightmares, the teacher shoving her out onto stage during the school Christmas pageant.

  Only the dragon-monster teacher had a better haircut.

  To take her mind off the fact that Mr. Producer Man had just thrown her a curve ball the size of an Indiana Jones boulder, Tanya decided to professionally study Mr. Producer Man’s head.

  His hair was gorgeous. Dark and silky and wavy. Except it was cut as if a crazed dyslexic barber had gotten hold of him, and then a nutcase with a bad sense of humor had taught him how to style it.

  She itched to get her hands on it. But the way she was feeling right now . . . “I’d probably end up strangling him instead.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Tanya glanced around, but, nope, it didn’t look as if anyone else had uttered those words. There wasn’t even anyone close enough to blame it on. She struggled for an explanation, but then the waitress, bless her swishy little behind, approached again, sailing around the table and setting it with cheerful efficiency. By the time she was finished, Tanya’s need to faint or run screaming had burned itself out a little and AJ—Mr. Landry to her—seemed to have moved on to another train of thought.

  “The usual, Mr. Landry?”

  “Please.”

  “And you, ma’am?”

  Ma’am? Ma’am!

  “How about a glass of wine?” he suggested.

  To hell with thinking of him as Mr. Landry. That afforded him more respect than she was willing to give him. “What are you having?”

  “A draft.”

  Normally Tanya wouldn’t dream of any kind of alcohol during a business lunch. At least she didn’t think so, seeing as this pretty much qualified as her first business lunch. But AJ Landry wasn’t normal, and neither was Hollywood. Besides, a little liquid fortification couldn’t hurt. “A glass of chardonnay, please.”

  She waited for Gina to bounce away before leaning forward. “I have a couple of comments about that.”

  “About what?”

  “What you said a while ago.”

  “I ordered a draft.”

  She waved. “Before that. About Mr. Porter.”

  “Oh.”

  “First, I’m not your beautiful anything.”

  “You’re my employee, and you’re beautiful.”

  Tanya thought she felt her nostrils flair, so she held her breath for a moment to keep the smoke from pouring out. “Second, I could really be insulted about the Pollyanna part, but, if that means not having your cynical attitude or taking part in the bizarre lifestyles I’ve witnessed around this town in the few days I’ve been here, I think I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “You should. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  But AJ was saved from the explanation by Denny’s appearance.

  “Hi, folks,” Denny said, slumping down into his chair. “What’d I miss?”

  Denny had curly, thick hair Tanya also itched to get her hands and scissors on. Didn’t the men behind the cameras of Hollywood know a good stylist? Her director was wearing funky granny-style sunglasses, and had bad posture. But he was apparently laid-back California in all of its glory, and he was kind of cute. Tanya immediately thought he’d make a good match for Sharyn. But then Tanya had a second horrifying thought: an opinion like that sounded just like something her mother would think. Lord, please don’t let me be turning into my mother!

  Jumping back to a sane person’s mindset—at least she hoped s
o—she said, “Boss man here was bowling me over with his cheerful optimism.”

  AJ and Denny exchanged amused glances. “He always did know how to charm the pants off the female stars.”

  “Careful, Denny,” AJ said. “Tanya’s already made it perfectly clear that there will be no ‘casting couch activity’ on her set.”

  “I see,” Denny said, scrubbing at his bristly jaw. “Well, maybe we can work around that.”

  Tanya knew they were laughing at her. From the beginning she’d felt out of the loop, out of her element, and apparently coming seriously close to becoming the joke of the show. Not wanting either of them to see her blush or maybe even burst into stupid tears, she mumbled, “Excuse me,” and beelined for the indoor restroom.

  Staring at herself in the mirror, Tanya blinked. A stranger blinked back at her.

  The person in the mirror was lunching with some high-powered show business muscle. The person in the mirror was actually arguing with him. The person in the mirror was about to have her face and talents broadcast throughout the country, for anyone’s consumption or derision.

  Tanya was not the person in the mirror. She was the child who’d cried when teachers made her participate in school plays. She was the teenager who’d fainted at the thought of having to deliver an oral book report in front of a classroom of her peers. She was the woman who’d vomited before the No Child Left Behind fundraising auction because the committee had insisted she receive the “honor” of playing auctioneer as repayment for her work with the cause.

  Some honor. Torture was more like it.

  And here she was expected to perform for . . . what? Thousands of people?

  For some reason no one took her debilitating fear of public speaking seriously. All of her life people had “diagnosed” her as shy and told her to get over it. As if she could switch the fear on and off.

  The problem was, her mother had faith she could do this. So did Gran. And, God bless him, so did Uncle Frank, the man who’d stepped in and cared for her as if she were his daughter, who’d sworn at her father’s gravesite that she would be taken care of.

  Tanya realized that there was a lot of guilt built in this. Oh, Uncle Frank wouldn’t intentionally make her feel guilty. If she disappointed him, she was certain he’d try not to show it. Mama and Gran were another story. But she was accustomed to their guilt trips. She could maybe handle those. They’d love her anyway, because it was in their genes.

  Guilt pangs aside, she could walk away from the woman in the mirror without a backward glance if it weren’t for one problem: AJ Landry.

  He didn’t believe she could do it. She could tell by his condescending attitude, his knowing grins. He fully expected her to bomb. And that knowledge irritated her just enough to prove the idiot wrong. And it would be her turn to look at him as if he were one rung below spoiled milk.

  Goodness, revenge was quite the motivator, she noticed as she squared her shoulders and searched for a backbone. She stared at the woman in the mirror, then pointed at her. “Get ready, toots. I’m about to steal your moxy.”

  That was when she realized she wasn’t alone. An elderly woman stood gaping at her, a paper towel in her hand momentarily forgotten. Tanya tried to smile her reassurance to the woman that she wasn’t stark raving mad.

  Still, the woman practically sprinted out of the restroom.

  “That’s the last failure I’m allowing you,” she said, to both herself and her image. “We have a man to take down a peg or ten.”

  She took a breath. Okay, if she was going to be a star, she’d darn well be a star. How did one go about being a star? Well, she supposed she needed to do research. Or find someone to teach her.

  Since she didn’t know any stars, she might have to enlist Uncle Frank’s advice on that one.

  With a determined shake of her head, she turned and marched back out to the table.

  “SO WHERE WERE WE?” Denny asked, after she sat down.

  Tanya decided taking command was star-like. “I have ideas about the show.”

  Both of them looked at her pitifully. Two days ago she’d have slid under the table. But the more she was becoming resigned to the idea of doing the show, the more she felt she needed to control its fate. To do Uncle Frank proud, she had to do it right.

  To be able to tell Mr. Big here to stick it where the sun don’t shine, she had to do it well.

  “Such as?” Denny finally asked.

  “First, no Hollywood whackos,” she said.

  They looked offended.

  “I mean,” she said quickly, “no movie star makeovers. We’re doing everyday people.”

  Four eyebrows raised in unison. Then Denny said, “I like that.”

  AJ only nodded from behind his beer mug.

  Fortified, Tanya went on. “I want people who believe they need a drastic change, who believe that a drastic makeover will change their lives.”

  AJ thumped down his mug. “Aren’t you setting up high expectations?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you fail them, we’re toast.”

  Tanya ignored her hackles, which had risen like porcupine quills for no good reason. “First, Mr. Producer, I won’t fail them. Second, Mr. Producer, high expectations are what I’m shooting for. Unlike some other shows, I don’t want anyone coming in and worrying I’ll make them look dumb to get a few laughs at their expense. I want them hopeful and excited. That’s half the battle. Third, Mr. ‘I-don’t-know-anything-about-makeover-shows’ Producer, what are you even doing here?”

  He stared at her for a heartbeat. “I really should fire you.”

  “Oh, please, would you?”

  AFTER LUNCH, THE two men met back in AJ’s office while Denny’s assistant showed Tanya around, including the location of her dressing room.

  AJ still wanted to fire Tanya, just on principle. She had a really lousy attitude about the show. Well, okay, not about the show exactly. She seemed actually excited about the possibilities the show presented.

  But she really had a lousy attitude about her own part in the show. Well, not exactly lousy. She was just scared. This was all foreign to her. She’d be a fool not to be a little nervous about the whole project.

  Still, she had a really lousy attitude about . . . him. She was the paid help. She wasn’t supposed to have a lousy attitude about the boss. It just wasn’t normal. And if it were anyone else, he’d face those smartass lips head-on and fire them.

  Either that, or kiss them senseless.

  “Kiss her,” Denny said, breaking into his thoughts.

  AJ blinked, then looked up. “Excuse me?”

  “From your expression I’d say you were trying to decide between throttling Tanya and kissing her.”

  “Wrong.” Technically. “But you have to admit she could be more trouble than she’s worth to the show. Don’t you think?”

  “No. I think she’s perfect.”

  “Not too naïve?”

  “A little, but I think that’s part of the appeal.”

  It certainly was. And he seriously hated that something about her vulnerability called to him. It made him care. Caring could get you killed in this business. Or in a marriage, for that matter. “You think she has the talent?”

  “In spades. You should see what she did for Frank’s secretary.”

  “I saw.” AJ stared thoughtfully at the show’s bible. “But I have the feeling she’s going to want this to be the ‘feel-good’ hour. Don’t most people tune into these to laugh at the poor people who would humiliate themselves to get their fifteen minutes?”

  “You haven’t been watching much TV lately, have you, buddy?”

  Except for scoping the competition, he avoided it like the plague. “Not much.”

  Denny shook his head. “The mood and tone have shift
ed. People want to feel good. They want to cheer for the underdog. And if you have this pretty little small-town girl who sincerely wants to make a difference in lives for the better, you are going to be getting a fifteen share of All-American viewers who will schedule their lives around being home to watch her do her thing.”

  It made sense, but AJ felt a little adrift. Was he really so out of touch? Had he really holed himself away, not concerned about anything but what was happening on one of his sets? The answer, obviously, was a big, fat yes. It kind of made him sad.

  He wouldn’t want to be a wide-eyed innocent again. It hurt too much when reality knocked you in the gut. But he felt strangely incomplete all of a sudden. Something had been ripped out of him, and he sincerely doubted it could ever be replaced. These days he set his expectations on other people so low that nothing they could do or say would surprise or hurt him. Oh, well, he was comfortable there, and since there was no turning back, it was a waste of time to even think about it.

  But in a way, he envied that part of Tanya Pierce that still believed in basic human kindness and decency. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be around to see her grow up.

  Tearing himself from morose thoughts, he said, “So you think she’ll be okay?”

  “Okay? She’s going to be a star.”

  “I think so, too,” AJ said.

  Denny peered at him. “Why isn’t there an ecstatic look on your face?”

  “I don’t like stars.”

  Denny waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Hello! You’re in the star business, bud. Stars are good things.”

  “Yeah,” AJ said, with no conviction whatsoever.

  Chapter Four

  “SO WHAT’S NEW in La La land?” Sharyn asked on the other end of the phone line.

  Tanya sighed as she stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom in Uncle Frank’s house. “It’s worse than anything we’ve ever seen on TV, Shar. Did you know people roller-blade to work? It’s hard to take a lawyer in a suit and briefcase seriously when he’s unstrapping his transportation from his feet before he enters the courthouse.”

  “I bet the shopping’s to die for, though.”