Free Dial Emmy for Murder by Eileen Davidson Page A

makeup chair. “What do you think is goin’ on, Alex? Is our show jinxed?”
    I didn’t want any part of this discussion. I just buried my head in my script and shrugged.
    “Or maybe it’s just soap operas in general. Look what happened on your old show last year, right?”
    I was watching her face in the mirror as it hit her.
    “Hey, that’s right,” she said. “Somebody was killed on that show, and now this one. Maybe it isn’t the show that’s jinx—” She stopped herself by slapping one hand over her mouth. “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. The way that sounded—”
    “Never mind, Mary,” I said, brushing it off. “Let’s just get me finished, huh? The director’s already pissed off because I was late.”
    She started sniffling. I looked up, and sure enough, she was crying. I mumbled something comforting and bolted for the door.

    We shot my scenes for the day, and even with perfectionist Breck at the helm, we got through them quickly.
    “I hate to say this,” Breck said when we finished the last scene, “but maybe you should be late more often, Alex. You were great.”
    “Thank you, but I wasn’t in those scenes alone.” Actually, I was. Both of my characters were talking to each other on the phone. Very heated and emotional scenes as Fanny had begun to blackmail Felicia with information only she knew.
    He came close to me and said, “Very funny, darling. It was all about you today—but seriously, do me a real big favor.”
    “What?”
    “Try to be on time tomorrow.”
    “I promise I’ll do my best. And don’t call me darling.” Maybe my racquet was strung just a little too tight, but it took every fiber of my being not to smack him across his smug face. I hate smugness.

Chapter 16
    I went to my dressing room to clean up and get back into my street clothes. By the time I was dressed I had an idea. I made a phone call, and when the call was answered, I said, “Can you meet me tonight?”
    “Of course—but you still want to talk to me, after what happened last year?”
    “I’d like a favor,” I said. “Let’s just say you owe me.”
    “Okay,” he said. “Where?”
     
    When I knocked on the door, Andy McIntyre opened it himself. Apparently he had not felt the need to replace Murray the Life Coach.
    “Hey, Alex,” he said. Impulsively he grabbed me and hugged, and I hugged back. I realized at that moment that since leaving The Yearning Tide, I’d missed him and that show. “Come in.”
    I followed him to the kitchen, where he had already put on a pot of coffee.
    Andy and I had started on The Yearning Tide at the same time. In fact, we had played young lovers at one point.
    “We can drink it out by the pool,” he said.
    “That’s fine.”
    He armed us both with a mug and we carried it outside. The house was in Malibu, not far from Paradise Cove. He had an impressive view of the beach.
    “I’m so happy to see you, Alex,” he said as we sat. Then he started in with questions. “How do you like your new show? The new characters? Are you having fun playing dual roles? I smell Emmy!”
    “Yeah. I mean, it’s harder but it’s a blast,” I said.
    We talked a little about the new show, and then he filled me in on what was going on with The Tide and all its characters. It felt a little like the old days, when Andy and I used to talk a lot. I have to admit, I also felt a little left out.
    “ The Tide is not the same without you.”
    “That’s nice of you to say, Andy.”
    “It’s true,” he said. “We miss Tiffany.”
    “When I was there, everybody thought I was a murderer,” I reminded him.
    “And, for a shorter time, they thought the same of me,” he said.
    “So how can you continue to work with people who thought you were capable of that?”
    He smiled wanly and said, “I’m not a beautiful soap star who is in demand, Alex. I’m an aging soap actor who’s happy just to have a role.”
    I had said Andy and I started on The Tide at the same time and that we’d