Free Secrets of a Soap Opera Diva by Victoria Rowell

gate. “Well, I better get goin’. You have a good day.”
    “Ah, Ms. Jeffries . . .”
    “Yes? Is there a problem?”
    “I’m sorry, ma’am, your security access has been denied.”
    “Stop jokin’ and let me through.”
    “No, I’m serious. Ms. Norman sent a memo stating you had to park outside the gate this week.”
    “Really.” A horn sounded behind me.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
    “No, you’re just doin’ your job, Jay,” I said through clenched teeth.
    Gripping the steering wheel and pissed, I shifted my SUV into reverse, sending it squealing back, burning rubber out into the street, nearly colliding with Emmy’s candy apple red convertible Porsche.
    “Hey, watch it, sistah. Now that you’re about to be unemployed and all, I’d hate to have to sue you for dingin’ my ride with that soccer mom mobile,” Emmy cackled in her leather “To Catch A Thief” driving gloves, looking over her jeweled Bvlgari sunglasses, gunning her engine up to the gate.
    “Ohmagod, look, it’s Gina Chiccetelli, everyone!” screamed the fans. “Gina, Gina, can you look this way?” as they aimed their disposable cameras at her.
    On cue, Emmy’s designer Pomapoo raised her tiny head and pedicuredpaws, posing for them, teeth bared. Unprovoked, two months prior, the vicious three-pound six-ounce mutt bit an extra. Emmy settled out of court but was ordered to muzzle her precious pooch if she wanted it on the WBC lot.
    Ignoring the still-screaming fans, Emma flashed her badge and glided onto the lot, her vanity plates reading R&R STAR.
    After parking along the curb, a country mile from the WBC gate, I climbed out and began searching for loose change.
    “Here, Miss Stargazer,” said a young passing fan in full dress blues balancing a tray of coffee, offering me a handful of quarters.
    “Thank you, um, Tom,” I replied, eyeing his oversize yellow name tag. “I know I have change in this purse somewhere.”
    “That’s all right. It’s on me,” he said. “When I go back next week for my second tour of duty I’m gonna tell everyone how I helped out my favorite soap star!”
    I smiled my gratitude at the young soldier, sensing he wouldn’t be coming home. As he walked away, I fought back tears, retrieving my hatbox and makeup kit from the backseat.
    No crying,
I mentally admonished.
Think about the fans in the crowd. They came all this way to forget about their troubles and to suspend reality on that silly game show. Never expected to see you too. So suck it up. And I mean suck it up right now. Nobody wants to see a sniveling soap star.
    I flashed a smile as I signed autographs, shook hands, and posed for pictures. The
R&R
cast and crew had begun arriving for work, noticing me on foot.
    “What the hell?” Daniel Needleman mouthed through the window of his Lexus.
    Holding my chin up, I trudged back up to the security gate, hot. A pubescent man was now standing with Jay. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen.
    “Ms. Jeffries, this is Perry,” Jay introduced.
    “Okay,” I replied with an impatient tone.
    “He’s a new intern at
The Rich and the Ruthless
.”
    “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Jeffries,” he said. “You’re my mom’s favorite and I’ve been watching you since I was four.”
    “Thank you, Perry. Listen, I would love to autograph a picture for your mom, but can you catch me later? As you can see, I’m having a rough morn—”
    “I don’t think you understand, Ms. Jeffries,” Jay said. “Perry is here to escort you onto the set.”
    Just then the game show audience erupted into the biggest reception yet.
    “Come again? Speak louder! I can’t hear you with all that racket behind me.”
    “Perry is here to escort you onto the set!” Jay shouted.
    “Um, yeah, Mr. Roberts told me I was to shadow you at all times when you weren’t taping this week,” the pimply intern stuttered.
    “It’s okay, Jay, I’ll escort Ms. Jeffries to the set,” came the instantly recognizable,