Free Catch a Rising Star by Tracey Bateman

I’ve been waiting and waiting for them to send me my first scripts. And today
     I get next week’s script, and I don’t say one darn word all week.
    “So how’s the apple turnover?” Laini asks.
    Ah, something happy to talk about. “This is fantastic. Did you make this from scratch?”
    “Of course!”
    “Laini, I swear you should have your own bakery.”
    I see interest flicker in Laini’s eyes. “Wouldn’t that be fun? But bakeries don’t make enough. I’d go broke in three months.”
    “With food like this? Are you crazy? You’d be a millionaire in three months.”
    Laini reaches for my plate and stands up. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I think I’d better stick with what works.”
    “You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t step out in faith, Laini.”
    She gives me a grin. “Okay, but right now I have a job that pays my bills. As long as I can bake for my grateful friends,
     I’m happy.”
    “You can bake for me anytime.” If I weren’t so scared of Freddie’s militant torture, I’d ask for another turnover.
    Laini turns suddenly and gives me a wide-eyed smile as though she’s had a brilliant thought. “Hey, when I come back, want
     me to help you run lines like the old days?”
    I give the pages in front of me a once-over and stare at the back of her head as she retreats into the kitchen without waiting
     for my answer. Run lines? Is she kidding me? What lines?
    I’m not sure, but I honestly don’t think my mouth is supposed to be covered here. My whole face is wound up in gauze, except
     my eyes. And staring at myself in the mirror, I’d just as soon they were covered too so I couldn’t see how hideous I look.
     I know that horrible Julie Foster wrote me into the script this way just to keep me anonymous a little while longer. She’s
     so vindictive. And if you want to know the truth, I think she’s sort of nervous about me kissing her husband once Rudolph
     discovers to his surprise and joy that Felicia wasn’t killed, but merely maimed (another fact I’m not so happy about) and
     suffering from severe amnesia.
    And lest anyone forget, let me just insert a little history: Julie divorced the slug husband who made a pass at me three years
     ago at the Christmas party—right before she killed off my character in a fiery inferno. Then she started dating a sitcom actor
     from a poorly rated, cancelled-after-six-episodes show that taped in the same building as
Legacy of Life
. After they broke up, I’m not sure what happened, but apparently, Trey caught her eye, left his wife, and married Julie.
     So she is now at least three men out from the one who supposedly broke her heart by attempting (but never succeeding) to kiss
     me.
    Now that we’re up to speed, let me just reiterate how unfair it is to bring me back and keep me wrapped up and then scarred
     up. If I know Julie, she’ll prolong my hideousness as long as she can. So unprofessional. And so not fair. Who wants to kiss
     a guy with chronic coffee breath anyway? Not to mention the fact that he smokes, and last time we played a romantic scene
     together, he tried to slip me the tongue and I had to stomp on his foot.
    Okay, it’s getting awfully hard to breathe here. I
know
my mouth isn’t supposed to be covered. I
do
have some lines as I go in and out of an anesthesia-induced sleep on this first day of shooting since my return to the übersoap.
     Uh. Makeup ditz, hello? I raise my hand to Tonya, the twenty-year-old makeup “artist.”
    “Everything okay?” she asks, looking at me in the mirror.
    I point to my mouth and widen my eyes. I’m seriously losing the battle against my fight for air and my head is feeling woozy,
     then I realize my passive nature isn’t going to help me here. I yank at the wrappings myself just as the girl realizes maybe
     I’m this close to death. “Oh! Miss Brockman. I’m so sorry.” She makes a leap for my wrappings and relief is forthcoming. I
     take in a few gulps of