Secrets of a Soap Opera Diva (15 page)

“Alison, stop! I have
not
had sex with Edith Norman, my gawd, give me
some
credit.”

“You’re such a bad liar, Randall.” She hyperventilated, pulling on a pair of Spanx. “I read all about your little tryst on SecretsofaSoapOperaDiva.com.”

“Oh come on. You don’t believe that stupid gossip blog?”

“If it’s so stupid, why all the private meetings, huh? I hear you frequent her office more than the guy who waxes her back.”

With his balls in a vise, Randall offered an olive branch, helping Alison with her robe. He knew it was time to come clean. Well, almost.

“Listen, Alison, it’s
not
what you think.”

“I think you don’t want to push me too far,” the distressed diva
ranted, ruminating about how quickly she could get her hands on their Bank of America safety deposit box filled to the gills with skimmed cash, compliments of Augustus Barringer.

“Alison, just hear me out. But you can’t breathe a word of it to anyone, not even your hairstylist. And
definitely
not the other actors on the show.”

“Oh please, as if I even take the time to talk to any of those idiots once the director yells Cut,” she dismissed. “Who am I gonna tell?”

“I’ve been meeting with Edith because the network is interested in buying the Barringer soaps.”

“Oh for crissakes, that’s old news. And it’s not gonna happen as long as Augustus is alive.”

“Exactly. From the looks of things, he won’t be a factor for much longer.”

“What do you mean? I know he gave temporary control of the soaps to his bratty kids, but that’s just until he gets better, right?”

“He isn’t going to get better, Alison.”

A shiver shot up her spine as she slowly sat.

“Doctors can’t figure out what’s causing the strokes he’s been having and fear a major one is around the corner.”

Alison and Augustus had had their ups and downs over the years and she’d never forgiven him for allowing Calysta to do film projects like
The Refined Politician
with Danny Glover and
Dumb Bell
with Beau Bridges, while preventing her from starring in
The Cellist
with Robin Williams. Though still holding a grudge, she couldn’t begin to imagine a world without Augustus Barringer in it.

“There has to be something they can do?” she asked. “I mean come on, the Barringers have more money than the Vatican. Surely, they can find some sort of specialist?”

“They’re doing everything in their power,” Randall asserted. “But let’s face it; Augustus isn’t the youngest rooster in the barnyard.”

“Don’t be so insensitive. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but
we owe him for our careers, our fortune, and our mansions in Hawaii and Holmby Hills.”

“That’s why I intend to honor his legacy by doing what he never could.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Augustus is a genius when it comes to storytelling. There aren’t many writers in daytime who can compete. Maybe Agnes Nixon. But as a current businessman, he’s always been shortsighted.”

“Go on.”

“Augustus could’ve sold his shows to WBC a decade ago and made a killing, but he was too stubborn to give up creative control. Something tells me his wife and children won’t feel as passionate about keeping
The Rich and the Ruthless
and
The Daring and the Damned
in the family.”

“My gawd, Randall, that’s cruel, you’re talking about the man like he’s already in the grave.”

“Oh don’t go all soft on me, Alison. More than likely, Augustus won’t be recovering from this. Even if he does, the damage the strokes have already done won’t allow him to keep running one show, let alone two. On a lighter note, we both know that Auggie has absolutely
no
interest in running the family business, and up until recently we’d see Veronica and Katherine Barringer even less, a fan club thingy here, an awards ceremony there, and that godawful company Christmas party. We’re finally poised to grab the brass ring and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen for us.”

“Where exactly does Edith Norman fit into all this?” Alison asked, washing a pill down with a bottle of Save the Glaciers water.

“She’s assured me that if I convince Auggie Jr. and the rest of our gravy train to sell
R&R
and
D&D
to the network, she’ll make me Senior Executive Producer of
The Rich and the Ruthless
.”

The look of pity for poor, ailing Augustus left Alison’s eyes, replaced with a pair of sparkling green dollar signs.

“Senior EP?” she repeated, rushing over and wrapping her arms
around Randall. “Do you have any idea how much
moolah
that means? We’ll make
millions
.”

“
Now
do you see why I had to be so secretive? We have a lot riding on this venture.”

“Oh Randy,” Alison purred, moving in closer, playing with her flip, surveying the broken glass. “You’re right, I did overreact, bloody menopause. I’m sorry, Snuggle Bunny, that I doubted you. Do whatever Edith needs you to do to get control of these goddamn soaps, then I can finally get rid of that old windbag Maeve and pesky tramps like Emmy and Shannen, once and for all.”

V
eronica Barringer hit Redial on her iPhone for the third time.

“Pick up the phone, Auggie,” she huffed, sitting in the lobby of the private waiting area of Thurgood Marshall Airport.

“Auggie here, talk to me.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Veronica exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday! Things are really bad.”

“What’s wrong? Is Dad . . . ?”

“. . . dead? No, you moron. And you’d know that if you were here.”

“Oh come on, Ronnie, not you too,” he moaned. “Mom’s already given me enough grief. All of us can’t be in Baltimore. Who’s gonna run the company?”

“Funny you should mention that. What’s the word on Calysta? Have
you spoken with her? Dad’s ready to climb out of his hospital bed and crawl back to Los Angeles to prevent her from quitting the soap.”

“Dad knows about Calysta? Who the hell let that happen?”

“His nurse brought in a copy of
Soap Suds Digest
and she was the ‘Ruby Stargazer Falls Overboard’ feature story.”

Auggie was hoping Calysta would’ve taped her final episode and been off
The Rich and the Ruthless
before Augustus was any the wiser. He didn’t personally have a problem with the bubbler, but his co-executive producer Randall Roberts did, and Auggie relied on him way too much to handle the day-to-day drudgery of running
R&R
to not support him. He didn’t like playing referee between the two, since that might mean coming into work on days he’d rather be downhill skiing in Dubai, golfing in Scotland, or racing in Monte Carlo.

“Tell Dad we tried everything we could to get Calysta to stay, but she insists that she’s ready to move on and try new things.”

“Auggie, Dad may not be at his optimum right now, but his b.s. meter is functioning just fine. He’s not going to buy that load of bull any more than I do. We have to get a handle on our family business,” Veronica said pointedly. “We’re still feeling the ripple effect of the market and we can’t afford to keep losing money hand over fist. And do I need to remind you we sold one of our paintings?”

“Look, Ronnie, I’m doing the best I can to keep things running smoothly here, all right?”

“Have you even been to the set?”

“Of course I have, I’m there right now.”

“
Fore!
” yelled out a golfer.

“Three, two, one,
go
!” Auggie covered. He’d been doing more than twenty-seven holes of golf, ensconced with two young babes at the majestic Desert Princess Country Club in Palm Springs.

“Auggie, where are you?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” She paused. “Are you golfing?”

“Are you deaf? You just heard me count down the show.”

“Seven or the nine iron?” asked the caddy to high-pitched laughter in the background.

“Hey Tiger, my body henna is so sexy, wait’ll you see,” giggled Ginger, peeling down her lowriders.

“Yeah, wicked sugar scrub,” agreed Sparkle. “My skin’s as soft as a baby’s
ass
.”

“Who’s that?” Veronica questioned.

“Who do you think? It’s Shannen and Emmy in a scene. I’m on the set, for crissakes. Look, I’ve got to get back to work. Give Mom and Dad a hug for me, and tell them I’ve got everything under control.”

Outside of the triple-cha-ching overtime, if there’s one thing bubblers hate more than any other it’s taping a soap opera wedding storyline or any mega-event, be it a costume ball, gala fund-raiser, Christmas party, you name it.

While the audience eats those scenes up because they get all its favorites into one room, dressed to the nines in the latest glitz and glam, they’re torture for the average narcissistic soap star.

The taping schedules for those scenes usually go well into the next day, and soap divas and drama kings who literally pass each other in the hall and parking lot daily without speaking are forced to intermingle for hours at a time, doubling up in dressing rooms because of all the extras and special guest stars.

The only people who enjoy soap opera wedding arcs are the bubblers playing the bride and groom. That’s their big moment to shine and a chance to add valuable footage to their Sudsy reel in hopes of a gold-dipped statuette. This week, the oh-so-friendly cast of The Rich and the Ruthless have been taping Ruby Stargazer’s Soap Opera Wedding of the Century storyline, and honey, let me tell you, there’s some drama going on over there in Burbank!

Inside sources have informed The Diva that that rascal co-executive producer Randall Roberts has actually encouraged certain members of the cast and crew to in effect drive Calysta Jeffries batty during her last week of taping. Roberts wants to make sure the actress never sets foot on his set again. Will Calysta crack under the pressure? If she does, you know I’ll tell you all about it.

The Diva

THE RICH AND THE RUTHLESS MEMO:

If you didn’t call in your edits by 5:00 p.m. yesterday—tough! NO CHANGES ON SET! Actors will share dressing rooms for the Dove/Ruby wedding. Suck it up, and don’t bring in your pets. Everybody know your lines and let’s try to get this puppy in the can by 11:00 tonight. Finally, DO NOT remove the price tags from your wardrobe. Penelope will be returning the garments to Neiman Marcus following taping the show. Shhh . . .

Thank you,
Randall Roberts,
Co-Executive Producer

“Wait, wait, wait, Julius, for crissakes!” Phillip McQueen screamed, breaking from character. “Open the boom, Cisco.”

“Stop tape . . . stop tape,” called the stage manager.

“What’s wrong, Phillip?” asked an annoyed Julius.

“I thought we were trying to expedite,” Phillip whined. “We need to get through these lines so we all get home at a decent hour, this is ridiculous repeating yesterday’s material.”

“You didn’t seem to think it was so ridiculous when I had to repeat myself a half dozen times for your pitiful return to the show, clawing from six feet under, buried alive, finally agreeing to new contract terms. And everybody knows you’re the one who called Mitch Morelli to leak your deal to the press.”