Page 32 of Something New

Karen patted Anna’s shoulder, not put off by the bitterness in Anna’s voice. “Seems to me you’re not the first person to be burned by the media or bad choices. And you can come back from this. Plenty of actors have done it.”

Anna grinned. “There’s a double standard for women, and you know it.”

“Maybe. So, what do you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on with you, Karen. You’re looking tired, and Caroline said something about this being your last year?” Anna folded her arms and arched her brow imperiously.

Karen burst out laughing. “You’re not kidding when you say you take on Bianca St. John’s mannerisms. Or maybe she takes on yours. Anyway, I have breast cancer. It’s treatable, and I’m doing okay, but it’s getting too much to deal with the theater and the fundraising to keep it going. Richard wants to travel and our grandbabies live far away. I want to go see them and spend time there, not be pulled back here.”

Anna sat back in her seat, stunned. Karen had cancer? She studied her mentor and friend, looking for signs of illness. Karen might have been a little thinner, a little paler, but she was still the same woman that Anna had looked up to when Anna learned from her years ago. She couldn’t imagine Karen being sick.

Karen narrowed her gaze. “Stop doing that. Stop imagining me sick, thinking of me as already gone. I have a lot of fight left in me and I intend to beat this. I have a lot of reasons to do it and my doctors all say that it’s treatable since we caught it in time. However, it reminded me of my mortality and got Richard and I thinking about what else we want to do. Hence, the transition for the Playhouse.”

Now Anna’s thoughts shifted to more practical things. The Playhouse without Karen York? How was that possible? Karen had brought it back from the brink of nothing, and what would happen when she left? “Karen, you are the Playhouse, its heart and soul. Do you know how many actors got their start because of you—the summer program and the community theater? What will happen to it?”

“The trustees are trying to find a new director but, so far, no one wants to do the job. I wondered if you knew anyone who would want to live in Texas and run the Playhouse, putting on three productions a year, including the youth program?” She eyed Anna meaningfully, the hint clear.

Anna shook her head. “Absolutely not. Please, the trustees would never go for someone with my reputation, and my career isn’t quite that bad that I need to teach acting because I can’t find a job.”

“I didn’t do this because I couldn’t find a job, Anna Maria Costado.” Karen’s words were as sharp as a dagger. “I took this job to have balance in my life. I wanted a family and a life, not just acting, false friends, and the media hounding my every move. I was in a position not unlike yours once upon a time.”

Anna was struck by remorse, and she hugged her mentor carefully. “I’m sorry. I seem to stick my foot in my mouth everywhere this week. I’m just so damned tense and angry all the time. I never knew you left acting by choice.”

Karen leaned back, head on the back of the seat, eyes lost to memory. “I did a couple of successful movies and was one of the upcoming and actresses of my day, you know. I was getting my pick of great roles. But one day I realized I was perpetually hungover from partying too hard, my business manager was embezzling from me, and I hadn’t seen the man I thought I loved in almost a year because of filming schedules. I hadn’t even seen my sister’s new baby. It wasn’t sustainable. I had to decide what I wanted. Richard, coincidentally, called me around the same time, breaking things off, saying he found someone who wanted the same things in life. I was devastated. I went into a spiral, partying harder and basically screwing up my life.”

Anna squirmed in her chair. It was like looking into a mirror or a movie of her own life, and it sucked. But Karen wasn’t done.

“I woke up one morning, although it was more like noon, to find out I had overslept and missed a filming call. Someone was banging on my door. It was Richard. He was there to set me straight.”

Anna smiled. “There was no one else.”

Karen shook her head. “No, he had hoped to light a fire under my ass. Well, he did, only not the kind he wanted. After finishing the movie, I packed up and headed back to Texas. I didn’t like who I was in California. I didn’t know who I was out there. But here, I know who I am and what I am. And I’m happy. I may not have the money, but I have the friends, the life, and the love. Can you say that?”

* * *

Anna met Wyatt in the parking lot. He was reclined on a large boulder as if he hadn’t a care in the world, but she sensed a tension in him, questions beneath the surface that wanted to come out. She got in the truck, hands fisted in her lap as she waited for the inevitable interrogation about her speech to the kids, but Wyatt said nothing. He steered the vehicle out of the village and back toward the house. Just as he had the first day, he swerved into the small parking lot that was empty now and parked the truck.

Anna studied the tall beach grass waving in the sea breeze overlooking the small beach. The surf was kicking up a bit, with the storm approaching, the waves a little rougher and higher than usual and the water a darker shade of blue. On the horizon, clouds were forming, the precursor to the tropical storm headed their way. Anna shivered despite her bravado about storms. One didn’t live in Texas and worry about them, but they had a healthy respect for Mother Nature.

Wyatt’s arm stretched out on the seat behind her, the heat from his skin burning through the silk of her tank top, and she wanted to curl into it, to absorb that warmth until he had chased all the cold from her body. But she hadn’t been warm, not truly, not since the day she had walked away from him in the Houston airport, winging her way toward her dreams while he walked toward his own. Who would have ever thought that within a few months, his dreams would be over while hers were on the rise? Who could have ever predicted that plot twist in their lives?

His fingers brushed the skin on her shoulder, a gentle stroking, bringing her back to the present. He never said a word, but unspoken questions hung in the air between them, questions about her job, her career, her past. Why hadn’t he said anything?

“So, does it really happen like that? The media, the fans?” Wyatt asked quietly.

Anna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s pure hell, Wyatt. No matter what you do, or where you go, there they are. At first, it seems like a lark, like having your picture taken, seeing it in print and hearing your name on the shows is fun. And it is. For a while.”

She paused, her mind mulling over the words, trying to find the right ones to use, to convey how it really was. “Then you realize it’s not fun. They’re like locusts, blotting out the sun, descending on you in every moment you’re not inside your home, eating away all the joy in life, all the fun, all the good, until you’re left with an empty shell, dull, gray, cloudy. You run that damned gauntlet every day for everything. You want a cup of coffee at Starbucks? Flash. You need groceries? Flash. Pump gas? Flash. Flash. Flash.”

Her words stabbed the air like a dagger and he flinched as if the invisible knife tore into his flesh. His hand dropped to her upper arm, and he gathered her closer to him, against his side. But she remained stiff, not ready to lean into his strength. “It doesn’t stop there. Privacy? Not likely. Go to the doctor? Are you pregnant, Anna? You run into the drugstore? Anna, what prescription are you getting?” She mimicked the male voices, then returned to her own. “And if you don’t answer or if they don’t like your answer, well, the truth never really matters. They just make it up. Anything to sell papers and photos.”

“Jesus, Anna,” he muttered. “Sounds like hell.”

“Dante has nothing on this circle,” she agreed. “The devil himself wouldn’t want to be caught in this flame war.”

“But you seemed so happy, so…” His voice trailed off, as if not knowing what to say.

“Encouraging?” She snorted. “I was, at first. The easiest and quickest way to get attention in Hollywood is to get the reporters on your side, seeking you out. But you can’t do boring things, no, they don’t care about that. Be outrageous, interesting, Avant-Garde. But what they don’t tell you is that the paparazzi are like a pack of wild animals, and they’re only tame as long as you’re feeding them. Once you stop, they’ll turn on you, and then you’re stripped of all your flesh, your bones left rotting on Rodeo Drive.”

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