On the Move

Make Me a Star, Book Four

Susan Beth Pfeffer

For Jim Romano

1

“That’s a take!” Jerry Zigler boomed from the control booth. “Congratulations, everybody. It’s party time!”

Molly O’Malley promptly burst into tears.

Everybody else started laughing and clapping, and kissing and hugging. T.J. stared at them, trying not to stare at Molly, whom he yearned to hug, and then walked over to Bill and said, “Well, we did it.”

“What do you mean, we, white man?” Bill asked, and laughed as loud as T.J. had ever heard him.

Soon Jerry and everybody else from the booth was down on the set, and there was another round of congratulations. Molly continued to whimper.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “But you’re all like family to me.”

“What do you mean, like?” Alison said. “Your mother is family.”

Everybody laughed even harder then, including Molly’s mother. Shortly after Hard Time High had begun, Molly’s mother had gotten a small part on the show.

“All right,” Molly said with a sniffle. “Everybody here is like family except my mother.”

That only made them laugh harder, T.J. included.

“Whatever happened to sentiment!” Molly wailed, but she was grinning too. “All I want to say is I’m going to miss all of you, God only knows why.”

“You’re not going to miss me,” Miranda Newgate told her. “You’re coming home with me, remember?”

“How can I forget?” Molly said, and her tears vanished as quickly as they’d come. “I’m going home with you, to spend a real Thanksgiving with a real American family in real New England. Just like I was a real person.”

That only made people laugh even harder, but T.J. only smiled ruefully. He knew just what Molly was talking about. Ever since they’d met, when they’d auditioned together for the parts they eventually got, he’d been aware of just how much he and Molly had in common. They’d both been raised to perform. Molly had performed in road shows and dinner theaters all over the country before Dick Goldstein had discovered her and cast her as Kathleen on Hard Time High. And T.J. had spent much of his childhood as a television star. He’d been Mischievous Mike for a lot more of his childhood than he cared to remember. Thanksgivings had never been holidays for him or Molly the way they must have been for Miranda, who had never acted professionally before Hard Time High.

“Talk about real people,” Bill said, with a grin on his face. “For the next three weeks, that’s all I have to deal with. No more crazy actors for three whole weeks.”

“Some vacation,” Rafe Marquez said. “You’ll just be going to school full-time.”

“But it’s my school,” Bill replied. “No more running from school here. No more piles of extra homework to do here between takes, so that I won’t fall behind in my classwork. Believe me, three weeks of just going to school sounds like a real vacation to me.”

“You just want to have lunch with your girlfriend Calista every day,” Alison Blake declared.

“I can’t deny it,” Bill said. “Don’t forget, Calista and I and you and Seth are all supposed to go out on a double date together.”

“If we have the chance,” Alison replied. “But first I have to go to New York to do that parade, and then there’s that spread for Image. Then Mom and I are going back to Kansas City to see my father and brothers. Assuming they still remember what we look like.”

“Alison!” her mother cried. “Of course they remember.”

“Sure,” Molly said. “They watch you on TV every week. They’re bound to remember you.”

“There are going to be a lot of family reunions around here,” Miranda said. “Rafe, you live with your folks. How’re you going to spend your vacation time?”

“It’s a secret,” Rafe said with a smirk.

“What’s a secret?” Alison asked. “I thought you and your parents were going on a vacation to Hawaii.”

“Yeah, that’s no secret,” Rafe said. “I’m treating them. They deserve it, the way they work. And they won’t quit their jobs, now that I’m in the money. So the least I can do is give them an early Christmas present, a trip to Hawaii. We’re staying at the Hilton there, you know. First class all the way. And I’m paying for all of it.”

T.J. laughed to himself. Rafe was an idiot, and he didn’t seem to be getting any smarter. It was no big deal to treat your parents to something big. T.J. had supported his for as long as he could remember. Even now he was sending his mother a weekly check to help her and that new husband of hers out in Indiana. And T.J.’s father had been on the payroll from the moment T.J. had gotten the official word he’d been cast as Kevin. It was a good thing, too. T.J.’s father hadn’t been able to hold onto a job for more than a couple of months since the bad times began, those miserable years after the cancellation of Mischievous Mike and before Hard Time High started. Rafe was lucky to have parents who insisted on working, but there was no way T.J. was going to tell him that.

“So what’s the secret?” Molly asked.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” Rafe replied. “Besides, you’ll find out soon enough.”

“I hate secrets,” Molly declared, and then she giggled. “Well, actually, I have a secret too, so I guess I don’t hate them too much.”

T.J. held his breath. Molly only had one secret that he knew of, and he was it. For reasons T.J. could just barely understand, Dick Goldstein, whose company produced Hard Time High, had decided that he and Molly shouldn’t date each other.

Without Dick Goldstein, T.J.’s father would still be working at the liquor store, drinking up the profits, and T.J. would be struggling to get the breaks he’d need to get back to the top again. Without Dick Goldstein, Molly would still be on the road, doing yet another production of Fiddler on the Roof or The Sound of Music. Dick Goldstein had handed them shortcuts to stardom, and they both knew it, and knew just how dependent they were on Dick’s good graces.

And even with that awareness, they couldn’t make themselves stop seeing each other. T.J. glanced at Molly, hoping his look would show just enough casual interest to be convincing, but none of the love he so desperately felt for her.

T.J. knew exactly how good-looking he was, tall and blond, and muscled to perfection. Just the week before, he’d smiled at some little girl fan, and she’d fainted right at his feet. It had gotten to the point where he almost expected that reaction. His fan clubs were booming, and the teen fan magazines were all begging him for cover articles. He could have just about any girl in America, except maybe Alison, who was crazy in love with Seth, her old boyfriend from home, and maybe Miranda. He wasn’t her type, but she wasn’t his either, so that was fine. But with all those available girls just waiting for him, he had to fall for Molly, who wasn’t even fifteen yet, and had the sort of figure you needed a magnifying glass to find. Molly was nobody’s idea of Miss America, and yet for her T.J. was willing to risk his role on Hard Time High, the respect of Dick Goldstein, maybe his whole future.

He knew Molly was taking an equal risk every time they sneaked out to see each other. But Molly could always go back to the theater. All T.J. had was television. Without it, he was hardly alive.

The problem was, without Molly he was hardly alive either. She was worth all the risk-taking. And as long as T.J.’s father fell asleep by ten over a can of beer and a droning TV set, and Molly’s mother continued to be fond of lengthy evenings at the singles’ bars, he and Molly could have their grabbed moments of time together. Dick would never find out, as long as T.J. and Molly stayed silent and smart.

“What secret?” Miranda asked. “You haven’t told me any secrets, Molly.”

“That’s because this is a big one,” Molly said. “You’ll find out when the time is right.”

“There are too many secrets around here,” Miranda replied. “T.J., you don’t have any secrets, do you?”

“I don’t have time for secrets,” T.J. declared.

“His fan clubs keep him too busy,” Alison said. “Don’t they, T.J.?”

“Sure they do,” Rafe said. “It isn’t easy paying all those people to join his stupid club.”

“Even if you paid people, they wouldn’t join a club for you,” T.J. replied. The other kids laughed. T.J. could no longer remember why he and Rafe disliked each other so much, but they didn’t seem to need a reason anymore.

“What are you going to do, T.J.?” Bill asked. “During our glorious three weeks.”

“I have some plans,” T.J. admitted.

“More secrets,” Miranda said. “T.J., I’m disappointed.”

“No secrets,” T.J. said, although if he could, he would keep his plans to himself. “First of all, I’m going to Indiana to visit my mother.”

“Another reunion,” Molly said.

“Right,” T.J. declared. “Then I’m going to New York for a couple of days.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” Alison said. “We’ll be at the Plaza.”

“Fine,” T.J. said. “I’ll look you up when I get there.”

“And then what?” Miranda persisted.

“Just a trip,” T.J. said, wishing Miranda would drop it already.

“T.J. is just being modest,” Dick Goldstein declared, walking over to them.

T.J. had to hand it to Dick. He had the quietest feet in Hollywood. The man had a real gift for sneaking up on people. He only hoped Dick never sneaked up on him and Molly.

“T.J.?” Alison said. “Modest?”

“T.J. is going on a little junket,” Dick said. “To London and Paris.”

“You’re kidding,” Rafe said. “How come T.J. gets to go there, and the rest of us don’t?”

Dick laughed. “The rest of you never starred as Mischievous Mike,” he replied.

“Wait a second,” Alison said. “T.J. played Mischievous Mike years ago. He wasn’t even T.J. then. He was Terry Tyler. I know, because I used to watch him every Monday night.”

“You and half of America,” T.J. said. “‘Make Mondays Memorable with Mischievous Mike.’” In spite of himself, he grinned at the old slogan.

“It seems Mischievous Mike is a big hit over in England,” Dick declared. “That happens sometimes, an old American TV series goes into European syndication after it’s off the air here, and it becomes a hit all over again. This year it’s Mischievous Mike.”

“I hate to state the obvious,” Alison said. “But T.J.’s grown just a bit since then.”

“Right,” Rafe said. “His head’s gotten a lot fatter.”

T.J. waited for everybody to stop laughing. “They’re having a Mischievous Mike festival in London in a couple of weeks,” he declared. “And I’ve been invited.”

“You’re actually paying money to go there?” Rafe asked.

“Arrangements have been made,” Dick said smoothly. “And while T.J. is there, he’ll appear on local talk shows, and plug Hard Time High, to promote interest in it, so we won’t have to wait until we’ve been off the air for five years before the Europeans discover us.”

“That’s great, T.J.,” Miranda said. “Do a good job selling us. I’d love to be famous in England.”

“Are you going alone?” Bill asked.

T.J. shook his head. “I’m going to meet my agent, Harvey Waldman, in New York, and we’ll fly over together. He has some business to do in London anyway, so it was convenient for him to come with me.”

“London,” Alison said. “Kansas City pales in comparison.”

“Well, Hawaii sure doesn’t,” Rafe said, and he began walking away from everybody to check out the platters of cold cuts that had finally appeared. “And my secret’s going to make that trip of yours look like garbage, Tyler. You wait and see.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” T.J. said.

“The food looks good,” Bill said, and he broke away from the group as well. Alison joined him, and Dick Goldstein soon followed.

“So,” T.J. said to Miranda. “You’re going to take care of Molly for us, during vacation?”

“More like vice versa, I think,” Miranda said. “This is my first trip home since all this madness began. I can use Molly for protection.”

“I can’t wait,” Molly declared. “Miranda’s family serves turkey at Thanksgiving and everything. Cranberry sauce. Pumpkin pie. There’s more too. What else did you say, Miranda?”

“It’s just food, Molly,” Miranda said. “Millions of people eat that stuff every Thanksgiving.”

“I never did,” Molly replied. “I was always on the road over Thanksgiving. It’s a real big season for road shows, from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. Then in January, you’re laid off.”

“Not this year,” T.J. said. “Not the way our Neilsens are going.”

“All this talk about food makes me hungry,” Miranda said. “I think I’ll hit the cold cuts before Rafe eats them all.”

“I’ll join you in a second,” Molly said. Later? she mouthed to T.J. as soon as Miranda walked away.

T.J. nodded imperceptibly, then watched as Molly scurried to catch up with Miranda. There was no point tempting himself with all that food. If he wanted to maintain his current weight, he had to keep away from any foods that smelled that good.

He stood still for a moment, looking at all the cast and crew eating the cold cuts and talking about their vacation plans. Three weeks off was a long time, when you realized they’d worked steadily since Hard Time High began shooting back in May. They were due a vacation. T.J. didn’t like the idea of spending so much time away from Molly, but the rest of it sounded great. He hadn’t seen his mother in quite a while, and he’d never met this new husband of hers. A couple of days in New York sounded good too, especially since he was scheduled to meet the president of his East Coast fan club. And then a week in London, and a weekend in Paris. That was a trip that was bound to further his career.

He walked to the makeup room and began glopping his face with cold cream. The room was quiet for a change, since everybody else was on the set, pigging out. T.J. felt a moment of righteous satisfaction that he alone had the self-control to turn his back on all those calories. One of these days Rafe was going to find himself twenty pounds overweight and out of work. Dick Goldstein certainly hadn’t hired him for his talent.

A pair of hands wrapped themselves around his eyes. “Guess who,” Molly whispered.

“What are you doing here?” T.J. asked, and as soon as Molly let him, he checked the door of the makeup room to make sure she’d closed it.

“Keeping you company,” Molly said, and bent over to give him a kiss. “Yuck,” she said. “I think I just swallowed some cold cream.”

“It won’t kill you,” T.J. said. “Molly, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Molly asked. “You’re not the only one with a faceful of makeup to remove. So what if you happen to be here when I’m creaming this stuff off.”

“You know what’ll happen if Dick sees us,” T.J. said.

“I’m tired of worrying about Dick,” Molly said. “Pass me that jar, would you.”

T.J. shoved it down to her, and Molly took the seat next to his.

“It’s fine to say you’re tired of worrying,” T.J. said. “But you’ve got to know it’s no good if Dick finds us together.”

“What together?” Molly said. “We are not exactly embracing passionately, T.J. Besides, we’re not going to see each other for three whole weeks, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you leave.”

“You’re leaving too,” T.J. replied. “For a New England Thanksgiving.”

“I know,” Molly said. “It scares me.”

“What’s to be scared of?” T.J. asked. “Nobody’s going to mistake you for a turkey.”

“They’re all so normal there,” Molly said. “What do you talk about to people like that?”

“I don’t know,” T.J. said. “I guess I’ll find out in Indiana.”

“There’s always the weather,” Molly said, spreading cold cream over her cheeks. “But how much can you say about the weather?”

“And football,” T.J. replied. “People love talking about football.”

“What do I know about football?” Molly asked. “Besides, Miranda’s parents are both college professors. They probably talk about books. I haven’t read a book since I stopped touring.”

“So tell them about the ones you used to read,” T.J. suggested.

“Do you really think they want to hear about Love’s Throbbing Heartache?” Molly asked.

“No,” T.J. replied. “Stick to the weather.”

“It’s going to be a long three weeks,” Molly declared. “But Mom got a gig at Tahoe, and you know how Dick feels about my being unsupervised. If Miranda hadn’t taken pity on me, it would have been Thanksgiving at the Goldsteins’.”

T.J. could think of worse fates. Molly didn’t seem to appreciate how lucky she was having Dick take a personal interest in her. He was sure if Molly hadn’t spent a couple of weeks as Dick’s houseguest in September, she never would have gotten the incest storyline that had featured her so strongly.

“You can always tell the Newgates your little secret,” T.J. declared as he wiped the last of the makeup off. “That should entertain them for a few minutes.”

“Oh that,” Molly said. “I was going to tell you, T.J. You know, I wouldn’t keep anything important from you.”

“Then what is it?” T.J. asked.

Molly wiped her face vigorously. “Good,” she said as the cold cream came off. “Now you can kiss me when I tell you.”

T.J. listened for footsteps, and then kissed her on the spot. Why wait? he thought, and before he knew it, he and Molly were embracing and kissing with the passion that always took him by surprise.

T.J. knew he’d have to be the one to break away, and the image of Dick walking in on them was enough to give him strength. “Some secret,” he managed to squeak.

“I’m sorry,” Molly said. “I’m just a sucker for hunks.”

“So,” T.J. said, trying to regain his composure. “What is this secret of yours, anyway?”

“TV Guide is giving me a cover article,” Molly crowed. “Can you believe it? It isn’t going to come out for a couple of months, but they’re sending the interviewer over tomorrow. A cover article. My face on the cover of TV Guide. Do you know how many copies there are of TV Guide every week, just in supermarkets?”

“No,” T.J. said.

“Neither do I, but I bet there are millions of them,” Molly replied. “And me on all of them.”

“So you’ll be famous for a week,” T.J. said. “Big deal.”

“It is too a big deal, and you know it,” Molly declared. “What’s the matter, T.J.? I thought you’d be excited for me.”

“I am,” T.J. said, trying to sound like he was.

“No you’re not,” Molly said. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” T.J. protested. “It’s just I always figured TV Guide would interview me first. Because of Mischievous Mike. You know, ‘T.J. Tyler Makes a Comeback.’ It’s a natural for them.”

“I guess they were more interested in somebody who didn’t have to make a comeback,” Molly said.

“Of course you didn’t have to make a comeback,” T.J. said. “You never were anybody. You still aren’t, not really.”

“How can you say that?” Molly cried. “Cover article, T.J. My face on their cover. They don’t do that for nobodies.”

“Big deal,” T.J. said. “They’ll have your picture there sometime between Santa Claus and the Super Bowl. Nobody goes to the supermarket then.”

“You’re crazy,” Molly said. “Crazy, and jealous, and mean.”

“Just realistic,” T.J. replied. “I hope you have plenty of cute stories to tell them when they interview you. They could change their minds, you know, if you turn out to be a real deadhead.”

“I’ve given interviews before,” Molly declared. “If they want cute, I’ll give them cute. If they want moving, I’ll give them moving.”

“And if they want honest, they can look someplace else,” T.J. said.

“Honest!” Molly shrieked. “Who the hell expects honest in this business?”

“You plan to lie to TV Guide?” T.J. asked.

“No,” Molly declared. “I’m going to tell them all about us, how you used to drive me crazy wild, until I finally got one dumb break before you did, and you couldn’t stand it, and you acted like a total jerk.”

“That’s nothing to joke about, Molly,” T.J. said. “Promise me you won’t even hint that there’s something going on between us.”

“I’m not in the mood to promise you anything,” Molly said. “Not until you have the decency to at least pretend you’re happy for me.”

“I thought we decided we’d never pretend to each other,” T.J. declared. “That at least with each other we’d always be honest.”

“There’s a difference between honest and mean,” Molly replied.

“All right,” T.J. said. “Don’t promise me anything. Throw away your career and mine. Let Dick know just what’s been going on.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Molly said. “You know I’d never do anything dumb like that.”

“Just be careful,” T.J. said.

“I will,” Molly replied. “Can I see you tonight?”

T.J. shook his head. “I’ve got to get ready for my trip,” he declared.

“But then I won’t see you for another three weeks,” Molly said.

“It wasn’t my idea that you go to stupid New England,” T.J. pointed out. “If you’d agreed to go to London, we could have had plenty of time together.”

“You know that’s impossible,” Molly replied. “T.J., where are you going?”

“Back to the set,” T.J. said, standing up. “Before anybody starts to wonder.”

“Let them wonder,” Molly said, but that was one satisfaction T.J. wasn’t about to give anybody, Molly included, just then.

2

“Daddy! Raymond hit me!”

“Well, she hit me first,” Raymond declared. “Didn’t she, Terry?”

“T.J.,” T.J. said for the thousandth time that day. His mother persisted in calling him Terry, probably because she’d hardly seen him since he dropped his boyhood nickname and became T.J.

“See,” Raymond said to his father. “Terry says Carrie hit me first too.”

“That wasn’t what I heard,” Don Jackson said. “And I don’t care who hit who first. Just as long as you both stop doing it.”

“I’ll stop if Raymond stops,” Carrie promised.

“I’ll stop if Carrie drops dead,” Raymond said. So Carrie hit him again.

“Kids,” Don said conversationally to T.J. “They don’t get to stay here that often, you’d think they’d behave themselves when they do.”

T.J. shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t have that much experience with kids, never having been one himself.

“Here’s the coffee,” his mother announced, emerging from the kitchen while balancing a tray with three mugs of coffee. “I can’t believe you’re old enough to drink this stuff, Terry. How you loved chocolate milk when you were a little boy.”

“It was my only treat,” T.J. said, taking his mug from his mother.

“We had to worry so about cavities,” his mother told Don. “Calories too, for that matter. Terry was on such a strict diet, sometimes I felt positively sorry for him.”

“I survived,” T.J. said. “Good coffee, Mom.”

“Evie makes the best,” Don declared, giving her a pat. “Sometimes I think I married her for her coffee.”

Better that than marrying her for her son’s money, T.J. thought. Not that his mother was turning down his monthly contributions.

“Daddy! Raymond stole my doll!”

“Quiet, kids!” Don shouted. “We’re trying to have a little adult conversation here. Now either keep quiet or go outside to play.”

“But it’s raining,” Raymond whined.

“Tell you what,” T.J.’s mother said. “Why don’t you go into the bedroom and turn the TV on there. I bet they’re showing some good cartoon shows today. You’ve watched enough football.”

“I hate football,” Raymond said, making a beeline for the bedroom.

“I love football!” Carrie cried, but she cheerfully followed Raymond away from the living room.

“Now we should have some peace,” T.J.’s mother said, taking a sip of coffee. “Raymond and Carrie are nice kids, but I think all this excitement has just been a little too much for them. Visiting their daddy, and having a real TV star over, too.”

“Evie’s real good with the kids,” Don declared. “You’re mighty lucky to have a mother like that, Terry. I hope you appreciate her.”

“Oh, I do,” T.J. said. He bent over and gave his mother a peck on her cheek to prove it.

“I don’t know how good a mother I’ve been lately,” his mother had the grace to say. “Leaving Terry with his father, while I came back to Indiana to make a life for myself. But I just wasn’t doing any good in California, not for Terry or his father or me. I was just a mess out there.”

By the time his mother had left, everything had been a mess. Her running away had just been another unbearable pain to bear. By then T.J. was almost used to them.

“Anyway, I’m real happy that Terry felt he could come here for Thanksgiving dinner,” his mother said. “It feels like old times, doesn’t it, honey?”

“Sure, Mom,” T.J. lied.

“Before you became a star, I mean,” his mother persisted. “After Mischievous Mike went on the air, we never had a normal holiday again. Christmas was the worst. We always had photographers over for Christmas. Of course, a lot of times at Thanksgiving, Terry wasn’t home anyway. Do you remember how many parades you were in in those days?”

“A lot,” T.J. said.

“He was grand marshal in three different ones,” his mother said. “He used to look so cute, watching the bands march by. And of course sometimes they’d do whole floats in his honor. One year they made his face out of carnations. It was the cutest thing you’d ever want to see.”

“Speaking of parades, I think Alison did a really good job today,” T.J. said. He hadn’t been that thrilled with seeing his face done up in carnations at the time.

“Describing that parade?” his mother said. “She sounded just lovely, Terry.”

“She’s the good-looking one on the show, right?” Don said. “We watch every week, but there are so many characters on, sometimes it’s hard to remember who’s who.”

“The blonde,” T.J. replied. “We do a lot of scenes together.”

“That’s what I thought,” his mother said. “She’s so pretty, Terry. I don’t suppose the two of you date.”

“Sometimes,” T.J. said. “But she has a boyfriend she’s pretty serious about.”

“You must enjoy playing the field,” Don declared. “A good-looking guy like you, in a city like that. You must have your choice of girls.”

T.J. smiled. “There’s no lack of pretty girls in L.A.,” he admitted. “And I guess I date my share of them.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m jealous,” Don said. “I sowed a few wild oats in my day. And even though my first marriage didn’t work out, it wasn’t a mistake. I’d do it again, if only for the kids.”

“And now he wouldn’t dare sow any wild oats,” T.J.’s mother declared. “Not if he wants a decent cup of coffee every morning.”

“Good coffee isn’t the only thing I get from this woman,” Don said. “I’m a lucky man, Terry, and I’d be the first to admit it.”