Casting Debbie

Chapter 20

It was getting worse. They couldn't even talk to each other without fighting. Twice now, Lou had told Debbie to move out. Maybe she really should. They had to work together, and even though they were both great at shutting everything else out when the director yelled action, they didn't need the entire cast and crew witnessing this tension between them.

Debbie rolled over and stared at the suitcase that she'd yet to unpack. She'd woken up feeling slightly better, but the thought of finding another place to live felt overwhelming.

She regretted practically everything she'd said the night before. Of course, this wasn't exactly new territory for her. Being hurt about one thing and communicating about it by being a monumental asshole about something else was pretty much par for the course.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the notification on her phone. She instantly, and idiotically, hoped it was a message from Lou. Not that she could think of even one good reason why Lou might have texted her, apart from a friendly, Get the fuck out of my guesthouse.

Her heart sank when she saw it was from Tammy. It was a photo of a dreary New York day with the words, wish you were here. She'd have loved that message on almost any other day. But today, she couldn't shake the feeling she'd thrown something important away.

She stood up and started stripping her pajamas off on the way to the shower. With her wet hair pulled up into a bun and her pride tucked firmly into her pocket, Debbie went to the main house, ready to apologize for her careless words. Ready to do and say whatever it took to make it right. Honesty. Total honesty, she kept repeating in her head. When she opened the sliding glass door, she was shocked to find a complete stranger in Lou's kitchen.

The woman dried her hands on a towel and rushed over to Debbie. "There she is," she said as she opened her arms and pulled Debbie in for a hug. "How are you, dear? I hear you've had the flu."

"Um... much better today," Debbie answered tentatively. "Just a little weak still. Um... forgive me, but..."

"Oh! I'm so excited to meet you I'm afraid I've completely forgot my manners. I'm Gillian. Gillian Miller. And I've been watching you your whole life."

Lou's mother was one of those rare, ageless creatures. She could be 45 or 60, depending on who you asked. Her secret wasn't surgery, although that was common in her social circle. It had more to do with the way she carried herself –like a woman who expected to be treated a certain way. Like a woman who was in complete control. It didn't hurt that her wardrobe was almost entirely bespoke. Suffice it to say, Gillian was not the typical soap fan Debbie usually encountered. She couldn't imagine her wearing a sweatshirt with an iron-on photo of her favorite cat on it –a memorial, of course.

Okay, they weren't all like that. Only one in particular that managed to corner Debbie as she left the studio. Most of her fans were sweet and ardent and had strong opinions about the show. She appreciated every one of them, even the cat lady.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miller."

Gillian patted Debbie's cheek. "Of course, you're still a little weak, dear. The flu can take it right out of you. That's why I'm making breakfast. Lou said you haven't eaten much."

Debbie nodded as she backed away, trying to regain some of her personal space. "Okay, let me just go talk to Lou for a second and I'll be right back."

Gillian followed Debbie to the stairs. "I watched you grow up on TV. It was so wonderful to see how you emerged from that gawky stage with the braces and those few extra pounds. Such a vulnerable time, you know, what with the acne and becoming a woman."

"Wow!" Debbie said with a laugh. "That's quite a picture you're painting."

"Oh, honey, you got through it like a star. I remember wishing Lou could have seen you when she was that age. But she's a few years older than you are, of course."