The Accidental TV Star by Emily Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

door. They were whispering loudly enough for me to hear their topic—me.
    I took my tray back to the sink for the cleaning crew, lingering on the set of Scoop Out a moment longer. Wow.
    The director clapped, catching the exiting contestants’ attention. “Remember, we’re shooting more promos next week. Have something ready to say. Maybe a tragic story about your past or why you want to win. Interviewer Ms. Karla Quintos will be here to tape. So be ready.”
    Karla Quintos. I loved entertainment news stories, but Karla Quintos liked to stir up malicious gossip and Ash had told me how she’d caused a rift between Caz and Garrett. I wrinkled my nose and dumped my tray. “Hate her.”
    Cal hung back. “Wheweee, cat fight.”
    The remaining contestants parted, and I saw Karla Quintos in the doorway.
    Classic. Well, this had been fun while it lasted.
    Ms. Quintos narrowed her eyes and a false grin played on her slick gloss-stained lips. She stepped into the group of lingering contestants. “Well, that’s great then, I always appreciate the challenge of winning over a new fan. Camera, can you zoom in on her?
    A man clad in a T-shirt and jeans pushed in behind her. He had a huge black camera balanced on his shoulder.
    “What’s your name?” Kara Quintos asked.
    “Star Stalker Marissa from Texas,” the director said.
    Hannah held up my cell phone.
    Karla’s eyes widened and she peered close at the screen, then at me. Her mouth tightened. “Stalker, is it?” Karla cleared her throat and motioned at her camera guy. He stepped toward her and angled the lens.
    Karla said, “ Scoop Out has kicked into high temperatures by adding a feisty stalker from Texas. Now I know Garrett Campbell.” She gave a naughty laugh. “You all know I know him. But what he’d say about his newest salivating fan is anyone’s guess. Tweet your thoughts and tune in next week to hear the results.” She finished by saying, “Cut.” Then she turned to the director. “Thanks for that, we’ll give your show an early lead in tonight.”
    I walked straight for the door with my head down and my mouth shut. I paused at the exit, went over to Hannah, and snatched my phone back.
    “Sorry,” she mouthed and bit her lip on her grin.
     
    ***
     
    Outside, I swiped my finger on the screen to check my messages. There were four more from Garrett, all food-related.
    I texted him back. Sorry, they took my phone during class. I’m in Studio Three.
    My phone rang.
    “On my lot?” Garrett’s accent was more difficult to understand through the phone than it was in person.
    “I don’t know. Where are you?”
    “Warehouse 47. Come over. I want you to see what they’re serving so you never give me such pap.”
    “Are they still shooting?” My voice rose in excitement at the thought.
    “We’ve wrapped but the snacks are still out. Come on.”
    “Okay.”
    I checked the numbers on the buildings and started walking in his direction. Before I got there, another text popped up from Garrett. Toast points. Hurry .
    It only took a few minutes, but when I got to the metal warehouse, a guard blocked the entry. I handed him my ID.
    He scanned it and handed it back. “Nice try, kid. Classes are in the front.” He typed something on his computer tablet and frowned. “Oh, and Studio Three.” His voice held more disrespect. “Reality TV?” He said the words the way you’d say apocalypse . “That’s back at the front.”
    I texted Garrett. Access to holy temple denied.
    Garrett responded with a picture of iceberg lettuce with browned edges. Within a minute, he appeared at the door. He wore a costume, a 1920s era grey pinstriped suit. “Hey, John,” he greeted the guard. “This is Marissa, my personal chef.”
    “No girlfriends on set, Mr. Campbell. You know how Mr. Russell is.”
    “Call me Garrett, please. You know shooting is done for the day. The long sunlight hours here in America kept us poor workers toiling into the evening, but now it’s