Jaine Austen 2 - Last Writes Read Online Free PDF

hobnobbing with celebrities. Guess who moved into the complex? John Koskovalis! Well, that’s about it, honey. Knock ’em dead at the studio. And if you run into the gal who plays Ray’s wife on Everybody Loves Raymond , tell her I think she’s adorable!

    Love from,
    Mom

    TO: Shoptillyoudrop
    FROM: Jausten
    SUBJECT: It’s Muffy, not Buffy

    Hi, Mom—

    I hate to break it to you and the gang at Tampa Villas, but I’m not working on Buffy the Vampire Slayer . My show is called Muffy ’n Me . And no, I haven’t met Kelsey Grammer or the gal who plays Ray’s wife on Everybody Loves Raymond. But if I should ever run into them, I’ll be sure and give them your best.

    Whatever you do, do not under any circumstances give my phone number to Edna’s nephew. And thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass on the sequinned blazer. A genuine Ralph Loren, huh? Any relation to Sophia?

    Hugs & kisses,
    Jaine

    PS. Who the heck is John Koskovalis?

    TO: Jausten
    FROM: Daddyo
    SUBJECT: Hi, Angel Cakes!

    Hi, Angel Cakes!

    How’re things in Lala land? Mom tells me you’ve met Kelsey Grammer. Wow!

    Last night I cooked a 7-pound chicken in just 20 minutes with my new Acu-Pressure cooker. It was quite delicious, once we scraped it off the ceiling.

    Lots of kisses from your loving,
    Daddy

    PS. By the way, your mom is having an affair with one of the hosts from the Home Shopping Channel. Some slimeball by the name of John Koskovalis.

Chapter Four

    I tried to look blasé, but I was as excited as a tourist from Des Moines. I was about to have my first lunch at the studio commissary.
    I was so excited, in fact, I’d almost forgotten about that bizarre e-mail from Daddy. I suppose I should have been worried, but I wasn’t. Somehow I couldn’t picture my mother having an affair. It was like picturing Betty Crocker in a bikini. My father had to be wrong. He’d probably gotten some crazy notion in his head, like the time he was convinced our gardener was stealing lemons from our lemon tree. It turned out he was totally wrong. It was our neighbor who was stealing the lemons. So I suppose Daddy wasn’t totally wrong; after all, someone was stealing our lemons. But the gardener was blameless. Just as blameless, I was convinced, as my mother.
    Which is why I barely gave Daddy’s e-mail a second thought at work that day.
    Kandi and I had spent the morning with Audrey and Stan, going over next week’s script, a stirring opus called “Muffy’s Revenge,” all about what happens when Muffy turns her biology teacher into a frog.
    As Kandi explained to me, sitcom writers often work on two scripts at once: the one they’re shooting that week, and the one they’re prepping for the following week. Frankly, I’d been relieved to be off the hot seat and slashing somebody else’s script to shreds. And now we were taking a well-earned lunch break at the commissary.
    I’d read all about the studio commissaries of Hollywood’s golden age, deluxe eateries where mega-stars like Clark Gable and Joan Crawford mixed and mingled over Cobb salad. So you can imagine my disappointment when Kandi led me into the Miracle commissary, a shabby barn of a building with wobbly tables and scarred metal chairs. Because only two shows were in production on the lot ( Muffy ’n Me and a show about a bunch of lady cops called PMS Squad ), the commissary was fairly empty.
    Quinn Kirkland, recent co-star of my x-rated bathtub dream, was sitting at a corner table with Wells Dumont and Dale Burton.
    “Where’s Vanessa?” I wondered.
    “Oh, V.D. never eats with the commoners,” Kandi said. “She usually stays in her dressing room, sharpening her fangs.”
    “Hey, ladies,” Quinn called out when he saw us. “Come sit with us!”
    Was it my imagination, or was he directing his heart-melting gaze at moi?
    “We’ll be right there,” Kandi said, “as soon as we get our lunches.”
    Kandi led me over to a dingy steam table, manned by a woman with