Power Play Read Online Free PDF

sexy. Chessy pretending to pore over a script. The text was worse, the writer (whom Monica hated but was always nice to) talking about how with Chessy’s talent and remarkable looks, she could skyrocket to soap super-stardom faster than Monica did.
    What talent?! No one had seen her act apart from the casting director. Monica skimmed the article for a quote from Ricardo. “The minute Chessy read for me, I was just blown away.” Wanting to get blown was more like it. She continued skimming, uncovering the fact that though Chessy had never acted before, Ricardo sensed “a unique energy coming from her that couldn’t be ignored” as she took his order at La Artista, where he found this “unknown jewel.”
    A waitress. The casting director had hired a goddamn waitress who had never acted. Monica knew she should throw the magazine down right now, but it was like witnessing a car wreck: she just couldn’t stop looking. She read on, shocked at the quote from the executive producer who said he hoped Chessy’s character would help turn the show in a “new and vibrant direction.” What the hell did that mean? The article concluded with the writer speculating on how much fun it was going to be to see Chessy give Monica a run for her money—just their characters, of course, but Monica knew this writer, and she knew damn well she wasn’t just referring to rivalry between Roxie and Claire.
    Put the magazine down now, she commanded herself. But she couldn’t. Some masochistic inner demon drove her to turn to the gossip column, which she knew was penned by the same vituperative writer under the lame pseudonym of Suzy Scuttlebutt. She skimmed again, her breathing catching as she found her name in bold.
    The writer speculated that the comment W and F ’s executive producer made in the Chessy article might mean he thought Monica was resting on her laurels, and that the Roxie character was becoming “predictable.” The column referred to Monica as “semireclusive” and noted that she hadn’t had a man in her life for months. “What is going on with Monica Geary?” was how the paragraph concluded.
    â€œCow!” Monica spat, hurling the magazine in the trash. She was not reclusive. That was a lie. Then again, she couldn’t remember the last time she gave an interview or attended a fan function. As for not having a man, it was no one’s business! Not only that, but what the hell did it have to do with anything?
    She tore her dressing room apart, knowing that she still had a pack of cigarettes hidden somewhere. She found two behind a picture of herself with a movie star, who had once done a cameo on the show as Roxie’s former pimp. Now she just had to find a light. She contemplated going to Gloria, but she didn’t want her friend to see her so rattled. Further rooting around rewarded her with a book of matches. She lit up.
    Okay, think. She needed to up her profile beyond just acting. Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. She’d trained at Julliard, for chrissakes. Had studied privately with Monty Kingman, considered one of the greatest acting teachers of all time.
    After Julliard she found herself waiting tables, the actor’s cliché. Crappy roach-infested apartment, meager wages, but the nighttime job freed her to audition during the day. She auditioned her ass off—she and a gazillion other good-looking, talented young women. When her agent told her about the part of Roxie on W and F , she went for it, never in a million years thinking she’d get it. But she did. Told herself it would just be temporary, until a “real” acting gig came along. After all, hadn’t Julianne Moore started on soaps? Hadn’t Meg Ryan? Starting on soaps was almost a rite of passage. It was a stepping-stone to bigger, better, more respected forms of entertainment. She was supposed to have won a Tony by now. Or an