Kara Lennox - Tame An Older Man

"In fact, I do. But I don't notice any bags," she quickly added.

"You only have about fifteen minutes to get Muriel ready," Wyatt cautioned. "Then I need you to step next door and start on our other guest. He won't be on 'til nine-thirty."

"No problem," Phoebe said breezily, already opening her case and selecting sponges, brushes and various colors of foundation and eye pencil. "Who's the other guest?"

"An actor," Wyatt answered.

Phoebe frowned. "That narrows it down."

"Taylor Shad."

She froze. "You're joking. This is a joke, right?"

"'Fraid not. You know him?"

"Well, yeah. He played my little brother on 'Skin Deep.'"

"Then you all should have a lot to catch up on. Yell if you need anything."

Wyatt got out of there. The expression on Phoebe's face was trouble. He could tell she didn't like Shad-who did?-and he was half afraid she might refuse to do the kid's makeup. Better to not even give her the chance to slither out of her commitment.

"That Shad kid is a real piece of work, isn't he?" Muriel commented, as Phoebe touched up her hair.

Phoebe had immediately liked Muriel. She'd written an easy-to-understand nutrition book for senior women, and it was selling like snow cones on a hot Phoenix street corner.

"You've met him?" Phoebe asked.

"When I first got here. He said, 'Hey, mama, you don't look bad for an old broad.'"

Phoebe gasped. "Sounds like he's even worse than when I knew him three years ago. Back then he used to pinch bottoms, snap bra straps and tell dirty jokes."

"Well, I don't want to alarm you," Muriel said, "but I think Taylor Shad is the reason the makeup artist quit in a huff."

"Oh, really?" And Wyatt hadn't even warned her about him. Well, the little snot sure wouldn't bully her into quitting, she thought. She'd been harassed by worse than him.

An intern came to get Muriel. Phoebe, pleased with how the older woman's makeup and hair had turned out, wished her good luck, then packed up her supplies to move to Taylor's dressing room. How old would he be now? About sixteen, Phoebe calculated. She hadn't kept up with his career, or anyone else's for that matter. She hardly ever watched TV or went to the movies.

She knocked on Taylor's door.

"Enter" came the imperious response.

She cautiously opened the door. Taylor Shad looked more man than boy, now.

His eyes lit up with surprise. "Well, I'll be damned, if it isn't Vanessa Vance."

"Phoebe Lane," she corrected him, irritated he didn't remember her real name. As she stepped into the room, she purposely left the door open.

"I didn't know you were gonna be on 'Heads Up,' too." Then he spied her makeup case. "Oh, don't tell me. You do makeup now?"

"Yup." She set her case on the vanity and mechanically went through the motions of selecting colors and applicators.

He hooted with laughter. "Kind of a comedown, huh, sister dearest?"

She didn't respond.

"Man, oh, man. I knew nobody picked you up after Vanessa got killed off, but I can't believe you sank this low. Tell me it's a joke."

Phoebe gritted her teeth. "I got out of acting because I didn't like it. I enjoy doing makeup."

"Yeah, right," Taylor said. "How much do you get paid for this grunt work?"

"Today, five hundred dollars an hour," Phoebe said, just to shut him up.

It didn't work. "On my new show, I get fifty thousand dollars an episode."

"How nice for you." Even if he was telling the truth, which she doubted, she was unimpressed. "Close your eyes, please." She turned toward him with a sponge full of foundation makeup.

Taylor complied, and for a few moments Phoebe thought he might be quiet and cooperate. No such luck.

"You smell great," he said.

"Thanks," she replied, no emotion in her voice.

"I bet you taste good, too."

"You'll never know, will you?"

"All the guys on 'Skin Deep' had a running bet about you, you know."

"No, I didn't know," Phoebe said, bored. "Lift your chin." She gingerly applied makeup to his neck.

"We were betting whether your breasts were real or not."

Phoebe didn't reply. Let him wonder all he wanted. "Mark said they were, but Vinnie said they weren't."

"As if either of them would know." She tried not to let it get to her that a couple of low-life technicians on the "Skin Deep" set claimed they had intimate knowledge of her body. "Turn to the right."

By the time she finished his foundation, she thought the discussion was over. But he wouldn't drop it.

"You look like you've gained weight."

"I've been working out."

"You must have pretty good muscle tone." He grabbed her butt. "Yeah, you do."

She gently but firmly grasped his hand and removed it from her person. "Don't touch me again, or I'll make you look like a female impersonator." This was dreadful. She wouldn't feel a bit guilty about taking five hundred dollars from Wyatt. At least at Sunrise her clients didn't grope her.

"Oh, now, Vanessa-"

"Phoebe. Ms. Lane, to you."

"You're obviously much too tense. What you need is a good massage." As if he had a perfect right to, he placed his hands on her breasts and started squeezing.

Phoebe reacted with pure instinct. She slapped him. He let go, but immediately came out of his chair, pure rage in his eyes. He pushed her up against the wall of his dressing room and pinned her there. "You audacious, two-bit, has-been actress," he hissed in her face. "You are gonna be real sorry you did that."

Phoebe was only a little scared. She'd been through similar scenarios before. The door to the dressing room was open, and if she screamed really loud someone would come running. But she preferred to deal with this her own way rather than causing trouble on the set of Wyatt's show. She could knee Taylor in the groin or-

All at once he let her go. Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief-until she realized Wyatt had Taylor by the scruff of the neck and was shaking him the way a terrier would a rat.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Wyatt bellowed. Taylor swung his arms ineffectually and squealed for Wyatt to let him go. Wyatt wound up like he was going to punch Taylor in the face, but Phoebe grabbed his arm to prevent it.

"No, Wyatt! You'll get sued!"

"Damn right he will!" Taylor agreed, no doubt sensing Phoebe wouldn't allow any further violence.

"For defending my employee against sexual assault?" Wyatt said, gradually loosening his hold on Taylor. "I don't think so. That's not the kind of publicity you want."

Taylor straightened his clothes, never taking his eyes off Wyatt. After backing a safe distance away, he looked back at Phoebe. "Let's just finish the makeup. I'm on in fifteen minutes."

"No, you're not," Wyatt said, picking up the phone. He pushed a button and spoke into the receiver. "I need Security in the dressing room area."

"I'm not going on?" Taylor asked.

"No. I don't give free publicity to sexual predators."

"Give me a break, man. I wasn't doing anything she didn't invite me to do."

The excuse sickened Phoebe. How many times had she heard some guy swear she was "coming on to" him? Still, she didn't want Wyatt to get sued over this.

"It's okay, Wyatt," she said quietly. "I appreciate your concern, but it's not that big a deal. Taylor just got a little carried away."

Wyatt flashed her a look that was part anger, part sympathy. "I saw what was happening," he said, just as quietly.

Two security guards appeared at the door. Wyatt motioned them inside. "Escort Mr. Shad and his entourage to their limousine."

"I'll sue you, man!" Taylor said. "We have a contract."

Wyatt just nodded to the guards. In moments each had one of Taylor's arms and they were dragging him out the dressing room door.