Falling Stars (excerpt)

Starstruck

He changed his shirt again.

"Get it together, Sammy boy." Staring into the mirror, he willed himself to find the confidence he so desperately needed. Steely blue eyes stared back at him, faint brushstrokes of age at their corners. His thirty-nine years hadn't been too hard on him. He took good care of himself. Stayed in shape. Maybe he was crazy to think that he still had a shot at real, commercial success. It didn't matter. He needed the work.

"I can't believe you're going through with it." Sam's wife Karen drifted into the room on a cloud of...what was it this morning, Vodka? She stopped just behind him, peering over his shoulder. Her scent held a note of decay, like flowers that had sat in a vase too long.

"It's a good opportunity." Sam tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Karen had made it clear what she thought about him being the lead in a sexy, new show at his age. He continued his self-examination, worried about his first impression. "We need this."

"You mean you need this." The look of contempt on her face rattled his already unsteady nerves. She wasn't wrong, but it was more than that.

"We need this, Karen. We need the money." He leveled his gaze on hers in the mirror. "This show has real potential." She scoffed under her breath and Sam felt his blood pressure rising. He saw Karen's shoulders slump, just a little, as she let his words sink in. She raked him from head to toe and he could almost feel the disapproval as her eyes slowly slid over his body.

"You look okay, I guess." It was half-hearted, but as good as he could expect to get. Her breath wafted through the air on her long exhale before she took another sip from her mug. Scotch, today. Definitely Scotch.

Sam bit back his usual criticism of her habits. He didn't have the stomach to argue, not today. Instead he focused on his breathing - a technique he learned in his very first acting class, long ago. It was meant to settle his nerves and had served Sam well in the ups and downs of his career. Little had he known how much he would rely on that method to deal with his volatile marriage. Sam let out a slow exhalation and looked down at his shaking hands.

"I don't know why I'm so anxious." He turned and cupped her frail shoulders, hoping for some support. He gave her a gentle squeeze as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Bad move.

"Don't."

Karen recoiled as if his touch were poisonous. She shuffled over to the bedroom window and groaned as the rays of the morning sun stabbed through the haze. She glanced back and Sam went still, watching her. Bracing for yet another verbal sparring match. They'd become more unpredictable and nearly impossible to avoid, no matter how many eggshells he crushed walking around their house.

"I know I look like shit," she huffed.

"I never said that."

He moved behind her, not daring to touch. The sunlight did nothing to add color to her drawn cheeks. Her once lustrous hair fell limp and lifeless to her shoulders, and she was so thin, it frightened him.

"Try to eat something today, will you? I'll call you during the first break."

Karen snapped the curtains shut, plunging the room into darkness. "I don't need you to lecture me." She crumpled onto the bed and disappeared under the covers. "I have work to do, but I need to sleep...for a while."

Sam stood there for a moment, wondering how their marriage had been reduced to this dependency and bitterness. It was as if he were destined to repeat the mistakes that his parents made – marrying too young, his mother staying with his philandering father because he was all she'd known.