Dial Emmy for Murder
been a beautiful Friday morning in Venice Beach. The beach wasn’t yet crowded. Even though it was the middle of June, people hadn’t quite started the mad rush. My new show, The Bare and the Brazen , had gone dark, meaning we didn’t have to work that day. This allowed actors time to get ready for the biggest show of the year. And believe me, it took some time. I had begun the day around ten a.m. by going down Washington Boulevard, around the corner from my place, to a little nail salon. Two of the girls, Ki and Luann, gave me a mani-pedi. As I was having my feet massaged, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. This was a luxury I just didn’t indulge in very often, I guess because I liked to think of myself as fairly low maintenance. Maybe I needed to rethink that! By noon I was back home, standing in my bikini in my living room, slowly going around in a circle as one of the makeup artists from the show, Bobby, sprayed me with a tan. Yeah. Cancer free, takes five minutes, instant gratification, California tan. Sort of. Bobby worked on the show as a makeup artist and also free- lanced as an airbrusher. You need a tan quickly? Call Bobby. It cost about a hundred bucks, but, hey, I could write it off. And it looked so good in photos.
    Once Bobby finished with the spraying, and we finished coughing up the fumes, he took out his makeup kit and started dabbing on some foundation with a sponge. One-stop shopping. Tan and makeup all in one. We decided to go with smoky eyes. A little dark liner under the eye and dark shadow blended on the top, and a pale lip. Very Brigitte Bardot. Or, if not done properly, very Rocky Raccoon. I thanked Bobby and wrote him a check for four hundred dollars. He wished me luck, saying he’d be watching tonight’s show. As he was leaving, George was walking up. Georgie is my best friend. He had also been my hairdresser on The Yearning Tide .
    “Here he is, the Emmy Award-winning hairdresser himself.”
    “Yeah, yeah. Now maybe you’ll give me some respect.”
    George had just won an Emmy the week before for Hairstyling at the Creative Craft awards held at the Sheraton in Universal City.
    “I am so proud of you. You certainly deserve it,” I said as I hugged him. “Now, enough about you—what about me? Or rather, what about my hair?”
    “It’s got to be up, sweetie. It’s so fucking hot outside! Wait, I have something for you.”
    George had a case I thought was for curlers and spray, but instead of hair products he pulled out a little martini shaker and two glasses.
    “You have got to be kidding. Martinis, at two in the afternoon?”
    “What? It’s the Emmys. It’s basically just one big party. And besides, the show tapes early in LA and live to New York, which is three hours ahead. That means it’s really five o’clock. Cocktails!”
    I hesitated before saying, “Oh, what the hell. I’m not driving,” and grabbed a glass. “But just a little.”
    I sat down and Georgie started to work his magic.
    “What the hell is this thing?” He had picked up a hair dryer I had brought out. It kind of looked like Buck Rogers’s ray gun.
    “What? I got that from the Emmy gift room the day before yesterday.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me. What else did you get?”
    “Oh, nothing. Well, just some perfume. And two pairs of designer shoes. Oh, some underwear by Spanx. A juicer and a George Foreman Grill.”
    “Is that it?” he asked with a smirk.
    “Actually, no. I also got a gift certificate to a Beverly Hills spa, a six-month gym membership, a vacuum cleaner and a five-day trip to Cancun.”
    “Unbelievable! The people who need the least get the most.”
    He was joking. I thought.
    “Now, c’mon. Don’t be bitter. You’re just jealous! Besides, I think we have to pay taxes on these ‘gifts’ now. And I do share. In fact you can take that fancy hair dryer with you, if you’re nice to me.”
    “It’s a deal!” He grabbed it and put it in his case.
    We laughed and talked

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