Page 38 of Starring Role

Coop edged up to Lincoln, knowing he was pushing his luck but unable not to try once again to check his mood and try to improve it. If he couldn't get out of a situation, he had to try to ameliorate it. He doubted anybody he could call would be able to get him out of this situation, if Lincoln's agent couldn't do it.

I could call Allan and beg like a fool, or Singh if I wanted to getchewed out, I guess.

"Remember it's live, okay?" he said. "If you want to cuss me out, do it before or after."

"Oh, just get away from me, you fucking faggot."

He sounded so close to being calm, it was all the more shocking. For a moment, Coop couldn't breathe. This wasn't an outburst; it was something Lincoln had wanted to say for some time. And it continued.

"You're always in my space,hanging on me, trying to steal the show. Quit being such a little ham." He turned to Coop then and smiled, a cold, steel-edged smile. "What? You said to cuss you out. Fucker. You should see your face."

Cop forced a laugh. "You got me, that's for sure." He couldn't bring himself to say anything else, and he moved out of Lincoln's orbit, wishing he could go farther yet, and maybe disappearat the same time.

A harried-looking assistant entered their dressing room and clapped her hands. "You're up!"

Coop hoped he didn't look as shaken as he felt. He'd known Lincoln didn't like him, but the sheer force of that venom made him feel like all the blood had drained from his face.

The show must go on, he told himself, hoping he was a better actor than he feared—and than Lincoln thoughthe was.