Witching For Joy (Premonition Pointe #3) - Deanna Chase Page 0,18

Hope winked at her.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, movie star.”

Joy rolled her eyes, but some of the ache in her chest had lessened, and she took a moment to send a thank you to the gods for blessing her with the best friends a girl could ever have.

“It’s about time you showed up,” Prissy said, scowling at Joy when she walked into the makeup tent.

Joy didn’t even bother acknowledging the younger actress. She really was well and truly over her.

Prissy sneered in her direction when she realized that Joy wasn’t going to play her game. Then she pasted on a soft smile and let worry seep into her eyes before speaking in an overly concerned tone. “What happened to your face? Poor Sam is going to have a hell of a time covering those unfortunate blemishes.”

“Oh, hell,” Joy muttered and couldn’t keep herself from glancing in the mirror of Sam’s makeup station. What she saw looking back at her honestly made her want to cry. She was a forty-eight-year-old woman who hadn’t had an acne problem since she was fifteen. And suddenly, when she was sure to be in the papers and had a movie to film, she had not just the two blemishes she’d had the day before, but two more had popped up as well.

“Joy, do you think you’re having a reaction to the makeup?” Sam asked, the concern in her tone obviously authentic as she studied Joy’s face. “If it’s going to happen, it usually presents itself right away, but it’s not unheard of for actors to start developing sensitivities to certain brands.”

“I have no idea. I’ve had a stressful few days, but honestly, I’ve never had this reaction to stress before, so I don’t know.” She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. Exhaustion washed over her, and she wished with everything she had that she could just go home and fall into bed.

“I bet it’s her diet,” Prissy said gleefully as she clasped her hands together. “I’ve heard fried food can do that to a person.”

“I don’t eat fried food,” Joy said wearily.

“Oh? My mistake. I thought since you had those extra pounds that you were one of those all-you-can-eat seafood platter lovers.”

“Oh, for the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary!” Joy jerked upright in her chair. “Just stop talking, Prissy. No one wants to hear it.”

Prissy narrowed her eyes and moved closer to Joy. In a low, warning voice she said, “Careful, Joy. In addition to your bad skincare, you’ll develop a reputation for being hard to work with. You don’t want that, do you?”

Anger coiled in Joy’s gut, and it was if the dam of emotion she’d been holding back the past twenty-four hours shattered, and all of her restraint vanished. “Oh, shut up, you hateful bitch!”

There was silence in the tent as Prissy and Sam stared at her opened mouthed. Then Sam let out a loud snicker before clasping her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it. Prissy turned her scathing glare on the makeup artist and said, “You’ll be lucky if you aren’t fired by the time the evening is over.”

“Just let it go,” Joy said, tiredly. “This is between you—”

“Do. Not. Talk. To. Me,” the actress spit out, her face so red the color clashed with her orange blouse.

“I see. So it’s okay for you to antagonize Sam and me, but neither of us are allowed to call you on it?” Joy shook her head. “You need to grow up, Prissy.”

“Grow up?” she said incredulously. “A forty-eight-year-old newbie to the industry is telling me to grow up? How dare you?”

Joy opened her mouth to defend herself, but Prissy threw her hands up in the air, stomped her foot, and yelled, “Finn, I can’t work under these conditions. Let’s see if the know-it-all can do the damned scene by herself!”

She spun on her heel and stalked out of the tent.

Joy and Sam moved to the door of the tent and watched Prissy arguing with the director before she hurried off to the small adjacent parking lot.

“Oh, no.” Joy sighed as Finn Chance glared in the direction of the tent.

Scowling, he hurried toward Joy and erupted with a loud, “Joy! What the fuck?”

Joy winced and cowered back into the tent even though he had obviously already spotted her.

He tore into the tent, ranting about losing money and he should’ve known better than to cast someone with no experience. “Where’s the professionalism? How the hell are we going to meet our