by Lolita Files
When she resurfaced five months later, she was living in Santa Monica as Meredith Reynolds, newly blonde and newly employed. She had a new birth certificate and driver’s license, compliments of a shady but sexy fellow she’d met on Melrose. The car had been sold, and she was driving a red ’67 Mustang. Her neighbor had a cousin who worked in television who desperately needed an assistant, someone loyal and committed, who was not afraid of work. Meredith thought she fit the bill.
When Meredith met Anna Weldon, they instantly clicked. Anna hired Meredith as her personal secretary at ABC. She moved up the ranks with Anna, and when Wade and Anna formed their own company, Meredith went with them, learning the business along the way.
Her affair with Wade began five years into his marriage to Anna. Wade quietly doted on her, taking her away on trips and supplementing her income. When it came time to select a vice president of Entertainment and Development, Meredith was the obvious choice. Not just because of Wade, but because she had gained the know-how the job required.
Fucking Wade on the regular, however, didn’t hurt.
Now Meredith wanted more. For years, she’d been trying to get her own credit as the creator of a show. Wade promised that, once she brought a project that was worthy, he would give her that credit. Meredith was determined to get it. And the man. She wasn’t going to stop until Massey-Weldon was Massey-Reynolds.
She flipped a page of the document she was reading, absently rubbing one leg against the other. Randall cleared his throat loudly to get her attention.
She lowered the papers and glanced over, finally noticing the two men standing in front of her desk.
“What do you want?” she growled. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”
“Nothing major,” Randall said smugly. “We’re just letting you know that, effective right now, we’re outta here.”
Steve stood beside him with his hands folded.
Meredith was not amused.
She threw the document down on her desk.
“Look, you two, I don’t have time for this,” she said with a scowl. “If this is some strong-arm attempt to get me to fork over more money, forget it. The budgets are set for the fiscal year.”
“We’re not trying to strong-arm you, Meredith,” Steve replied calmly, his voice firm and deep. “We just wanted to let you know so that you could make the necessary arrangements. Adios.”
The two men turned to leave her office. Meredith was furious.
“Wait a second! You can’t do this!” She was standing now, leaning with her palms pressed against the desk. She lowered her voice into an annoyed hiss. “We’ll sue you for breach of contract. You’ve got two more years before we renegotiate. Now get back to work!”
They stopped just in front of the door. Steve laughed and Randall shook his head.
“Did you hear something?” Randall, amused, asked Steve.
“I’m not sure,” Steve quipped, “but I think she said something about a breach. Sounds like she needs to read our contracts and check out who breached who, don’tcha think?”
“What are you talking about?” Meredith asked. “We haven’t breached our contract with you!”
“Bye, bye, Meredith,” Steve said, waving.
“Yeah,” Randall added, “see ya later, girlfriend.”
“What about our shows? You can’t do this!”
“Uh … watch us,” Randall said.
They smiled, high-fived themselves in front of her, then exited her office. Meredith could hear them laughing as they walked down the hall.
What breach? she wondered, plopping down in her chair. What on earth were the two of them talking about?
Frantic, she spun her chair around to the black lacquer credenza behind her. She snatched open a drawer and pulled out their files.
She opened Steve’s, found his contract, and began to flip through it. Her eyes scanned the pages, looking for something, anything, that would clue her in. Her eyes sifted over the words, waiting for something blatant to jump out. When she flipped to page ten, she saw it.
“‘Development of new projects,’ blah, blah, blah,” she mumbled, reading, using her finger to follow the words. “Da, da, da ‘within a reasonable time frame, this period not to exceed more than three years from the date of execution of this instrument.’”
She flipped to the signature page. There it was, the date of execution. The current date was September 22. The document had been signed on July 31, 1997. Randall and Steve definitely didn’t have any projects in development. She had dismissively turned all of their suggestions down, thinking she had plenty of time and that they weren’t going anywhere. They were paid very well. She never gave them a second thought.
“Shit! Shit! Shit !” Meredith exclaimed.
She picked up the phone and dialed the reception desk.
“This is Bettina,” the perky voice chimed.
“Bettina, have Randall and Steve come through the lobby just yet?”
“Randall James and Steve Karst?” Bettina asked sweetly, absently adjusting her headset.
“Of course!” Meredith snapped. “Who the hell else would I be asking about?”
“Well,” Bettina began, “there’s a Randall Faust in Accounting, and two Steves that work in Video Archives. Hold on, Meredith. I’ve got another line ringing.”
Meredith huffed angrily as Bettina put her on hold. A few seconds passed.
They could be leaving the building, she worried. I’ve got to stop them.
“I’m sorry, Meredith. What was it you wanted?”
“Have you seen Randall and Steve?” Meredith snarled.
“No, I haven’t,” Bettina said, barely able to keep from laughing. “Oh, hold on, they’re just stepping off the elevator now.”
“Please instruct them to come to the phone,” Meredith commanded.
Bettina’s brows raised in amusement.
“I’ll do my best,” she replied, in a singsongy voice.
“Tell them it’s important!” Meredith screeched.
Bettina put her on hold.
“Randall, Steve. Come here for a second.”
The two were already heading her way.
“Check this out,” she said, grinning, “I’ve got Meredith on the line. She wants to speak to you guys. She sounds really pissed. She told me to instruct you to come to the phone.”
“Psshhht!” Randall sputtered, laughing. “That bitch is crazy. Fuck her.”
“Tell her the same thing for me,” Steve replied. “My days of taking orders from her are over!”
“Alright,” Bettina said. “Hang on a minute while I do it. This is gonna be fun.”
She cleared her throat, then pressed a button on the telephone console.
“How dare you put me on hold for so long?!” Meredith was screaming.
“I’m sorry, Meredith,” Bettina replied pleasantly, grimacing at the loudness ringing in her ears. “I asked, but for some reason, Randall and Steve don’t want to talk to you.”
“Did you tell them I said it was important?”
“Yes, I did. Hang on, it’s another line.”
Bettina put her on hold again. Meredith was steaming.
Bettina returned.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“Bettina, what exactly did they say?”
“Well, um, Meredith …,” Bettina began, grinning at Randall and Steve, “this is kind of embarrassing.”
“Enough of the bullshit,” Meredith seethed, “just tell me what they said.”
“Okay. Um, they said, and I quote”—Bettina cleared her voice—“‘Fuck her, we don’t take orders from that bitch anymore.’”
Meredith’s face flushed scarlet. She was furious.
“I apologize,” Bettina quickly added. “I’m only repeating what they said.”
Meredith could almost see the mocking grin on Bettina’s face.
Meredith slammed the phone down in her ear.
Bettina burst into laughter.
“That bitch!” She laughed. “You guys must have given her the good news.”
“Sure did,” Randall said. “Now we’re outta here.” He turned to Steve. “Wanna grab something to eat at Roscoe’s?”
“Yeah, I’m starving!” Steve replied.
Bettina found it funny that golden boy Steve loved fried chicken as much as he did. It was his favorite meal.
“Don’t you ever get sick of chicken?” she asked.
“Nope. Someone in my family’s black, they’re just not owning up to it.”
“Why is that not a surprise?” Randall replied. Steve shoved him with his shoulder.
The three of them laughed.
“So, guys, how’d you pull it off?” Bettina asked, leaning forward. The phone rang again. “Wait, hold on a second.” She punched a Une. “Massey-Weldon.” She frowned.
“I hate that! I get so many freaking hangup calls here, it’s not even funny. Sometimes they just slam the phone down right in my ear.”
“It’s a major switchboard,” Randall said. “You’re bound to get hangups.”
“Well, I get ’em by the truckload,” she said. “Now come on,” she said, turning her attention back to them. “How’d you guys do it?”
“One word,” Steve replied. “Breach.”
Bettina’s mouth opened in shock.
“Won’t they sue you?” she exclaimed.
Randall snickered.
“We’re not in breach, Magic Mama. They are. It’s a short story. We’ll tell it to you real soon. In the meantime, I want you to do me a favor.”
“Sure. What is it?”
Randall leaned closer to her.
“I want you to make a couple of anonymous phone calls,” he whispered, “just to get a buzz going.”
“Okay,” she said with a smile. “I’m game.”
“Great.” He slipped her a piece of paper with three phone numbers on it. There were the names of three well-known columnists and the magazines they wrote for. TV Guide, Variety, and The Hollywood Reporter.
“I want people to know about our leaving Massey-Weldon. Tell them we’re starting our own production company and the rumor is that Jet Jonas is behind it. Casually hint at start-up capital of more than a hundred million. They’ll do the rest.”
“What if they want proof?” Bettina asked. “Who will I say I am?”
“Tell them you have a source inside Massey-Weldon. They’ll call here to confirm if it’s true. They’ll probably call Jet at his offices, but he’s prepared. We just want to stir up talk.”
The phone rang again. Bettina answered it and took a message.
“Okay,” she said, turning her attention back to the guys. “I can’t do it from here, though.”
“There’s an empty office on the second floor,” Steve interjected. “It’s right around the corner from Bill Pearly in Legal.”
“Good suggestion,” Randall commented. “Bettina, can you get someone to cover the phones for you?”
“Yeah. Nina Swanson always helps me out. Don’t worry, I’ll get it done.”
“Thanks,” Randall said. “We really appreciate your help.”
“Just make sure it’s reflected in my new salary,” she joked seriously.
“Don’t worry,” Steve reassured her. “We’ll take care of you.”
Randall gently tapped him on the back.
“Let’s go, man, before Meredith gets the notion to personally come down here to talk to us.”
“Good point,” Steve agreed. “My stomach’s starting to growl anyway.” He turned his attention back to Bettina. “I’ll guess we’ll be seeing you pretty soon. I can’t wait until you’re working with us.”
Their eyes met. His expression was warm and genuine.
“Thanks, Steve. I can’t wait either.”
“Well, we’re out,” Randall said, walking away.
Steve waved at her and walked off with Randall. Randall noted that, for once, Bettina wasn’t her usual flirtatious self. He found it refreshing. Perhaps she was actually taking his advice.
Bettina watched them as they crossed the lobby. She could hear their conversation as they headed for the double doors leading out of the building. The two didn’t care how loudly they spoke. All respect and regard for the hallowed halls of Massey-Weldon had apparently been jettisoned.
“Let’s do the Roscoe’s on Gower,” Randall said.
“No,” Steve protested. “It’s too little. The wait might be too long. I want my chicken now …I’m starved!”
“I’m tired of always going to the one on Pico. I feel like a regular. I get embarrassed pulling up there every other day.”
“Maybe you’re embarrassed at pulling up with your white, blue-eyed, chicken-eating friend.”
Randall pushed open the door, smirking at Steve.
“Well?” Steve asked.
“Just shut up already,” he sighed. “Let’s go to the one on Pico.”
Bettina laughed as she watched them. She punched a line and dialed Nina Swanson to see if she could cover the phones. She was also going to see if she could talk Nina into covering them long enough for her to run out and buy at least a panty and a bra. No one knew it, but Bettina was naked under her dark blue pantsuit.
She was excited about the new beginnings and what Randall and Steve’s departure meant.
She couldn’t wait until it was her turn to leave Massey-Weldon behind.
Meredith paced around her office in stockinged feet, her thoughts racing with lightning speed. Her shoes, kicked off in anger, were underneath her desk.
“How am I going to handle this?” she mused aloud. “Wade’s gonna kill me! And Anna. Jesus Christ, Anna’s gonna flip!”
She reached over and pressed a button on her phone.
“Jeannie, get me the Legal Department,” she barked.
There was no response.
“Jeannie! Jeannie!”
Meredith rushed over to her office door and looked out.
“Where is she?” she sneered.
Her assistant was nowhere in sight.
“Oooph!” she huffed. “And you were so close to a raise.”
She slammed her office door.
She plopped down on the red velvet couch, clutching her head. She somehow had to do damage control. Before it hit the media and panic spread on the sets of Westwood and Stickies.
Her phone rang. She jumped up, stormed over to her desk, and snatched up the receiver.
“This is Meredith,” she answered sharply.
“Meredith Reynolds?” a husky voice asked.
“Yeah,” she snapped, pissed at having to take her own calls. “This is not a good time for me.”
“I won’t keep you,” the voice said cryptically. “This call is just to warn you. Two of your writers are about to leave.”
“Too late,” she scoffed, sitting on the edge of her desk. “They already have. Whoever the hell you are, your timing sucks. Goodbye.”
“Wait! So Bettina left?”
“Bettina?” she questioned. “What’s she got to do with anything?”
“She’s in on it. They have a new company. Their first TV show is all set to go. Something called Ambitions. A guy in your company named Carlos, an attorney, is going with them, and so is the receptionist, Bettina. If she hasn’t left yet, she’s planning to. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Consider me a friend.”
“I don’t have friends.”
“You do now. Fire Bettina while you still have the chance.”
She heard a click, and then a dial tone in her ear. Livid, she slammed the phone down, then decided to call Bettina. Before she could pick up the phone, it rang again.
“WHAT?!” she yelled into the receiver.
There was a pause. When the voice spoke, it was curt and grim.
“You’ve got sixty seconds to get to my office. And I want some answers. Get up here … NOW!”
The phone w
ent dead.
Wade had never yelled at Meredith before. As she got up from the edge of the desk to put on her shoes, she decided it was best to tell him exactly what had happened.
After that, she had another plan.
She opened the drawer in the credenza where she kept proposals for new shows. Her long red nails sifted past hanging file after hanging file until she came across the one labeled NO-GO’S. It was a thick folder, the first of three. Meredith struggled to pull it out. She sat the folder on her desk, searching through its contents. Ten documents deep, she found it.
The proposal for Ambitions.
Meredith smiled.
Randall and Steve may have gotten the first laugh, but, if she had anything to do with it, she was going to have the last.
WAIT FOR THE BEEP
Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep!”
Randall’s pager exploded for the tenth time in less than five minutes.
He reached down without looking and pressed a button that made the beeping stop. A young couple seated at the next table cut their eyes at him, not at all thrilled about the constant interruptions to their chicken-flavored love affair.
In fact, a number of diners at the Roscoe’s Chicken ’n Waffles near the corner of Pico and LaBrea were thoroughly annoyed. Since his arrival, Randall’s beeper had gone off twice during the first twenty minutes, and now it was out of control. While the customers were used to Hollywood types who came in talking on their cell phones and sporting overblown attitudes, ten beeps in only four and a half minutes was taking things a bit too far.
“Her again?” Steve asked, biting into a chicken wing. He had unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolled up the sleeves, and was digging deeply into his meal.
“Who else,” Randall replied. “I’m just wondering when Meredith’s going to get the hint that I’m not calling back.”
Randall picked at his half-eaten chicken. He was much too hyped to have an appetite, which was a surprise. After the day he’d had, he expected to be a lot hungrier than he was.
“You should have done like me and turned your pager off.” Steve reached out with greasy fingers for his glass of lemonade. “The moment I got in your car, I eighty-sixed that puppy. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let her page me to death.”
“Actually, I’m kind of enjoying it, even though this crowd looks like they’re about ready to lynch me.”