Eyes Like Those

by Melissa Brayden

  “Surviving your second week?” Taylor asked, as she reached for the creamer.

  Isabel looked over at her, and pink dusted her cheeks.

  Taylor stifled the thought that it was cute.

  “Yeah, it’s a faster pace than I was expecting, but I’m holding my own. At least I think I am.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think I am?”

  Taylor smiled. “I do. And this read-through will be educational as well. Sit next to me so I can guide you through it.”

  “Okay, sure. That’d be really helpful. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Taylor believed strongly that understanding the larger mechanism of the show and how it all happened helped shape a writer’s work. When they got to see it all play out, they tended to grasp that the show existed on a budget and under the thumb of the network. Taylor was a big believer in not only utilizing her writers, but developing them for the business of television. She wanted them to walk away from this job ready to conquer the next one.

  “Did you happen to get a chance to look at that dialogue rewrite from last week? Just wondered if I’m on the right track. Scruffy handed me his most recent draft to tweak.”

  Taylor opened her mouth to answer and was halted by the hand that snaked around her waist. “Now, this is a nice look for you,” Aspen said. “The jacket says power, the T-shirt says creative.”

  “I think I was just going for dressed and out the door.” Taylor delicately stepped forward and extracted herself from Aspen’s arm, feigning a search for sweetener. Not only was the contact unprofessional, it was long past its expiration date.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Aspen said, eying Isabel. “Aspen Wakefield. I play Lisette.”

  “I know.” Isabel beamed the way everyone who met Aspen did. “A pleasure to meet you. Isabel Chase. I’m the new staff writer. I’ll try not to blow anything for you.”

  Aspen’s eyes lit up. She had a way of making people feel important, which wasn’t a horrible quality. “A new member of the Water family! We’re so happy to have you. Taylor is the best boss anyone could ask for. You’re going to love it here.”

  Taylor suppressed an eye roll at Aspen’s compliment, because there was always an ulterior motive. “I don’t know about that,” she said conservatively. “But I do have an eye for talent.”

  Isabel bowed her head in thanks.

  “Shall we?” They adjourned to the table, and the reading commenced. Throughout, she vacillated between watching the actors as they read and listening with her eyes closed. The script they were reading that day was one she wrote personally, and this was the first opportunity she’d had to hear the actors give voice to her words. There were several clunky lines that were apparent right off the bat. She made notes in her script to rework them ASAP and silently pointed them out to Isabel, who nodded. She was wearing that perfume again, and it reminded Taylor of those fresh fruit salads her mother would make on hot summer days. There was something comforting in that.

  They approached the third act of the episode in which Lisette advises Thomas to go to her sister, that she desperately needs him. Only now a new subtext rose to the surface, the selfless Lisette once again sidelining her own feelings for someone else’s, this time her younger sister. Taylor had her eyes closed as she listened to the words, but they flew open as the scene progressed. She watched the actors who sat side by side, and damn it if they didn’t set off a few million fireworks. How had she missed this?

  She turned wide-eyed to Isabel, who nodded knowingly.

  As they walked back to their building later, Taylor turned to her. “I can’t believe it, but you were right. There’s something there.”

  Isabel nodded. “And there are many different directions you can take it.”

  “We can take it,” Taylor corrected. “We’re all on one team.”

  “Right. Right. We.”

  “Write up some ideas and send them my way. Preferably by tomorrow morning. If I’m going to drop a few clues in this week’s script, I’ll need to get the rewrites done quickly.”

  “I’m on it.” Isabel nodded and headed off to her cubicle, seemingly energized by the validation. Taylor couldn’t help but smile to herself as she headed back to her office to look at this week’s script with new eyes.

  “You have a visitor,” Scarlett said as she passed. “I told her you were booked but—”

  “Aspen?”

  Scarlett nodded apologetically. “She doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Taylor said, knowing all too well. “Raisin?”

  “Asleep on my foot.”

  “I’m sorry. I can take him.” She moved to Scarlett’s desk, until Scarlett held up a hand.

  “I actually kind of like him there.”

  Scarlett was good people. Taylor smiled at the soft snore emanating from the floor. “If you don’t see Aspen exit my office in five minutes, call my desk line with an emergency.”

  “Way ahead of you.”

  Taylor sighed, gulped in some air, and opened the door to her office, ready to play nice with Aspen for a few minutes before shipping her back to the set. But Aspen was nowhere to be seen. That’s when she saw that her desk chair faced the window. The blinds had been closed. “Aspen? Scarlett said you—”

  “Close the door,” Aspen said. At the sound of the click, the chair swiveled around to reveal Aspen wearing the same pencil skirt from the read-through, a pair of heels, and nothing else.

  Taylor blinked and quickly faced the wall. “Aspen, what the hell? C’mon now.”

  Taylor heard her stand and then the clack, clack, clack of her heels on the floor. “You used to love it when I surprised you in your office.”

  “That was different. We’re business associates now. And you’re naked.”

  “We’ve known each other a long time now, Taylor. You’re telling me we’re not friends?”

  She felt Aspen’s fingers run down the back of her jacket and she closed her eyes. “No, we’re friends.”

  “Good. Nothing has changed if you think about it. Turn around.” Taylor reluctantly did as she was asked, thinking through how to delicately handle what she’d just walked into. Setting Aspen off was the last thing she wanted to do. They had a day of work ahead of them, and it was in her best interest to not summon Hurricane Aspen if she could work around it. Embracing that plan, she focused on Aspen’s face, on her mouth anywhere but—dammit. She hated herself for looking. Aspen’s body hadn’t been the problem. She was gorgeous, heaven sent. She was also selfish, manipulative, and maybe even a little crazy. Aspen smirked at Taylor’s misstep, knowing her power.

  “It’s okay to look. You can touch if you want to, too. I remember how much you like them.”

  No, no, no. As Aspen moved closer, Taylor stepped around her to the chair where she retrieved the discarded blouse. “A lot has changed, Aspen. You know that. And it’s important, for the sake of the show, that you and I keep our relationship in perspective.” She held out the blouse and waited what seemed like a year before Aspen accepted it and slowly slipped her arms into the sleeves, leaving it unbuttoned. Perfect. Taylor couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done with her bra.

  “All I’m saying is that we have fun together, and you know it.”

  Taylor flashed to Aspen hurling glassware at a wall just two months ago. “Tons. But now we have a job to do.”

  Aspen flashed a smile. “If we must. This week’s script is très juicy. I really love it when you write the words I’m going to say.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s my job.”

  A knock at the door. A knock? Scarlett must have forgotten the logistics of the plan. “Come in,” Aspen called.

  “What? No,” Taylor said, but it was too late. The door flung open and there stood Isabel, laptop in hand. She looked from Taylor to Aspen to Aspen’s unbuttoned and parted blouse.

  “I can come back. Apologies.”

  “No apology necessary,” Aspen said, buttoning her blouse.

/>   “Impressive,” Isabel said, and stared at the floor.

  Aspen laughed. “Why, thank you. I’m late for rehearsal. Taylor, we’ll talk later.” Isabel stepped back and Aspen breezed past, looking every bit satisfied with herself.

  Taylor did what she did best and remained calm in the face of shame. “What can I help you with?” she asked Isabel, who must have a million wild questions racing through her brain.

  “Oh. It was just…I wanted to ask…” Isabel shook her head. “I honestly don’t remember, because that was…not what I expected.”

  “No, I’m sure it wasn’t. Well, let me know if you do remember. I have a lunch with the network.”

  Isabel nodded several times and headed off down the hallway.

  For whatever reason, Taylor couldn’t let it go. She hated what Isabel had just walked in on. Not only did it look bad, it was a wildly inaccurate representation of the truth. She couldn’t let it stand. “Isabel, wait.” She caught up with her halfway down the hall.

  “Yep?” she asked.

  Taylor shook her head as she tried to settle on the appropriate words. “What you saw back there was not at all what it looked like, I can assure you.”

  “Got it. We can just forget all about the boobs. Really.”

  “I appreciate that. But it matters to me.”

  Isabel’s features softened and Taylor felt herself relax. She took note of the interesting cause and effect. “Okay.”

  “Full disclosure. Aspen and I used to date. We don’t anymore. She hasn’t exactly moved on, and maybe I’m saying too much, but for whatever reason, I needed you to know.”

  Isabel nodded and held Taylor’s gaze. “I appreciate you trusting me with that information. Exes can be tricky. Especially ones that get naked in your office looking the way she does. Are you sure you want it to be over, because I might be overstepping, but…”

  Taylor quirked a smile. “You don’t hold back, do you?”

  “I really should. My mouth gets me in so much trouble.”

  “I had a suspicion.” They smiled at each other. “Do you remember what it was you came to ask?”

  Isabel shook her head. She had an amazing smile, and from what Taylor could tell, it came in a variety of forms. Who knew so much could be communicated with a smile selection? She felt her cheeks heat, prompting her to glance away, hoping that little detail went unnoticed. “Right. Well. I better head to lunch, then.” She turned and headed off down the hallway on unsteady feet, leaving Isabel probably wondering why she was cursed with such a lunatic for a boss.

  “Taylor!” Scarlett called out as she approached the building with Raisin in tow. “Oh my God. Raisin woke up and I took him for a potty break and completely forgot about our plan.”

  “I’ll kill you later rather than sooner, but only because I have to get to lunch.”

  Scarlett threw a glance over her shoulder to be sure no one was in earshot. “Was it bad?”

  “If you call a naked crazy woman in your office bad, then bad. Very bad. No more granting her access to my office when I’m out. She cannot be trusted.”

  Scarlett’s jaw went slack as she followed Taylor to the parking lot. “Taylor, I’m so sorry. I won’t let her in again. It’s just that when she wants something she’s just so…”

  “Presumptive?”

  Scarlett pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I was going to say scary. She happens to terrify me.”

  Taylor knew all too well. “Just make up an excuse. Tell her my office is closed for fumigation. That the Secret Service is scouring it for hidden recording devices. Literally anything.”

  Scarlett nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Oh, and Isabel walked in on the whole thing.”

  “You should really fire me,” Scarlett explained in horror.

  “I wish I could, but you know where all the bodies are buried.” She bumped Scarlett’s shoulder in solidarity.

  A ghost of a smile appeared. “That’s true. I have that to cling to.”

  Taylor knelt and pulled Raisin into her arms. “After lunch, you’re coming with me, mister. No more cheating on me with Scarlett. I don’t care if she’s extra nice to you.” Raisin whined softly and rested his head on Taylor’s shoulder. She, in turn, became a puddle of goo on the sidewalk. “I think someone’s ready for his afternoon snooze.” She kissed his warm cheek and handed him over to Scarlett. “See you in an hour once the network has been officially schmoozed.”

  An hour later, however, Taylor felt she had done anything but. After saying a few hellos to familiar industry faces, she’d settled into a table by the window at Cecconi’s in West Hollywood. She loved the restaurant with its leather-backed turquoise chairs and perfectly spaced dining area. Gerald arrived shortly, and it appeared he’d gained even more weight than the last time she’d seen him. His stomach pulled further outward and his shirt size had not been adjusted. He’d always been a stubborn bastard, but she worried for his heart. To no one’s surprise, he ordered his standard bourbon and Coke and paired it with a marbled ribeye. For lunch. Knowing he hated to drink alone, she’d gone with the lighter choice of a Chardonnay and the salmon special.

  “We should do this more often,” she told him, once their drinks arrived.

  He nodded. “Always good to see you, sweetheart. You know I have a, uh, high regard for you and your show. You’re my ringer.”

  Things went downhill from there. After the tiniest bit of chitchat, he leveled the news.

  “We’re moving Water to Mondays at ten effective next month.”

  Her glass of Chardonnay went still midway to her mouth, but only temporarily. Taylor played it cool as always, sipping slowly, knowing how important it was to never show any signs of weakness. “Is that so?” Moving the show from its prime spot at nine on Thursday would prove disastrous. Not only was Monday an undesirable time slot, but the less dedicated viewers wouldn’t go out of their way to seek them out when they went missing on the schedule. It was a lose-lose, and a pill she was not about to swallow.

  “I’m sure you’re not surprised,” Gerald said. “We’re into a fifth season on Water. It’s an important show for the network, but we have to keep our eyes on the future. You, uh, understand the old TV game.”

  “Sending us out to pasture a tad early, don’t you think, Gerald?” She said it with her most serene smile firmly in place.

  He tossed back a slug of bourbon. “Have you seen the early numbers?”

  “I have. It’s just a blip. We have a big season ahead.”

  He chuckled dismissively. “Well, you’ll have to have it on Mondays. It’s a, uh, done deal.”

  The telltale stammer had yet to evaporate, which meant there was more to this whole thing. She sat back in her chair and regarded him, searching for clues. She met his stare and didn’t back down. She could play ball if that’s what he wanted. “Nothing’s a done deal in this town and you know it, so cut the bullshit, Gerald, and put it on the table so we can tussle over it here and now. What is it you want?”

  He eyed her and she knew she wasn’t wrong. “Sister Dale.”

  “The stupid nun show? What about it?”

  “It’s tanking.”

  “You’re damn right it’s tanking. Unless you have Sally Field and a time machine, a primetime series about a convent was never going to find a solid audience in a world of grande Frappuccinos and Twitter feuds. Who greenlit that anyway?”

  “It’s Ted’s daughter’s show.”

  And there it was. Theodore Larkin was the president of WCN and apparently didn’t have a problem with nepotism. In an unfortunate coincidence, she knew his daughter, Lyric, from high school. She was precocious, out of touch, and entitled. She also had a mean streak of which the high school version of Taylor had been the target for years. “I see,” she said conservatively. Taylor didn’t hate anyone, but Lyric topped the “not a friend of mine” list.

  Gerald drained his bourbon and Coke. “It needs a patch job. Someone who can step in and get the na
rrative back on track. Tutor the kid on how to speak with directors. Show her some things.”

  “You want me to swoop in and save it.” She closed her eyes. The concept of dealing with Lyric Larkin was hell on a stick, but stepping away from her own show to do it was what body-slammed her. “Tell me you’re kidding. Gerald, you and I both know that I’ve worked too hard to babysit.”

  He waved her off. “It’s temporary. Get the show back on its feet and ride off into the sunset as the hero who saved the network.”

  She sat forward. “I don’t care about being a hero, and the network can take care of itself. I have my own show to run.”

  He shrugged. “So you go back and forth. Let Scruffy take the wheel in your absence.”

  “Like hell.” She sipped her wine slowly. She would not let him see her unravel. “No one gets along with Scruffy. It’s his goal in life to taunt others. I’d come back to World War Three.”

  “Then the girl producer. What’s her name?”

  Taylor sighed. “She’s a woman, Gerald, with grown children of her own, and I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Look at it this way. You come out smelling like roses, Taylor. Save that floundering show and you prove there’s nothing you can’t do. You’ll be writing your own ticket.”

  She met his eyes calmly, all the while dying inside. “When do they need me?”

  He handed his credit card to the waiter. “Yesterday.”

  And just like that, she watched her perfectly choreographed life flutter away like shredded tissue in the Santa Ana wind.

  *****

  Isabel rolled her shoulders, pumped and ready to get to work. In less than two weeks working on the show, a suggestion she’d made was taking off, and she didn’t want to lose momentum. This was her shot and she was not about to blow it. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and popped on her baseball cap, a ritual that seemed to help her focus. Staring at a blank canvas (in this case, the wall of her very gray cubicle) helped her mind tumble into the land of make-believe.