Eyes Like Those

by Melissa Brayden

  “Taylor,” she said as if surprised to see her there, when she was the one who, in fact, had summoned her. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  Taylor sent her a knowing look because she honestly couldn’t help herself. She forced herself to brighten. “Can I steal you for a moment?”

  “Back in a few,” Aspen said to Claudia and then waved her fingers over her shoulder as she walked. Once they were alone in a darkened corner of the soundstage, behind the set, Taylor turned to her.

  “Sounds like there was some trouble on set. Want to tell me about it?” She was aiming for caring friend and concerned boss all in one. That generally scored well with Aspen.

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes now ice cold. “I want him removed from the episode.”

  Taylor hooked a thumb behind her. “Tim? Who’s won six Emmys and is one of the best directors we have working on the show?”

  “He’s an overrated asshole, too big for his britches.” She ran a hand through her luxurious hair, that somehow always magically fell back into place perfectly. Taylor used to love the effect. Now it just creeped her out. “He goes or I do.”

  Taylor hated ultimatums. They made the person making them seem threatened and childish, not that she could tell Aspen that. “You have a contract, Aspen. That’s not an option.” Taylor took a moment to regroup, find her Aspen skills, which had dulled since she’d been off set for so many weeks. “You and I both know that you value your professionalism as an actor immensely.”

  “No, you and I don’t,” Aspen said, her eyes blazing. “Don’t say you and I in the same sentence ever again.” She leaned in close, her face red and determined. “Get Rossi out of here or find a way to shoot around me this episode, because I won’t work with him.”

  In a huff, she turned to go. Instinctively, Taylor reached for her arm. “Aspen, wait. I promise, we can solve this.”

  Aspen’s gaze flew to Taylor’s hand on her arm. “Did you just grab me?”

  “What?” Taylor instantly pulled her hand back. “No, I was just—”

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Aspen rubbed the spot where Taylor had barely touched her. “Ow! That’s going to leave a mark. You just viciously grabbed me on my own set. I knew you were passionate about the show, but you just crossed a line. I won’t put up with physical violence.”

  The insinuation was ludicrous, but it was like Taylor’s mind couldn’t keep up with the pace Aspen was setting.

  “Did you see her grab me?” Aspen asked a nearby grip, wrapping cable. He glanced away, but Aspen was on him instantly. “What’s your name? You saw the whole assault.”

  “Kip. But I don’t want to—”

  “Aspen, stop it,” Taylor whispered, trying to keep the escalating scene under control. Interested faces were starting to turn their way. “Can we not do this? I’m sorry I reached for you.”

  “You lunged and grabbed me, holding me against my will.” She again rubbed the arm that now hung limp and lifeless at her side as if broken in several places. Her face was pouty and there were tears gathering bountiful and thick in her eyes. She’d sailed from outraged to victimized over the course of twenty seconds in a move that had Taylor stunned and afraid. Where Aspen was concerned, anything was possible. Taylor stepped toward her in attempt to calm her down, get her to come back to reality. “Let’s just talk about this for a minute before—”

  “Don’t come near me!” Aspen yelled, taking a large step away from Taylor and holding her “good arm” in front of her in defense. There were now people gathered on either side of them with more walking around the perimeter of the set to see what all the commotion was about.

  Luke, who’d just arrived to shoot an upcoming scene, stepped forward and said something quietly in Aspen’s ear. She nodded and he led her away, probably to her trailer. “Everyone saw that, right?” Aspen yelled over her shoulder. She pointed at Taylor. “She grabbed me violently and wouldn’t let go! Everyone saw.”

  Taylor held her ground, her brain not quite sure what to do. She glanced around at the myriad of shocked faces all trained on her. She couldn’t react, and it would seem lame to defend herself to the people who worked for her, yet she had to say something. “I apologize for that misunderstanding. We’ll get everything under control shortly.” She turned to the first AD. “In the meantime, can we powwow privately and maybe see what we can reschedule, so as not to lose the day?”

  He nodded, but it was clear the incident had him flustered. “Of course, Ms. Andrews. Let me grab my—sure.”

  But it felt like a fire alarm had been pulled and Taylor wasn’t sure how to unpull it. Aspen left for the day, shutting down most of their shooting options, and was rumored to still be muttering about the unprofessional director and the abuse she suffered at the hands of a maniacal showrunner. Perfect. Taylor remained on set for the rest of the day, just to smooth things over and let everyone see that it was business as usual. Underneath it all though, she wondered about the larger implication of the run-in. For the show. For her. For everything they’d worked for over the past five years.

  *****

  “She thinks you assaulted her?” Isabel asked in horror. It was dark as they walked a lap around the studio lot, a relaxing practice they’d taken up every few nights.

  “It was wild,” Taylor said. “She lost her temper and pointed and accused. I barely touched her, Iz. But you’d have thought I maimed her for life.”

  “I believe you. Do you think this happened because of us?”

  Taylor seemed pensive and took a moment before answering. “I can’t think of any other reason. She pulled back all her attention that morning after my party. I thought it was a good thing, that she’d moved on. But maybe she’s just been seething and letting her anger build. I don’t have a good gauge of her state of mind. The problem is, she holds too many cards. The show is entirely dependent on her, and she knows it. Now she’s playing her hand.”

  “Sounds like she has a chip on that perfect shoulder of hers and is hell-bent on making you pay the price.” They looped around the Coffee Bean, now closed for the evening, and headed over to Lucy’s park. They nodded at a security guard who whizzed by in a golf cart, but the conversation trailed off and they walked in heavy silence. Isabel could tell that Taylor had taken the events of the day hard. People thought the world of her on set, and she wouldn’t want that reputation tarnished. “I wish I had the magic words to make today better. What can I do?”

  Taylor glanced over at her, then away. “You just being here with me right now, supporting me, makes a big difference.” She followed up the statement by taking Isabel’s hand and offering it a squeeze.

  “Yeah, well. I will always support you.”

  “That means a lot.” She met Isabel’s eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight.”

  “I don’t need you to be,” Isabel said. “We can just walk together.” Taylor nodded and they did just that. Walked. Maybe the exercise would help, the fresh air and the studio lot that Taylor loved so much. But the sides of Taylor’s mouth were turned down in a way Isabel had never seen, and it sat uncomfortably on her heart. They walked south down Avenue A, and before long, they were at their cars.

  “Tomorrow will be better,” Isabel said. Taylor nodded but didn’t say anything. “Want me to come home with you?”

  Taylor forced a smile. “Thank you, but I think I need to decompress on my own for a bit.”

  For whatever reason, the rejection hit her harder than it should have. Taylor had a bad day and needed some alone time. Totally normal. Except that Isabel was once again experiencing that ever-present vulnerability that said she wasn’t good enough, which was stupid but real. Sometimes she hated herself and the way her brain worked to sabotage her. She shook it off.

  “Okay, well, call me if you change your mind or just want to talk.”

  “I will.”

  “Taylor Andrews,” said a man exiting the car next to Taylor’s.

  “Yes.”

&n
bsp; He handed her an envelope. “Ma’am, you have thirty days to answer the complaint with the summons. Please understand that these are official court documents. You’ve been served. Have a good day.” He nodded his head and returned to his car as Taylor, looking about as stunned as Isabel felt, stared down at the envelope.

  “What the hell?” she asked.

  “Is he a process server?” Isabel whirled on the car and knocked on his window. “Are you a process server?”

  He nodded. Once she stepped back, he pulled away, leaving them alone under the night’s sky with the sound of his engine revving in the distance.

  Taylor fumbled with the seal and managed to extract the documents inside. She glanced over them, then raised her gaze. Her eyes carried an anger Isabel hadn’t witnessed from the levelheaded, generally serene Taylor.

  “What does it say?” Isabel finally asked, unable to stand it a moment longer.

  “I’m being sued. By Aspen Wakefield.”

  “For what?”

  “Sexual harassment.”

  Oh, hell no. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Taylor folded the envelope sadly. “Except I’m not.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Taylor didn’t sleep that night. She didn’t even try. Instead, she sat at her kitchen table poring over every memory she could summon that related to her and Aspen. Was there something, anything, she could have done or said that could have been misconstrued?

  No.

  There absolutely wasn’t. Aspen had first pursued the relationship, and Taylor had resisted for quite a while. They’d fallen into a sexual relationship first that had blossomed into more. And it had been a relationship. They’d met each other’s families, talked about the future, and made appearances together in public. The relationship had been two sided and anything but forced on Aspen’s part.

  Taylor was being set up.

  The next morning, she met with her attorney. Brooks Horton was well into his fifties and had always reminded Taylor of the quintessential silver fox. He was at the height of his career and had been Taylor’s attorney from her early years in Hollywood. He fought hard for his clients and went the extra mile. If she was going up against Aspen in a court of law, she wanted Brooks on her side.

  He spent the first part of their meeting going over the paperwork, murmuring indecipherably to himself as he read. Finally, he glanced up and took off his reading glasses. “She’s alleging unwelcome sexual advances and a quid pro quo environment in which she was expected to sleep with you if she wanted any kind of airtime on the show.”

  “That’s insane,” Taylor told her lawyer. “We had a relationship, a legitimate one that she initiated. Hell, she seduced me, and it was elaborate.”

  He flipped through the documents. “She asserts it was the other way around and that your behavior was aggressive. She professes to have dates, times, and descriptions, the last of which was apparently yesterday when she alleges you grabbed her forcefully when she refused your most recent advances.”

  “There were no advances yesterday.”

  “That’s not what the other side will argue. She’s claiming there were a variety of witnesses who will support her story.” He closed the file folder on his desk.

  Taylor couldn’t believe this was happening. “So, what do we do?”

  He held up a hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but she’s also named the network, WCN, as a defendant in the lawsuit.”

  “She’s suing the network?” That one really threw Taylor.

  He nodded. “For failure to prevent discrimination and a hostile work environment. I spoke with their representation earlier this morning. Ms. Wakefield never filed a complaint with them or voiced any concern, which is good for both parties. However, because of her high-profile status, they are understandably concerned and moving into damage control mode.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They don’t want you to return to work at this time.”

  The words hit her squarely in the chest, stealing her breath.

  “You’ll be hearing from them shortly.”

  She shook her head as the information settled and blared like an alarm. “They’re firing me?”

  “Not at this point. But I’ve worked in entertainment law for too many years not to prepare you.” He ran a hand through his thick gray hair. “You’ll likely be compensated handsomely but removed as EP to keep the matter from escalating in the press. They’ll use another reason, of course, a ratings dip. Or they’ll say something generic and safe like ‘it wasn’t working creatively.’”

  She nodded. “So, I’m out.”

  “We’ll know for sure soon, but my guess is, that’s likely.”

  Taylor tried to take a deep breath, but the air wouldn’t fit, which made sense because the world now felt as if it were closing in on her. How could this have happened? That television show was her life, her creation, something she’d built upon from the tiniest kernel of an idea, and now it would go on without her? That didn’t seem fair.

  “Thank you, Brooks. You’ll keep me updated?”

  “I will.” She turned to go. “Taylor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We can go to war with Aspen Wakefield, but I want you to at least consider a settlement, only because it can save you the heartache, the public scrutiny.”

  “So, someone can make up lies about you and just because they’re a hot commodity, they get away with it.”

  He frowned like a father trying to explain the ways of the world to a brokenhearted child. “In Hollywood, you know as well as I do that what’s reported in the press is unfortunately more relevant than the actual facts.”

  She did know that. She just never expected it to slice so close to home. “Thanks, Brooks.” She nodded numbly and headed home, as there was nowhere else she was needed any longer. What she wanted was to wipe the makeup from her face, don her rattiest sweatshirt, and drink wine straight from the bottle.

  *****

  The Friday morning after Taylor had been sidelined, the writing and production staff of Thicker Than Water were led into the large conference room across the street from the writing offices. A representative from the studio, a buttoned-up fortysomething Isabel had never seen before, was waiting to meet with them.

  “I know you all have a number of questions regarding the on-set incident earlier this week. While I can’t go into detail, I can express to you that a decision has been made.” Isabel glanced around and saw several people nodding. Others looked confused. Isabel felt nauseous. Taylor had prepared her for the probability that she’d be let go permanently, but she couldn’t imagine that happening. Water was one hundred percent Taylor’s baby. They wouldn’t do that. “Ms. Andrews will not be returning as showrunner. The cast is being notified in a separate meeting as we speak.”

  The faces of the people in the room mirrored what Isabel felt. She saw shock, outrage, and downright disgust. “Well, that’s bullshit,” Scruffy said, sitting back in his chair heavily, his arms crossed. “Who do you expect to pilot this ship?”

  “It’s a mistake, is what it is,” Kathleen said loudly. “I think we deserve to know why.”

  “Like I said,” suit guy replied, “the details are sensitive. Overall, it was not the best fit for the success of the show moving forward, and that’s what we must focus on, what’s right for the show.”

  “How is there a show without Taylor?” the head of the art department asked. “I’m with Scruffy. This blows.”

  “Fucking Aspen,” Scarlett muttered, exchanging a disgusted stare with Isabel, who sat next to her. The others nodded. Gossip had wings. The network could negate mentioning Aspen’s role in Taylor’s departure when it made an official statement, but those who worked on the show knew full well why she was dismissed, and who was behind it. What it came down to, as Taylor had explained to her the night before, was that the show could go on without Taylor. It would be a lot harder without Aspen, the reason people tuned in each week.

>   The meeting had been short and to the point, and the shell-shocked group scattered once it concluded. Instead of returning to her cubicle and staring at a blinking cursor, she took a walk and called Taylor.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me directly,” Taylor said. Her voice was flat and lifeless, almost as if she didn’t quite have the energy. “I think we were told at the same time.”

  “Who called you?” Isabel asked.

  “Gerald. He probably volunteered because of our history. He was apologetic, said all the right things. The network is interested in working with me again in the future. If there’s anything he can do for me personally, just let him know. Blah, blah, blah. It’s exactly what my attorney predicted.”

  Isabel sighed into the phone. “I hate this. It’s awful. I’m coming over tonight. I’ll bring dinner and we can hate the world together. Make WCN voodoo dolls.”

  Silence. “I would like that. Well, maybe not the voodoo dolls, but seeing you would be nice. It’s been an awful week.”

  “Good, because a perpetually awkward and slightly outspoken woman will be on your doorstep with Chinese food close to seven thirty. Keep the porch light on.”

  “I hope she’s into the emotionally unpredictable types.” Taylor’s voice cracked on that last sentence. She sounded raw, and on the edge. Damn it.

  Hoping to redirect the sadness, Isabel went for playful. “She is! She’s all about the emotional types. The more tears, the more anger, the better, she always says.”

  A pause. She could hear the sound of quiet sniffling. “Isabel?”