by Jordan Cooke
Suddenly, the door swung open. Corliss gasped. It was him. JB. The most adorable little geek the San Fernando Valley had ever produced, a bundle of twigs in board shorts.
“JB! What are you doing here? This area is off-limits to everyone but Max, me, Legend, and Olga.” Her heart was beating ferociously through Anushka’s lacy halter.
“I—I—I—” he stammered. “I have to run lines and my trailer is being fumigated because of termites.”
“It is? Why didn’t I get that memo?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
Corliss looked at JB’s hands, which were decidedly empty. “But how can you run lines? You don’t have your script.”
“I don’t?”
“Nuh-uh,” said Corliss. There was a momentary pause and then something came over them both. In a flash, those empty hands of JB’s were suddenly all over Corliss! Before she had time to think, they were making out. Wildly. On Max’s soft leather couch. Tumbling all over each other like laundry in the spin cycle.
It was magic, wonderful, messy. In fact, Corliss had her tongue so far down JB’s throat she thought she tasted his larynx. Not that she knew what a larynx tasted like—or even cared! She just couldn’t stop what years of teenage hormones had bottled up. It was erupting all over—and it seemed like that for JB, too. They wrestled each other this way and that, trying to get a better angle, mashing their faces even farther into each other, pressing their underdeveloped bodies closer and closer together. Basically, trying to swap as much spit as possible.
“Excuse me???” said Max. He was standing in the doorway.
“WHA-OH-WAH!” shouted Corliss, knowing it wasn’t even a word.
“WHA-OH-WAH!” echoed JB, flailing about as he took in his director.
“What,” said Max, “is going on here? In my trailer?”
“Um, see, the thing is—” said Corliss, disentangling herself from JB. “JB lost a, uh, contact, right?” She threw JB a pleading look that said, “work with me here.”
“Rrrright!” said JB, all Tony the Tiger. “That’s what happened! And I think I lost it on Corliss’s neck! I mean, the floor!”
“The floor is what he meant!” said Corliss as she and JB simultaneously got on their hands and knees and pretended to tear through the shag carpet for a contact JB didn’t lose.
“Get up,” said Max. They stood as commanded. “Now sit down.” They sat as commanded. “I had a hunch this was going on with you two—but I refused to believe it. And in my trailer, no less!—which you know, Corliss, is sacrosanct. It’s bad enough that I have to spend the entire morning listening to Michael Rothstein blow a gasket about this Virgin America thing . . . But then to find my most trusted assistant in my own trailer breaking my edict . . .” Max trailed off. He looked exhausted. As if the worst transgression in the world had taken place.
“I’m so sorry, Max,” said Corliss, looking at JB for backup. “What can I say?”
“Nothing at the moment,” Max said. “Report to the set in the next half hour and we’ll discuss this further. I don’t have time now.” With that he stepped down from the trailer and left the new couple speechless.
“You know what?” JB finally said.
“What?” said Corliss.
“I’ll tell you what, m’lady,” JB said, standing with his hands on his hips. “It really ain’t none of his flipping business!”
“JB!” said Corliss, shocked. “But it’s his trailer and—and—he’s our boss . . . and I was the one who had him make that rule in the first place because Petey kept hitting on me. Not that it helped. I still ended up having to tell him that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Malibu he and I would ever get together. He just stood there in the parking lot looking so sad . . .”
JB slapped himself on the forehead. “Wait, wait, wait—that was Petey Newsome you were talking to in the lot?”
“Yeah, why . . . ?”
JB rocked back and forth, holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard.
“What is it?”
“I saw you guys out in the parking lot but without my contact I couldn’t make out who that dude was!” JB rolled around on the sofa laughing. “But it wasn’t some dude—it was Petey Newsome, the King of Lack of Personal Hygiene!!!”
“Hey, it’s not that funny. Petey wouldn’t be so bad if he showered, brushed his teeth, and got himself on a good antidepressant.”
“I’m sorry, Corliss,” JB said, calming down. “It’s just a little ironic that because of Petey Newsome, I thought I was losing you. Before I ever had a chance to have you. Which completely KO-ed me in the heart department. And that’s how I knew I was totally crushed out on you.”
Corliss’s heart fluttered around in her chest like a bird set free. “Do you really mean that, JB?” JB nodded. “And do you really mean it’s none of Max’s business? Because that was really, um . . . masculine when you said that.”
“It was? Masculine? Me? Wowzer. I guess I’ll try and figure out a way to say more things like that.”
“I hope so,” said Corliss, tingling all over her body. “And now I really need to make out with you again.”
“Your wish is my command!”
And with that, the tonsil tasting resumed.
The Beach—The ’Bu Set—Twenty-Eight Minutes Later
Relief was finally kicking in. “Thank God you’re here,” said Max to Olga, who was just approaching, moving confidently through the technicians prepping the next shot.
“You call, Olga come.”
“It’s been a terrible day. I very much need your advice.”
“You ask, Olga gives.”
“I’m here, too, Max!” said Legend, appearing from behind Olga like a little angel.
“My God, Legend!” said Max. “I still can’t get over how great it is to hear you say Max, not Maxth . . .”
“I told you,” said Olga. “Olga cure lisp for good.”
“Legend,” said Max, overjoyed. “How ‘bout if you try saying, ‘Sally sells seashells by the seashore’?”
“Don’t be silly, Max,” said Legend, turning around and shaking his pudgy heinie in Max’s face.
“We cure lisp,” said Olga. “Still working on attitude. What is problems Olga can help with?”
“Well, one of our biggest sponsors—Virgin America—has pulled their ads because Trent and Tanya’s wedding now isn’t taking place. The airline was underwriting the celebration and we were going to do a whole cross-merchandising thing with Trent and Tanya bride and groom action figures, et cetera. But now the UBC has lost a lot of revenue because this marriage isn’t happening, and our producer, Michael Rothstein, is apoplectic. What can I do?”
“Simple,” said Olga, pausing only a minute to think of a solution. “Give this Virgin America free product placement for episode. Put name on everything. They make up revenue like that. Olga learn these things on Donald Trump show about apprentice.”
Max was gobsmacked. “Olga . . . that’s brilliant. I can get the writers to mention Virgin America in the script—and get the art department to maybe put the airline’s logo here and there on the set . . .” He did the math in his head. Those few gestures alone would add up to several hundred thousand dollars worth of free advertising. He immediately placed a call to Michael Rothstein. And as he waited for Michael to pick up, he set his gaze on Olga. “Who are you?”
“Just Olga.”
“Just Olga?” Max said as if that would never be enough. “Just Olga!” He was carried away. And before he knew what he was doing, he’d scooped up Olga in his arms and was planting grateful kisses all over her face.
“Yuck!” shrieked Legend as he shielded his eyes.
“Yum,” said Olga, starting to kiss back.
“Olga, my God,” said Max, pulling away. “I’m sorry to be so forward. I don’t know what to say . . . You motivate me to do things, Olga! No one has ever done that for me before . . . Thanks to you the network will be off my back. Not to mention the fact that
I’ve finally got the cast in line—and a new camerawoman with no podiatry issues!”
“Olga glad. Now Olga want more kiss.” This time it was Olga who scooped Max in her arms, dipping him low to the ground, planting a big, wet one on him.
“Yuck!” Legend shrieked again.
“Excuse me . . . ?” came a familiar voice. Max scrambled to his feet to find Corliss and JB staring at him in amazement. Behind them, the technicians had stopped what they were doing to ogle Max and Olga. “Max?” said Corliss teasingly. “What exactly is going on? This doesn’t look like you’re setting up for the next shot . . .”
“I agree, Herr Director,” JB piped in, shaking a naughty-naughty finger at Max. “I was just paged to come to the set for my next scene and, well, it looks like you’re in the middle of a little scene yourself.”
Max shrugged, dopey from the ooey-gooey feelings that were currently cascading all over him. “What can I say? It seems like love is in the air!”
“Is that so?” said Corliss, slyly.
“Yes, it is,” said Max. “And because it is, I’m lifting the dating embargo for everyone! If I can make out with Legend’s nanny, you two can date each other—just not in my trailer. Understood?”
“Understood,” said Corliss and JB, reaching for each other’s hands.
The Catering Tent—Two Minutes Later
“What do you think?” said Anushka, standing in front of Rocco, who was just finishing up his lunch at a table in the corner.
Rocco looked up at her bald head and couldn’t help but smile. “What do I think about what?” he said, shyly. They hadn’t talked since he’d told her that her bald head looked sexy.
“My head. I shaved it,” she said, tipping over to show him. “But for real! You said it looked sexy and I thought, isn’t it time for Anushka Peters to have a sexy new look? So whaddya think?”
“Anushka . . .” Rocco ran his big hands over her now truly bald head. Anushka trembled as he did.
“Wow,” she said. “That feels really great . . .”
“It does to me, too . . .”
“It does to both of us, you mean?” said Anushka, backing up a little . . . but she didn’t get far. Rocco took Anushka by the hand and led her quickly behind the coffee service. “Where are we going?” Instead of answering her, he kissed her. Tenderly. Softly. As if he didn’t want to break her.
“What’s with the soft touch, dude?” barked Anushka. “I want tongue!” And so she got it. Before long they were making Trent and Tanya’s makeout antics look amateur.
After a moment, Rocco pulled away, caught his breath, then blurted out, “Maybe this is why I warned my cousin Patrizio away from you. Because I wanted you to myself . . .”
“Rocs, this is class-A nutso, but I’m so hot for you right now I wish I were wearing asbestos panties.” They kissed again. Anushka pulled away this time. “I’m going to cure you once and for all of that steroid addiction. Ya know how?”
“How?” Rocco panted hungrily.
“Like this,” she said, smashing her mouth against his.
“OHMYGOD!” yelped a familiar voice. Anushka and Rocco jumped a foot in the air. It was Tanya and Trent, heading toward the coffee service. “YOU GUYS ARE TOTALLY MAKING OUT!” squealed Tanya.
Anushka panicked. “It’s not what it looks like, Tans . . .”
“Dang,” said Trent, “that was hot!”
Tanya swatted Trent playfully. “You are awful!” She turned to Anushka and Rocco. “But it is totally hot! You two make a hot couple! And you know what? So do me and Trent! Okay, maybe we’re not ready to get married—but we’re certainly ready to have a lot of public displays of foreplay. Right, Trent?”
“Totally,” he said, before sending his tongue into her mouth like a deep-sea diver.
“Let’s all make out!” said Tanya, with Trent’s tongue in her mouth.
And so they did. Two very strange, totally hot couples . . .
The ’Bu
SCRIPT INSERT #3
EXT. MALIBU BEACH—ALMOST SUNSET
TESSA, TRAVIS, RAMONE, and ALECIA lie on BEACH TOWELS, absorbing the LAST RAYS of a gorgeous sun. Travis and Ramone wear board shorts emblazoned with VIRGIN AMERICA logos.
TRAVIS
Nice shorts, dude.
RAMONE
You too.
They smile at each other—and at the two gorgeous girls at their sides.
RAMONE
Life’s not so bad.
TRAVIS
Not if you don’t think about it.
TESSA
Why bother?
They all laugh.
ALECIA
We better pack up. The tide’s
coming in.
TESSA
Do we hafta? It’s been such a
perfect day . . .
Alecia reaches for her BEACH BAG. It is plastered with VIRGIN AMERICA stickers.
ALECIA
It’s not over yet. Let’s regroup
at my place. Get showers, head to
Malibu Seafood.
RAMONE
Sounds great. We live in one of
the most beautiful places on
Earth. And we get to enjoy it
every day. But sometimes I
wish . . .
TRAVIS
What, dude?
RAMONE
That we could go anywhere we
wanted . . . whenever we wanted.
TESSA
Yeah, like if there was a giant
plane at our fingertips that
could whoosh us up into the
sky . . .
They all contemplate this idyllic wish for a moment. And then a RUMBLING is heard. The two couples look up to the sky. And there, in answer to their wish, soars a mighty VIRGIN AMERICAN 747. A giant red and white eagle, rising, rising into the sunset.
The Beach—Continuous
Max was jumping up and down in the sand. “Cue the plane, cue the plane!” The head of production cued the 747 Virgin American jet to enter the frame. “Are you getting it?!” Max shouted to the new camerawoman. She gave him the thumbs-up. “This is brilliant—brilliant!”
He watched as the plane lifted toward the sunset. As the plane soared over the beach—just as he’d planned it with the Federal Aviation Association—Max saw on the monitor it was framed beautifully in the shot. Everything, in fact, was flawless: his gorgeous cast, a perfect sun—and a 747 doing as he directed. Magnificent television AND off-the-charts product placement. He imagined his contract being rewritten the next morning. Another house in the hills! A boat off Catalina! Weekends in Miami!
And then . . . Corliss and JB, crushed out beyond redemption, appeared in the shot, walking hand in hand on the beach, staring into each other’s eyes, oblivious to what was going on around them.
“Noooooooooo!” wailed Max, collapsing to the sand.
Corliss turned. “What happened . . . ?”
Anushka laughed her throaty laugh and slapped her toned, bronze thigh. “Doesn’t get any better than that, does it? Now give me some sugar, Rocs.” Rocco obliged.
“I want some sugar, too!” said Tanya. Trent obliged.
Olga ran up, pushing her big, blond hair away from her face. “I hear Max scream?”
“Olga,” Max said, forgetting immediately that a fifty-thousand-dollar shot had just been ruined. “It’s you!”
“It’s Olga, Max. What can I do?”
Max thought a moment. And then he knew. “Just hold my hand?”
“Hold hand?” Olga said brusquely. “I do better than that.” She took Max by the waist, dipped him low, and planted a long, sloppy Russian kiss on him as the sun set behind them all.
%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share