by Ariella Papa
“Have you found anything else?”
“Um, no, not yet. I’ve still got another couple of weeks of severance.” Actually it runs out at the end of next week, but there is no need to alarm Paul Perry or work myself up into a frenzy when there is a possibility I might fit back into a size ten.
“Well, I’m sure you have a lot of connections,” Paul says. Then I know he is going to start fishing for some of those connections.
“So, you work at Antropologie,” I say. “You must get a great discount.”
“Oh, yes, the ladies love it.” Paul smiles a nervous smile. “And you know, it pays the bills. It gives me a chance to concentrate on my writing. I’m pitching a couple of shows….”
Paul starts talking and I sort of tune out as he rapidly recites his résumé. Is this what I am going to become? At the end of next week, CRAP!!! I’m not going to have any money except for the four hundred dollars I get every week from Unemployment and SHIT!!! Eventually that is going to run out.
Sure, I’m so sure I could work in retail, and wouldn’t it be great if I could get that silk kimono dress I ignored for a bazillion percent off? But FUCK!!! What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life? I tune back into Paul at just the right time.
“…So, I’m certain that one of those ideas will sell. I would love to have you read it for some input. You know how great feedback can be. Maybe, now that you are unemployed, we could work on something together.” I know Paul would never be saying this to me if I hadn’t had a show on a network, but eventually people will forget that I had a show, and then what? Then no one will care about my opinion. Then people will be stepping over me on the street.
I’ve been living in a dream world. I’ve been a lady who lunches, runs, watches TV and doesn’t realize that it’s all about to end. What am I going to do?
“Um, Paul, you know what, I think I’m just going to get the shirts on sale and not the full-priced pants.”
Last year’s black capri pants size ten are going to have to be good enough for me. I was going to have to get to work on getting to work.
Thursday, I make a list of all the people I know in the industry that are at various networks. I organize them by who I suspect has the most powerful job and, thus, the most clout to help me. I have lost track of a lot of them, but maybe someone else will know where they are. I am not a good networker—I hate selling myself—but this is the way it has to go.
I call my first boss at ARCADE. He’s big at a women’s network now. I actually get put through by his assistant when I say who I am. I think my heart would break if I didn’t have any clout.
As a boss, he was okay. He definitely had some control issues, and now, when he hears my voice, he chuckles.
“Rebecky Cole…” He thought it was funny to call me Rebecky?!
“Hi, Jake.” When I got out of school and had my first job, I started out by calling him Mr. Sullivan and learned that didn’t fly.
“How are you?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“I read great things about Esme and I thought I taught that girl everything she knows.” I swallow, not able to mention that at twenty-seven, I’m actually a woman and I’ve taken responsibility for my own career up until now. So, I sort of laugh myself.
“Well, I was actually calling because I was wondering if you were hiring at all.”
“You’re not with Explore! anymore? I can’t believe Matt Hackett would let you leave.”
“Yeah, I got laid off.” Let him think whatever he wants about why. I hate pitching myself. “So I just thought I would give it a try.”
“Oh, Rebecky, it’s a tough time.” I think that even if he did offer me a job flat out I would have a “no Rebecky clause” written into my contract.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Well, we don’t have anything right now. Of course, you can send me your reel.” This is karma payback for the way I treated Paul Perry. I know that the reel is the kiss of never being called back. “Of course, if you wanted to pitch us some show ideas, I would love to take a look. Have you been developing anything?”
“Yes,” I lie. “But, nothing for your audience. Mostly kids’ stuff.”
“Well, if you can rework something or come up with a new concept, I’m always on the lookout. And I would do anything for my former PA.”
I love being reminded of my humble beginnings, but I guess this is the shit that’s par for the course when you are pounding the proverbial pavement.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Why don’t you give me a call in a couple of weeks or when you’ve fleshed out some ideas or even if you want to pitch your kids’ concepts. Maybe we can have lunch.”
“Okay, I will, thanks.”
Next I call Jennifer Juliano at Playtime Kids Network. She was on a list that Don gave me. I get her voice mail and I leave a stupid introductory message. I’m sure I sound like an asshole and all I really want to say is, “Please hire me, my severance runs out next week…please hire me.”
I work my way down the rest of the list, leaving either pathetic voice mails or making small talk with the live ones. No one knows of any jobs, but I wind up confirming “We should hang out soon” with a number of people who will probably never be able to hang out.
For the most part, no one gives me much hope about other jobs, although I do get more names of people to call who I have similar bleak conversations with.
Jennifer Juliano calls me back. I’m amazed that she would because she is the creative director at Playtime and you’d think she would get one of her people to do it. She sounds really young and nice.
“I have to admit, I’m a big fan of Esme. The market needed a character like her.”
“Thanks.”
“I wish she didn’t lose the glasses.”
“Me, too—that’s part of the reason I’m looking for a job.” Why did I say that? I know that means I sound like I’m not a team player. I listen to see if Jennifer picked up on my subversive tendencies, but she seems unfazed.
“I will definitely consider you for any jobs that come up over here. I would love to get your reel. Also, if you have any show ideas, send them over.”
“Yes, I’ve been working on a few things.” What have I been doing with my summer? Why haven’t I been writing the next show?
“Well, we skew very boy heavy. And, don’t quote me, but the more aggressive and gory and gross the better.” I was afraid of that.
“It sounds wonderful,” I say. I’m sure she knows I’m full of shit. “I’ll send you my reel and then when I get my pitch concepts together, I’ll get those to you.”
We hang up. I plan to dig up an old Esme shirt (with glasses) and send it to her. I’m sure I’ll never be able to come up with a script that is violent enough. But, I can try. (Although I’m not sure I want to.)
I decide to go for a run. It is my favorite form of stress relief these days. It’s a hot August day, though, and I am huffing and puffing by the time I get to Thirty-fourth. I don’t stay out that long.
After I shower I turn on some music and sit at the desk in my room. I’ve got to just brainstorm about possible pitches. What the hell else am I going to do? Of course, I get distracted and start imagining scenarios where I do develop another popular show and wind up back in an office waiting for the next time I get stuck with a shitty jealous manager.
It makes my head hurt. I want to check the Food Network. I want some rock shrimp tempura.
There is a dearth of cooking shows for kids. How cool would it be to have a cooking show where kids get their hands dirty and make things? I could pitch it to lifestyle channels and to kids’ networks. This is awesome! It could be kid-hosted by a girl. Would that be implying that only girls could cook? Maybe she could have boys on as guest hosts. Would that be implying that she is a slut?
She has to have braces just like Esme’s friend, Kim. I start getting carried away and before I know it an hour and a half has passed and I have filled up three page
s with scribbles and show concepts.
Lauryn calls. She wants info on Jordan, which I don’t have, and to tell me that she is coming down tomorrow afternoon. She plans on seeing Jordan Saturday morning.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I think it’s best to go alone. It could get ugly.”
“Don’t let it.”
“I’ll try not to. But I would like you to make a good plan for Friday night. I wouldn’t mind a little rock shrimp tempura myself.” I love when I convert people.
“That sounds great. Maybe we can see if Kathy wants to come. I don’t think the delegation gets down until Saturday morning.”
“And Beth.”
“Right, Beth.” I’m not exactly sure how she feels about me. We haven’t talked since the hospital. I cowardly left Beth a message at her home number during the workday so as not to deal. None of this I feel like I can tell Lauryn.
“I would really like to see her. It’s been a while.”
“I know,” I say. Then I start to tell her about my ideas for the show just to get initial feedback. I don’t get very far before the door opens and I hear Tommy’s voice and an unrecognizable female voice. Okay, we’re friends, and friends don’t mind when you bring girls home, but we’re also exes and exes do. And I do. In the middle of the afternoon.
“Lauryn, I’ll call you back.”
I go out into our living room. There is a stranger here; a very young pretty stranger in a sweater set and pearls.
“Oh, hey, Rebecca, I didn’t know you were home.” I am unemployed, where else would I be?
“I am.” I look at the intruder. I will not be a typical ex. I will be kind. I extend my hand. “Rebecca.”
“Hi, I’m Nancy.” A nanny named Nancy. I can’t believe Tommy isn’t opposed to this for obvious reasons.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I should have done that,” Tommy says awkwardly. “We were just going to go to the movies. I came to change.”
“Oh, great.”
“You can come with us, if you want,” Nanny Nancy says. I think she really means it. She is remarkably unsweaty in the sweater set. I can’t believe I am in this position.
“Oh, actually, I’m doing some writing.” That’s right, I’m creative. So there.
“Oh, Tommy told me you were a writer.”
“Yes,” I say. “For television.”
That’s something Tommy watches and she doesn’t.
“I’m not a big fan of TV, of course, now that I have to watch with the twins. Tommy said he would give me a tape of your show. He said it was brilliant.” I can’t believe he said that. Okay, I can believe he said that—just not to her.
Tommy comes back in. His shirt is tucked in; this is serious. He smiles at Nancy.
“So you don’t want to go, Rebecca?” he asks, not looking my way.
“No, no thanks.”
“Is that your dad, Tommy?” Nancy points to a picture of Tommy and Robert De Niro who he met once. I can’t believe she doesn’t know that. That’s got to turn Tommy off, in spite of the skinny ass.
“No, it’s Bobby D. He’s an actor. So we’ll see you later, Rebecca,” Tommy says.
“See ya,” I say.
“It was nice meeting you,” Nancy says genuinely.
“You, too,” I say, smiling as brightly as I can.
When they’re gone, I stare up at Bobby D and Tommy. I took that picture of them. I can’t believe Tommy is all right dating someone who doesn’t even know who his favorite actor is. But what I really can’t believe was how Tommy barely looked at me the entire time he was in the room. He wasn’t intentionally ignoring me, but I guess in the past whenever we’ve been near each other, I have been certain that he was paying full attention to me. Now that he isn’t doing it anymore I realize that is what he did.
I wait up for Tommy. I’m working on my concepts. They are still very rough, but it’s starting to come together. Tommy comes in at a respectable eleven-thirty. I can tell that he is alone. I am going to quietly listen to see what he does and not approach him. I don’t want to appear to care too much. I hear him humming as he walks toward my room.
He knocks. I use my most carefree voice and say, “Come in.”
When he opens the door, I can see a change in him. He is glowing. I suck in my breath.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asks. He doesn’t lose his smile. I think he is in love.
“Fine,” I say, swallowing. “How was your date?”
“Great,” he says. I think I see him close his eyes for a second.
“Great,” I say.
“I think…” He looks away and decides not to say what he is going to say. “She has such a funny and cool way of looking at the world.”
“Mmm,” I say, nodding. I have to be happy for him. If this friendship is going to work like I want it to, I can’t be selfish for no reason. “She seems really nice.”
“She is. She thought you were great, too.” He is even talking differently, like his whole persona has turned upside down. He wasn’t supposed to find someone else first. He was supposed to wait patiently while I did.
“How’s the stuff coming?” He gestures to my notebooks.
“It’s going okay.”
“I don’t see any sketches.”
“I’m just doing concepts,” I say. I know he doesn’t want to be talking about this, but he is trying not to harp on her for my sake. “I don’t want to tie it down to animated or live action.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Thanks. When are you going to see her again?” I know he thinks he needs permission to talk about her to me. I can see the relief on his face.
“Well, I’ll probably see her in the park tomorrow. I was actually thinking of making dinner for her tomorrow night. Do you mind?”
“No,” I say really fast. “You know, Lauryn is coming in and we are going to Nobu.”
“Oh, wow, you are going to love that.” Now I think he is trying to establish how close we are, how well he knows me. It’s my consolation prize.
“Yeah,” I say. I feel my eyes narrow. No, I have to be positive. I have to help him through this whole dating thing in the way he helps me with everything. “Do you want me to help you? You know, think of something to make.”
“Rebecca.” He smiles and shakes his head. “I was going to ask. I totally want you to. Will you?”
“Sure,” I reply, smiling. Tommy can cook some Portuguese specialties and that’s about it. “We want to impress the girl.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No problem.” I shrug. I glance back at my notebook just so I can make sure I won’t have any tears in my eyes.
“I feel so happy that I can talk to you about this.”
“You know you can,” I say, smiling again. “You always can.”
“Thanks. You know there is no one who knows me better than you.”
“I know,” I say, and look back at my notebook.
20
Good Fortune
I help Tommy prep all the food for his big dinner. We are making crab cakes and fresh tomato salad. I picked the tomatoes out myself this morning at the Union Square Market from the tomato guy.
A more immature woman would have baked a laxative brownie for her ex’s new interest. Not me. I steer Tommy away from having beer and suggest blood-orange bellinis for cocktails. I got the recipe from Babbo and I know it’s an impressive showstopper. You see how accepting and kind I can be?
Tommy is giddy about his dinner date. He gets up at like seven before going to man the children. He comes back during their soccer camp and that’s when we whip up the feast.
Then he is back out to get the kids. I plan on leaving way before he gets home. I don’t think I can stand to see him primping for someone else. And I certainly don’t want to be here when Nanny Nancy comes over.
I shower and put on one of my new shirts. My old black capris actually fit. I love running. My cell phone rings and it’s Janice. I
glance at the clock—I don’t have long to talk, but it’s been a while.
“What’s up?”
“Rebecca…” She starts giggling. “Oh, my God, I’m going to hell.”
“What?”
“It’s awful, really.” I hear her trying to compose herself. “I mean, I shouldn’t be happy about this, but I can’t help it. And nobody’s dead.”
“Janice, what are you talking about? Are you drunk?”
“A little. We all went out for drinks. We’re in Jersey. I just came outside to call you.”
“Oh, I think Jen mentioned you guys had an off-site meeting.”
“Yeah, like the fifth one we’ve had to keep morale up. God, in my next life I want to come back and work in Human Resources.”
“Okay. So what happened?” So much for not being interested.
“Well, we were having all these trust exercises. And you know, how are we supposed to trust anyone when they just fired a bunch of people?”
“They did?”
“Yeah,” she says matter-of-factly. “Promos. Completely gone. Of course they don’t say fired, they say repurposed.”
“Is that the new buzzword?”
“Yeah, so we have this exercise where we get up on this ladder and sort of fall back. And everyone in the team, there’re like eight people per team, is supposed to catch the falling person. Oh, my God, this is awful, but at least no one is dead.”
“Okay, who isn’t dead?”
“Well, Rebecca, basically, no one caught Delores.” Then she cracks up again.
“Wait, so what happened?” Janice can’t seem to pull it together this time. She is cracking up and keeps taking little breaths and saying “hell.” “What happened?” I ask again.
“I guess everyone expected that someone else would catch her, so it wouldn’t be a big deal if they didn’t.”
“But no one did?”
“No.”
“Oh, my God. I think I’m going to hell, too.” We crack up for at least three minutes. Every time I start to compose myself, I imagine everyone just standing there with their arms at their sides and I can’t stop laughing.