Scared Scriptless

by Alison Sweeney

  “Look at it this way… People argue, right? Are you telling me that Mike has never gotten into it with one of his crew?” I don’t respond. I’m thinking that, yes, of course they disagree from time to time, and Mike had agreed to allow a certain amount of that kind of conflict on the show, but manufacturing it like this is over the line.

  “We don’t have the time or money to shoot everyone until we see their real interactions, what we’ll really get for the show, so we’re just enhancing the footage we got. Showing the potential.”

  He’s so persuasive, which is exactly why he’s good at selling shows. He’s a salesman, I remind myself. He went around Wolf telling everyone he’d helped me come up with the idea… and he was so convincing that even I was starting to fall for it.

  “Show it to me,” I say quietly.

  At this point the girl sitting at the computer has pulled her headphones off. She’s watching us intently as if we were on a fourth monitor, another scene playing out for her to edit.

  “Go ahead, Pam. Play it.”

  She turns around and hits a few buttons on the keyboard. The opening logo pops up on the big screen on the right. She’s still popping her gum as she says, “It’s not finished. We haven’t gotten to the last sequence, and I haven’t sweetened it yet.” She hits ENTER. “But here ya go.”

  I take a calming breath, preparing myself to be open-minded. I see that they’ve used the intro I put together with Janine, which makes me think maybe I’ve overreacted. Maybe Craig has a point, and he just made some small adjustments. But then the montage ends and it lands on a scene at Pete’s Tavern. Somehow, from even what I saw that first afternoon in Paul’s edit bay, they’ve gone even further and turned it into a raging club scene. They added flashes and neon lighting, and the whole impression is now more Vegas nightclub than casual bar hangout. It feels wrong to me, and my discomfort builds as they cut from that to the intimate hot springs footage, that I thought was plenty edgy already. But now they’ve turned it into Temptation Island. I know Craig will just say I am being naïve, so I silently keep watching.

  Similar changes keep stacking up until we get to the Gordons’ garage. I don’t know how they did it, but they took one awkward moment between the loving couple and turned it into a serious marital confrontation. The magic of editing. A part of me marvels at this sloppy-looking editor’s meticulous skill. Obviously Craig went to someone with a talent for exactly this type of manipulation. I stare in fascinated horror at Merry rolling her eyes at a comment from Walt. Both moments are totally taken out of context and streamed together to create tension and animosity. Another exchange, again completely misrepresented, shows Walt making a belittling comment about Merry, which was said to me as an inside joke but was edited to seem deadly serious. I feel tears of rage spring unwillingly to my eyes. It just won’t stop. If my parents saw this, if the Gordons ever saw this, they would be so hurt, so betrayed. By me. They put their trust in me. I was the one who allowed this to happen. They believed me when I said I would protect them and make it a show they could be proud of.

  “Stop it! Turn it off. I’ve seen enough!” I look at the completely foreign and complicated keyboard. I don’t have the first idea how to pause the video, never mind delete the damage they’ve done. I am shaking as I turn to Craig. “How dare you?!” From the look on his face, it’s obvious that he knew this would be my reaction. And he did it anyway.

  “Calm down, Maddy. This isn’t that big a deal.” He seems resigned, which only adds to my rage.

  “Calm down? Not a big deal? Are you kidding me? This is a huge deal. This isn’t who these people are. This isn’t what Wolf was supposed to be about.” Perhaps I should have a lucid argument, some sort of calm way to convince Craig to do it my way, but this is so far beyond that any chance of calm flies out the window. I can’t be next to Craig for five more minutes, never mind work with him on this project.

  “So what was your big plan, Craig? Show the networks this terrible video and then deal with the consequences later? As if Hogan would ever be okay with that!” I don’t even bother to wait for his answer. It doesn’t matter what his latest scheme was—in his mind, the end will always justify the means. “We are done. I mean, the show. Everything. I am absolutely not going to be a part of the hatchet job you are trying to do on my hometown.” I am practically spitting the words at this point. I turn toward the door and walk out. It’s not some grand exit line, but I’ll take it. As I stride toward my car, I feel like I’m practically floating on my righteous indignation. Perhaps it’s the anger distracting me, but I don’t see the little edge on the driveway where it meets the sidewalk. I stub my toe so hard I know it’s probably bleeding, but I refuse to look at it until I get inside my car, which thankfully is blocked from view by a large row of hedges. Tears burn under my eyelids as I slam my hand down on the steering wheel, again and again.

  I want to scream it at the top of my lungs: I was WRONG! I was WRONG! I’m so mad at myself for believing that he could be different, especially after what he already did. Does he think that I’m that big a fool?

  I take a deep breath and wipe at my tears. I don’t have time for a pity party right now. Craig cannot show that tape, and I know just what I have to do to stop him, even if I dread making the call. I turn my car on and dial.

  “Hogan Chenny’s office,” Hudson answers.

  “It’s Maddy. I need to speak to Hogan. It’s urgent.”

  “One second. Let me put you through to his cell.”

  I practice my yoga breathing while I wait. I know I have to collect my thoughts and explain in a calm, coherent manner. I’ve never complained to Hogan about anything, really. I’ve always settled it myself or with my direct boss. I know I’m right to go straight to Hogan on this one, but I can’t help but be nervous too.

  “Maddy, honey. What’s going on?”

  “It’s about the reality show. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but I felt really strongly that you need to know what’s going on.”

  “I’m listening.” Hogan goes from friendly concern to business in an instant.

  “I know you picked up on the tension between me and Craig at the pitch meeting. I didn’t want to get into it then; I thought we could work it out. But if you’ll give me a second, I think you need to hear the whole story now. The bottom line is, Craig had completely misrepresented the situation to me about the show. He implied to me that you had not only allowed him to pursue developing a reality show, but also were encouraging it. When I came up with the concept, he made me think you were completely on board.”

  “I figured as much based on your reaction. You know how I feel about reality TV. I’ve never been shy about my opinion. I’m surprised you were so easily convinced otherwise.” It stings, how right he is.

  “Believe me, I should’ve known better, or at least checked with you first. I completely get that. But I hope you understand, now that I’ve gotten my family and a lot of the community on board, I can’t just walk away. And the truth is, I don’t want to. I think it’s a good idea, it’ll be a good show, and it’ll do the community a lot of good.”

  “Why do you think I went along with it? I feel the same way.” This gives me a measure of relief.

  “So, I’m e-mailing you a link to the sizzle reel I finished this week. Craig and I had been planning to go to Reality Buzz in Manhattan Beach tomorrow to pitch it.”

  “I know, I gave my permission. Look, I’m in the middle of dinner and accepted the call because you said it was urgent. Is there something else?”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Yes, there is. I went to Craig’s tonight to go over the last-minute details. He’s been editing a completely different sizzle reel for tomorrow. In secret. It makes Wolf look like those trashy reality shows you hate. It’s exactly what I promised everyone it wouldn’t be.” I don’t even wait for Hogan to interject. “But we don’t need that to sell the show. I don’t care what Craig says. The reel I made, and Janine helped me with, show
s the heart of the town. There’s drama, everything we need, but without making false promises for the show. Even if Craig’s version is what it takes to sell the show, I wouldn’t be a part of it, and I don’t think you would want to be either. And I know everyone in Wolf would be horrified to see what Craig created by manipulating it with editing—”

  “Absolutely not,” Hogan interrupts me. “You can’t let Craig show something that butchers Wolf. I’m sure he’s thinking that as long as he makes a deal tomorrow, I won’t care. But that’s bullshit. Pardon my French.” I hear him take a deep breath. “Are you with him right now?”

  “No, I left to call you.” I can’t begin to describe how relieved I feel.

  “I’m calling him now to straighten this out. He has always known how I feel about Wolf. I can’t believe he would try to get away with something like this.”

  Wait. He’s always known?

  “Sorry, Hogan, what do you mean he’s ‘always known’ about Wolf?”

  “Well, I go there every winter, Maddy. Of course Craig knows where I am and how to reach me.” So Craig lied about that too. I know the next question I have to ask.

  “Did he know about me?”

  “What do you mean? Maddy, hon, I have to call Craig. Get this resolved.”

  “No, wait. Hogan, please. Did you ever mention to Craig how you knew me?”

  “Yes, of course. I mean, I know you don’t like to advertise to the crew, but Craig’s in management. No reason not to tell him. But I told him not to say anything to anyone since you prefer to keep it under wraps. He didn’t say anything, did he?”

  “No. He didn’t say anything.” I’m working so hard to breathe evenly that I’m probably going to hyperventilate. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Okay, hang in there, hon. Let me deal with Craig and I’ll call you back.”

  What a manipulative, sleazy, opportunistic slimeball. I sit there at the curb outside Craig’s house stewing. I am so livid with myself for trusting him. For falling for… everything. He was using me all along. That much is clear.

  Before I can consider my next move, gum-smacking Pam comes charging out of the house. Clutching a backpack and her coat, she hustles past without looking at me, hops in her Beetle, and zooms away.

  I take it as a sign that Hogan’s made the call and taken care of the alternate sizzle reel. He has lawyers who can make sure that it’s destroyed, but I have to figure out what I’m going to do about tomorrow. But first, fueled by a fresh wave of anger, I realize I’ve got a few things to say. Ignoring the throbbing in my toe, I march back to the front door and knock. This time when Craig opens the door he swings it wide, inviting me in with no hint of irony. I stare at him, perhaps truly seeing him for the first time.

  An old adage my mom used to quote rings in my mind: When a man shows you who he really is, believe him. I know now that Craig was a person I’d built up in my mind, who I’d assumed (it pains me to use that word) he was or wanted him to be, and now I am seeing who he really is. Fool me once.

  “I’ve spoken to Hogan. He should be calling you any minute. If he hasn’t already.”

  “He has.” Craig does, in fact, seem defeated. Seeing that I have no intention of coming inside again, he lets go of the door and wanders through his open living room to the bar. “We deleted the ‘doctored’ ”—he exaggerates the word with finger quotes—“version of the reel. It doesn’t exist.” He pops open a beer and guzzles.

  Given that the Wolf County business seems to be resolved—Hogan has protected the town, not to mention my reputation with everyone back home—there’s only one thing left to clear up.

  “You knew all along. About me.” I watch him. His eyes meet mine, but otherwise he doesn’t flinch. “You acted so shocked about my family’s friendship with Hogan. In fact, you acted hurt that I hadn’t mentioned it to you. But that was all a lie. You’d known from the beginning.”

  “Yes. I knew. And for the record, I was hurt that you never felt you could confide in me.”

  Enraged, I yell, “I was RIGHT not to trust you with that! I shouldn’t have trusted you at all, as it turns out. Was the whole thing a setup from the beginning? Did you only ask me out to further your own agenda with Hogan?” Even as I voice the question, I can’t believe he would be that manipulative. But he doesn’t rush to defend himself; he doesn’t insist that what was between us was sincere. In fact, all he does is sigh and stick his hands in both pockets, resigned. “That’s not an answer, Craig.” In the silence, I’ve managed to regroup and state this at a normal volume. Maybe I’ll pat myself on the back later for that.

  “Okay, I knew. I knew how close you were—you are—to Hogan. I’m not going to say it didn’t factor in.”

  “Oh my God,” I mutter. I can’t believe I am just seeing this side of him now.

  “But I didn’t keep dating you for that. I care about you, Maddy. I do. And I think we were really good together. But the show, my career, you know how important that is to me. Hell, I thought you felt the same way about your own career. You need this. Your dying little town needs this as much as I do.”

  “Not like this we don’t.” Somehow I don’t think he’s even aware of how condescending he is being.

  “Look, you and I may disagree over how to do business. But I was never doing anything but trying to get Wolf County sold and help us all be successful. It would’ve made money for everyone involved. Potentially a lot of money. I don’t know how that makes me the bad guy here. And now you’ll never get this show made.” It’s his turn to spit out the last words.

  I’m seething, but I respond with as much calm as I can muster. “If you don’t understand what you did wrong, then I doubt I’ll be able to explain it to you. It’s not worth the effort anyway. And you know what, Craig? I am going to get this show made. My way.”

  I turn, and as calmly as possible walk right out the front door. As I hop in my car again, rev the engine, and shoot down to Sunset, I am determined to put Craig out of my mind. I have bigger things to focus on. Am I really going to let this debacle tank Wolf County’s chances of being sold? I can’t help but question my instincts here. Craig seemed so sure that the only way to sell Wolf was to manipulate the footage. Despite my confident exit, his words ring in my ears: “Now you’ll never get this show made.”

  But then I hear an even louder voice that says, “Well, Maddy, I always like to think there’s a will and a way, but it’s pretty useless if you have one without the other.”

  I can hear my dad’s voice as plain as if he’s in the car with me, and I know he’s right. There must be a way—and I do have the will.

  Act Four

  Scene 001

  Int. Soho House, evening

  HC: Finishing dinner at Soho House. Can you come by? Would like to talk in person.

  Incredibly relieved to get this text from Hogan, I am sure that if we put our minds together, we can figure out how to salvage this situation. I make a U-turn and head back toward the famous club. I leave my Toyota with the valet and ride the fancy elevator up to the main lobby. Okay, a plan, I think. I need a plan. I could just go home and Google “How to pitch a TV show.” Maybe Wikipedia has some useful tips. I can’t help but overhear the two suits sharing the tiny elevator with me.

  “We packaged the deal. Everything was signed tonight,” the dark suit with the red tie says. He’s got great hair, for an agent.

  “Well, it’s a great concept,” says his friend. Trying not to listen, I pull out my phone and fake a text.

  “I haven’t heard it pitched before. And everything right now is about the personalities attached. The networks want good characters. And we have that. I think we’re going to end up in a bidding war at the conference.” The Reality conference? I wonder if he’s talking about the same big event that Craig was supposed to pitch Never Cry Wolf at tomorrow.

  “Who’s pitching the show tomorrow? The show runner?”

  “No, that guy’s good at getting the job done, but he couldn’t
sell lemonade in the Sahara. You have to be able to sell.” Hogan must know people who can sell shows… maybe he’ll have a great idea for who to send to the event.

  “Pitching is just acting. You either can or you can’t,” the guy says smugly as he holds the door open for me to exit the elevator.

  What does that even mean? I am starting to understand just how out of my depth I am as I check in with the hostess and notice how completely underdressed I am. When I tore off for Craig’s house two hours ago, the last thing on my mind was how I looked and the last place I thought I would end up tonight is Soho House. My life is full of surprises these days.

  I’m not normally starstruck, but I can’t help but notice that Steven Spielberg is heading up the main stairs toward the dining area. The beautiful old-fashioned décor perfectly complements the startling good looks of all the movie stars and the ego and power of the industry moguls present. As I approach Hogan’s table, I see Derek Jordan sliding into a darkened booth. His companion is none other than Lola Stone, that actress Adam had bet me was making the moves on him. Seeing them canoodling at a table right there in front of everyone, I find my first smile tonight. Adam’s instinct was exactly right about Lola’s agenda. I guess I do owe him a whiskey. The thought helps quell my nerves as I approach Hogan’s corner table.

  Hogan rises to greet me, kisses both my cheeks, and waits until I’ve been seated to return to his seat opposite me.

  “How are you doing?” he asks, first a friend.

  “I’m okay. Still so shocked. I just can’t believe he’s such a slimeball.” As the words are flying out of my mouth, I realize we’re talking about Hogan’s EIC. Despite Craig’s dubious actions, it’s pretty inappropriate for me to comment on it to him so blatantly. “Sorry, Hogan… I just mean—”

  “No need to apologize. Craig is an asshole. Pardon my French.” Hogan dismisses him with a wave of his wineglass. “I fired him.”