Scared Scriptless

by Alison Sweeney

As we’re waiting for our drinks at the table, I reflexively check my phone for any messages. Nothing.

  “So what’s your deal, Maddy?”

  I look up at Kaitlin, one of the new young producers getting her first big break.

  “My deal?” I ask evasively.

  “Yeah, you got a boyfriend?” She looks at me sincerely, as if that isn’t a totally inappropriate question to ask your boss.

  “Um, no.” I’m definitely not telling my story here, so I need to seem firm. “I don’t.”

  “That’s crazy,” she says loudly, and then turns to include Joel in the discussion. A discussion I really don’t want to be having right now. “That’s crazy isn’t it? I mean, Maddy is amazing. Joel, we have to find someone for her, don’t we?”

  “Sure, I have straight friends,” Joel says. Now I’m going to die. “What’s the age range you’re looking for? My old roommate is a manager; he reps some good people. Totally legit.”

  “I’m actually not looking to date anyone right now.” I swallow hard. “I used to have a rule that I don’t date actors, but I’ve sort of expanded it. I don’t want to date anyone in the industry.”

  “Gotcha. Once bitten, twice shy?” he replies, too knowingly.

  “Wasn’t that a song?” Kaitlin asks, perking up. “They play it on eighties flashback weekends. I love that song.” And luckily the waitress shows up with a tray full of drinks before any other awkwardness can continue.

  I ordered a beer on purpose. I don’t want any of this new crowd mistaking me for the fruity-drink type. With every sip, though, I can’t help but miss the refreshing cheerfulness of the fun drinks I got into the habit of ordering with Adam. But I firmly remind myself that isn’t who I am, and there’s no use pretending anymore.

  After one drink, we all walk back to the offices. There is still tons of work to be done to get ready to shoot next week. Even the front office people are still working as we stroll in.

  “Hey, Maddy. Someone’s here to see you.” The receptionist hails me as I head over to the employee entrance. She waves me back toward the main lobby. As I make my way to the seating area on the other side of the reception desk, I have a stupid fantasy that it will be Adam.

  Int. Shiny lobby

  Camera sees a blurry figure through the glass doors. They burst open and it’s Adam, with a huge bouquet of expensive flowers. Looking tired and unkempt, he approaches the reception desk.

  ADAM

  I desperately need to see Maddy Carson. You have to let me in to see her right away.

  MADDY

  What are you doing here? They called me down saying you were making a scene.

  ADAM

  This has to stop, Maddy. We both said things we regret, but there has to be a way past it.

  ADAM

  (he hands her the flowers)

  I love you…

  As Adam starts to sink to one knee, right in the middle of the lobby, we go close-up on Maddy’s happy tears.

  I round the corner, and there he is. Not Adam, of course. Some stranger I don’t know, in a suit.

  “I’m Maddy Carson. May I help you?” I ask, politely covering my disappointment.

  “Madelyn Carson?”

  “Yes.” Didn’t I just say that?

  “Great. You’ve been served.” He shoves an envelope at me and darts off.

  I’ve seen this in the movies and, I think, on an episode of Friends. I half expect him to come back and say, “Just kidding.” I mean, it’s not divorce papers… what the hell? I rip open the envelope and read the official letterhead of James Goodman ESQ, pronouncing in ridiculous legal mumbo jumbo that I am being sued by one Craig Williams for defamation of character, that my malicious lies led to his “wrongful termination” at Hogan Chenny Productions and that I “stole” Never Cry Wolf from him. He wants a piece of the profits and producer credit.

  I read it three times before it truly sinks in. I cannot believe I am standing here reading this. And for all my bravado and tough “Wolf” skin, I am truly scared. What will Ed Greenling think? What will Hogan say? What am I going to do?

  The papers are starting to get crumpled in my now slightly sweaty hands. As I get in the elevator, I smooth them out on my thigh. I go to press number 7, my floor, but my finger hesitates above the panel of numbers. What will waiting do? Nothing can make this better right now. I might as well rip the Band-Aid off quickly. I hit PH, stand back, and watch the lights tick away, taking me to Ed’s office on the top floor. On the ride up, I e-mail Hogan to please call me as soon as possible. We need to collaborate on a plan of action. But I need to hear Ed’s reaction and get out in front of this.

  “Does Ed have a minute?” I say on my way to his door. I’ve learned that when it comes to assistants, the more strong-willed I am about getting inside, the better chance I have. I know if I meekly stood in front of her desk, it would be twenty minutes at least.

  “Um… Ms. Carson, I’m not sure…,” she stutters, leaving me the opening I need.

  “I’ll just check. If he’s busy, I’ll sneak back out. No problem.” I don’t know how I pulled off that casual voice, but it seems to have worked. She sits back in her seat.

  Ed’s office is huge and covered in windows. We’re right in the heart of Century City, so there’s a 180-degree view from downtown LA to the ocean. It’s breathtaking. Ed’s on a call, but motions me in while he rolls his eyes at the phone. I act as if I’m in no hurry and stroll over to look at the ocean, hoping for some serenity. A few deep breaths and I am actually glad he’s still wrapping up the call. It gives me a chance to script out what to say in my head.

  “Sorry about that. One of our main advertisers. Gotta keep ’em happy, right?” He chuckles ruefully as he walks over to sit in one of a pair of matching leather armchairs near where I am standing. I smile at him, but it’s thin. I sit on the sofa and only for something to do, reach for a bottled water on the coffee table between us.

  “Ed, I have a concern. It could be nothing really, but I wanted to bring it to your attention immediately.”

  “Okay.” Ed remains relaxed, but his graying eyebrows furrow slightly. “Shoot.”

  “When I first started working on Never Cry Wolf, there was another employee at HCP who was developing it with me…”

  “Craig Williams, right? I remember.”

  “Right, yes. Craig.” Treading lightly, I continue. “Well, he’s making some waves, and I just wanted you to be aware of it. He’s crying foul that Never Cry Wolf was his idea, and he wants to hold on to a piece of it. First of all, I want you to know that it’s completely untrue, but either way, it was in Craig’s contract at HCP that all development done while working for Hogan is owned by HCP. That’s clearly stated. So, to be clear, he has no legal leg to stand on… but, you know… he could still make things awkward.” I finish and firmly remind myself not to ramble on as I usually do when I’m nervous. Now is not the time to chatter. But it’s hard as the silence stretches on. Ed seems to be in no rush to continue the dialogue, so I force myself to sit patiently.

  Finally he speaks. “You’re sure the contract is clear? He can’t force his way in?”

  “I’m sure.” Hogan spelled it out for me; obviously he was savvy enough to know this might be an issue. “Hogan can get you a copy of the deal memo if you need to see it.”

  “Yes, that would be good to have on file. I can give it to the lawyers to look over.” He starts to get up. “Thanks for letting me know.” And then he’s headed back to his desk, as if we had just been talking about the weather or his golf game.

  I get up but don’t go to leave, not sure what to make of Ed’s attitude. I watch him riffle through some things on his desk before he looks at me again.

  “Maddy.” He sighs. “It’s business. Of course Craig is going to fight for it, even if he’s wrong. He’d be a fool not to. Look at it this way: It means Never Cry Wolf is a good idea. Take it as a compliment.” He goes back to his papers. I head to the door, determined to take his poi
nt of view to heart and not let the pit in my stomach eat me alive.

  “But, Ed…,” I say as I’m about to leave. I remember the other element to this. “What if he goes public? Starts talking about how we stole it or something? He could maybe get some press on this.”

  “Good point. Get the PR department up to speed on this.” I head out, about to make that call. “Maddy!” I turn back. “Cheer up. It’s free publicity! Let Craig get people talking about our show. It’s a good thing.” I smile at his take on what I saw as a complete nightmare. Ed Greenling has nerves of steel; I could take a lesson from him.

  Scene 005

  Ext. Wolf Mountain—morning

  Wearing brand-new hiking boots was a bad idea, and I can feel at least three blisters on my feet, but in all the chaos of getting the camera crews and production up to Wolf, I didn’t put a lot of thought into packing. As a result, I am staying in my old bedroom at my parents for the week with a duffel full of mismatched flip-flops and my usual LA production clothes—shorts, jeans, and casual tops. Nothing that is right for the mountain on this very chilly morning, with my brother, his team of blasters, and a camera crew. I would be embarrassed by my mistake, but I don’t have time.

  We have laid out an incredibly intense shooting schedule for the week. I had no idea how stressful it would be for me to work without a specific script to follow. Joel and I worked side by side for the first two days, but with such a tight production time, we had to split up today. He’s got a second camera crew doing interviews, so I’m standing here on what will be the bunny slope when the snow falls, with the guys and a camera crew, wishing I’d had a bit more in-the-field training before flying solo.

  “Maddy, what do you think?” I really don’t know how to answer the lead camera operator’s question. Everyone is looking at me, waiting.

  “Run it by me again,” I say, a stalling tactic for sure, but I ignore the subtle sighs I hear because I need the minute to think.

  “We’ve got the intro shot of them pounding through the forest here. I don’t know how much light we have left to shoot the conversation about prepping the mountain for winter. Do you need that out here, or should we go back and shoot it in Mike’s office?”

  I look at the setting sun. My brain is telling me that it’s smarter, financially and timing-wise, to reposition inside now. But I want it to be outside. That’s one of the biggest selling points of the show—the beauty, the outdoors. That’s what my gut is telling me and after all this time, standing here on my home turf, we’re going with my gut.

  “We’re going to do it here. But let’s set it up ASAP.” I point to where I want the cameras and pull Mike aside. “If we run out of light before you’re done, don’t pretend it’s not happening. We want this as realistic as possible. If it’s getting too dark, just say, ‘We’ll keep talking in my office.’ But if you can get it all done before sunset, that would be great.”

  “Sure, boss.” Mike waits for the signal that the cameras are rolling and then yells out, “All right, everyone, huddle up,” as if he’s the quarterback. The blasting team gathers around and they get down to business.

  I watch from behind the main camera, so proud of my brother who has adapted to this much more smoothly than I could have imagined. And I know he’s done it for me: allowed these cameras to follow him, not even grumbled about waiting for the crew to chase him around, or when the audio guy asks him to wait to speak for a passing airplane. My love for my family and appreciation for them is indescribable, and it only reaffirms my commitment to protecting them and making Never Cry Wolf the best I possibly can.

  My phone silently buzzes—a text from Billy:

  BF: How’s it going, EP?

  Me: Ha. Not used to being an executive producer yet, that’s for sure.

  BF: I’m sure you’re doing great.

  Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

  BF: Are you gonna get free from the new show to come to the WD party?

  Instead of a wrap party at the end of the production season, Hogan decided to host a “premiere” party for the cast and crew to celebrate the premiere episode of season two. It’s at House of Blues next weekend, and because of the Adam factor, I’ve been trying to ignore it on the calendar. Not sure how to respond, I look up at the scene, making sure that everything is still going smoothly before I return to the phone.

  Me: Yeah. I can’t wait.

  Seems harmless enough, but barely an instant later his reply tells me he can read through my texts, no problem.

  BF: Yes, Adam’s going. No, I don’t think he’s bringing a date.

  Me: I didn’t ask.

  BF: You didn’t have to.

  What is that supposed to mean, anyway? It’s now been three weeks since I’ve heard from Adam. Ending things was clearly for the best, no matter what Billy, Janine, or even Sophie says.

  Me: See you there.

  I decide not to get into it via text.

  BF: You know what they say about quitters in Texas, don’t you?

  BF: You don’t want to find out. And wear a dress Saturday.

  BF: I can tell you’re reading these texts.

  I hate smartphones.

  Me: You are so annoying sometimes.

  BF: I annoy because I care. About both of you. It’s ridiculous watching him sulk around. Do something!

  Like what? I ask myself. But just as I’m about to ask Billy that very question, Mike wraps up the meeting and the guys all start to head back down the hill. The sunset is a million colors on the horizon behind them.

  One of the shooters, a cool chick named Katie, hasn’t moved from her spot. She was shooting the conversation, but now with the guys gone, I follow her camera lens, trying to figure out why she’s still filming.

  She must sense me right behind her because without looking away, she whispers, “There’s something in the trees over there. I think it’s a coyote or a fox or something. In silhouette, it’ll look great for the opening credits.” I watch her work the camera, focusing, adjusting her angle slightly, panning from the creature to the sunset and then from the sunset back to the creature.

  When she’s finished getting every possible variation of the shot, she brings the camera down to her side, looks at me, and states matter-of-factly, “A good omen.”

  I’ll take it.

  Scene 006

  Int. Carson living room—night

  I miss Adam. There, I said it—or at least allowed myself to think it. The three little words I’ve been trying to deny for three weeks now. I’ve Googled him a couple or twenty times to see if the paparazzi had any recent pictures of him, only to come up empty. But that didn’t stop me from torturing myself imagining Adam with a hot swimsuit model or Hollywood A-list starlet. However, finding out from Billy that he isn’t dating, or at least that he was going solo to The Wrong Doctor premiere party, is turning into a game-changer. Now that I have some downtime before heading back to LA tomorrow afternoon, sitting here on my parents’ sofa, I am lost in thought. Thoughts of Adam. Of seeing him next weekend.

  Vaguely I hear my dad shout, “What is The Big Chill?” and then silence. I pull myself out of the Deep Space Nine headspace I’m in to discover that both my mom and dad are staring at me.

  “Honey? Are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah,” I fake. “Why?”

  “You didn’t answer any of the movie trivia questions in Jeopardy!” I force a halfhearted laugh and realize I shouldn’t have bothered. They are on to me.

  “I’m just, I don’t know… not feeling myself, I guess.”

  “Isn’t the show going well? You said you were finishing up in the morning. Are you worried that it isn’t good?”

  “No, Mom. I’m not worried at all.” I rush to defend it. “The show is great. Actually, it’s surprisingly good. I’m really happy with everything. I think Hogan will be too. I can’t wait to show him the footage.”

  “If it’s not work, then what is it?” My dad, sipping his Waxy Sour, doesn’t deviate from the
thoughtful interrogation. I look at my feet.

  “I broke up with someone, and I’m just not sure I made the right decision.”

  “You mean Craig?” My mom and dad exchange glances. “Honey, honestly, he was never right for you. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I was so relieved when he didn’t come back this trip. You are so much better off without him.”

  “No, not Craig. And I agree with you; I’m much better off without him.” I don’t bother giving them further anti-Craig ammunition by bringing up the stupid lawsuit. The last thing I need is for my dad to go ballistic over something that may well be resolved after the meeting with Craig’s lawyers tomorrow. I’ve been dreading it all week, but Hogan’s lawyers have made it clear that this is our best option.

  “Not Craig? There’s someone else?” My mom is just trying to follow along, but still.

  “Jeez, Mom, you don’t have to say it like it’s a crime. Yes, I dated someone else. Briefly. After Craig.”

  “Of course it’s not a crime, Madelyn, and like I said, we’re glad you’re over Craig. I guess I’m just surprised to hear there was someone else so quickly.”

  “I’ve known him at work for a while. And he let me know he was interested. I said no while I was with Craig, but afterward, he kind of just… I don’t know… swept me off my feet,” I say lamely. Even though it wasn’t lame. It was amazing. It was spectacular. Why did I blow it?

  “Why did you end it, then?” she echoes my thoughts.

  Finally, the dam breaks.

  “Because I’m an idiot, Mom. Because I’m scared.” I start crying. I can see through my tears that my parents are frozen in place. I hardly ever cry, so they don’t know what to do.

  “Oh, honey…” My mom finally snaps out of it to touch my shoulder.

  “Mom, I picked the stuuuuupidest fight with him,” I wail. “I just couldn’t take it, knowing that he’s… he’s…”

  “He’s what?”