“If you wanted someone to back you up with Richard and your mom, you could have called me. Or Keith. Why Dallas?”
“Because Richard would have made sport out of taking you apart, and I won’t have my mother forgetting Keith’s name to his face for the fourth time,” I sputtered. “But neither Richard nor my mother can afford to alienate Dallas, so I asked him. How about giving me a little credit, huh? There’s nothing going on between Dallas and me. I have a boyfriend. Okay?”
“Whoa. When did I say something was up with you and Dallas?”
“You were thinking it,” I insisted.
“The only thing I was thinking was ‘God help her if the rest of the cast finds out Dallas has the head writer’s ear.’ Now I’m thinking, ‘God help her if they find out he’s got her heart, too.’”
“You need a vacation,” I said dismissively. “You’ve got soap opera on the brain.”
“Maybe it’s monkey brain virus,” she said, letting it go. “If you say it isn’t so, I trust you. But not everybody’s going to take your word for it. Especially when you protest too much.”
My phone rang. “It’s Keith,” I said.
“You’re going to take it, right?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”
“Just checking,” Tamika said. “Talk on the way. Richard’s waiting.”
“Hey, Batman,” I said into my phone. “How goes it?”
“Hey. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. You sound pretty perky. I guess everything went okay with dinner last night.”
“Ugh. Not really. Dinner itself was a bust. That’s what I get for breaking bread with my enemies.”
“Sounds like you could have used some reinforcements.”
“Yeah, but you’d have hated it.”
“How do you know?” he asked. “Maybe I like spending time with my girlfriend, even if it means having to spend time with her mother.”
“And her boss, and her job, and all the stupid awards talk?” I asked, stopping outside Richard’s office. “Come on, you’d have been climbing the walls. Plus, we had Indian. Your pizza-trained stomach couldn’t have taken it.”
There was a little noise from his end, like a cough or a snort.
“Anyway, I survived and even managed to get some inspiration out of it. So it wasn’t all bad.”
“That’s all you got? Inspiration?”
“What else would I get?”
“I don’t know,” he said with an air of impatience. “You’re the writer. You tell me.”
I was a writer, not a mind reader. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m not having such a hot day,” he admitted.
Richard poked his head out from his office. “Is there a reason you’re having a conversation right outside my door? Are you trying to advertise your boyfriend issues?”
I told Keith to hang on a sec. “I need to talk to you,” I said to Richard. “Story. Publicity. Big ratings.”
“Next time, lead with ‘big ratings,’” he said. “Come in, sit down, and talk fast. The network’s on its way.”
“Hey, Keith?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me. You have to go.”
“See you at square dancing, partner?”
“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled.
“Hold up a second. You do know who Batman is, right? Dark Knight, cape, gadgets … youthful sidekick named Robin?”
“Yeah. Look, you’d better go. Richard needs you. Catch you later.” He hung up. Every conversation we’d had since we were a “we” had included our nickname game. This was the first time in our history that he’d failed to play. I tried not to think about what that meant, but I didn’t have to try hard. The network had arrived. Trip Carver (President of Daytime), Frieda Weiner (Network Consultant for Daytime Brand Management), and Greg were filing into Richard’s office for the story meeting.
Keith would have to wait.
“So?” asked Trip, whipping out his BlackBerry and crossing his legs. “What have you got for us?” That was it. No comment on the nominations. No pleasantries. Barely even a hello. I remembered Mom’s take on the subject at dinner last night and hoped I’d never have occasion to tell her she was right. It was like the execs were afraid a kind word would put them at my mercy. And what did they think I would do if it did? Make them sit, stay, and speak for a treat?
And then there was Greg. He’d yet to be co-opted by the suits he slaved away for. He still knew how to be a human being. “Did you get the fruit basket?” he asked. “I argued for the Espresso and Valium package from Coffee Bean, but lost.”
“Nonetheless, we’re very grateful,” I said, winking to him before facing the rest of the table. “Thanks very much from all the writers for your thoughtful gift.”
Frieda reminded Trip that they had a sales presentation with the product placement people in thirty. “In Santa Monica,” she warned.
“Then we’ll be brief,” said Richard. “Let’s hear it, Mallory.”
Trip was punching away at his BlackBerry, challenging me to get his attention. Under other circumstances I’d have taken this disrespect in stride, but my idea was designed to appeal directly to his sensibilities, not to mention his status as one of my mother’s coterie of ex-husbands. I couldn’t pitch to Frieda—she pooh-poohed anything that she hadn’t already consulted on—and Greg had no power. I could look to him for support, but not for a go-ahead.
“I’m killing my mother.”
That got their attention.
“Can I get in on that?” asked Trip with a smile—the opposite of Richard’s expression. Richard was practically baring his teeth in a snarl.
“I thought you might like that, Trip. It’s going to be brutal, too.”
“Tell me more,” said Trip, his PDA now in his pocket.
“Yes, Mallory,” Richard chimed in. “Let’s hear how you plan to pull this off.”
Just for good measure, I threw in, “Are you sure you have time, Trip? We could pick this up after your meeting.”
Trip told Greg to cancel with Sales. “I want to give my favorite former stepdaughter all my concentration.”
I spent twenty minutes taking them through the plot, point by point. We would reveal that Mom’s character, Vienna, was not being hidden by the government, she was hiding from the government. She was wanted in ten states on charges of fraud and extortion.
“We’ll have Sarah figure it out when she confronts Vienna about all the terrible advice she’s given as her guidance counselor,” I said.
“Like, to convert to Wicca,” confirmed Frieda.
“Or that you can’t get pregnant the first time. Or that it’s okay to wear white after Labor Day. Whatever. We’ve been playing Vienna as a dope from day one. There’s plenty of material for that. So Sarah goes to Vienna.”
SARAH
How many other lives have you
ruined with your stupid
advice?
VIENNA
(INNOCENT) You’re a happier
person thanks to me.
SARAH
My mother’s going to disown
me! Ryan broke up with me!
How can you call yourself a
guidance counselor?
VIENNA
I don’t, actually. (ON
SARAH’S HORROR, FADE)
“Vienna’s big secret is that she isn’t accredited?” asked Richard, rolling his eyes.
“Hardly,” I replied. “Vienna reveals her MO. She becomes the guidance counselor at the local high school of wherever she’s at. She befriends the students who come to her with their secrets … and then she blackmails them.”
“Secrets they’d kill to keep,” Greg added, onto me.
“Exactly,” I said. “And that’s when Sarah goes berserk and murders Vienna.”
This sent the room into a tizzy.
“Are we firing Alexis, too?!” cried Frieda, appalled.
“We’ve already got one unsolved murder on the show, now you want a se
cond?” asked Richard, apoplectic.
“It’s not that big a deal,” I assured them, “because Sarah committed both murders.”
Even Greg exclaimed “No way!” at that one.
“Sarah killed the student council president in episode one?” he asked.
“I think the pressing question is—Sarah’s a double freaking murderer?” spit Richard.
I was ready for reservations. I’d come prepared for combat. “Look, no one knows who killed that kid. I don’t even know, and I’m the head writer! It was not my idea to start the show off with a murder, but what’s done is done, and it has to be addressed. This way, everything gets explained and it propels the story further.”
“By writing off two of our most popular female characters?” questioned Frieda.
“Who said anything about writing them off?” I asked.
Trip, who had yet to say anything, chortled. “This I have to hear.”
“Alexis is a great actress. I may not like her on a personal level, but I don’t want to get in the habit of unloading people just because they rub me the wrong way. As far as I’m concerned, both murders can go unsolved for a while. Having a character as unpredictable and dangerous as Sarah on the canvas will only help. It’ll tell the audience that anything can happen in Deception Pass.”
“What do you think will happen when your mother finds out you’re killing her off?” Trip asked. It was clear he wanted to be in the room when she did.
“But we’re not writing her off. Sarah’s going to be a total lunatic. Certifiable. After she kills Vienna, Vienna will start appearing to her. Not as a ghost,” I quickly promised. Scooter would be heartbroken. “She’ll be one of the voices that crazy Sarah hears all the time. Vienna will torment Sarah with the same bad advice that she doled out when she was alive.”
VIENNA’S SPECTER
Go ahead, Sarah. Take
Jacqueline’s jelly doughnut.
She’s too busy making time
with your ex-boyfriend to
notice. And while you’re at
it, smother Marco in his
sleep.
SARAH (FRAYING)
No, no, no!
Trip seemed to be loving it. And why wouldn’t he? Here was a chance to stick it to my mother after she cleaned him out in the divorce years ago. “So we’d never actually see her again? She’d be a disembodied voice?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but hey, we’d save a ton of money on the costume budget.
“I admit that this is a scandalous idea,” I told them, wrapping up. “But see, I was telling Richard and Mom last night over dinner that the danger in getting awards recognition is that it can make you complacent. Fat. Slow.” I tossed a look at Richard, who looked like he was going to blow.
“Stupid?” he asked, quoting himself.
“Exactly. And I want this show to be the opposite. I want to push harder and faster and stronger. I want our show on the cover of all those soap rags for months to come. Can you imagine how people will react if we leak the news that we’re killing Vienna one week after Mom gets her first Emmy nomination? They’ll be calling for my head.”
“And tuning in by the millions,” said Greg. The cha-ching in Trip’s and Frieda’s heads was so loud it didn’t matter that it wasn’t audible.
The room was quiet for a moment. I could tell Richard’s mind was racing, but I knew it was a trip to nowhere. For once, I was ahead of the curve. Far enough ahead to lap him.
And then Trip spoke up.
“Mallory, I love it. It’s fantastic. And you’re right, we do need to exploit this opportunity. But this isn’t the way to do it.”
“Excuse me?” I asked. I’d been flying so high that it hadn’t occurred to me how hard the fall would be should my wings get clipped.
“This idea of yours … it’s not Likely Story. It’s Good As Gold.”
“Good As Gold is off the air,” I said.
“Exactly,” said Trip. “And this is the sort of thing that got it there.”
“Hold on a second.” Keep your voice down, Mallory. “Are you saying it’s too … soapy?”
“It’s smart and it’s fun, but it’s regular soap. And that’s not what we bought from you. Now, before you fly off the handle at me for foisting the murder plot on you, let me say: You were right all along. We should have trusted your vision for the show from the outset. But making Sarah a crazed killer? Turning Vienna into a figment of her imagination? If this was your mother’s show, I’d have given you my blessing twenty minutes ago. But it’s your show. And this idea seems to me like you’re overcompensating for one or two misguided notes we gave you way back when we started out on this ride.” He got up and buttoned his jacket. “Keep at it. I’m sure you’ll think of something. Greg, give Sales a call and tell them we’re back on.”
Richard stopped Trip at the door. “Mallory had another idea—I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Sum it up for me, Mal,” said Trip.
Richard allowed me one interminable second of panic before throwing me a lifeline … only to strangle me with it. “We were batting it around last night over the dinner table, but she dropped it pretty quickly, thought you wouldn’t go for it. What would you think of pairing Ryan with Vienna? Kind of a May-December thing? Two Emmy nominees together in a steamy student-teacher romance? We might get the same amount of publicity without exposing ourselves to a lot of negativity, from outside the show and within.”
“I like it,” said Trip, without a moment’s pause to critique. He looked at me. “That’s the type of thing you could run with. Don’t be afraid to bring these ideas to me. I’m open to anything.” And then they were gone, taking all the oxygen with them.
“I’d shut the door and scream at you if I thought you could take it right now,” Richard said arrogantly.
“My mother and Dallas?! Have you lost your mind?!” I hissed.
“You should be down on your knees thanking me. I just credited you with a story that Trip didn’t think twice about latching onto, one your mother and I came up with all on our own. That’s one of the two last favors I’m going to do for you, Mallory. The other is this: I won’t tell your mother about the undignified end you had planned for her.”
“The better to blackmail me?”
“All I want is peace,” he professed.
“Well, you’re not going to get it by taking potshots at me. In fact, all you’ve done is inspire me to take up arms.”
“Let it go, Mallory,” he called as I walked out the door. “Work with us on this and you’ll have another nomination this time next year.”
I resisted the urge to tell him off or slam the door behind me. That would have been dishonorable. I’d made the decision to play his game, and he’d managed to outplay me.
But I was a quick study.
————
I skipped the writers’ room and went straight for the parking lot. I needed to vent, but the staff would only whip me into a frenzy that might last hours. I’d have to take out my frustration on the square-dance floor. But Tamika was waiting for me by the car.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Let’s just say I have newfound respect for Richard’s skill for torture. He’d have made the Inquisition proud.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I’m going to get him, Tamika. Him and my mother both.”
“I don’t know whether to clap my hands or hide under the bed when you talk like that. What are you going to do?”
“I’m still weighing my options. But you’ll be the first to know when I settle on a plan of action.”
“Okay … but in the interest of keeping your priorities straight—”
“Please don’t tell me to live and let live. I don’t think I could take it.”
“Relax. I’m through giving you advice about how to deal with your mom. That woman is some kind of dastardly.”
“What are you talking about? Did she go demanding a rewrite
or something while I was in with Richard?”
“I kind of wish she had. Here,” she said, handing me her iPhone. “Take a look.”
The Web address read www.likelywhorey.com. Not a good sign. “How clever,” I drawled.
“Scroll down a little,” Tamika said. I did, and there it was: a splashy, full-color image of Dallas and me at the end of my driveway, very close together—kissing-distance close. Underneath the picture screamed a question in some incredibly tacky font I’d never seen before: Mallory does Dallas?!
“It’s linked all over the soap message boards,” Tamika said, like she’d just found out the governor had denied me clemency.
He might as well have. Square dancing beckoned, and Keith was still waiting.
The way my life worked, I was sure he’d seen the post … and I’d have to answer for it.
Kimberly the Publicist texted me all the way to school, starting with
SAW SITE, AM WORKING ON IT.
It went downhill from there.
SITE OWNER UNREACHABLE.
IT’S NEWS TO DALLAS.
LAWYERS: NO GROUNDS FOR SUIT.
PEREZ HILTON SEEKS COMMENT.
ARE YOU DATING DALLAS???
I turned off my phone.
I was on time for gym by seconds, but too late by half a day to save Keith from catching wind of my mother’s sneak attack. Scooter was the first to find me in the crowd. If the dirty looks from my classmates didn’t provide me a damage assessment, the fluttering in Scooter’s voice did.
“The cheerleaders know, and so do the theater kids. But I don’t think news has trickled down to the band geeks or Model UN yet.”
“I’m glad it doesn’t really matter to me what any of them think,” I lied. “The only person in this building I care about besides you is Keith.” That was the truth.
“Well, in my professional opinion, this doesn’t have to be a deal breaker. Practically the same thing happened to Geneva on Good As Gold when her fling with the champion matador got broadcast over the PA at the bullring. It wasn’t easy, but she reclaimed her good name in the end. Okay, she had to run with the bulls to do it. But maybe a good explanation is all you need to make things right with Keith. You have one … right?”
Likely Story! Page 35