“I’ll do field. I don’t mind long hours. I have no life.” Yeesh! Stephanie would kill me for saying that. She’d think I was selling my soul, and she’s right. But unfortunately, it’s my only offer at the moment and I don’t have enough money saved up to wait around to work in a nice cushy (though icy) edit bay. And honestly, working with Will again isn’t such a bad thing.
“You’ll be getting a pay bump, of course, but the line producer will contact you about that,” he says.
“That’s great, thanks so much. So what’s the show about?”
“Think The Bachelorette with a twist.”
“What’s the twist?”
“The girl we cast will think it’s a regular dating show. But we’re going to be bringing in some of her ex-boyfriends to battle it out with the new guys.”
“Cute.” Yeah, that’s pretty dumb. Don’t care, I have a job and Will likes me.
“The network is hoping to pull in some big numbers with this one. I’m just hoping it won’t be as cheesy as it sounds,” he says with that crooked smile of his.
Mmm, do I detect a little remorse in that statement? Would Will rather be doing something besides working in reality television? These days, more and more people want to get out of this business. But what can we all do? We’re not really trained to do anything else but this. And where can we all go once this genre encounters the same fate as the variety show? Thousands of us will be unemployed. We all can’t open up a gym. Wouldn’t it be great if there were a place like the Island of Misfit Toys where we could all happily retire? It could be like a sanctuary for useless and unwanted producers. And then one day, instead of Santa and Rudolph saving us, it would be the president of the Writers Guild, coming to tell us we all have jobs on scripted shows.
“I’m glad you’re on board,” continues Will, snapping me out of my little daydream.
“Me too.” I smile. “Sounds like fun. But hey, do you have a place for Christine? She’s looking as well.”
“She’s actually next on my list,” he says matter-of-factly, signaling that he is now finished with our meeting.
“Oh, uh, that’s great, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.” What? Is he asking the entire staff to roll over on to his next show?
“Can you send her in?”
“Sure,” I reply, sounding pathetic. “And thanks again.”
I round the corner to my desk and find Knit Cap lurking about. He’s leaning down by Christine’s shoulder, looking at something on the computer. She must be dying with that cretin on top of her.
I must save her.
“Hey, Christine, Will wants to see you.” At the sound of my voice, Knit Cap straightens and shoots me a droopy-eyed wink.
“Do I need to be afraid?”
“Nope.” Not of Will, at least.
I pull out my chair violently, practically maiming Knit Cap in the process, but he doesn’t take the hint.
“So, are you coming with us to Second Time Around?” he asks as Christine walks away.
Muther F’er! Will asked this perv too? “I thought you were sad that we weren’t going to be working together again,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
Knit Cap chuckles. “I wasn’t sure if Will was bringing you on until he called you into his office. So I guess you’re stuck with me, beautiful.”
Great. I can’t wait.
I walk into the apartment to find Zoë and Jeff in the living room, glaring at each other silently. I close the door and they reflexively shoot annoyed looks my way.
Ugh. I have clearly walked into the middle of another shit storm. I’ll just say a quick hello and head to my room to wait it out.
“Hey, guys,” I say hesitantly.
“Hey,” Jeff replies, his hands gripping the back of the couch.
Wow, he looks pissed. His face is bright red and the veins in his neck are jutting out. I look over at Zoë but can’t catch her eye. Her stare is ruthlessly fixed on Jeff; her eyebrows raised in some kind of a challenge. Surprisingly, I don’t see any evidence of tears on her face.
“Hi,” Zoë says coolly. “Jeff was just leaving.”
“Yeah, that’s for fucking sure.” Jeff grabs his coat and heads to the door, gently laying his hand on my shoulder as he passes. “See ya, Abby.”
“Bye,” I say, bewildered. I look up at his anguished face, surprised to see his eyes misting with tears. My own eyes begin to sting in response. As he walks out the door, I feel oddly bereft. Why did that feel like goodbye?
“What happened?” I ask as I walk over to Zoë.
“Sorry you had to walk in on that.” Her back is rigid and her arms are crossed. Jeff’s departure has not broken her icy demeanor.
“Please, how long have I known you? Don’t worry about it.” I clasp her arm in support, my hand meeting taut muscle. I’m always surprised by how solid she is underneath that tiny frame. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine. It’s over.”
“What do you mean it’s over? You guys have fought before.” Even as I say the words, I know from what I just saw that this fight was unlike any other.
“Yeah. We fight all the time. I’m done. Jeff is a child. How can I be with someone who can’t even buy me an engagement ring?”
“Zoë, come on. I know you didn’t break up with Jeff because he can’t afford an engagement ring.”
“Did you know that Jeff only has eight hundred dollars in his savings account? He’s thirty-seven. For three years he made almost two hundred thousand a year and that’s all he could save? Then he takes that bullshit job and I’m the one who’s punished. The man has no credit-card debt and he won’t even charge a fucking engagement ring. How would we ever buy a house?”
“You’d find a way, you know your parents would help. This job is temporary. Jeff has a plan. You’re just freaking out.”
“Jeff said he would never take money from my parents, so fuck him,” Zoë snaps. “I’m not going to live in some fucking tract house in Valencia because Jeff is too proud and too stupid to let someone help him.”
“Don’t throw everything away because you’re panicking. You know deep down that Jeff…”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do but this is the best move for me. I need someone on my level, and Jeff will never be that person.”
“Jesus, you sound like a snob.”
“I’m not being a snob. It’s not just about the money. Jeff and I have very different priorities. Believe me, he’ll find someone more like him and he’ll be happy. This is for the best.”
“You don’t seem upset at all. I’m more upset than you are. How’s that possible?”
“Of course I’m upset, I just ended my engagement. Just because I’m not crying my eyes out doesn’t mean I’m not upset. Look, I really don’t feel like talking about this right now. Can we just order a pizza and watch bad TV, please?”
“Um. Yeah. I guess so,” I say quietly as I open the menu drawer. “Um, do you want pepperoni and garlic?”
“Perfect. You know, I wish I had thought to pack Jeff’s stuff up in a box. Hey, would you mind calling him tomorrow and arranging a time for him to come when I’m not here?”
“Oh God, Zoë, can’t you give it a few days?”
“No, I don’t want to drag it out. Please? It will break my heart to have to see him again.”
“Fine. I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Be right back, I’m going to go change into my pajamas.”
Zoë practically skips off to her room. I can’t believe it. She doesn’t seem upset at all. She actually seems relieved.
I hear Zoë’s feet pounding back down the hallway. She ducks her head around the corner. “Don’t forget the Diet Coke.”
“All right.”
I know it can’t be this easy for her. She must be in complete denial.
This is going to hit her hard tomorrow.
Chapter Thirteen
It’s Saturday afternoon, and while Zoë is hiding at her
parents’ house, I’m sitting around waiting anxiously for Jeff to come by and pick up his stuff. As I turn on the TV and try to distract myself with reruns of South Park, the doorbell rings. I take a deep breath and answer.
“Hey,” I say, giving Jeff a hug. His unshaven face scratches against my cheek. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay, I guess. Still in shock. Uh, how’s Zoë?”
God, this is awkward.
“I think she’s okay. Sad.” Lie. This morning she was nothing short of chipper as she stuffed Jeff’s DVDs, toothbrush, clothes and his iPod speaker into a thick plastic bin. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what the hell happened. One minute, all she can do is talk about planning the wedding, the next…” His voice trails off as he massages his forehead.
“I know. I think Zoë has just been really overwhelmed with everything that’s been going on lately. She’s really confused right now.” I look down at the floor. I have no idea what to say to him.
“She’s not confused. I’ve never seen her more certain. She just…turned, she fell out of love with me.”
“That’s not true. Zoë loves you, the timing just wasn’t right.” I know these ridiculous platitudes aren’t helping, but it’s all I can think of. I honestly don’t know why she broke up with him.
“I think she’s seeing someone else.”
I shake my head. “No way. No. Zoë wouldn’t do that.”
“Well the alternative is she’s a cold bitch who just turns her feeling off over money. What’s worse?”
I flinch at the harshness of his words. “I don’t know why Zoë did what she did, but she must have had a good reason. I feel just terrible about all of this.”
“Sorry, Abby, this isn’t your problem. I know I’m putting you in a bad spot here. Look, don’t tell Zoë about any of this, okay?” Jeff grimaces as he looks down at the contents of the box.
“Course not. I just want you to know that I’m here if you need me. We’re friends too.”
“Thanks, I’ll be okay. I gotta head out. Talk to you soon, kiddo.”
We hug goodbye. Jeff slowly picks up his box of belongings, and walks out of the apartment.
There’s no way Zoë has been having an affair. If she were, I would know it. But it is strange that she can just compartmentalize her feelings like that. They were together for years. I was actually envious of what they had, even if their engagement wasn’t exactly storybook. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.
For the first time in six years, I’ve had an actual break between shows. It’s been two blissful weeks of sleeping in until 10:00 a.m., a few lunches out with Stephanie and a couple of matinees with a bizarrely happy Zoë. I’ve actually exercised, developed a skin-care regime and cleaned out my closet. But that all comes to an end today, my first day on Second Time Around. I’ll miss the carefree life, but I’m ready to get a paycheck.
The first person I see as I walk into the maze of matchbox offices and cramped cubicles is Christine. She skips over to greet me.
“I’m so glad we’re working together again. This is going to be so much fun,” she says.
“I hope so.”
“It will be. Especially since we’re a team again. I’m going to be the best segment producer ever.” Christine smiles. “They’ve cast the main girl. Her name is Katie, and she’s a real-estate agent. They told her the show is like The Bachelorette. She has no idea what she’s in for.”
“Wow, aren’t you a walking memo.” I chuckle.
“I overheard a few people talking about it. They cast all of the guys too. Four of them are ex-boyfriends, two are childhood crushes and then the other six are just totally random strangers. You’ve got to see their headshots, they’re totally hot.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I say. I’m such a pessimist.
“They also hired this comedian guy to be the host. I’ve never seen him before, but supposedly he used to host a game show or something like that a few years ago. His name is Stone Waters. Ever heard of him?”
“No, I think I would remember that name. Hilarious.”
“I think this show is going to be a hit. It’s such a cute idea. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I don’t know if I would watch it though, but it’s cute.”
Christine shrugs her shoulders and walks over to the crusty-looking coffee pot for what looks like a cup of tar.
Just then, a deep voice whispers in my ear, “What’s the matter, Crabby? You already bitching about the show?”
I snap my head around to see Grant smirking. He instantly envelops me in an enormous bear hug.
“I haven’t seen you in months. What have you been up to? Are you working here?” I ask excitedly.
“Slow down there.” Grant laughs. “At first, I was just hanging out and golfing.”
“Ach, I hate you.”
“Don’t hate me too much. I was only off for a couple of weeks. After that I got an opportunity to direct a couple of shows back-to-back so I jumped on that. And now I’m here.”
“That’s great. Hey, Grant, this is Christine, she’s one of the segment producers.” I motion my head toward Christine, who has just poured about a bottle’s worth of Coffee-mate into her cup.
“Nice to meet you,” Grant says as he thrusts his hand to Christine for a shake.
“What are you doing on the show?” Christine asks.
“I’m the director.”
“Director? Nice.” I nod.
“Thanks.”
“Grant was my producer on Matchmaker,” I explain to Christine.
“Oh wow. That’s cool. So, what does a director do on a show like this?” Christine asks.
Is she kidding? Everyone knows what a director does. “He deals with uh, contestants, and the crew and just, general, directing.” Oh damn it, why did I open my mouth?
“Oh. Okay.” Christine scrunches her eyebrows together. Clearly, she isn’t buying my in-depth analysis of Grant’s job. “Oh look, there’s Larry. I’m going to go say hi. Nice to meet you, Grant.”
After Christine is gone, Grant shakes his head at me. “You loser. How long have you been doing this?”
“You can just shut the hell up. None of the shows I’ve worked on were ever big enough to have a director. Besides, no one can say what a director really does, you just direct, uh, the people.” Grant is grinning at me. “Oh, just tell me. I don’t want anyone else knowing that I have no idea what I’m doing here,” I say, lowering my voice.
“Christ. All right. I’ll be setting up the shots for every scene and every interview, directing the camera guys, making sure the lighting is fine, all that good stuff. I’ll make it look pretty,” he explains in a parent-to-child sort of tone.
“Got it,” I say. “And so, as a field producer, what exactly will I be doing?” I whisper.
Grant lets out a huge laugh. “Man, we’re in trouble.”
“Thanks,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“You’ll be doing the same thing I did on Matchmaker. You and your segment producer will be helping to brainstorm and plan the dates and some of the scenes in and around the house. You’ll follow story in the field so when it’s time to interview everyone, you’ll know what to ask them. Sometimes you might have to direct a cast member to say or do something in particular. And I’m pretty sure there are about three other producer teams, so you guys will be splitting up the days between you. Come on, you know all this shit.”
I lower my eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know, but titles mean something different on every reality show. Plus, I know I can ask you these things, and you won’t judge.”
“Oh, I’m judging your ass all right!”
Hmphf. I forgot what a cocky bastard he could be sometimes.
After filling out our new-hire paperwork, we’re all called to a conference room for a meet-and-greet. In addition to Grant, Christine and myself, there are about twenty-five other people. I’m assuming they’re the other producers and segment producers, the p
roduction supervisor and coordinator, maybe the camera guys, sound guys, and a few production assistants.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a black ski hat bobbing amongst the sea of people trickling in through the doorway. Great. That fat head and stupid hat can only belong to one person. Knit Cap.
“Hey, Abs!” Tom says, as he takes the only available seat, which as befits my crappy luck, is directly next to me. “How you doin’?” he says, attempting a ridiculous Joey imitation. That joke isn’t past its prime at all. Get some new material, pal.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Uh, I work here?” he says, sounding totally smarmy.
“I know, but you’re an editor so you shouldn’t be starting work on this for another few weeks.”
“I wanted experience in the field, so Will gave me an assistant camera job and then afterwards, I’ll move over to post.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I thought it was a good idea to get an editor’s input in the field. This way I can really get a chance to direct the camera guys.”
Grant, who up to this point seems to have been ignoring our conversation, leans over me. “Hey, I’m Grant, the director. I think I’ll have it covered, but it’s nice to know you’ve got my back.”
I fake a cough to cover my laugh.
Knit Cap looks shocked. “Oh, dude, totally. It’s just that I’m the lead editor on the show, so I thought I could give them a few tips. You know, nothing big. Just to help out so when it’s time for post, it’ll be gold.”
“Well if I need an editor’s perspective, I’ll know where to look.”
I quickly glance down pretending to read my confidentiality agreement. The amount of testosterone Grant’s flinging around is laughable. But Knit Cap deserves it.
Will walks into the room and puts a folder on the table. I smile and wave as he looks over at me. He doesn’t wave back; he just looks over at the guy across from me and smiles. What the hell? Now my hand is frozen in midair. I look like an idiot. I try to deflect by dragging my hand through my hair, but of course, a big lock gets stuck on my ring. Stupid curly hair. I yank my hand out as subtly as I can (while also pulling about twenty hairs in the process) and cross my arms.
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