Chapter Nineteen
Taylor didn’t sleep that night. She didn’t even try. Instead, she sat at her kitchen table poring over every memory she could summon that related to her and Aspen. Was there something, anything, she could have done or said that could have been misconstrued?
No.
There absolutely wasn’t. Aspen had first pursued the relationship, and Taylor had resisted for quite a while. They’d fallen into a sexual relationship first that had blossomed into more. And it had been a relationship. They’d met each other’s families, talked about the future, and made appearances together in public. The relationship had been two sided and anything but forced on Aspen’s part.
Taylor was being set up.
The next morning, she met with her attorney. Brooks Horton was well into his fifties and had always reminded Taylor of the quintessential silver fox. He was at the height of his career and had been Taylor’s attorney from her early years in Hollywood. He fought hard for his clients and went the extra mile. If she was going up against Aspen in a court of law, she wanted Brooks on her side.
He spent the first part of their meeting going over the paperwork, murmuring indecipherably to himself as he read. Finally, he glanced up and took off his reading glasses. “She’s alleging unwelcome sexual advances and a quid pro quo environment in which she was expected to sleep with you if she wanted any kind of airtime on the show.”
“That’s insane,” Taylor told her lawyer. “We had a relationship, a legitimate one that she initiated. Hell, she seduced me, and it was elaborate.”
He flipped through the documents. “She asserts it was the other way around and that your behavior was aggressive. She professes to have dates, times, and descriptions, the last of which was apparently yesterday when she alleges you grabbed her forcefully when she refused your most recent advances.”
“There were no advances yesterday.”
“That’s not what the other side will argue. She’s claiming there were a variety of witnesses who will support her story.” He closed the file folder on his desk.
Taylor couldn’t believe this was happening. “So, what do we do?”
He held up a hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but she’s also named the network, WCN, as a defendant in the lawsuit.”
“She’s suing the network?” That one really threw Taylor.
He nodded. “For failure to prevent discrimination and a hostile work environment. I spoke with their representation earlier this morning. Ms. Wakefield never filed a complaint with them or voiced any concern, which is good for both parties. However, because of her high-profile status, they are understandably concerned and moving into damage control mode.”
“What does that mean?”
“They don’t want you to return to work at this time.”
The words hit her squarely in the chest, stealing her breath.
“You’ll be hearing from them shortly.”
She shook her head as the information settled and blared like an alarm. “They’re firing me?”
“Not at this point. But I’ve worked in entertainment law for too many years not to prepare you.” He ran a hand through his thick gray hair. “You’ll likely be compensated handsomely but removed as EP to keep the matter from escalating in the press. They’ll use another reason, of course, a ratings dip. Or they’ll say something generic and safe like ‘it wasn’t working creatively.’”
She nodded. “So, I’m out.”
“We’ll know for sure soon, but my guess is, that’s likely.”
Taylor tried to take a deep breath, but the air wouldn’t fit, which made sense because the world now felt as if it were closing in on her. How could this have happened? That television show was her life, her creation, something she’d built upon from the tiniest kernel of an idea, and now it would go on without her? That didn’t seem fair.
“Thank you, Brooks. You’ll keep me updated?”
“I will.” She turned to go. “Taylor?”
“Yeah.”
“We can go to war with Aspen Wakefield, but I want you to at least consider a settlement, only because it can save you the heartache, the public scrutiny.”
“So, someone can make up lies about you and just because they’re a hot commodity, they get away with it.”
He frowned like a father trying to explain the ways of the world to a brokenhearted child. “In Hollywood, you know as well as I do that what’s reported in the press is unfortunately more relevant than the actual facts.”
She did know that. She just never expected it to slice so close to home. “Thanks, Brooks.” She nodded numbly and headed home, as there was nowhere else she was needed any longer. What she wanted was to wipe the makeup from her face, don her rattiest sweatshirt, and drink wine straight from the bottle.
*****
The Friday morning after Taylor had been sidelined, the writing and production staff of Thicker Than Water were led into the large conference room across the street from the writing offices. A representative from the studio, a buttoned-up fortysomething Isabel had never seen before, was waiting to meet with them.
“I know you all have a number of questions regarding the on-set incident earlier this week. While I can’t go into detail, I can express to you that a decision has been made.” Isabel glanced around and saw several people nodding. Others looked confused. Isabel felt nauseous. Taylor had prepared her for the probability that she’d be let go permanently, but she couldn’t imagine that happening. Water was one hundred percent Taylor’s baby. They wouldn’t do that. “Ms. Andrews will not be returning as showrunner. The cast is being notified in a separate meeting as we speak.”
The faces of the people in the room mirrored what Isabel felt. She saw shock, outrage, and downright disgust. “Well, that’s bullshit,” Scruffy said, sitting back in his chair heavily, his arms crossed. “Who do you expect to pilot this ship?”
“It’s a mistake, is what it is,” Kathleen said loudly. “I think we deserve to know why.”
“Like I said,” suit guy replied, “the details are sensitive. Overall, it was not the best fit for the success of the show moving forward, and that’s what we must focus on, what’s right for the show.”
“How is there a show without Taylor?” the head of the art department asked. “I’m with Scruffy. This blows.”
“Fucking Aspen,” Scarlett muttered, exchanging a disgusted stare with Isabel, who sat next to her. The others nodded. Gossip had wings. The network could negate mentioning Aspen’s role in Taylor’s departure when it made an official statement, but those who worked on the show knew full well why she was dismissed, and who was behind it. What it came down to, as Taylor had explained to her the night before, was that the show could go on without Taylor. It would be a lot harder without Aspen, the reason people tuned in each week.
The meeting had been short and to the point, and the shell-shocked group scattered once it concluded. Instead of returning to her cubicle and staring at a blinking cursor, she took a walk and called Taylor.
“I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me directly,” Taylor said. Her voice was flat and lifeless, almost as if she didn’t quite have the energy. “I think we were told at the same time.”
“Who called you?” Isabel asked.
“Gerald. He probably volunteered because of our history. He was apologetic, said all the right things. The network is interested in working with me again in the future. If there’s anything he can do for me personally, just let him know. Blah, blah, blah. It’s exactly what my attorney predicted.”
Isabel sighed into the phone. “I hate this. It’s awful. I’m coming over tonight. I’ll bring dinner and we can hate the world together. Make WCN voodoo dolls.”
Silence. “I would like that. Well, maybe not the voodoo dolls, but seeing you would be nice. It’s been an awful week.”
“Good, because a perpetually awkward and slightly outspoken woman will be on your doorstep with Chinese food close to seven thirty. Keep the porch light on.”
“I hope she’s into the emotionally unpredictable types.” Taylor’s voice cracked on that last sentence. She sounded raw, and on the edge. Damn it.
Hoping to redirect the sadness, Isabel went for playful. “She is! She’s all about the emotional types. The more tears, the more anger, the better, she always says.”
A pause. She could hear the sound of quiet sniffling. “Isabel?”
“I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
When she returned to the office, she found Scruffy and Lyle packing up their belongings in cardboard boxes as loud music played from Lyle’s laptop. “What’s going on?” she asked, though she already had a feeling.
“Outta here,” Scruffy said, not even pausing to talk. “We’re a team, and they just took down our leader. I got connections on at least a dozen different shows and don’t need to sit around this show while it tanks.”
“There are plenty of jobs out there, Iz,” Lyle said. “I’m not going to write for this one after Taylor’s been kicked to the curb because a too-big-for-her-britches actress is making demands. I passed her outside earlier. She was laughing with a makeup artist like it’s any other day.” He straightened and addressed the room. “Taylor is the reason I’m here. So if she’s out, I am, too.”
“Okay, I’m out as well,” Candace said, nodding. “I don’t really think I could write for Wakefield anymore anyway. Lisette would wind up in jail or a ditch in under three episodes.”
Isabel took it all in, everyone rallying behind Taylor. Of course they should stand by Taylor and walk the hell out of there. Of course. Why hadn’t it occurred to her initially?
“What about you?” she asked Kathleen, who looked on as she thumbed the fabric on her sleeve absently.
Conflict crossed her features. She turned in apology to Isabel. “I need the work too badly. My husband is out of commission for the short term. I’d like nothing more than to walk. I wish I could.” Isabel nodded and squeezed her friend’s hand. Full of energy now, she took a seat at her cubicle, not really sure what to do with herself as a hundred thoughts crashed down on her, including the ones tied closely to reality.
She needed the money, and how exactly would it look if she walked off her first real writing gig? She cringed at her own ambition.
Although the season was winding down and there were only a couple of episodes left to shoot before they went on a short hiatus, the show was in production on and off throughout the year on a less traditional calendar. If she walked with Scruffy and Lyle and Candace, what would she do for work? Would she go back to waiting tables until something came along? The thought turned her stomach. Still, it didn’t feel right to not stand up for Taylor the way some of the others were.
Isabel had some major soul-searching to do.