Chapter Five
“Taylor, the network is on line three,” Scarlett called from her office next door.
“Did they say what they want? I’m buried right now,” she called back. Taylor’s Monday morning already felt like a category four hurricane made up of petty little issues all revolving around shooting. Dealing with the network would only take it to category five, and it wasn’t even noon yet. She still had a story meeting with the writers, a conference call with her gaggle of producers, and a director of an upcoming episode making too many design demands.
Scarlett popped her head into Taylor’s office. She had a way of doing so that reminded Taylor of a prairie dog. The whole thing made Taylor smile because it was so quintessentially Scarlett. “It’s Hagerman and he’s doing that thing where he stammers a lot, which means he’s unhappy about something.”
“When is he ever happy? When?” Taylor asked not just Scarlett but the world at large. As one of the many vice presidents at WCN, he was forever a pebble in her shoe.
Scarlett pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I can fight him off, but you know he’ll just call back in an hour. If you take his call now, you might save yourself time on the back end.”
“Good point.”
She lifted the receiver and forced herself to smile. “Gerald, good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Scarlett mouthed the word “coffee,” to which Taylor shook her head. She’d already had two cups. There would be lots of coffee in her future, but perhaps it was wiser to pace herself.
“Taylor, we, uh, we have to talk.” There was the stammer. Scarlett was right.
“And we are. What’s up?”
“We’ve, uh, taken a look at the draft of this week’s episode and, uh, the sex scene between the two male characters has left us with a few questions.” Ah, the cousin Bobby spreading his wings storyline.
She suppressed a sigh. “We’ve been through this already, Gerald. The pairing has been huge with the audience, and the sponsors are on board. Cousin Bobby is out of the closet now, and as such, he has to have a decent shot at a love life. Same-sex scenes are not new anymore. At all. So, what’s the problem?”
“Don’t get upset, but it’s the, uh, the thrusting and the, uh, nudity. We just feel the need to proceed cautiously. We’re a network that’s known for our family-appropriate primetimes.”
She suppressed a snort.
“How many seconds are we talking? How many of the, um, thrusts?”
“No idea.” She covered her eyes because seriously? “How could I possibly answer that question until we shoot the scene? You’re asking me to predict the creative collaboration of a lot of brilliant minds.”
“We’ll sign off on two minor thrusts and give you ten seconds after the clothes come off to, uh, cut away.”
“I don’t do well with limits. This is storytelling, not sixth grade behind the gym with a stopwatch.”
“You’re the showrunner. Make it happen. Ten seconds once clothes come off, Taylor. I could give you more if these were, you know, girls.”
“I think you mean women, Gerald. Do you know how sexist and archaic that viewpoint is?”
“I do. You have ten seconds. Two thrusts.”
“Fine.” She agreed to his terms knowing full well if they needed more time onscreen, she could address it then. Plus, having the director of the episode chime in would reinforce her stance. Which one was it that week? She flipped through the call sheets on her desk. Simon LaRue. Perfect. Simon was a bulldog and fiercely protective of his work. She smiled into the phone. “Ten seconds it is. And, Gerald?”
“Yep.”
“I’d like to throw another number at you. It’s the number four. As in four Emmys,” she said in reminder. “I know you’re just doing your job like the rest of us, but I’ve won four Emmys for WCN, ten if you count the acting awards. That should buy me some breathing room, no?”
“We have nothing but the highest regard for your work, Taylor. You’re our superstar, and don’t you ever doubt it.”
“I appreciate it. Let’s have lunch next week.” A little schmoozing might be in order. Best to keep the network close and off her back.
“I’ll have my assistant arrange it with yours.”
“See you then.” She hung up and sank back into the wonderfully cushioned leather of her office chair and closed her eyes. Best damn investment of her life, this chair. She could get lost right here and not care. She allowed herself five seconds of bliss before turning to her email, of which there were fifty-two.
“Knock, knock.”
She glanced up in time to see the new hire, Isabel, standing in her doorway all fresh-faced and bright. She smiled conservatively, but looked sharp in dark dress pants and a slim-fitting gray jacket. She had her hair pulled up again today and looked fantastic. Not at all the hastily thrown together (okay, in some cases, slovenly) exterior of the typical writer on her team. It was also encouraging that she cared about perception. Maybe this girl was everything Celeste had promised.
“Just wanted to say good morning before the story meeting. I brought bagels and schmear.” She lifted the bag. “Northern thing. Plus, there’s a coffee shop near my place, so…”
Taylor forced a smile she didn’t have time for, but she wanted to make Isabel’s first day a good one. “Bagels are always welcome. Glad to have you here. We’ll get started in just a bit.”
“Thank you. I will…see you in there.” Isabel gestured behind herself to the writers’ room. “Yep.”
“Great.”
She turned to go and then paused, gesturing between them. “I promise to get better at this.”
“I’m not worried. Would you mind closing the door behind you? I want to tear through some email before we begin.”
“Right. Of course. Sorry.”
“No need.” She offered another smile and waited as Isabel exited her office and closed the door. She liked this girl. Now it was only a matter of whether she could deliver on the page.
As she dashed off a response to the studio head about the increased cost of back lot rental, Scarlett’s voice interrupted her yet again.
“Todd on line two.”
“Of course he is.” Her ex-husband had a way of picking the worst time to call. She grabbed the receiver and opened the line. “Hey, you. What’s up? I’m in the middle of death by Monday.”
A familiar baritone chuckle filled the line. “So, what else is new?”
She didn’t take offense, as she’d grown to appreciate Todd and his perceptions of her fast-paced life. They got along better now than even in their most positive moments as a married couple. Some people were meant to just be friends, and Todd had turned into a decent one. She was grateful for that.
“We need to talk about Raisin.”
“What about him?” They still shared custody of the six-year-old dappled miniature dachshund they’d purchased in their last few months together, a Hail Mary attempt to save the marriage. It hadn’t worked. While Raisin was home-based with Taylor, Todd took him for occasional weekends, including the one that had just passed.
“I want you to consider letting him live with me full-time,” Todd said delicately.
“What? No, no, no. We agreed that he and I are bonded. We cuddle every night. We tug-of-war for hours as I work on the couch. He needs me. I need him. End of story.”
“I agree with all of those statements, but he’s left on his own the majority of the time. Tay, you live at the studio these days. That’s not a criticism, just a statement of fact. If he moves with me to Denver, then—”
“What do you mean Denver? When did Denver come into play?”
He sighed. “That’s the next part. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, but I’ve taken a job with the Denver office. It’s a step up. I couldn’t say no.”
“What? I don’t want you hightailing it to Denver. Who’s gonna be my sounding board? Tell me when I’m being an idiot?” Outside of Scarlett, Todd was the one who kept her world in perspective.
He chuckled. “While I can do that easily from Denver, there’ll still be lots of back and forth to LA.”
She stood. Todd was becoming a well-known architect in the world of education, building one celebrated high school after another. It had only been a matter of time before a promotion like this one hit. “Wow. Congratulations. I’m happy for you, honestly, but you can’t take my dog with you.”
“Our dog.”
“You can’t take our dog with you. Todd, Raisin follows me from room to room wherever I go. You’ve seen it. We’re best friends.” The concept of life without little Raisin had her in a minor panic.
“Then make a change, or I’m going to make him my best friend. I’m thinking of the dog.”
Taylor blew out a breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in frustration. Underneath it all, Todd was right. Raisin, whom she adored, got more quality time when he was with Todd. The long hours the show required seemed to have only gotten worse over the years, but she had an idea. “I hear what you’re saying. Let me see if I can work out a better arrangement. If I can’t, I will drive him to Denver myself.”
A pause. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Okay, well, that’s all I’m asking. I’ll drop him at your place in an hour.”
“Wait,” she said, pivoting.
“What is it?”
“Would you mind dropping him off here?”
*****
“I don’t think that’s the best way to go,” Taylor told Scruffy, one of her writers and a full-fledged producer on the show. He’d been with her from the beginning and was someone she trusted, regardless of the moody thing he always seemed to have going on. The story meeting was in its second hour and all minds were firing. “If we send Dominic down the addiction road, we’re going to have to see that storyline through responsibly. In other words, I’m not willing to half-ass an addiction arc for convenience and then magically act like it never happened later.”
“Agreed,” Scruffy said. “I’m not suggesting we half-ass it. It has to become a part of who he is.”
They’d been at it in the writers’ room for a couple of hours, tossing around ideas for a mid-season shake-up. Their first pass weeks ago hadn’t yielded much fruit, prompting a revisit of the subject. The morning had been made up of heavy silences as the wheels turned and the room pondered, interspersed with lively debates as proposals were batted around and examined.
Taylor thought on the prospect. “If we go for it, that pulls the character out of the world of women, where he’s most loved by the viewership, and eventually away from racing.”
Scruffy shook his head in frustration. “I’m just saying that it’s time the character got a meatier storyline. He’s played the role of town Casanova for four seasons. We need to do something with him!”
He had a valid point, and she valued his perspective. She turned to the other five members of her team, which now included Isabel Chase, who raised her hand.
“What do you have, Isabel?” Taylor asked.
Scruffy laughed. “You don’t have to raise your hand, for fuck’s sake.”
Isabel passed him a look and held it for a weighted moment, which told Taylor that she wasn’t a doormat. “I have to agree with this guy. Patchy, is it?”
“Scruffy,” he corrected in the form of a touché and ran a hand over the scruff on his face absently. Point for Isabel. “The man-whore thing was fun for a while, but it’s feeling played out to me as well. Shake his world the hell up.”
Cedric and Lyle nodded. Candace, who served as story editor, furrowed her brow but said nothing. Taylor turned to Kathleen, the only other producer on the writing staff and the most levelheaded of the group.
Kathleen hesitated. “It’s a slippery slope. I think we should go there, but keep him engaged with the core group. A happening-right-under-their-noses kind of thing, which can lead to some shock and awe from the other characters. Lisette especially. Aspen can play the hell outta that on camera. My suggestion would be, have him fall for someone for the first time in his sad, playboy life and have her lead him down the dark road.”
“I like that,” Taylor said, pointing at Kathleen. “I’d like you to take the lead on the storyline and write the episode that introduces it. We should talk about a character sketch for the love interest when you get there.” She consulted her notes. “Let’s intro that in episode 517.” Kathleen offered a quick salute and began furiously typing on her laptop, likely to capture any initial ideas before they floated away.
“Taylor,” Scarlett said, poking her head into the room prairie dog style. “There was a delivery for you.”
“Great. Leave it in my office?”
Scarlett paused. “Not that kind of delivery.” She opened the door wider and Raisin burst into the room and did a playful lap. Oh, right. She laughed. She’d temporarily forgotten her request that he be brought to the studio, but couldn’t help enjoying his exuberance. Her staff seemed into it as well. Even Scruffy smiled. He did have teeth.
Taylor pointed at her dog, who was now sniffing Lyle’s shoes as if his life depended on it. “Everyone, meet Raisin, my dachshund. Raisin, meet everyone. He’ll be spending more time at the office due to, well, my crazy life.”
“We have a mascot?” Kathleen asked.
Taylor nodded. “That’s a good way to put it. Let’s embrace that moniker.”
“It seems the mascot has found his chair,” Scruffy said, and inclined his head toward Raisin, who now sat quite contentedly on Isabel’s lap.
“I’m so sorry,” Taylor said, moving to her. “He’ll be fine on the floor. I’ll just—”
“Oh, no. He’s welcome. We’re bonding newbies. New writer. New mascot.” Isabel smiled up at Taylor, who was caught off guard by the unexpected radiance. Isabel had a beautiful smile that made her eyes light up and her cheeks dust with pink.
She blinked. “You sure?”
Isabel shrugged casually. “I was hoping for a first-day security blanket.” Raisin seemed to like that idea as he curled into a ball and rested his chin on his paw, as if ready to listen.
“Well, I guess Raisin’s squared away. Why don’t we press on?” She returned to the front of the room. “We need to talk about our crown jewel. Where are we going with Lisette’s character?”
Cedric scanned his notes and jumped right in. “We could give her a pregnancy scare, which in the end leaves her questioning her relationship with Jackson. She wouldn’t want kids with this guy. He’s shady.”
“Then she can finally notice Thomas,” Isabel said, eyes still on her laptop. “And lose Jackson altogether.”
All eyes turned to her in question. “Thomas? No, he’s more of a brother figure to Lisette,” Kathleen said, almost as a correction. “He dates her sister, Karen. He proposes to her in 510.”
Isabel ignored the redirect and turned her gaze to Taylor. “If you put those two together, you’re going to have water cooler conversation galore happening across the country the next morning. That’s where the story is for Lisette. It’s all about Thomas.”
The concept was off the wall. The character of Thomas had been written in as an endgame love interest for Lisette’s little sister. “We specifically cast that actor for his onscreen chemistry with Karen.”
“Have you seen his chemistry with Lisette?” Isabel asked. “It was flying off my television. I had to add ice to my drink.”
“Let’s table that for now,” Taylor said, not buying into the concept but not wanting to totally demoralize Isabel on her first official day. Isabel nodded and focused on her laptop. She took copious notes throughout the meeting, but didn’t offer any further suggestions. Taylor found herself stealing glances at her as the meeting progressed. She’d occasionally scratch Raisin behind his ears. She also had a habit of running a hand over the back of her head. Why was she collecting Isabel Chase mannerisms?
The story breaking meeting came to an end, and the writers headed to their cubicles to tackle a myriad of different assigned tasks. Isabel, however, remained in her chair, typing away, her eyes trained on her screen.
Taylor paused, grabbed a script from her bag, and placed it in front of Isabel. “Will you do a rewrite of the dialogue on 512, specifically the first two acts?”
“Sure,” Isabel said and scooped up the script. Taylor walked on, only turning back at the sound of Isabel’s voice. “I hope it was okay, jumping in with that suggestion.”
Taylor relaxed into a smile. She was glad to clear the air on the topic and wondering at the same time why she cared. It was one suggestion from one writer in a sea of them, yet it pulled at her. “You did fine. I have to admit, it was an odd proposal. I’m not sure I’d put those two characters together, but we’re open to ideas. That’s what meetings like this are for. Throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks. Nothing’s out of bounds when we’re brainstorming. Remember that.”
And almost like she couldn’t help it, Isabel jumped right back into the argument, a hint of fire in her eyes. It made Taylor’s stomach tighten and dip. “Watch them the next time they’re onscreen together. That’s all I’m asking, because I’m telling you, there’s something big there just waiting for someone to write it. It’s an unspoken spark between them, and it would be scandalous for those siblings to deal with the fallout. It’s the ultimate betrayal, and they need a healthy dose of betrayal in their mundane little lives.”
“You think their lives are mundane?” Okay, that one got to her. Maybe Isabel had that feisty side after all.
“I do, yeah, and I think we should mess with them more, if you want my opinion.” She seemed to hear herself and backpedaled. “Though I’m not sure you do.”
“No. I do. I just—I do.” Why was she letting this get to her?
“Just watch. That’s all I’m asking.”
An unspoken spark, Taylor repeated in her head. An unspoken spark. “I will watch,” she said. “I promise. Now if you’ll follow me, we’ll get you set up with a workstation.” She escorted Isabel out of the writers’ room and into the common workspace just outside of her own office. Cubicles dotted the space from which her team worked. “Any desk without personal belongings is up for grabs. Feel free to take your pick.”
“Thank you,” she said, meeting Taylor’s gaze. The fire behind her blue eyes hadn’t dimmed, and Taylor had to admit, she liked it. It had her all tingly, and it had been a while since that had happened. “I’ll get started on those rewrites.”
“Let me know if you need anything. My door is always open.” Her standard offer. Making herself available for her team was important to Taylor. While their respect mattered, she needed them to know that she cared about what they had to say. Part of her job was to put out the best show possible, and she couldn’t do that all on her own. The onscreen pairing seemed highly implausible, but she would pay attention to any Lisette/Thomas screen time because a talented writer asked her to.
She watched Isabel walk briskly to the back of the room to select the cubicle near the window, leaving the faintest trail of perfume, a scent Taylor wasn’t familiar with. Cucumber, perhaps? Clean cotton? Something refreshing. Isabel had pulled her hair down three-quarters of the way through the meeting, and the thick dark strands now fell loosely in a tumble.
Taylor didn’t have time for such inconsequence, however, and she propelled herself into motion. There was work to be done, and every second counted. Still…that glorious hair held center stage in her mind, and for just a hint of a second, she imagined her hands in it, which was an idiotic thing to imagine. She gave her head a firm come-to-Jesus shake. She would need to have a conversation with her inner self about boundaries. She walked back to her office, prepared to be productive.
“Hey, Scar?”
“What can I do for you?” Scarlett asked, following her to her office.
“Is the air-conditioning on? It’s warm, no?”
She disappeared briefly, before returning. “An even seventy-two, as always.”
“Huh. Interesting. Just me, then.” She took a seat at her desk and ruminated. An unspoken spark.