“I just feel we need to think outside the box,” he said. “We’ve given Angie and Jack a lot of conflict, but nothing with any lasting consequences.”
“Consequences?” Paul shook his head. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking they need to be put to the ultimate test—something that would challenge both their marriage and their business.”
“What sort of challenge?” I asked.
“Someone they love and trust—either the kids or the seniors they represent—could abandon them. Leave them in the lurch. Maybe they could actually lose the talent agency. Maybe they would have to start over.”
“Lose the talent agency?” Paul groaned. “Are you kidding?”
His idea floored me, and not in a good way. “That talent agency is the foundation for the show. If we take it away—”
“I’m not talking about taking it away. Just saying we should spend an episode or two exploring the what-ifs. What if Jack and Angie lost everything they thought they needed to survive? Then what?” He paused. “That’s life, you know. We put all of our energies into something, and sometimes that very something crumbles around us.”
“This is a comedy,” I reminded him. “We’re going too deep. This isn’t a nighttime drama. It’s a sitcom. Situational comedy.”
“It’s all a matter of how we handle it.” When Stephen turned to me, I saw tears in his eyes. “The lines between comedy and tragedy get blurred sometimes. Relationships get tested. And if we take them to the valley in their relationship, the only place to go is up. In other words, the resolution is on its way.”
Funny. Right now it didn’t feel like the resolution was on its way. It just felt like my loaf of bread was unbaking. If such a thing were possible.
I thought about a conversation I’d had with Kat about mountains and valleys. The deeper the valley, the higher the mountain. That was the theory, anyway. Maybe I needed to go through a few valleys to appreciate the mountaintops.
Or maybe I just needed to go crawl under the covers.
I shrugged off my thoughts and told Stephen we’d talk about it again tomorrow.
Ironically, he didn’t show up for work on Thursday. Friday found him absent too. I’d missed a couple of calls from him, but there were no messages on my voice mail. Very odd. He was clearly avoiding me.
Okay, I’d been aloof too. How could I dive back into our relationship with so much hanging over us? Recovering from the article in the newspaper had been tough enough, but other media sources had picked up on it and were all sharing the tale that Stephen had been responsible for the famous episode. Seemed like every time I turned on the television or read a magazine, I heard the story again. By Friday the media sources were singing Stephen’s praises as if he’d been the head writer of the show for years. Go figure.
As I struggled to know how to deal with all of this, I found myself reminded of that stupid twelve-step plotter. If we were really on Step 11, as Stephen said, there was only one step to go—the resolution. I knew from my years of writing comedy that the resolution was always the best part. Happily ever afters came during this final stage.
Only one problem with this theory—then what happened? Once we resolved our problems and forged ahead—if, indeed, that’s what happened—then what? Did the whole crazy twelve-step thing start over again? If we got married, did we go back to Step 1? I wasn’t sure I could take it, to be quite honest. Felt too much like a merry-go-round.
On Friday afternoon I ate my lunch alone in the office. The others were out in the studio, wrapping up the filming of this week’s episode. I could hear the roar of the audience through the sound system. Obviously they were enjoying themselves. If only I could have said as much for myself. No, with the way I felt right now, spending the afternoon alone was for the best. I didn’t want anyone to try to talk me out of my doldrums.
After the filming, Kat showed up. “You busy?” she asked.
“Not really.” I gestured to the empty office. “Just going over a few notes.”
“Missed you at the filming today. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Just needed some time to myself. Didn’t want to be around people.”
“I see.” Her brow wrinkled. “Where are the guys?”
“Paul is acting strange, and Stephen . . .” I shrugged. “He’s off, being famous.”
“Being famous?” She took a seat on the divan. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
“I’m not sure jealousy is the right word. I’m just confused. Or maybe conflicted would be a better way to say it. It’s complicated.”
“Care to elaborate?” She reached for one of my sweets and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. This is great. I still say you’re the best baker I’ve ever met, Athena.”
“Keep that in mind when I open my bakery.”
“You’re opening a bakery?”
“It was just an idea I once had. I thought maybe it could be a backup plan if I ever lost my job here.”
“Wait.” She paused and stared at me with wide eyes. “Are you serious? You think they’re going to let you go? We were just nominated for a Golden Globe.”
I rolled my eyes. “Apparently you don’t read the paper. According to Stephen’s agent, I didn’t play a role in writing that Snidely Whiplash episode. And maybe now that network executives think that, they won’t want to keep me around.”
“Of course you helped write it. You wrote most of it, from what Stephen told me. And I don’t know why you’re suddenly worried about your job. You’re under contract. They can’t just let you go. Right?”
“They can wiggle their way out of that if they want to.” I sighed. “Do you ever get the feeling you’re just not wanted or needed? Like you’re . . . superfluous?”
Okay, that was a dumb question to ask the star of a weekly sitcom. This whole show revolves around her. Of course she feels wanted and needed.
When Kat’s expression turned sad, I wished I hadn’t asked the question.
“I felt that way for years after my dad left,” she said. “Rejection is a terrible thing to deal with. And it hurts even more if you don’t know why the person is rejecting you. Makes you question yourself in a thousand different ways. So . . . yes, I know what it feels like.”
Ack. I felt like a heel for stirring up such a tough memory. Still, she’d struck a nerve. “Lately I feel like I’m not needed around here. I know why Rex hired Stephen, but I still have to wonder if everyone thinks I’m . . . well . . . boring.”
“You? Boring?” Kat’s laughter shattered the near silence in the room. “Is that some sort of joke? You’re crazy and wild and wacky and tons of fun. Where in the world did you get the idea that you’re boring? You’re not boring. Far from it, in fact.”
“Thanks. I needed that.”
“Honestly, Athena, I think you question yourself too much.” Kat reached for another pastry. When I gave her a funny look, she giggled and said, “Hey, I’m eating for two now, remember?”
“Oh, have as many as you like.” I paused to reflect on her words, then decided to share my heart. “There’s this strange misperception that humor writers are funny people.”
“Are you saying you’re not?”
“Well, I do think we have an exaggerated sense of humor, but I guess what I’m trying to say is that we go through rough patches in our own lives. It’s not like we’re just sitting around making a joke out of everything. And we can’t perform on demand. We’re not court jesters.”
“Though you would look great in the costume,” she said with a wink.
“I’m just saying that comedy writing is tough work, especially when your personal life doesn’t give you much to laugh at. Or about. Ya know?”
Kat gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Athena. I always think of you as this happy-go-lucky girl. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been the one bringing a smile to everyone’s face. So seeing you down and upset is throwing me off a little. I don’t know what to do wi
th this.”
“I am happy-go-lucky most of the time. But coming up with comedy sketches week in and week out is tough. Being funny is hard work.”
“I’m going to remember that.” She grinned. “Being funny is hard work.”
“You’re not taking me seriously.”
“I am. And honestly, I couldn’t do what you do. The world is twisted enough without having to add a punch line.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me. “But I think there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, first of all, I have a theory about Stephen Cosse. Maybe it’s one you’re not going to like, but hear me out. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I think you’re unnerved when you’re around him.”
“Well, of course I am. In walks this comedian, and my job is suddenly irrelevant.”
“I’m not talking about your job here. That’s not what I mean. I think you’re unnerved for a completely different reason.”
“O-oh?”
“I think things between the two of you are getting serious and you’re scared.”
“Why would I be scared?”
“I don’t know, but that’s a good question. Why are you scared? Don’t you like the idea of your relationship growing and changing into something more?”
“Of course I do. I’m all about change.”
“No you’re not.” She pointed to the room. “You freaked out when he changed the furniture. And your bedroom has been the same since you were seven.”
“Hey now, that’s not my fault. My mama—”
“Your mom told me that she offered to have the room redecorated years ago, but you turned her down.”
Ack. Mama, you traitor. “Well, Strawberry Shortcake is coming back in.”
“Sure she is.” Kat shook her head. “And what about your food habits?”
“My food habits?” The girl had to go messing with my food?
“You’re very limited in what you eat. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but Greek and Italian . . . that’s about it for you. Don’t you find that odd? You never eat Mexican. Never eat Chinese. See what I mean?”
I sighed, realizing I’d been caught in her trap. “Okay, I admit it. My life has been the same . . . forever. For as long as I can remember, everything has been the same. I can tell you what every day of the week is going to look like. I bring leftovers on Monday, and we pound out a new idea for the following week’s episode. On Tuesday we take our rough draft and fine-tune it. On Wednesday we present a cleaned-up version of the script to Rex and the rest of the crew.”
On and on I went, talking about how my week was laid out. “On Saturday I work with Mama and Babbas at the shop and spend time with family. On Sunday we all go to church and have a fantastic meal after, then snooze the afternoon away so that I have the energy to wake up on Monday morning and start the whole process over again. See what I mean? My days are mapped out.”
“Plotted.” Kat pursed her lips.
“W-what?” Surely she did not just use that word.
“You’re a creature of habit, Athena-bean. Stephen Cosse has interrupted your habit in more ways than one, and you don’t know where things are going. And when you hit a few bumps in the road, you freak out, not because you haven’t been through bumps before, but because there’s someone else involved now. He’s grabbed a piece of your heart.”
“I might be a little predictable, but I’m not a creature of habit. Not really,” I argued. “And as for him grabbing a piece of my heart . . .” My words drifted off.
She gazed directly into my eyes. “I think you see that things are moving quickly, and you’re losing control. You’re excited by the change but a little nervous because you’re not calling the shots. Did I hit the nail on the head?”
“The only thing I’m concerned about right now is that people will think I’m not doing my job. There’s a misperception out there that I’m not the driving force behind this show. Because of that misperception, I could lose my job, which would be totally unfair.”
“I’m not sure why this keeps going back to your job. I’m not talking about your job. But what you just said is wrong, anyway. You’re not the driving force behind this show.” She gave me a pensive look.
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped forward. I felt defeated. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I really didn’t. I guess I’m just worried people will think I’m slacking off.”
“Why do you worry so much about what people think about you?” she asked.
“Don’t you?” I shook my head. “C’mon, Kat. It’s impossible not to worry about that. We live in Hollywood. We work in Hollywood. Everything is about perceptions.”
“The only perception that matters is God’s. And right now I have a feeling he’s working out something inside of you that you’re not even aware of. Of course, that’s all mixed up with your growing feelings for Stephen and the fact that your life as a single woman could be coming to an end.” She grinned. “Honestly? I think you’re hearing wedding bells.”
“Wedding bells?”
“Mm-hmm. And you didn’t pencil them in, at least not while your career was in full bloom.”
“How did we make the jump from my internal fears to weddings?”
“I can’t remember,” she said. “But just so you’re aware, when you and Stephen get married, the Strawberry Shortcake sheets have to go.”
If I’d had a script in my hand, I would have smacked her with it. Instead, I fought the heat that rose to my cheeks. The very thought of Stephen Cosse climbing into my bed if we got married . . . Hmm.
Didn’t scare me as much as I thought it would.
Though the image of the Strawberry Shortcake sheets did throw me a little.
Okay, maybe I was hearing wedding bells. And maybe the idea that I could actually marry and have a life outside of Stars Collide scared me to death on a subconscious level. Maybe that’s why I cared so much about what network executives thought about me right now, because every other area of my life was shifting. Changing.
Kat rambled on about my love life as if I were paying attention. “Since we’re talking about weddings and all, don’t forget that you promised I could be a bridesmaid. Not sure how that’s going to work, now that I’m married and pregnant.”
“Wait, now you’re planning my wedding?”
“Someone has to.” She rose. “Athena, listen. We’re always joking around about you writing the script of my life. But sometimes I think we get so caught up in the play-acting that we forget there’s a story going on that’s much bigger than any sitcom. And it’s not like God’s in heaven pushing us around like chess pieces, giving us lines to read from a script. He gives us free will.”
“True.” I wondered where she was going with this.
“So don’t discount the fact that there are multiple stories going on at once here. There’s the sitcom stuff, and there’s the real-life stuff. Keep them separated as much as you can. And give God room to move. He wants to, you know.”
“Right.” I rose and gave her a hug. “And I feel like a real heel right now, Kat.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t asked you how you’re feeling. This whole conversation has been about me.”
She shrugged. “I’m okay. The morning sickness has been a problem. It’s a good thing you weren’t on the set when we filmed last week’s episode. It was so embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? Why?”
“I had to run off the set in the middle of the scene.” She laughed. “It wasn’t funny at the time, but I can laugh at it now.” She rubbed her palm across her stomach. “This little one will be worth it. He or she will make all of the morning sickness in the world worthwhile. But right now, to be honest, I feel pretty drained, physically and emotionally. I think my hormones are out of whack. And with all of the stuff going on with my grandmother . . .” Kat sighed.
“She’s not doing well?” I asked.
Kat
shook her head. “Rex took her to the doctor last week. She didn’t even realize what sort of doctor it was. Thought they were going to see a dermatologist. Rex didn’t tell her any differently. But the doctor said . . .” Her words drifted off. “The disease seems to be progressing more rapidly now. It breaks my heart.” Her voice broke, and tears rose to cover her lashes.
I gave her another hug. “I’m praying for her, Kat. And you too. I know she means the world to you.”
“She’s really been the only mother I’ve known. Well, since I was seven, anyway. If something happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
I decided I’d better change the subject. Thank goodness someone else took care of that for me.
The door to the office swung open, startling us both. Paul stepped inside, eating an apple. He spoke around a full mouth. “Did you guys hear the news?”
“What news?”
“Stephen’s been offered a job writing for Saturday Night Live.”
“W-what?” My jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
“Sure am. They flew him out to New York to meet with the producers. That’s why he hasn’t been here.”
Suddenly my heart felt as heavy as a block of lead. “I don’t believe it.” So much for the conversation about weddings and happily ever afters. Looked like my Romeo was on his way to the Big Apple.
“You know how I feel about the guy,” Paul said. “I’ve told you before. I do respect his talent, just don’t know that we can trust him. Maybe it’s going to be better that he’s found a different job. Maybe we can get back to the way things were.”
Get back to the way things were? I sighed, thinking about the way my life was before Stephen.
“Sure, it’s going to be different around here without him, but we’ll get used to it.” Paul slapped me on the back. “We were a great team before he got here. And besides, Bob will be back soon. Talked to him last night, and they’re wrapping up the filming of his movie in a couple of weeks.”
Back to Stephen, please. “Are we sure Stephen’s really leaving, or is this just some kind of rumor?” I asked.
Paul tossed his apple core in the trash. “Well, it’s probably in the rumor stage right now, but Jason and several of the other guys know all about it. Rex told them. I just know that some sort of offer has been made. Stephen must be considering it. I know I would be.”
Hello, Hollywood! Page 20
