First Stop, New York

by Jordan Cooke

  I’m, like, the queen here, she thought as she spied Lorenzo coming toward her with a drink on a tray.

  “This is the best I could do, young lady. It’s not a martini, but it should give you a little lift. Please don’t report me to the authorities.”

  Anushka salivated over the delectable-looking drink, then glanced at her watch and frowned. “You know what, Lorenz? I probably shouldn’t. I’ve got to look over this big rewrite tonight. Which suuuuucks so bad! Hey—did anything come through yet? It should have been delivered by now.”

  “Nothing from the studio.”

  “Huh. That’s weird.”

  “Only the usual hundred or so nightly invitations to one fabulous party after another. So I guess I should take this delightful beverage away?”

  “Yeah—Anushka is trying to turn over a new leaf. Don’t want to get my butt canned like I did on my last show.”

  “Oh, I just loved Suburban Magic! All those teenage girls causing all that trouble in the suburbs!”

  “You sure nothing came for me? I hope they give me something juicy to do. Not the usual evil teenage vixen stuff. It’s sooo boring.”

  “I’ll alert you the minute the script arrives. In the meantime, I’ll take this lovely concoction and toss it in the sink.” Lorenzo sighed and pretended to be exhausted. “The things I do to please my princess…” he said as he slithered back to the hotel bar.

  “And I love ya for it!” she called after him.

  Anushka leaped from the chaise she’d parked herself on and slowly made her way indoors. Heads turned as she passed. People nodded and murmured and she gave her little smile again.

  “Excuse me, Miss?”

  Anushka turned. It was one of the hotel guests. A businessman with silver hair and steel blue eyes. She batted her lashes at him. The gentleman pointed to a pile of things Anushka had left behind: a Treo, sunglasses, an iPod, and a diary.

  “Aren’t you leaving some important things behind?”

  Anushka shrugged. “The only thing important to me tonight is keeping this million-dollar butt employed!”

  She gave her butt a loud thwack, winked, and sauntered into the hotel.

  Shutters on the Beach, Santa Monica—8:34 P.M.

  Corliss was hiding behind a thatch of sea grass. She could see Trent and Tanya through the reedy strands. They were seated at a table for two on Shutters’s outdoor patio. A small lamp sat on their table. Crystal glasses and silverware shimmered in the glow.

  Corliss had to catch her breath. The beach stretched out behind the couple, and waves crashed in the distance. A crescent moon hanging low over the ocean cast a romantic glow over the entire scene. It looked to Corliss like a painting by one of the French Impressionists she’d studied in art history.

  It was all so beautiful that she momentarily forgot her mission. She wished she were having dinner at a gorgeous restaurant on the ocean with someone dreamy like Trent. Well, maybe not Trent himself—although he was the perfect picture of surfer-dude dreaminess—but someone with clear skin who took a bath every once in a while.

  Is that too much to ask? Corliss wondered. Someone whose attention was focused on her and her alone. Someone who knew all the right things to say—and said them without getting his lips caught on his braces. Someone who looked really good in Diesel jeans.

  A girl can dream, can’t she?

  Corliss’s mind drifted further as a breeze from the ocean caressed her face. There is something about Los Angeles, she thought, that lends itself to romance. It’s so balmy and sensual, so different from Indiana-no-place.

  Is it because the sun shines year-round, and everyone looks so healthy? So, well, ready for French kissing?

  Corliss focused and snapped out of her reverie. She made a mental note to tell Max about the restaurant setting; it would be a perfect location for the show. That is, she’d tell him if she didn’t diagnose the whole situation as nuts and quit after her first week. She was so mad she was even doing this.

  Crouched like a criminal behind indigenous plant life!

  Just as she thought this, Trent and Tanya laughed and threw their heads back, like people do on TV. It was truly amazing: Everything about them looked styled for Vanity Fair. Especially their hair.

  Corliss had never seen such hair. Her own was now an official disaster site. Puffy where it should have been flat, chaotic where it should have been peaceful. There was nothing to do about it until she got back to Uncle Ross’s. Oh, well, she thought, I’m Max Marx’s number-one assistant, not a contestant on America’s Next Top Hairdo.

  Besides, the only thing that mattered now was her mission. If she could pull this off, she could confidently walk up to Max tomorrow and say, “I’ve done this for you, but this is the last time I’ll disgrace myself for a job in television. I want real responsibilities!”

  Corliss took big gulps of air and counted.

  One, two, three.

  “Hey, guys,” she blurted from behind the sea grass.

  Tanya looked up blankly.

  Trent covered his face. “No photos, please.”

  “Oh, God, I didn’t mean—” Corliss knew from her psychology books that you needed to speak tenderly to frightened people in order to gain their trust. “Sorry, I’m not paparazzi! My bad. I’m Corliss Meyers—Max Marx’s assistant?”

  Tanya squinted. “Oh, hi. Did we meet?”

  “I kind of waved at you in the rehearsal.” Corliss waved to demonstrate. Tanya waved back.

  Trent, breathing through his mouth, seemed skeptical. “But, like, wait—who are you?”

  Corliss took one giant step through the sea grass and approached the table. “Max Marx’s assistant, Corliss. I, uh, had a lot of beet juice on my top and on my face today, so you might not recognize me now that I’ve showered and changed tops.” She laughed nervously and extended her hand, but Trent just stared.

  “But, like, if you’re Max’s assistant, what were you doing hiding behind that plant?”

  “Oh…yeah…huh. I guess you saw me. It’s just, uh, that the, uh, maître d’ wouldn’t tell me where you were sitting and…” Corliss scanned the psych portion of her memory for something that could help her navigate this spy scenario. Then it occurred to her: Narcissistic types require flattery. She leaned in to whisper. “I guess he wouldn’t tell me because you’re such big stars.” Tanya did indeed look flattered. But Trent kept scowling. “And my prescription on my glasses needs to be adjusted, so I wasn’t sure if it was you two, and I wanted to be sure before I bothered a couple of innocent strangers who weren’t very big stars.”

  “That’s so crazy,” giggled Tanya. “I have a prescription that needs to be adjusted, too!”

  “Sounds pretty lame to me,” muttered Trent.

  “Don’t be mean, Trent,” said Tanya. “Young women with a lot on their minds often have problems like these.” She smiled an understanding smile at Corliss. Corliss smiled one back and tried to pat down her hair. She had no idea what Tanya was talking about, but she sensed that Tanya was now officially on her side.

  Now all she needed to do was win over Trent. “Look, I’m really sorry to bother you, Trent.” Remember: Flatter him! “I know people must bother you all the time. You are, after all, one of the hottest actors of your generation.”

  Trent shrugged and grinned slightly.

  Wow, it’s working…

  “It’s just, um, Max wanted me to deliver the rewrite to you personally.” Corliss handed over the two scripts she’d printed at Uncle Ross’s.

  Trent seemed impressed. Tanya clapped like a little girl at Christmas.

  “He wanted to make sure you both had a chance to really look over the changes, because they really affect your characters. And because yours are the most important characters on the show.”

  Tanya clapped even more. Trent sat back in his chair and gave Tanya a satisfied smile. “Thanks, Corliss,” he said. “Yo, for a minute I thought you were a total stalker, but you totally rock.”

 
“Thanks! So, um, yeah,” Corliss stammered, stalling for time. “So, don’t you want to get home—to your separate places—and start looking over the changes?”

  Tanya looked at Trent.

  “We will,” he said. “But our food just arrived. Right before you jumped out of the plant.”

  Sure enough, their food was on their plates, growing cold. Which meant Corliss needed a reason to keep herself there. It was time to bring out the big guns. She put on her hungriest face and looked longingly at their meals.

  “Yeah, what is that? Some kind of fish? Like a whitefish? Boy, printing up those scripts kept me from having dinner and—”

  “Oh, no!” said Tanya. “Do you want to join us—?”

  “Listen, Corliss,” said Trent, cutting off Tanya, “we were in the middle of a really important discussion about, like, ourselves.”

  “Oh, of course…So I guess I should get moving?”

  Tanya frowned. Trent said, “Uh, yeah, kinda…”

  Corliss stood from the table and backed up. “Okay, but if you have any questions tonight when you’re in bed—your separate beds—just call. I put my number on the script. Any time! Even if it’s three A.M. and you’re there—alone—with questions!”

  “Thanks for coming all this way, Corliss,” said Tanya, waving.

  “Lates,” said Trent.

  “Lates, totally!” Corliss said as she backed away. “I’ll just be on my way. Ooh, maybe I’ll pick up a Filet-o-Fish on the way home.” Then, feeling like a total imbecile, she raced back to her car.

  The ’Bu

  [REWRITE–DRAFT II OF PILOT EPISODE]

  EXT. MALIBU BEACH—HIGH NOON

  TRAVIS, 18, all-American, blond, model good looks, is perched atop his lifeguard station like a panther surveying his kingdom. Crystalline sky. Legendary swells. Suddenly, a shadow falls over his face. He leaps to his feet and blows his WHISTLE.

  TRAVIS

  Way too far out!

  He waves in a PACK OF TWELVE-YEAR-OLDS splashing one another on their boogie boards. They immediately turn and paddle back to shore. Such is his power.

  GIRL’S VOICE

  Hey, Travis!

  It’s ALECIA, 19. Her beauty is muted and her buckwheat-colored hair pulled back in a prim bun. She wears a long T-shirt, and her lunar blue eyes look weary. Zinc oxide on her nose completes the picture of a girl for whom outward appearances are of no concern. Trent hears her, but he does not turn to face her. She continues on, despite his lack of interest.

  ALECIA

  (eagerly)

  What time do you get off work?

  TRAVIS

  In about an hour.

  ALECIA

  (flirtatiously)

  Cool. Do you want to meet me at my house after your shift? We can do our homework, and then I have a special surprise for you.

  TRAVIS

  Yeah, sure, whatever.

  Alecia seems hurt by Travis’s lack of interest, but she tries to remain cheerful. She steps up on the edge of the lifeguard booth to give him a kiss, but he turns his head and she only grazes his cheek.

  ALECIA

  Okay…well, I’ll see you in an hour or so then.

  A sad Alecia waves a wistful good-bye and lumbers down the beach.

  Just then, Travis sees a gorgeous girl jogging slowly down the beach. He watches as she moves in slow motion toward him, her hair whipping in the wind. Suddenly, she slips and goes down hard in the surf. Trent jumps down and races over to her.

  She is TESSA, 17, a lanky brunette in a butterscotch bikini with a sweet, flirtatious smile. Travis looks deep into her eyes as he helps her up.

  TRAVIS

  Are you okay?

  TESSA

  I think I stepped on a jellyfish.

  It really stings.

  Travis carefully scoops her up into his arms and carries her over to the lifeguard station.

  TRAVIS

  I’ll have to take a look at that.

  I’m Travis, by the way.

  He sets her down gently on the edge of the sand and kneels in front of her. He flashes her his killer smile while he puts some SALVE and a BANDAGE on her delicate foot.

  TESSA

  I’m Tessa.

  (shyly)

  Thanks for saving me.

  TRAVIS

  Well, I couldn’t let someone as beautiful as you drown. Besides, it’s my job to guard every life on this beach. And I take that job very seriously.

  TESSA

  I have to find a way to make it up to you.

  TRAVIS

  How about dinner tonight? The pleasure of your company would be repayment enough for me.

  TESSA

  You don’t already have plans? It is Saturday night…

  TRAVIS

  Nothing important. And certainly nothing better than spending the evening with you.

  TESSA

  All right then. Would you mind helping me to my car? I think walking might be a little difficult.

  TRAVIS

  It would be my pleasure.

  Travis scoops Tessa up into his arms and carries her across the beach to her car.

  TRAVIS

  See you in a few hours.

  Travis and Tessa move toward each other, about to hug, when another lifeguard’s WHISTLE sounds out in the distance. Trent gives her a sigh and a shrug and runs off toward the beach. Tessa’s car pulls away to reveal…

  Alecia, wearing a dowdy sundress and holding a bottle of CHAMPAGNE. Tears stream down her face as she watches Travis run away. She saw everything, and she knows she has lost Travis to Tessa.

  Four

  Malibu Canyon—7 A.M., the Next Morning

  Max watched as a fleet of limos pulled up outside the luxury condos that had been rented for the cast for the duration of the production. Corliss, clipboard in hand, yawned next to him. Max yawned, too.

  “Corliss, what did I say about you yawning?”

  Corliss consulted her notepad. “That it causes an insidious chain reaction.”

  “Exactly. Do you need another latte?”

  “No thanks, Max, I’m already holding my pee from the first three.”

  “TMI, Corliss.”

  “Sorry. I over-share all the time.”

  “So,” he said, consulting his Rolex, “are they all here?”

  Corliss counted off the limos. “There are five, yes. Everyone’s here.”

  Just then the limos stopped in front of Max and Corliss, and five crisply dressed chauffeurs leaped from their cars and moved to open the passenger doors.

  Tanya emerged from the first limo, toting a pink knapsack and a large crucifix.

  “Hey, Corliss! Hope you got your own fish last night!”

  Max leaned in to Corliss. “Explain, please.”

  Corliss whispered, “I’ll have a report for you soon, Max. It’s about the Trent and Tanya sitch.”

  Excellent, thought Max. I wouldn’t be caught dead with this fashion-backward girl at the opening of a Target, but she’s proving herself to be quite an asset.

  Rocco’s limo was next. He disembarked, sucking down an enormous protein shake while reading Fathers and Sons.

  “Morning, Rocco,” said Corliss. “Your condo is, um, let’s see, right up the hill to the left.”

  “Much appreciated,” he said, not lifting an eye from his book.

  JB came next, his decal-plastered laptop under his arm, yawning like a cat. This made Corliss yawn. Which made Max yawn.

  “Um, JB,” said Corliss, looking at Max’s tonsils, “do you need a latte?”

  JB nodded his sleepy head.

  “I’ll have to see who’s in charge of catering, but I’ll send one up. Your condo is up the hill, the one next to Rocco’s.”

  “Thanks, Cor. Do we have wireless?”

  “Um…”

  “Don’t look at me, Corliss,” said Max.

  “I’ll check on that, JB.”

  “Danke,” he said as he headed up to his condo.

 
Trent arrived next, wearing his wet suit.

  “I guess he’s already in character,” said Max. “Good thinking, by the way, Corliss—arranging for Trent to arrive a few limos after Tanya.”

  “I’m not sure I can take responsibility for that…”

  “Corliss, what did I say about taking responsibility for things you weren’t responsible for?”

  She consulted her pad. “As long as they please Max, accept all responsibility.”

  “Exactly.” I love how she repeats everything back like a parrot.

  Anushka arrived last. She practically crawled out of her limo, two Starbucks Grande triple espressos in hand. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at the location housing,” said Corliss. “Your condo is the last one on the right. Do you need any help getting there?”

  “Naw, I can stumble my way,” she said, stumbling.

  As the limos pulled off and the cast moved into their condos, Max turned to Corliss.

  “Wonderful. Make sure Anushka gets the rewrite. She didn’t receive it last night because I didn’t want her to think too much about it.”

  “Okay, Max,” said Corliss, swallowing a yawn until her face contorted and her shoulders curled.

  “Do you have some kind of muscular condition, Corliss?”

  Corliss shook her head and gulped the last of her yawn.

  Malibu Beach—A Few Hours Later

  Waves lapped lullingly. Gulls swooped overhead. Dolphins played on the horizon. It was the picture of serenity, thought Corliss—except for one screeching starlet.

  “A sad Alecia lumbers down the beach???” Anushka was hopping mad. She clutched the script in her hand like a brick she was about to toss at someone’s head. She was dressed in a long T-shirt that grazed the top of her knees, and her nose shone bright white from a huge dollop of zinc oxide. She was virtually unrecognizable.

  “What’s the matter now, Anushka?” Max sighed.

  “What’s the matter?!” She poked the script again. “Her beauty is muted and appearances don’t concern her?! And you ask me what’s the matter?!”