by Jordan Cooke
“You can’t fire me, Max, I keep reminding you. And you haven’t hired any other writers, so who will do your rewrites?”
“Hi, Max.” It was Corliss. Max whipped around. Something about her seemed completely different, but Max didn’t have time to figure out what it was. “What do you want, Corliss? I’m in the middle of expressing my severe dissatisfaction with an overpaid staff member I can’t fire.”
“I’m sorry, Max.”
Petey moved closer and looked Corliss up and down thoughtfully.
“I realize you’re under a lot of pressure, but I thought we could have a chat. So I checked your personal snack file and took the liberty of picking up your morning snack.” She held up a small tub of Pinkberry frozen yogurt covered in mango chunks.
Max just stared. “Pinkberry frozen yogurt with mango chunks is my mid-morning snack, Corliss. Last time I checked it was morning-morning. My morning-morning snack is two Chai LUNA bars, fresh squeezed pomegranate juice, and a dollop of Whole Foods almond butter.”
Corliss immediately tossed the yogurt into a nearby trashcan.
“You just threw frozen yogurt into the recycling, Corliss.”
“My bad.”
“And there’s something different about you today.”
Petey nodded in agreement. “It’s her hair and clothes!” He waved at Corliss and smiled his coffee-stained smile. Corliss waved back.
Max didn’t know what Petey was babbling about—he was too busy trying to figure out what was different about Corliss. “Did you have Restylane injections last night?” he whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth.
“No, Max,” Corliss said, tugging self-consciously at her new gear. “I just got a haircut and spa treatment and then picked up this adorable little sundress from Helen Wang. Oh, and I’m wearing a smidgen of blush from MAC.”
Petey was quickly jotting down notes in his pad.
“What are you doing?” asked Max contemptuously.
“Making notes for the next impossible revision you’ll no doubt request of me by sundown.”
“Excellent. Do it somewhere I can’t see you. Or smell you. When’s the last time you took a shower, Writer?”
Petey sighed and picked up the script out of the sand. “I have a name…” he sighed as he trundled toward his trailer.
“He doesn’t look so good, Max.”
“He’s not supposed to look good, Corliss, he’s a writer. Where’s my cast?” Max glared toward the beach. Several of his assistants peeled off to gather the cast. The technicians stood by with bored looks.
“Um, before they get here, Max, I really do think we need to have a serious talk about a couple of things.”
“Fine, but make it quick, Corliss. The day might be young, but my patience is already very old. The network is all over my case to deliver some footage, and so far I have, basically, nada.”
“That must be anxiety-producing. And I certainly don’t want to do anything to add to that, but first—and potentially most important—someone’s blogging about our show. For everyone to read. I heard about it through the grapevine and then I checked it out last night. Saw it with my own two eyes.”
“Why does this concern me?”
“Because it says a lot of things that maybe you don’t want out in public?”
Max waved his hand in her face. “Don’t bother me with the sophomoric Web browsing you do, Corliss.”
“All right, but you might want to take a look and—”
“Next topic,” said Max, on his last good nerve. “You said there were a couple things?”
Corliss hopped from one foot to the other. She made a strange face. Max looked to the sky to express his aggravation. Corliss finally spat it out. “It’s the job, Max. The stuff I’ve been doing for you. The Trent and Tanya business—or TNT, as I like to refer to it.”
“Yes, your efforts seem to be working, but please—” Max rolled his fingers around each other for Corliss to talk faster. “Increase the speed, increase the speed.”
“Yes, and there has been some success there—FYI—although the situation is still touch and go—I put a file in your trailer, recording in military time whenever I averted a possible love connection.”
“A file recorded in military time? What an excellent idea. Was it mine?”
“Actually, no, it was mine, Max, but—”
“Huh. Well, good for you. Then again, it was my idea to make you my assistant, so good for me.”
“Yes, certainly a good decision on your part—and you are loaded with them—but about the job. My job. The thing is, Max—”
She was cut off by a screech so loud, a flock of seagulls took off into the sky.
“Maaaxxx!”
Max turned and tried to appear calm. “Hello, Anushka. You’ve scared off the seagulls once again, and I wanted to use them in a shot.”
“Listen, Max, screw those gulls. Now they have me in an outfit that would make an eighty-year-old Muslim woman feel overdressed. A mustard-colored caftan?!”
“What do you think of Anushka’s outfit, Corliss?”
“I—I think it’s cute?”
“Oh, come on, Corliss, even you wouldn’t be caught dead in this.”
“Well…” Corliss said cautiously. “Max has worked very hard with Petey to deepen your character, and this sleeping bag thing you’re wearing conveys that.”
“Thank you, Corliss,” said Max. “But who is this Petey you refer to?”
Anushka squinted over at Corliss, then looked her up and down approvingly. “Wait a second. Check out Extreme Makeover girl.”
“It’s just a little sundress I got from Helen Wang and—”
“Women of The ’Bu, please cease chattering!” Max thundered, forgetting his whisper. His voice was a little girly in the upper register and he immediately made a note in his BlackBerry: NEVER RAISE VOICE. “Where is Tanya?”
“Here I am,” came Tanya’s little-girl voice.
She looked luscious in yet another of the wispiest bikinis ever sewn together with two pieces of thread. This one was a dark chocolate color. It set off her eyes magnificently. “Very nice costume,” said Max.
“Thanks! I can’t really move too much in it. If I sit down it pops off like a broken rubber band.” She giggled. “Hi, Corliss. Cute sundress.”
“Thanks, Tanya.”
Anushka stomped her feet in the sand and looked at Tanya. “I am going to kill the wardrobe lady.”
“There’s no time for that, Anushka,” said Max. “We need to start shooting immediately.” He signaled the technicians, who prepared to shoot. “Tanya, are you ready?”
“Sure,” she said confidently. “I’ve got my good luck charm.” She pulled rosary beads from her bikini bottom. “I just said five Hail Marys so that the Baby Jesus would help me remember my lines.”
“Excellent,” said Max. He then pulled Corliss aside. “Corliss, I need you to go to the catering trailer where Trent is and tell him Tanya’s flirting with the entire crew.”
“What?! But Max, we still haven’t talked about—”
“Corliss, what do I like in an assistant?”
Corliss repeated back Max’s assistant mantra. “She doesn’t ask questions and always answers ‘Yes, Max.’”
“Exactly. Now toddle off.”
Corliss sighed and did as she was told. When Max turned back, the cameraman was ready to shoot, but Tanya was in tears.
“What now?”
Anushka couldn’t help grinning. “Apparently, Little Miss Butt Floss all of a sudden forgot all her lines—and the Baby Jesus seems to be on another call.”
A vein throbbed in Max’s forehead. He immediately put his finger over it to make it look like he was in serious thought. “Tanya, is this true about your lines?”
Tanya nodded and burst into more tears. Max put his head in his hands. “Tanya, I know you can do this. I remember how talented you are from your audition.”
“I know!” Tanya wailed.
; “How talented she is?” said Anushka, as if stung.
“I’m soooooo talented!” Tanya wailed.
“Max, that’s what you used to say about me,” said Anushka, with more than a little sadness.
“We’re talking about Tanya, now, Anushka, please.”
“But we’re always talking about Tanya, Max! Never me! Anushka Peters! It’s always Tanya, Tanya, Tanya—” She stopped herself. “Oh, God, I’m really sorry, Max. That was ugly.”
“You’re forgiven, Anushka. Now please remain quiet in your caftan.”
“But Max,” said Anushka in a voice that could melt butter, “Tanya obviously lacks confidence—and I think I can help.”
“You,” Tanya whimpered, “want to help me?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Because you always call me names like Licorice Stick, and yesterday you pulled my hair and said the prop lady did it, and today you tripped me coming out of my trailer.”
“Tanya, Tanya, Tanyita,” sighed Anushka as she draped an arm around her, “these are all things we can get past. If I help you, I help The ’Bu. And if I help The ’Bu, I help us all.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to, Anushka Peters?”
“Nothing, Max.” Anushka batted her eyes. Max almost believed her. “I think a little coaching from a seasoned professional like me could do Tanya good.”
Tanya brightened. “Oh, Anushka, seriously? I’d totally appreciate coaching from someone as seasoned as you. ’Cause that means you’ve lived more seasons than me, right?”
“Careful, Twizzler.”
“Are you serious about this, Anushka?” asked Max.
“Yes, Max. I just need time. I think you should call off the rest of the shoot today and let me do some intense, gloves-off coaching with Tanya.”
“Call off the—! But we’ll lose an entire day! And we’re already—! And the network—!” Max’s eyes bulged out of his head.
“Max, everyone knows how bad Tanya is right now.”
Tanya started sobbing again.
“I think desperate times call for desperate coaching.”
Max took deep breaths and thought this over. He looked around for Corliss. She’d know what to do. “Someone find Corliss! I need Corliss…”
But Corliss was nowhere in sight. Max looked at the cameraman, who was shaking his head “no.” He looked at Tanya who was shaking her head “yes.” He looked at the technicians, who were hoping Tanya’s bikini would pop off like a rubber band.
“I promise, Max,” said Anushka as if she meant it. “Tanya will come to the set tomorrow kicking some serious acting butt. I’ll bet my caftan-covered tuchus.”
Anushka’s Penthouse Suite, Sunset Tower Hotel—Noon, That Day
Anushka finally had Tanya exactly where she wanted her: on the ground beneath her.
“Is this right, Anushka?” Tanya asked, shifting uncomfortably, her skinny body all twisted up.
“Exactly right.”
“But why do I have to be on the floor?”
“Because in the scene Trent—I mean Travis—has just left you and you’re groveling for his love.”
Tanya wasn’t so sure. “I am?”
“Tanya, do you want me to coach you or not?”
Tanya leaped to her feet. “Oh, please, yes, I do! It’s amazing that you would offer your time. You’ve been, like, totally my idol since I first saw you on television in Suburban Magic. When I call my friends back in New York and tell them we’re friends, they are, like, completely blown away!”
All this praise pleased Anushka. It meant she had Tanya enthralled. Which meant she still ruled. “You’re a good student, Tanya.”
“Thanks. And I’m really glad you suggested getting away from the beach so we could do this in private. I’m so self-conscious for someone who has been practically naked on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Do you know that edition sold more than any other this year?” Tanya jumped up and down and clapped.
Anushka ignored this.
“And I really appreciate your pulling some other costumes for me, Anushka.”
“It’s all a part of the coaching session, Tanya. Obviously, the costume designer has totally misfired with your character’s clothes.”
“And you think this bathing suit is more like something my character would wear?” Tanya pointed to an iridescent aquamarine one-piece thrown over a chair.
“Totally. Your character is obviously complete Valley trash. She’d have horrible taste.”
Tanya picked up the bathing suit. “It has a Sears tag. Won’t I look bad in this?”
“Tanya, a pool tarp would look hot on you.”
“Thanks,” yelped Tanya, clapping again.
“Don’t mention it,” said Anushka through her teeth. “Now let’s get back to work. First, put on the new bathing suit so you can get a deeper sense of your character.”
Tanya immediately stepped out of her clothes. Anushka scrutinized her competitor’s naked body. Not bad. Tanya stepped into the Sears one-piece. Damn, this girl would look good in a pool tarp.
“Now lie down on the floor and say your lines.”
Tanya did as she was told. “Oh, Travis!” she screeched. “I can’t believe you like someone else more than me!”
“Great, Tanya, but screechier.”
“Seriously?”
“Trust me—screechier.”
Tanya took a breath and then screeched as loud as she could. “OH TRAVISSSSS! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LIKE SOMEONE ELSE MORE THAN MEEEE!”
“Excellent. The louder you screech, the more effective it is. Also, you should make your eyes so big that your face hurts. And at the end of the line you should stick out your tongue. And the most important thing is that every word should have a different hand gesture.”
Anushka demonstrated, resembling a demented traffic cop. “Oh, Travis! I can’t believe you like someone else more than me!”
“Wow,” said Tanya. “Are you sure? You look crazy.”
“But your character Tessa is crazy in this scene.”
“Huh. You’re right! God, Anushka, I’m learning so much from you.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Enter, yo!”
It was Lorenzo, the sneaky concierge. “Is everything okay, Miss Peters? I was passing by your room and I heard screeching.”
“That was Tanya acting.”
Tanya smiled and waved hi.
“Oh, I see,” said Lorenzo, looking concerned. “Carry on,” he said as he slunk away like a salamander.
“Anushka, I can’t thank you enough. Whatever you’re doing must really be working. That guy really thought someone was in horrible pain in here.”
“Someone was,” said Anushka out of the side of her mouth.
“You’re the best coach a girl could ever have.”
“Thanks, Tans. But your phone is ringing again and I’m kinda impatient with all the interruptions.”
“Sorry, Anushka,” replied Tanya nervously. “Trent makes me keep it on. He’s been so nice and he wants to take me to dinner in Venice at some place spelled A-X-E—which they pronounce Ah-shay. Isn’t that weird?”
Anushka watched Tanya run for her bag to answer her cell phone.
“Trent, hi! Yes, I think so.” Tanya covered the phone and asked Anushka, “Would it be okay if we stopped the coaching session now? Trent’s downstairs in his Jeep and he wanted to get some surfing in this afternoon.”
Anushka sighed and pretended to be put out. “Okay, Tanya, but it’s obvious to me I’ll have to continue coaching you throughout the entire production.”
Tanya jumped up and down at the idea. “That would be awesome! Wait till I call my friends and tell them Anushka Peters is my forever acting coach! Hey, do you want to come surfing? That would be so awesome—you, me, and Trent!”
Anushka tried to hide her disgust. Apparently Trent had never told Tanya that he and Anushka had had a disastrous date last year that involved too many Jägermeister shots, a S
lurpee, and lots of Wetnaps. “No thanks, Tans. You kids go ahead. I’ll see you back at the condos tonight.”
“Okay, you’re the bestest best!” Tanya quickly kissed Anushka on the cheek and motored into the suite’s private elevator. She waved excitedly as the doors closed on her.
Anushka couldn’t believe it. Tanya had fallen for the whole thing. She rubbed her hands in glee. The coaching session had gone exactly as she’d hoped. Tanya was going to be a perfect disaster the next day on the set, and would no doubt be out on her skinny rump by week’s end. At that point, Max would stop calling Tanya talented and Anushka would throw off her caftan and step back into the limelight that was rightly hers.
She put these thoughts out of her head and looked out her window to the hotel drive-around below. There she saw Trent in his surfboard-stuffed Jeep, waiting for Tanya. In a flash, Tanya emerged from the hotel and pecked Trent on the cheek. She hopped into the Jeep with a giggle and tossed her hair like the carefree girl she was.
Seeing this, Anushka felt something flutter around her ribcage. Could it be jealousy? She shrugged it off and buzzed Lorenzo. “Lorenz! It’s your favorite penthouse princess calling.”
“Hello, my lovely,” came Lorenzo’s voice.
“Hey. Dontcha know the main reason I live in this overpriced fleabag is so I can order beverages? So talk to me! Is it too early for one of your legendary concoctions?”
“Well…”
“In that case, I’ll have one. And knock loud! I’m gonna be online checking out this blog about our show that everyone’s talking about.”
Six
Malibu Beach—8:07 A.M., the Next Morning
As the cameras rolled and Trent stood above her, Tanya writhed in the sand like someone having an epileptic seizure. “OH TRAVISSSSS! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LIKE SOMEONE ELSE MORE THAN MEEEE!” Her eyes were as big as dinner plates and she punctuated every word with a different hand gesture. At the end of her line, she stuck out her tongue like a cat coughing up a hairball.
“Cut,” whispered Max.
He dragged his manicured fingers through his hair so hard, it looked like he might lose a few follicles.
