No Biz Like Showbiz

by Julie Moffett

  “Fine. But we negotiate to my satisfaction the second the cameras are off or I’m history.” She stalked back on the stage.

  Cartwright mopped his brow and turned around. When he saw me, he glared. “You’d better find that hacking idiot and do it soon or I’m going to have to kill somebody.”

  Chapter Eight

  After the show, the remaining contestants milled about on the side of the stage, looking dejected. Max wasn’t in sight. Apparently he hadn’t wasted any time between his downward slide, both literally and figuratively, and heading for a bar. I wished I could join him. A lone cameraman stood nearby still filming them.

  I walked over to the cameraman. “Seriously? The show is over. Give them a break.”

  He shrugged, which couldn’t have been easy with the heavy camera on his shoulder. “It’s the gig. We’ve got to have them covered 24/7.”

  “That’s asinine.”

  “I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, but if I want a paycheck, I follow them.” He took a step back, but kept filming.

  Anson spoke first. “Don’t worry, Lexi. If we start talking about the hacker, they’ll be sure to cut the material. God forbid that they make it public.”

  Truman snorted. “Like the audience hasn’t figured it out yet. Cartwright is fooling himself. The general public isn’t that stupid.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Eldrick shoved his fingers in his hair. “I think the people who watch this show are a bunch of morons. But we’re the bigger ones for coming on in the first place. Somehow I thought it would be different.”

  Gregg walked over and tried to throw his arm around my shoulder. I glared at him. “One warning. Keep your hands to yourself. I’ve got a stun gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  He looked surprised. “You own a stun gun?”

  “Of course I own a stun gun. I went to college in the heart of Washington, D.C. Every co-ed has one.”

  “Baby, you are making me want you so much.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Shut up, Gregg.” Eldrick moved between us. “We need to focus.”

  I nodded. “Yes, by all means, focus. Even better, think. For God’s sake, why in the world are you letting Lucy and the show treat you like this? How can you not stand up for yourselves?”

  Eldrick sighed. “Lexi is right. We need to start standing up for ourselves.”

  “Great idea, wrong plan.” Anson frowned. “We signed a contract.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t say we can’t turn things around and stop acting like idiots.” Eldrick leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  Ray stepped forward. “What Lexi is telling us is that we’re not acting like idiots, we are idiots.”

  “‘Idiots grow like mold on cheese.’” Barnaby shook his finger and then clarified, “Kirk says that to Chardonnay in just about every episode.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You can quit explaining your quotes, Barnaby. I already told you I’m a fan of Repercussions, too.”

  “Prove it.”

  I thought for a moment. “‘What will happen to Earth if we relinquish the search for knowledge to those with no desire for true understanding?’”

  “Ab’Jona to Cypher,” Barnaby breathed. “In the episode ‘Zone of Proximity.’”

  Truman held up a hand. “I hate to interrupt this touching session of Repercussions bonding, but can we stick to the problem at hand? I understand what you’re saying, Lexi. The problem is that I’m not acting. I really suck at conversation of any kind.”

  I shrugged. “Hey, I’m not on a high horse. It’s not my strength either. Just tell me if there’s a point to playing to the stereotype? It’s wrong on so many levels. I’m struggling to figure out what prompted you signed up for this insanity. Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re stupid, because I know you’re not.”

  Anson raised his hand.

  I sighed. “Jeez, Anson. This isn’t school. Just say what you’re thinking.”

  Anson cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Well, I can’t speak for the others, but I know why I’m here. I want to figure out how to communicate properly, with the right amount of emotion and interest, in order to exchange a girl friend for a girlfriend. It’s really not that complex a concept, except for some reason the methodology escapes me.”

  Barnaby nodded. “‘Earthling mating rituals often involve rubber sheaths, liquid that impairs the thinking process, and richly illustrated texts of sexual positions.’ Ab’Jona to Kirk in the ‘Haunted Vortex.’”

  I shot Barnaby an exasperated look. “Look, can’t you guys see what’s going on here? They’re playing you for laughs. Where is your pride? Where’s your self-respect? They are exploiting every imaginable stereotype available about geeks and you are playing right into their hands.”

  Truman shrugged. “Hey, I’ve got two emails from girls back home who said they saw me on television and are cheering for me. That equals two girls who never noticed me before. Statistically that’s a coup for me.”

  Anson nodded. “He’s got a point.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That is not a point. Those girls could be laughing at you.”

  Truman frowned. “So what? At least they see me.”

  “No, Truman. They don’t see you. They see a caricature of you. There’s a difference.”

  “Baby.” Gregg strode up to me, hitching his pants. “You’ve got to relax. We men have got it all under control.” Before I could move, his hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder. As I backed up in horror, I almost tripped over Eldrick.

  Ray stepped between us. “Gregg, dude. Back off. I mean it. You’re like an octopus with eight arms. The fake manly act is not working.”

  “It would work, if she would just relax and go with it.”

  “She’s going to knock you on your ass and the rest of us will cheer.”

  Barnaby suddenly jumped up. “‘A true understanding of women comes from being able to tap the hidden reserve within her soul.’”

  We all turned to stare at him.

  His cheeks went pink. “Ab’Jona to Cypher in ‘Exquisite Disequilibrium.’”

  I sighed. “Look, guys, I’m just saying that you should think about what you are doing and why. You’re giving geeks a bad name, okay?”

  Eldrick looked at me intently. “So, what do you want us to do, Lexi? Revolt? Shred our contract? Turn the show upside down? Mass exodus?”

  I shrugged. “Well, why don’t you?”

  It was silent for a moment while they all stared at me.

  Barnaby leapt up and started pacing. “‘I’m scared. It’s beginning to look like a three-ring circus out there, and I think I like it.’ That was Cypher to Kirk in the episode ‘Self-Reflection.’”

  We ignored Barnaby, but Eldrick narrowed his eyes as he studied me. “You are almost beginning to sound as if you like this mysterious hacker, Lexi.”

  “I won’t deny that. However, that doesn’t mean if I find him, I won’t shut him down.”

  “So, what should we do?” Anson asked, his tone pleading.

  I lifted my hands. “Guys, this is your show. It’s in your hands. Put your damn fine brains together and figure something out. But if I were you, I’d do it sooner rather than later.”

  Chapter Nine

  Despite my intention to stay late after the show and get started on the finding the hacker, Kyle and Tony both ganged up on me and told me to get some sleep.

  Kyle stood in front of the computer he’d set up for me, blocking it with his body. “The studio closes down in about an hour anyway. Let’s start fresh in the morning.”

  Tony nodded. “Yeah, you need some down time.”

  I frowned, grumpy. “Okay. We can start fresh tomorrow. But I can walk. It’s ten minutes away. I don’t n
eed a ride, Tony.”

  Tony clucked his tongue. “Don’t start getting all diva on me. You aren’t walking anywhere in L.A., day or night. I’ll drive you home and pick you up in the morning at nine sharp. Besides, if anything happens to you, Cartwright will have my ass in a sling.”

  I didn’t argue further because I did feel tired, my stomach was still queasy, and I had a headache from the emotional trauma of having to endure an episode of Geeks Get Some up close and personal. My injured hand also ached because I’d forgotten to take some ibuprofen and hadn’t done any exercises with the therapy squeeze ball.

  As a result, I let Tony guide me to his car. When I got to my hotel room, I changed into my PJs and brushed my teeth. Yet, despite my exhaustion, I was too wound up to sleep.

  I surfed the Net, squeezed the therapy ball, paced the room, and jotted down some notes. My mind raced with a number of different scenarios to find the hacker. At twelve fifteen I started to create a spreadsheet to organize my thoughts when my laptop chimed. I clicked on my mail and saw I had received a message from paranormalexpert@blacknighthome.net.

  You awake, Lexi? Just checking to see if you hold geek hours like we do. If so, want to join us tonight for some gaming?

  I tried to remember which one of the contestants was the paranormal investigator. My mind sorted through the guys and landed on the redheaded one named Truman.

  Truman, is that you?

  Ha! Knew you’d be awake. Just won myself a twenty from Anson.

  You serious about the gaming?

  I wouldn’t joke about gaming. Trust me on that.

  Gaming sounds pretty optimum right now. I need to unwind.

  We can come get you.

  I’m not sure.

  Why? Gaming is gaming. Scared we’ll trounce you?

  I’m hardly scared of a challenge. Just don’t want to be part of your filming.

  Don’t worry. Cameraman is drunk and passed out. We’re in the clear.

  Still, I’m not sure you guys are at my level. Calculating whether it’s worth the effort.

  Damn, I like a confident woman. We’ll be there in ten. You in?

  Okay, I’m in.

  I emailed the address of the hotel and pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt. After I wound my hair up in a ponytail, I grabbed my purse and keys and went down to the front of the hotel to wait.

  The guy on night duty gallantly asked if could call me a cab, but I told him I was waiting for someone. He didn’t even blink an eye that someone was coming to pick me up at nearly one o’clock in the morning, so maybe that’s normal in California.

  About ten minutes later, a red car pulled up. Truman jumped out of the driver’s side and waved me over.

  “Ready for some gaming, Lexi?”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”

  “Damn right, we are.”

  He opened the door and I climbed in the front passenger side. There were three other guys crammed in the back and I turned in my seat to see who it was.

  I pointed my finger at each of them as I rattled off their names. “Barnaby, Eldrick and Anson. Am I right?”

  “Photographic memory?” Eldrick asked.

  “Yes, if I’m focused.”

  “Me, too,” Anson said. His hair looked like he’d just had a close encounter with an electric socket. “Great for remembering all the parts of a circuit, but not so great when trying to remember what I’m supposed to say to a girl.”

  I shrugged. “That’s because talking to a girl—or anyone for that matter—isn’t a simple list to be memorized. However, I’ve found that having a small mental reference of small talk topics and phrases to be helpful in certain social situations.”

  Anson leaned forward in his seat. “Really? You willing to share sometime?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Barnaby gripped Truman’s headset and looked at me intently. “‘Those who share knowledge, share the path to ultimate understanding.’”

  I nodded. “Ab’Jona to Cypher in ‘Diffusion Illusion.’ I especially liked that episode because Chardonnay outsmarted everyone when she anticipated the Zindi would attack.”

  I turned around in my seat as Barnaby whistled under his breath.

  “She’s a true Repercussions geek, Barnaby,” Anson said. “The real deal. You may have met your match at last.”

  I glanced at Truman. “So what are we playing tonight?”

  Truman shrugged. “Well, we aren’t playing any Wicked Fish games—that would be an unfair advantage to Anson, who developed most of them—so we were thinking about ‘Zorxx.’ You familiar with it?”

  “‘Zorxx’? Sure, been as far as Level Fourteen.”

  Eldrick gasped. “Damn, I never got past Level Ten. How did you handle the solar niche?”

  “Combination blast of synergistic dispersion and thermal focus.”

  “Whoa. Seriously? I didn’t consider the thermal focus.”

  “It works.”

  Anson leaned forward. “Hey, I’m on Level Fourteen now. Want to be on my team?”

  “Hell, no.” Truman took a hard right and we all slid sideways. “We aren’t playing ‘Zorxx’ if you and Lexi are already on Level Fourteen.”

  I smiled. “Who’s scared now?”

  The guys started arguing and I felt myself relax. It was nice to be among my peers.

  Truman drove up to a gated community. The guard peered in the car. “Hey, you guys aren’t supposed to be driving yourselves. Where’s your driver?”

  Truman leaned out the window. “Come on, Joey. It’s one o’clock in the morning. The driver is asleep.”

  “You know you’re not supposed to be driving alone. Legal department makes those rules.”

  Truman cocked his head toward me. “Give me a break, okay?”

  Joey leaned down and peered at me. “Oh, a girl.” He looked in the back seat. “With the three other guys in the back?”

  “Moral support.”

  Joey sighed. “That’s whack, but I’ll let it slide this time. I don’t want to see you guys do it again.”

  “Thanks, dude. You’re the greatest.”

  He lifted the gate and let us in. It was dark, but I could see the hulking shapes of mansions.

  I glanced at Truman. “They keep you on a short leash.”

  “Tell me about it. It’s more like prison and less like an exclusive community.”

  I grimaced. “Why would anyone want to live here?”

  Eldrick snorted. “Wait until you see these monstrosities in the daylight.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “‘Those with the smallest minds have the largest egos.’” Barnaby patted the seat. “Ab’Jona to Kirk in ‘The Triangulated Trio.’”

  We pulled into the circular driveway of a mansion that looked like a small museum.

  I climbed out of the car and stared at the hulking building. “Really? This is a house? I can’t believe people would want to live in a place like this on purpose.”

  Truman got out as well. “It’s our humble abode for as long as we are on the show.”

  He opened the back door and Barnaby half fell out, pushing the glasses up on his nose. “Exclusivity and taste are not synonymous.”

  I frowned. “It’s pretentious, not to mention hideous.”

  Truman laughed. “Oh, so true, Lexi. Enter our mansion.”

  He opened the ginormous front door and we strolled in. The foyer was a cavernous area highlighted by a huge white marble winding staircase and a glittering chandelier. Truman went left, so I followed him with the other guys trailing behind me.

  We walked into a huge room with several couches, a fireplace and a huge plasma screen television mounted on the wall. Pillows were scattered across the floor in front of t
he television, a half dozen wireless gaming remotes on the floor in front of them and a stack of discs on a nearby table. Three pinball machines lined the right wall and a half dozen laptops were arranged on a long table that had been pushed up against the opposite wall. Three empty pizza boxes and several cans of Mountain Dew littered the nearby coffee tables. Guess the studio executives knew geeks well or had good advisors.

  Gregg and Ray were playing something, both of them pounding away on their remotes while swearing like sailors.

  I stepped closer, peering at the television. “‘Demon Kingdom’?”

  The demon on the screen abruptly squashed the knight under a giant clawed foot. Ray swore, tossing his remote to the ground. “Damn. She distracted me.”

  Gregg laughed. “You were finished way before she came.” He placed his remote on the coffee table and sauntered toward me, hitching his pants up on his skinny hips. “Ooh, a hot chick in our humble abode after midnight. Want a little loving from a true champion? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I frowned, taking a step back. “The one certainty of this universe is that I will never want that.”

  The guys all laughed, even Gregg. I took a moment to look around and counted six guys. Barnaby, Ray, Truman, Eldrick, Anson and Gregg.

  “Where’s Max Sheffield?” I asked.

  Ray jerked his head at the front door. “He couldn’t wait to hightail it the hell out of here. He left a couple of hours ago.”

  “Okay, then I guess the gang is all here.”

  After I grabbed a cold piece of ham, cheese, and pineapple pizza, we sat down to some serious gaming.

  The game of choice was ended up being “Quaver” as none of us had played past Level Four. We played in teams, rotated in and out, forty-minute stretches with two of us at a time to be replaced by others on the team. After two hours a couple of the guys disappeared altogether. Some came back and others didn’t. By five forty-five only Truman, Anson and I were left. I finished off Truman and then Anson before standing triumphant.