Sandy, you were highest. Great job with your last Chupacabra piece.
In general, all of you are doing very well.
Attached please find your updated itineraries and flight information for this weekend’s launch party. Let me remind you again that this is a working party—you will be meeting potential sponsors, so pack appropriate clothing and stay on your toes.
I’ll see you all in LA. Please notify me immediately upon your arrival.
Oh, and please be advised: I cannot approve requests for customized release forms. You are only authorized to use the ones provided by Levy Media Legal.
Cordially yours,
AVO
34
Sandy sat on a hotel bed that Friday evening trying to finish texting a paragraph onto her new phone’s mini keyboard while Lori wiggled and bobbed beside her.
“God, these phones they gave us are so freaking awesome,” Lori enthused. “Okay, are you ready? I’m going to hit Record.”
“Ready,” Sandy said. She didn’t actually want to be recorded anymore because she still had a deadline to meet. And now that that idiot George had left Nacho Papi for its newest competitor, Buzz News, Sandy had even more posts to write in order to meet her quota each day.
Lori had already used the new phone supplied by their latest sponsor to record Sandy and herself at the Austin airport, on the plane, at LAX, and in the taxi all the way to their hotel. Her technique was to record as much as possible and then send it all to Francisco, entrusting him to edit out the boring parts and highlight the gems. So far, the gems included their flight attendant recognizing them as Nacho Papi’s writers, and their taxi driver serenading them with traditional Peruvian love songs while staring at Lori’s cleavage and scorpion tattoo. Sandy hadn’t been able to write many posts at all that day, and made a mental note to ask Angelica if appearing in videos with Lori counted toward her daily quota. She felt a little guilty about doing that, since Francisco was the one doing the bulk of the work on the videos. And especially because Sandy was pretty sure he only did it because he was in love with Lori. But that wasn’t her problem. She needed as many page views as she could get, and Francisco needed to learn to look out for himself.
“Smile,” Lori whispered as she huddled next to Sandy and held out the phone at arm’s length so that its lens would encompass them both. “Hi! Here we are, Lori and Sandy, in our hotel room in Los Angeles. It’s a good thing I have my Zoom Phone with me so you guys can be here with us. Sandy, which bed do you want?”
“I’ll take the one by the window.”
“Then I’ll take that one too!” Lori giggled lasciviously and Sandy gave a cool smile. She always played the straight man in Lori’s posts, and Lori always played it bi.
“We’re about to get ready for the big launch party tonight. I hope you guys can make it, but, if not, you can watch it live, here on the site. Post comments and let us know how you like my outfit!”
Sandy held her cool/smart/sophisticated expression steady until Lori hit Stop and dropped her phone. “Oh my God, I am so nervous. I think I’m gonna puke,” she said, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to her torso.
“You’re not going to puke. It’s going to be fine,” said Sandy, for what felt like the fortieth time since they’d left Austin. “We’ll get to the party, they’ll turn on the cameras, and you’ll turn into Lori the Star. Everyone will love you, Angelica will be happy, and you’ll be just fine. You can always throw up when you get back to the hotel if you need to.” That was usually how it happened. The more nervous Lori became, the better she did on camera, and then she ended up being physically ill afterwards. Sandy felt sorry for her, but not sorry enough to let it affect her own work.
She was nervous too, because they were going to meet Angelica’s boss, Jacob Levy, tonight, but not nervous to the point of gastric disorder. After all, no one was expecting Sandy to be the life of the party. She’d been gaining social experience, as Angelica was always sending them to various events and club openings, and Sandy had found that standing there looking just the way Angelica had designed her was all she ever needed to do. Sometimes people walked up—men, especially—and tried to engage her in conversations about politics or things she’d said on the site. But they were usually so nervous or self-conscious themselves that Sandy could dispatch them with a few remarks. It was almost like magic. The fact that she appeared online regularly, was almost a celebrity, made people feel intimidated by her in person.
Sandy had been afraid at first, thinking that strangers at these events might make the sorts of remarks to her that strangers made on the site, commenting on her looks or her intellect or conjecturing about her personal life. But in real life, outside of the anonymity of the Internet, no one was rude at all. No one had the nerve to be.
It made her feel powerful, in a way. Way more powerful than she’d felt when she was only a writer for LatinoNow, or a tech writer for a bunch of bossy engineers, or a struggling student. Now that she worked for Nacho Papi she felt, for the first time, like she was really somebody. More and more lately, when she showed up at events around Austin, and even at the State Capitol, people knew who she was. Or if they didn’t know exactly who she was, they could tell that she was somebody and that they had to treat her with respect.
And she knew that Lori felt the same, at least on some level—when she wasn’t retching in a bathroom somewhere or sitting in a corner chewing her nails, like she was doing right at that moment.
“Come on,” Sandy said. “Let’s get ready to tear this town up.”
A couple of hours later, Sandy’s prediction came true. Lori stood in the middle of the Cadillac Club, which Angelica’s boss, Jacob Levy, had rented for the occasion. Admirers surrounded her three men deep, and she shone in the light of the live-streaming camera that fed her every move to their Web site for her fans around the country to see.
Sandy, meanwhile, was navigating through waves of silver balloons and waiters bearing trays of champagne to meet and pose for pictures with Cleo J., Cuoc X., and the other writers from their sister sites. She and Cleo J., whose real name was Kendra James, hit it off very well and spent half an hour marveling over how much they had in common, upbringing and career wise, before Angelica came over and reminded them to mingle with the other guests. And there were plenty of them to mingle with. Sandy met the writers and editors for all of Nacho Papi’s sister sites, plus the New York team who sold ad space on the sites. Then there were tons of other people: media people and publicity people and businesspeople and the all-important sponsor people. And then just plain people—and Sandy was glad that Philippe was there to show her the ropes. She stayed close to him all night, and he made sure she knew who was who. And he also made sure she had a good time. She always had fun with Philippe. He made her laugh and made her feel sophisticated, just by standing next to her and looking interested in what she had to say. She noticed that Lori did just fine by herself, but Francisco mostly stayed with the other techies from their sister sites. Angelica, meanwhile, was completely in her element, scheming and laughing with her fellow editors and each of the Elite Package sponsors.
An hour into the party, Sandy met Jacob Levy himself. It was only for a few moments. He was a lot shorter than Sandy had expected, but also exactly how she assumed a media mogul from New York would be, attitude wise. Talking to him simultaneously made her feel like a yokel from the sticks and inspired her to move to New York herself, one day. He spoke with each staff writer there very briefly, telling each of them the same thing: that they were doing a great job and he was glad to have them as part of his organization.
After a while the music stopped and all the guests turned to look at the ska band that had been playing on a small stage in the corner of the club. The musicians all looked to the opposite corner of the club, causing everyone else to do the same. Sandy saw that there was a podium and microphone set up there, and that Jacob Levy was making his way up to it to make a speech.
“Thank you. Thanks t
o everyone for coming,” he said in response to a smattering of tipsy applause. “As I’ve been saying, you guys are doing a great job. Page views are through the roof!” There was a louder smattering of applause and hoots. Sandy couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Levy didn’t seem to be very practiced at public speaking. He held his hand up until the noise abated and then continued. “So, I guess it makes sense, what I’m about to say. What I’m about to say is good news for Levy Media and for all of us here.”
The crowd got even less noisy at that, and Sandy leaned forward a little to hear what her boss’s boss would say.
“Levy Media is launching a cable television station. It’s going to be called Hate Station, after our flagship site, and each of the sites represented here will contribute to the programming.”
A gasp rippled through the crowd like wind through a field. Sandy gasped, then turned to Philippe, who was standing next to her. For some reason he didn’t look surprised at all.
“That’s right. That’s right,” said Mr. Levy, nodding. “So, congratulations to us all! There’ll be a full press release forthcoming, of course. And, of course, all of our sponsors will be made fully aware of new partnership opportunities.” With this he winked at the crowd and stepped down from the podium, stumbling a little as he went.
Realizing the speech was over, the partygoers broke into applause over the announcement. Simultaneously the band struck up a fast dance song. A troop of waiters emerged from the walls of the club bearing champagne reinforcements, and the guests eagerly helped lighten their trays.
Sandy turned to Philippe again. He was shaking the hands of the people on the other side of him. When he finally turned back to her, Sandy leaned close and whispered, “Did you know about this already?”
He smiled in reply. “I had reason to suspect” was all he said.
Then Sandy saw Jacob Levy sneak out the club’s exit. She wondered if he had a more important party to attend or if he just didn’t like parties. Either way, his absence didn’t mean this one was over. If anything, the club became louder and more crowded after Jacob Levy left. Everyone was in a frenzy to congratulate each other and themselves, and to toast the hell out of the occasion.
Lori managed to break away from her admirers long enough to run up to Sandy and squeal “Oh my God, oh my God!” And then, “George is going to be pissed!”
She was right, Sandy realized. George was going to be very sorry that he’d chosen to leave them right before this development. But he deserved it. That’s what he got for leaving them for a competitor, with zero notice.
Across the room, Francisco huddled with his fellow tech-heads, looking more anxious than excited. Sandy felt a brief flash of pity for him. But it faded as the new editor of Mujer magazine, who’d been introduced to her as one of Angelica’s friends, appeared at her side and said, “Sandy! Congratulations! We’d love to interview you right before the station debuts….”
By the time Sandy and Lori cabbed back to their room, evening bags bursting with business cards, it was long after 3 A.M. and Sandy wasn’t feeling nervous at all. In fact, she felt completely fabulous—like her life had just taken the turn that it’d been destined to take. Like everything she’d done so far had been preparing her for and leading her to this moment.
She was going to be on television. Everything that had been bothering her lately—the annoying commenters, the missing release form, Daniel, her day job, her parents—evaporated to make room for one momentous thought.
She was going to be on TV. She, nerdy little Dominga Saavedra, who’d worked her way up to becoming blogger Sandy S., was now going to become a star!
35
On Saturday at noon, Angelica asked the staff to convene for a brunch meeting at her hotel, a much nicer hotel than the one where the writers were staying. Sandy, Lori, Philippe, and Francisco sat around their boss at a semi-secluded table in the tastefully decorated restaurant with various breakfast items piled on their plates. They talked in excited whispers while Angelica gave the waiter his orders and dismissed him. Sandy saw that Francisco still looked as anxious as he had the night before. Angelica noticed it too, after a while. She turned to him, sitting there at her left, and gave his shoulder one of her friendly hard pats. “We’re going to get you new glasses,” Sandy heard Angelica say quietly. “And new shirts.” Francisco swallowed hard and nodded, seemingly somewhat comforted. Sandy wondered if he’d been afraid that he wouldn’t be part of the TV show team.
Now that she thought of it, though, did she know for certain that any of them would be?
“All right. Attention, everyone.” Angelica paused until everyone faced her, like a kindergarten teacher waiting for her students to quiet down. “You heard Jacob last night. This is fabulous news for all of us. I have your new contracts back at the office. Someone from Levy Media Legal will meet us in Austin and go over all the details with each of you. In the meantime, I want you all to congratulate yourselves. Your hard work over the past few months helped contribute to this development. Levy Media wouldn’t have been able to sign this deal without all your page views.”
She gave them all her radiant smile and took a bite of the prosciutto on her plate.
Sandy decided to start with the questions. “Are we all going to be on camera, or will we just write for the station?”
“Good question. For now, I think it’s safe to assume that all of you will be on camera. Of course you’ll be writing the content, too. Nacho Papi will have its own half-hour segments on the station. Levy Media is setting up a studio near our Austin office for recording those segments. We’ll create two or three sets for in-studio news commentary and interviews, and we’ll also continue to record the same kind of video material we did for the Web site.”
Sandy let her mind absorb these facts. Now that she was hearing the plan, she realized that she’d been assuming they were all going to move to New York. Or to Los Angeles. She smiled inwardly at her own ignorance and directed her attention to her breakfast of fruit and yogurt.
Lori spoke next. “There are only”—she paused and counted under her breath. “Only five Levy Media sites. If they each get an hour, how are they going to fill up the rest of every day?”
Angelica smiled at Lori, whose pink-streaked hair glowed softly under the branch-shaped chandeliers above them. “The satellite stations will start with an hour each. Hate-O-Rama, as the flagship site, will of course have a bit more time than that. The rest of the day will be comprised of paid programming.”
Lori spent a moment visibly thinking about Angelica’s answer. Then, she said, “You mean, like, informercials?”
“Yes. To begin with. Until we build our audience,” Angelica replied.
Francisco asked, “Am I—I mean, are we going to be expected to edit the video for the show? And to do the… whatever extra graphics are required?” He looked equal parts defiant and miserable, and Sandy understood then why he’d been anxious. He was already doing all the graphics and video for the site, in addition to his post quota.
“You, Francisco, will oversee the graphic content. It will be created, however, by a team of interns.”
Francisco sighed as if Angelica had just given him the best news possible. Then, smiling with relief, he tore into his huevos rancheros.
Philippe, Sandy noticed, had no questions. He ate his breakfast in perfect serenity. For a few moments, they all followed his example. Then, unable to contain herself any longer, Lori exclaimed, “I’m so excited, I think I’m going to die!”
“Well, don’t die yet,” Angelica told her. “We need you for the show.”
They all laughed, more from the release of tension than anything.
“I’m excited, too,” Sandy said. “I’m going to miss writing for the Web site, of course. But I won’t miss the commenters.”
Her co-workers laughed again.
“Really? Some of them aren’t so bad,” Francisco said.
“Right, yours aren’t,” Lori retorted. “Sandy and I are the o
nes who get all the psychos now that George is gone. All those guys wanting to see us naked—and then the one chick who keeps obsessing over Sandy and asking her on dates, V for Vendetta, or whatever her name is.”
Francisco nodded, conceding the point.
Sandy felt herself flush. Lori meant, of course, her friend Veronica. She could see, now, how Veronica constantly dropping Sandy’s name would look a little strange to the other writers. She decided not to tell them that V for Verguenza was someone she knew in real life.
“People,” Angelica interrupted. “I hate to disillusion you, but we aren’t discontinuing the Web site.”
“We aren’t?” they all said at once.
“No. We’re going to do the television program in addition to the site.”
They all fell quiet again. Philippe smiled wryly at Sandy over his egg-white omelet. It was obvious that he’d known all this in advance.
Sandy let her mind readjust to the facts. Again. She was going to be a TV star, yes. But in a little satellite studio in Austin. In addition to the full-time job that she was already doing. And with the same commenters still commenting on her every move.
This is still a good thing, she told herself. Isn’t it?
Yes, it is, she decided. She would make it a good thing. Just like she’d done when LatinoNow had become Nacho Papi. And just like she’d do when the television show eventually became something even bigger.
She smiled at Angelica and her co-workers then, and lifted her latte in salute.
36
May 8, 2008
Re: Contract renewal
To Whom It May Concern:
It is with regret that I inform you that I will not be renewing my technical writing contract with QBS, Inc. I’m grateful for my experience here and wish you all the best of luck.
Sincerely,
Lone Star Legend Page 12
