by Lotta Smith
“I know,” I agreed. Darren was more than willing to hang around with us at the TV studio, but thanks to a bout of a really bad cold, he had no choice but to stay at home.
“I’m guessing he was the kind of guy at school who always got sick whenever he had fun stuff scheduled, like a field trip or the most important match of some sport,” Jackie said knowingly.
“Maybe,” I said, recalling that kind of guy from my school days. “Still, Darren has his work made into TV shows and movies, and I believe he gets to visit places like here whenever he wishes to.”
“Oh, you have a point. Now I’m so jealous of him.” She giggled.
“Hey, did you dream of getting a major role on TV?” I asked, my feelings of joy at having my BFF and self-proclaimed guardian angel being happy mixed with the sadness that the majority of people couldn’t see her due to her status as a ghost.
“Of course I did.” She winked. “Actually, I craved any role. Okay, so I was more focused on live stages on Broadway and off-Broadway, but everyone loves to have a role on TV—especially when that special role happens to be major or major-ish.”
Then I had a lightbulb moment. “Why don’t you crash some of the shows you wanted to appear on? After all, most people won’t see you, but I will. You can crash any show you’d like, and you can sing, dance, act, and whatever you want to do. I’ll watch the show and record it on the hard drive.”
“Oh my God, Mandy! You’re a genius!” she cooed. “Right. I don’t need permission to visit any part of this building. Oh my God, I’ve got to find the studio where they shoot Good Morning America.”
“Oh,” I muttered, growing slightly nervous. What if people recognize a ghost on the screen? Especially one sporting a super-vivid rainbow dress and heavy makeup? But before Jackie went off, crashing one of the most watched shows, Rick came over.
“Let’s go. We’re gonna head for studio sixteen,” he said, taking my hand and helping me stand.
“What would you like to do?” I glanced at Jackie.
“Of course, I’m going with you. After all, I can crash any show whenever I want to. Good Morning America can wait.”
“Good.” I smiled.
“For what?” Rick asked.
“Jackie decided to come with us instead of crashing Good Morning America.”
“Cool.”
As I watched a corner of his lips quirking up into a grin, I found myself worrying about him being discovered by some producer to star in a movie or a major TV show. For a moment, I got panicky, thinking about all the fuss, and thin, beautiful women throwing themselves at him, but….
“No worry, Mandy,” Jackie said in a reassuring tone. “Rick is too busy with his COO job with USCAB, and he married you, remember?”
These days, she seemed to have developed a special skill to read my mind. I smiled. “Let’s go. Which way?”
“Head for the elevator. It’s on the eighth floor.”
When we got off the elevator, it was like we’d suddenly wandered into a different world.
Unlike the glamour—or the attempt to look glamorous, at least—of the lobby, this area resembled the no-frills of the FBI’s New York City field office downtown. The walls were gray concrete that could’ve passed as the office of a really boring company, and there were coils of cords and wires cluttering the floor. On top of all that, the corridor itself was winding, as if whoever designed the building had attempted to make a labyrinth for rats.
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” I pulled Rick’s arm.
“Of course. We’re on the right track,” he said with confidence. Maybe too much confidence for my comfort; my inner alarm bells were blasting, warning me that we had taken the wrong path.
“Maybe we should ask someone for directions,” I muttered.
“Except all the doors are shut and there’s no one in plain sight.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Hmm….” I tilted my head to the side. “Maybe someone’s behind one of these closed doors. I’ll go look for someone nice enough to show us the way.”
I headed toward the nearest door, but Jackie jumped in my way. “Noooo! You can’t do that!”
“Why not? I’ll be polite and knock.”
“That’s not the point. You don’t understand.” Swinging her arms, she shook her head violently. “Basically, the people in the TV industry are crazy. They’ll kill you if they think your innocent knock on the door has ruined a little tiny scene that they believe is totally crucial.”
“Come on, you’re exaggerating.” I chuckled.
“What did Jackie say?” Rick asked me.
“She says the people in the TV industry are crazy and they’ll kill me if I ruin a teeny tiny scene. That’s crazy, huh?”
“Actually, I agree with Jackie,” he said. “They tend to have different virtues compared to what we have in society.”
As if on cue, one of the doors lining the walls of the long and winding corridor swung open, and a thirtyish guy carrying an iPad emerged.
I didn’t want to miss this golden opportunity to ask for directions. “Hi! Can I ask you how to get to studio sixteen?” I said, waving frantically, making sure I’d be recognized while Rick rolled his eyes at my side.
“Studio sixteen?” Turning back, he gave me a head-to-toe once-over with no sign of discreetness. He looked like he was sick with too much gas in his stomach. Then he glanced at Rick and said, “Perhaps you want to check out your actual destination. Men’s swimwear model auditions are being held in a different wing of this building.”
“Men’s swimwear model? Who, me?” Rick interjected, patting my shoulder. “Actually, she’s the main act here, and—”
“Seriously?” the gaseous guy exclaimed before Rick finished the sentence. Squinting at me, he said, “But in this wing, they’re having auditions to select candidates for America’s Next Generation Hottest Model. Aren’t you a little too old and un-thin to be a model?”
“What did you just say?” For a moment, I’d forgotten about my oath to never touch a stranger for the fear of him or her dropping dead on the spot. I tried to grab his collar, but Rick was faster.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” the guy squawked, Rick clenching the part of the man’s elbow that sent jolts of electricity directly to the brain when stimulated.
“Don’t you have manners?” Rick demanded. “Are you always so rude to ladies you’ve just met? Besides, we’re not auditioning, and as a part of USCAB, I’m ready to pull all the commercials from every show you’re involved with. If I were you, I’d start looking for a new job, as you’ll most likely be sacked after losing a dozen commercial contracts.”
“Look, I had no idea about—” The gassy guy grimaced as he attempted to utter some excuse and Rick’s grip tightened.
“Rick, we haven’t asked him for the way.” I reached for him.
“We’ll ask him after he apologizes to you.” Rick raised an eyebrow.
“Look, I’m deeply sorry for making an insensitive remark….”
As he started to utter an apology, I caught someone giggling. When I looked in the direction of the laughter, a thirtyish, very photogenic brunette in a black-and-white suit was coming toward us.
“Oh my God, I’ve seen her on TV!” Jackie shrieked. Then she cocked her head. “But the thing is I can’t recall her name.”
“Hello, Gus. Is everything okay?” she said in a saccharine voice as she glanced at the gassy guy, who didn’t look okay at all.
“Tina, I’m fine,” Gus said curtly, and when Rick’s grip loosened a little, he sneaked his arm away like Houdini and literally ran off.
“He’s fine except for his manner being slightly sick.” Rick shrugged.
“So, Tina, I’ve seen you on TV,” I said, totally stealing Jackie’s line.
“Really? Wow, it’s nice to meet someone who recognizes me with my name. People often mistake me for someone like their neighbor or an acquaintance they can’t remember exactly. I
’m Tina Baldwin. Nice meeting you.” Flashing a wide smile that would have melted the heart of every man in their seventies to nineties across the East Coast, she offered her hand to me. I wasn’t a huge fan of handshakes, but before I could come up with an excuse, she was shaking my hand as if we were old friends or something. At first I was pretty panicked, but as I saw her still breathing and talking, with no sign of breaking into hives, collapsing, or dropping dead, I let out a sigh of relief.
“I’m Mandy Rowling, and this is Rick, my husband.”
“Nice meeting you, Mandy and Rick.” She turned to Rick. “Hey, I watched your interaction with him, and I’m so impressed with both of you. He’s such a sorry excuse of an asshole, but he happens to be the executive producer, and he never misses a chance to mention something nasty about my age and so on. I could always sue his ass for sexual harassment, but I’m saving it for the right moment so I can get the most out of it.” She glanced at me with a knowing grin. “Anyway, it was such a pleasure to see you making him turn green in the face. Thank you!”
“No problem. He deserved it,” Rick said nonchalantly. “Per chance, Tina, are we on the right track to get to studio sixteen?”
“Studio sixteen? I’ll walk you there. This building is so big, and its structure is complex. I’m supposed to know every bit of my workplace, but in all honesty, I often get lost. Let’s go.”
She started leading the way, and as she was talkative, I decided to strike up a conversation. “We’re going to meet Adam Johnson, the producer of a game show. Do you know him?”
“Of course I do.” She winked. “Actually, I happen to have a role on that show too. I’m the woman who recites the question.”
“Oh. I should have recognized you,” I said.
“Not really. Only my voice appears on the show, and the camera rarely gets me on air.” She shrugged. “So, Adam should be shooting the prep video for his show.”
“What is this show about?” Rick asked.
“It’s reality TV show featuring a dozen young women living together, competing to be the next hottest model.”
“Oh, so it’s like Bachelor meets America’s Next Top Model,” Jackie commented. As she looked at me expectantly, I relayed her words as if it were my idea.
“Right. I think Adam is having a secret blast from this gig. He has the hots for models, especially the very young ones, like teenagers.”
“Oh, that explains why Gus said I’m too old and un-thin to audition,” I muttered.
“No worries. Everyone is too old and un-thin from his perspective.” Tina chuckled. “It’s so funny that men like Gus start acting like the world’s biggest heartthrob just because they’re working in the TV industry. I have a hunch that they have some kind of an inner brain filter that makes them see a really hot guy whenever they look at themselves in the mirror.” Turning to Rick, she said, “I don’t suppose you’re interested in modeling, Rick?”
“I’m afraid not.” He shook his head but offered a small smile. “But thanks for asking.”
“That’s okay. I just thought it doesn’t hurt to ask. Oh, here we are.” She approached one of the heavy-looking doors and opened it.
“Is it okay to open it?” I asked.
“No problem. When they’re shooting something, we’d see the red light above the door, but now it’s off. Please come in.”
We followed Tina, but one step inside, my hair literally stood up as a blast of cold air slammed into my whole body.
“Ooh, it’s cold in here,” Rick muttered, pulling me close in his arms.
“I know,” Tina agreed. “It’s terribly cold inside. I should call maintenance to fix the AC, but it’s so strange; only an hour ago, everything was fine.”
It was a spacious studio with a high ceiling. A stage sat in one corner, where a dozen young girls—perhaps in their mid- to late-teens—stood in swimsuits. As it was freezing cold, everyone had put on an apparently borrowed jacket with the TV network’s logo on it, and all were shivering.
“Hey, what the hell is going on?” a guy standing in front of the stage demanded. “You’ve got to fix it like immediately.”
“That’s him, Adam Johnson,” Tina said, glancing at the guy in a light green suit. He had his back to us, so I couldn’t see his face, but I assumed him to be something like thirtyish from the voice.
A middle-age guy in overalls carrying a toolbox came from the studio’s back area.
“Hey, were you able to fix whatever issues the AC had?” Adam shouted.
“Actually, there was nothing that needed fixing. I’ve checked it and double-checked, but the AC is in pristine condition.”
“Come on, you’ve got to be kidding,” Adam spat. “If the AC has no issue, then how do you explain this fucking cold?”
“Still, the unit is working fine. It’s just that warm air doesn’t seem to come out.” The guy in overalls shrugged.
“Hello? Do I have to tell you the definition of the term ‘fixing’?” Adam said sarcastically.
Listening to their conversation, Rick tilted his head to the side.
“Hey, don’t offend him before we’ve milked information from him, okay?” I whispered to him just in case. He had this lovely trait of offending the heck out of anyone who behaved like a jerk.
“You don’t have to tell me how to do my job. Besides, I’ve been behaving like a respectable businessman lately. Don’t you think so?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s just that the guy sounds familiar, but I’m having trouble recalling him.”
“Oh… it’s annoying when you come across someone you think you know but can’t recall the them,” I agreed.
As we chatted, Adam was getting more demanding. “Seriously, can’t you do any better?”
“I wish I could, but right now the only option is to call the manufacturer. But it could take at least a few days for them to come fix the problem.”
“That’s out of the question! Look at the girls. They’re shivering. And guess what, I’ve got to shoot them in swimwear.” Adam’s tone morphed into a plea. “Look, I’ve got to keep them warm.”
“I understand your concerns, but some things are impossible. I’m sorry I can’t make the freaking AC spew out warm air, but I’ve tried everything and nothing worked.” Shrugging, the maintenance guy ambled out of the studio.
“What? Are you leaving me?” Adam squawked, as if the maintenance guy were his significant other about to ditch him for a new lover. “Pleeeease!”
But the guy in overalls was fast. When it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, Adam held his head in his hands and groaned, muttering, “Oh my God, oh my God, ohmigod…! What the hell is wrong with that guy?”
CHAPTER 5
“Now I remember!” Rick clapped his hands. “Hey, Adam, did you go to The Dalton?” he said, mentioning the name of one of the most prestigious high schools in the Upper East Side.
“Yeah, so wha—” Adam turned back reluctantly, and then his eyes widened. “Rowling!”
“Hey, I didn’t know you became a TV producer.” Rick raised his hand. “Adam Johnson is such a common name. That’s why I didn’t recognize you when I heard the name in the first place.”
Tina cleared her throat. “Adam, you have visitors, but I’m assuming you know them.”
“Yup, I know him.” Adam chuckled. “But I don’t think I’ve met you before.” He glanced at me. “Hi, I’m Adam. Perhaps you already know my name, but I want to make sure that I introduce myself properly.”
His shoulder twitched like he intended to extend his hand toward me, but Rick wrapped his arms around me, firmly clasping both of my hands so I didn’t have to offer my hand to Adam. “This is my wife, Mandy.” He sounded somewhat more protective than the other times he’d introduced me.
“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said without offering my hand—mostly because Rick whispered, “Don’t touch him. He was a known womanizer, and I don’t think his hands are clean,” into my ear.
“We went to the sa
me high school,” Rick explained aloud.
“Hey, I never expected you to tie the knot so soon.” Adam turned to me. “You know what? He used to be something like Bachelor meets Rich Kids of New York. If only I could show you his wild days back then. Your opinion about him would soon change.” And he winked.
“Jerk alert!” Jackie exclaimed.
“Come on, my high school days were oh-so-boring.” Rick shrugged. “Compared to yours, mine were the days of a monk. So, thanks for agreeing to meet us at such an inconvenient time.” Still keeping his arms wrapped around me, he glanced at the shivering girls.
“Sorry about that.” Adam offered a small smile. “Until an hour or so ago, the AC worked fine, but somehow it decided to behave like a rotten brat and stopped warming this place. Hell, I really need to shoot them in swimsuits, but at the same time, I can’t afford to have them getting sick.” Pacing around impatiently, he spat, “That damned maintenance guy!”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Generally speaking, machines don’t get fixed by freaking out.”
“That’s so true,” Jackie agreed. Glancing at Adam, she shrugged. “I’m tempted to call him a typical TV jerk.”
I almost snorted, as her comment was straight to the point. In an attempt to mask my urge to laugh, I faked a cough.
Apparently, Adam didn’t catch her voice. He glanced at me strangely, then turned his attention back to Rick. “I know, but I really have to finish this gig pronto. The judges are waiting in the other room until the temperature problem is under control. Then again, they can’t stay there waiting forever. Most of them have appointments pretty soon—just like I do.”
I noticed he’d used “appointments” as in plural, perhaps hoping for an effect of implying his super-busy schedule.
“Uh-huh.” Rick rolled his eyes. “Hey, the corridor in front of this studio was pretty warm.”
“The corridor?” Adam crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling.
