The Wig, the Bitch & the Meltdown

by Jay Manuel

  “…and speaking of Keisha Kash, her very own mother has been sprung from the clinker. An anonymous tip allowed detectives to recover the infamous 8.8 million-dollar Asscher cut diamond engagement ring, given to the late, great Elizabeth Taylor by Richard Burton. It had sold at auction weighing more than 33 carats and investigators had charged Ms. Paris of stealing the rare gem, years ago. With the ring being considered ‘too hot to move,’ police now have the actual perpetrator in custody, as evidence found at the scene of the crime also confirms the young man’s extremely rare blood type of AB-. The California DA’s office will be holding a press conference, later today. However, sources are telling us Ms. Paris is thrilled to be back and involved in her daughter’s life again.”

  “Sources, Mama?”

  “Shhh! I don’t wanna miss anything….”

  “Now, probably the most surprising news to come out of Keisha’s Crashing Model Drama mill, TMZ.com is reporting they plan on releasing a verified video that alludes to a potential sexual harassment lawsuit between crew members, AND it’s rumored that Ms. Kash allegedly squashed the incident to save her show. Harvey Levin has implied our very own Pablo Michaels is the victim here. A lot more tonight at…”

  “Ooooooooo, Baby. See? God don’t like ugly.” Brenda snapped her fingers and pointed at the screen. “Payback’s a bitch…bitch.”

  Keisha flipped off the TV in a huff and glared back at her mother.

  “Things are about to change around here,” Brenda said. “Mama’s back calling the shots,” she chirped with delight.

  Joe Vong barely moved, but his eyes betrayed him. There was nothing worse than a mother scorned.

  Feeling like a baller in a music video, Brenda leaned back in the plush leather seat and took in the speechless Supermodel. She smiled. “Ava DuVernay’s people have already reached out. She’s interested in writing a biopic about my life story. Looks like Brenda Paris is taking over Tinsel Town!”

  “Mama, I should warn—”

  “Ohmigod! Do you think that Viola Davis will wanna play me in the film? I love me some Annalise Keating.”

  Keisha simply looked down at her iPhone in silence. She turned the device towards Joe, who was also engaged with his own phone.

  “What is it?” Brenda asked.

  “A text from Broyce Miller, our executive in charge of production.”

  “And? What’s it say?”

  Keisha held up her phone to her mother’s face.

  “Oh baby, I can’t see that close, further back.”

  Keisha slowly moved her device a decent distance away, in order for Brenda to read the message. The group text chain had been addressed to three people: Keisha, Joe and Pablo.

  Broyce TEXT: Drop what you’re doing. My office in an hour!

  “How ‘bout I drop you off, real quick, before I head over to The Plaza Hotel. I’ll send your car right back, don’t worry.” Brenda’s day was about to get better.

  “The Plaza?” Keisha quipped. “Who’s paying for that?”

  “My new son, Pablo, hooked his mother up!”

  “Your who?”

  “Don’t be jealous, Baby. Pablo’s not replacing you. You’re just demoted.”

  Brenda could see the lace-front, along the edge of Keisha’s wig, lift up as the Supermodel clenched her jaw. Her daughter was fuming now, but didn’t dare challenge her.

  “He got me a full suite overlooking Central Park, on the house. Apparently, he and the manager are close. The Plaza loved the publicity they got from being on a new hit TV show.”

  “That I host, Mama.”

  “I know,” Brenda snapped. “But look how you’ve treated me. Pablo’s got the right idea.”

  “Pablo’s a liar.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. He’s proven himself. As for you?” Brenda cackled. “Looks like truth hurts.”

  28

  DAMAGE CONTROL

  “HOW MUCH OF this Celebrity-Buzz TV story is true?”

  Pablo sat alongside Keisha and Joe who were, if not more, mortified to be sitting across from Broyce Miller answering his questions. Pablo never wanted the Mason story to come out, and since months had gone by with no sign of their incriminating video surfacing on TMZ.com, Pablo thought he was safe. Now the world would find out his embarrassing truth, and Pablo didn’t know how to fix it. Where was the real-life Olivia Pope (Judy Smith) when you needed her? This was a scandal, for sure!

  “We need to understand what the sexual assault was. And why you, Joe, didn’t come to the network immediately with this situation.” Broyce’s tone was not to be messed with.

  They were seated across the desk from their executive in charge, while a throng of lawyers sat on the side taking notes and listening with intent.

  “Well, it was my understanding that no charges were gonna be filed. And, so, ummm…I didn’t see the point in involving the network in something that wasn’t gonna happen.” Joe was clearly lying to cover for Keisha. He was still her bitch, after all.

  “Regardless of what points you see or don’t see, these allegations are serious. And, the network should’ve been made aware immediately.” Sharply turning towards Keisha, Broyce wrinkled his heavy brow. “And what was your role in this, exactly?”

  Keisha paused before answering. “Well, Pablo came to me with a slight concern, but didn’t wanna do anything about it.”

  “You kiddin’ me?” Pablo muttered under his breath.

  Keisha shot him an evil side-eye.

  “You two have put the network AND the show in serious jeopardy,” Broyce said, staring down Keisha and Joe. “And we need to make a—”

  “We can get this under control and…”

  “You’re fired, Joe.”

  All the sound sucked out of the room. Only the constant hum of traffic beneath the window could be heard. It was a reminder that millions of people were rushing around below, unaware of the bomb that just went off in Broyce’s office.

  Joe tried to save himself. “But wait! None of this is my fault!”

  Two of the attorneys looked up from their legal pads, watching Broyce’s physical demeanor. The strapping executive rose from his chair and loomed over his desk like a judge after delivering his verdict. “You were the Showrunner. You didn’t come to the network with this issue. You breached your contract and we’re cancelling your overall deal.”

  “But, I was…”

  “I think you should leave, Joe.”

  Vong dropped his chin and slowly slinked out of his chair. Keisha followed his dispirited little body with her squinted eyes. She was clearly disappointed he’d caved so easily. Who was going to be her puppet now? She should’ve studied her mama better. Keisha needed a plan B. STAT.

  Joe exited the office in silence.

  “As for you,” Broyce said, glaring at Keisha, “ALL creative goes through Pablo. Understood?”

  “Got it,” she mumbled.

  Keisha? Defeated? This was a day Pablo never saw coming.

  “Do you want to say anything, Pablo?”

  This was his chance to get the Mason story buried, once and for all! “I…ah,” he paused. “I really don’t need to be the subject of some salacious 24-hour news cycle.”

  “Fine. We’re already in the process of assembling a team to run a full investigation. But in the meantime, we’ll craft a statement that will address the TMZ story, that’s about to break, as slanderous and based on false accusations. Is that good for you?”

  “Perfect.” Pablo felt relieved.

  “I hope this video that Harvey Levin has isn’t a smoking gun I don’t know about.”

  Looking smug, Keisha raised her hand and index finger in defense. “I’ve got an idea, and I think—”

  “I wouldn’t say another word, Keisha. You’re already skating on thin ice.”

  “But, I…”

  “We can legally pull you off the show, w
hile you retain your ‘created by’ credit and residuals. I wouldn’t push us.” Broyce wasn’t fucking around. “We’re going to need a moment with Pablo alone, so I’d appreciate if you’d leave us with the room.”

  Without saying another word, Keisha gracefully stood and confidently strutted out of Broyce’s office, without looking at Pablo or the team of attorneys.

  The door latch clicked. Broyce paused for a few moments before addressing Pablo. “If this story is indeed true Pablo, for the record, you have the right to pursue charges. The network will support whatever decision you make.”

  Pablo took the moment to himself. Looking past Broyce, and now adoring the beautiful view offered through the oversized windows, his eyes glazed over. He finally had the support from someone who cared. However, filing a lawsuit against Mason would surely ruin his career for good. Unfortunately, that’s how show business worked. No one wanted to touch the rotten egg. And Keisha? She would probably find some plan to get away unscathed. Pablo would lose everything, again. It was a harmless pass. A fumble on Mason’s part. It was not worth flushing his career down the toilet over. The real lesson learned? Seeing Keisha for who she really was, and his eyes were wide open now. He’d have to wait and see the fallout after the video came out, if it ever did. The attorneys stopped writing on their pads. Pablo’s phone began vibrating over and over with intermittent text alerts.

  “Pablo?” Broyce leaned over looking concerned. “Are you OK? I know this can—”

  “Can I just take a moment and look at my phone for a minute? I know it seems odd, but given the circumstances, I just…”

  “Take all the time you need. We’re here for you.”

  Pablo made his way over to the far side of Broyce’s office and scrolled through several alerts. What called his attention was the new group chat with himself, Keisha, Joe and Rachel. He nervously opened and read the three individual text messages he’d just received from his supervising producer.

  Rachel TEXT: 911

  We got major cast problems at the new model apt. DISASTER!

  I need you all here ASAP!

  Pablo’s stomach dropped. He was solely responsible for scoring the most expensive apartment to be filmed on a reality TV show, ever. As an executive producer now, his name was riding on everything. This was day, fucking, one. How could so much be going wrong?

  He gathered his senses. “I’m sorry, Broyce. I have to go. It’s urgent.”

  “Okay,” the exec said, raising his brow. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” Pablo dashed for the office door. “We can pick this up later on. Tomorrow?”

  “Just let us know when you’re free.”

  “For sure.” Pablo was tripping over himself to get out. “I need…um…a moment. To ummm…process everything.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Pablo tore out of the office and down the hall toward the elevators. He accidentally ran into an intern carrying a stack of scripts, fresh from the copier. Yellow and blue pages flew into the air. “Sorry,” he said, and kept on running. He was out of breath when he reached the elevators. Pounding the down arrow several times, he began to panic. His adrenaline was kicking in and his heart began to race. He hated 911 texts, now. They only brought more drama into his life. He was convinced he officially had PTSD from seeing those three numbers appear on his phone screen. Pablo had to do damage control. The elevator door opened. He stepped in and continued pressing the lobby button well after he began moving. The forty-eight-floor ride was luckily uninterrupted, but it felt like an eternity. He finally reached the ground floor.

  Pablo rushed out of the network lobby only to see Keisha’s stretched Escalade still parked out front.

  A pinging sound went off in his head.

  His anxiety level heightened.

  Pablo apprehensively approached the car.

  The back window lowered.

  Keisha looked angelic, staring at him from her air-conditioned ride. “I figured since we both got the same text, you’d need a lift.” She had a soft smile on her face. Disarming.

  Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me! Pablo’s gut screamed at him. He did everything he could to mirror her cool demeanor. “So, we’re talking again?” he asked.

  Keisha opened her door and moved over on the seat. “The model’s apartment is only ten blocks and four avenues over. I think we’ll survive.”

  Reluctantly, Pablo got in the Escalade and carefully closed the door. The two of them sat as far apart as they could. Silence was the only thing shared between them. The car pulled away from the curb and Keisha stared out her window. How could she be so calm after the press attacked her like that today? Pablo wondered. And Broyce basically threatened to pull Model Muse from her. Was she delusional? Navigating Manhattan’s streets together was bound to be excruciating. It was approaching 4 p.m. and traffic was bumper to bumper. He pulled out his iPhone and typed as fast as he could.

  Pablo TEXT: KK is up to something. HELP!

  I think she knows her mom and I are working together.

  The Escalade traveled only a few blocks when congestion enveloped their ride. The silence was eating Pablo alive inside. Please be there, he thought. His heart started pounding faster and faster. A sense of foreboding took over his body. Looking down at his screen, Pablo noticed a message was being written in response to his cry for help. Time seemed to slow down as the singular ellipses flashed across his text chain. Abruptly, the car jerked in traffic, but Pablo didn’t lose focus. At long last, the text arrived.

  I.C.E. TEXT: I’m here!!! First, I’ve never been a fan of KK. Her behavior is emblematic of the bigger problem in Hollywood - unchecked POWER. You just chose to ignore the truth of who she’s always been. Secondly, I saw the Celebrity-Buzz piece. You OK? I wish I knew Harvey Levin or someone at TMZ myself. I’d call on your behalf. Ugh!

  Not knowing what to say, Pablo simply replied with one sad faced emoji. Immediately, another text bubble animated and moments later a new text appeared on his screen.

  I.C.E. TEXT: You may not want to hear this but ever since you launched this war against KK, you’ve basically become her. Please know that her actions were only a trigger permitting you to experience a very real side of yourself. You think she’s the monster?

  #YouSpotItYouGotIt #KeepingItReal #Truth

  Waves of horror cascaded down Pablo’s body while reading the message. Then, another one popped up. He shuddered at the thought of what it would say.

  I.C.E. TEXT: Getting involved with her mother & trying to take her down was a foolish endeavor. KK will never hold herself accountable or be held accountable by anyone else for that matter. Sorry. I just want the best for you…and this isn’t YOU! xo

  Jay couldn’t have chosen a worse time to play therapist. Pablo put his phone away. He was no longer in the mood for confidences. Keisha remained quiet and the two ex-BFFs spent the rest of their ride gazing out their individual windows, fixating on the traffic jam they were stuck in. As the Escalade approached 432 Park Avenue, Keisha broke the silence and said, “I forgive you.”

  What? Surely, this was just a glitch in The Matrix. “Excuse me?”

  She smiled and tilted her head. “I forgive you for everything you’ve done to me.”

  Over her shoulder and through the window, Pablo could now see Harper waiting by the oversized glass doors lining the marble drive with Mike, the sound guy, and two PAs. The car slowed down and stopped right in front of Park Avenue’s most prestigious address.

  Pablo didn’t know what to make of Keisha’s remarks. “What have I…?”

  “I know you’ve been working with Mama somehow,” she said, keeping her cool. “I’d be careful if I were you.”

  In that moment, both Escalade back doors were abruptly opened by a PA on either side, ready to usher them in the building. Keisha stepped out of the car and waved at the small crowd standing by the curb. Was every moment a red carpet mome
nt? She appeared to gain her strength from public adoration. It was awesome to witness, and pathetically sad to see at the same time.

  Dread took over Pablo’s body now. Keisha wasn’t going to rest until she’d torn down every pillar in his life and he came crashing down too. War wasn’t pretty, and the first bomb had only just dropped. Stepping out of the car, he forced the tranquil expression on his face as he, too, played the part for the crowd. With onlookers trying to see what was going on and reaching for their cell phones, both Keisha and Pablo were herded into the nearby lobby, like cattle.

  29

  SHITSTORM

  BY THE TIME Pablo and Keisha had pulled up on the pretentious marble exterior drive, Rachel had already begun filming the newbie models’ “move-in” to a 73rd floor-through apartment owned by an idiosyncratic textile giant at the renowned Park Avenue “Cigarette Building.” Production had lucked out with the wealthy uberfan whose fascination with Model Muse prompted him to offer his two-floor mansion in the sky while abroad in Israel; purely for the bragging rights of seeing one of his homes on television. The network hadn’t balked at the pricey insurance they had to shell out, seeing as there was no fee involved in renting the space which could easily go for upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand a week.

  432 Park Avenue had forever changed the New York City skyline, and several old New Yorkers regarded the date of October 10, 2014 as “the beginning of the end” to their beloved metropolis. Several media outlets had reported on that day that 432 Park was now officially the second tallest building in New York, next to One World Trade Center. However, with the famous lower Manhattan building being mostly measured with its iconic spire, the new Park Avenue condos would boast the tallest rooftop in the city with incredible views. At the time of its completion on December 23, 2015, 432 Park became the tallest residential in the world. Although, it’s association to the growing wealth inequality was also remarked upon by the building’s architect himself, Rafael Viñoly. He was quoted as saying, “There are only two markets, ultraluxury and subsidized housing.”