“I wish I could tell you
that was the most objectionable idea that’s been raised in that room.”
Mark picked his
way through the salads on his plate with his fingers and popped a purple olive
into his mouth. “My advice? Don’t waste energy arguing. If Freddie thinks
something’s a good idea, it’s going to make its way into the script.”
Vish nodded,
digesting this. He wished he had the sort of personality that could enable him
to take charge of meetings, to suggest powerful and evocative plotlines that
would win back viewer acclaim and reverse the downward trajectory the show had
been on for the past two seasons, but that wasn’t in his nature. Which was
probably why he had no money, no car, and no noteworthy accomplishments to his
name.
He did have a
smoking-hot TV-star girlfriend, though. When Mark wandered off to talk to one
of the production assistants, Vish looked around again for Troy. She was listed
on the call sheet for this afternoon, which meant she was probably resting in
her trailer. He could go looking for her, but she might prefer some time to
herself to prepare for her scenes.
An actress
approached the craft services table. A day player, not a series regular. She
was in costume, a skimpy toga-style dress in sparkly lavender taffeta. Her dark
hair was arranged in an elaborate topknot of coiled braids. She had a snub nose
and a prominent overbite, and while she was maybe shy of being a knockout, she
looked lively and pretty. She looked up from the table and grinned at Vish.
“God, those
brownies look fabulous,” she said. “I keep gravitating over here, even though I
know I can’t eat anything. With this costume, I’ve been sucking in my gut all
morning as it is.” She looked at Vish in curiosity. “What do you do on the
show?”
“I’m one of the
writers,” he said. Maybe he should add a disclaimer after that, mention that he
was on a trial basis, because he didn’t belong on that staff yet. Maybe he
never would. “I’m Vish.”
“Carlotta,” she
said. They shook hands. “I’m playing Vera.” At his blank look, she elaborated.
“The tavern girl who gets mauled to death by the mysterious space entity?”
“Ah. I haven’t
seen the script for this episode.” Which, if he thought about it, was kind of a
strange thing for one of the writers to admit.
“It’s a tiny
part. I’m just here today and tomorrow,” she said. “I always wanted to be a
writer. You guys get a lot more respect than actors do.”
“I’m not sure
how true that is,” Vish said. “I’m pretty sure I’m standing on the lowest rung
of the ladder. I just started on the show today.”
“Oh, wow.”
Carlotta looked around. “Do you feel anywhere near as overwhelmed as I do?”
“Very likely,
yes,” Vish said. “Until last weekend, I was working as a caterer.”
“I’m a
waitress,” Carlotta said. “At a Denny’s in Pacoima, no kidding. This is my
first paid acting job in like forever.” She looked around the stage, then back
at Vish. “Hey, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, but if we finish up
around the same time, do you want to grab a drink later?”
“He’s got
plans.” Vish jumped as Troy’s arm slid around his waist. She was in her costume
and heavy makeup, all long legs and stretchy silver fabric. She smiled at
Carlotta and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Troy. You’re in the next scene with
me, right?”
“Oh. I didn’t…”
Carlotta looked stricken, clearly afraid she’d made a career-derailing gaffe by
flirting with the boyfriend of a cast member. She recovered and shook Troy’s
hand. “Really great to meet you, Troy. I’m Carlotta. I didn’t know you and
Vish…” She reddened.
Troy laughed.
“Don’t worry about it.” Her dimples flashed. “Vish and I were just going to
grab dinner nearby, if we get done here at a reasonable hour. We’d love to have
you join us.”
“I…” Carlotta
looked wary, then relaxed. “Really? That would be
that was the most objectionable idea that’s been raised in that room.”
Mark picked his
way through the salads on his plate with his fingers and popped a purple olive
into his mouth. “My advice? Don’t waste energy arguing. If Freddie thinks
something’s a good idea, it’s going to make its way into the script.”
Vish nodded,
digesting this. He wished he had the sort of personality that could enable him
to take charge of meetings, to suggest powerful and evocative plotlines that
would win back viewer acclaim and reverse the downward trajectory the show had
been on for the past two seasons, but that wasn’t in his nature. Which was
probably why he had no money, no car, and no noteworthy accomplishments to his
name.
He did have a
smoking-hot TV-star girlfriend, though. When Mark wandered off to talk to one
of the production assistants, Vish looked around again for Troy. She was listed
on the call sheet for this afternoon, which meant she was probably resting in
her trailer. He could go looking for her, but she might prefer some time to
herself to prepare for her scenes.
An actress
approached the craft services table. A day player, not a series regular. She
was in costume, a skimpy toga-style dress in sparkly lavender taffeta. Her dark
hair was arranged in an elaborate topknot of coiled braids. She had a snub nose
and a prominent overbite, and while she was maybe shy of being a knockout, she
looked lively and pretty. She looked up from the table and grinned at Vish.
“God, those
brownies look fabulous,” she said. “I keep gravitating over here, even though I
know I can’t eat anything. With this costume, I’ve been sucking in my gut all
morning as it is.” She looked at Vish in curiosity. “What do you do on the
show?”
“I’m one of the
writers,” he said. Maybe he should add a disclaimer after that, mention that he
was on a trial basis, because he didn’t belong on that staff yet. Maybe he
never would. “I’m Vish.”
“Carlotta,” she
said. They shook hands. “I’m playing Vera.” At his blank look, she elaborated.
“The tavern girl who gets mauled to death by the mysterious space entity?”
“Ah. I haven’t
seen the script for this episode.” Which, if he thought about it, was kind of a
strange thing for one of the writers to admit.
“It’s a tiny
part. I’m just here today and tomorrow,” she said. “I always wanted to be a
writer. You guys get a lot more respect than actors do.”
“I’m not sure
how true that is,” Vish said. “I’m pretty sure I’m standing on the lowest rung
of the ladder. I just started on the show today.”
“Oh, wow.”
Carlotta looked around. “Do you feel anywhere near as overwhelmed as I do?”
“Very likely,
yes,” Vish said. “Until last weekend, I was working as a caterer.”
“I’m a
waitress,” Carlotta said. “At a Denny’s in Pacoima, no kidding. This is my
first paid acting job in like forever.” She looked around the stage, then back
at Vish. “Hey, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, but if we finish up
around the same time, do you want to grab a drink later?”
“He’s got
plans.” Vish jumped as Troy’s arm slid around his waist. She was in her costume
and heavy makeup, all long legs and stretchy silver fabric. She smiled at
Carlotta and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Troy. You’re in the next scene with
me, right?”
“Oh. I didn’t…”
Carlotta looked stricken, clearly afraid she’d made a career-derailing gaffe by
flirting with the boyfriend of a cast member. She recovered and shook Troy’s
hand. “Really great to meet you, Troy. I’m Carlotta. I didn’t know you and
Vish…” She reddened.
Troy laughed.
“Don’t worry about it.” Her dimples flashed. “Vish and I were just going to
grab dinner nearby, if we get done here at a reasonable hour. We’d love to have
you join us.”
“I…” Carlotta
looked wary, then relaxed. “Really? That would be
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