First Stop, New York (3 page)

Max watched Corliss closely as she moved to the table to shake JB’s hand.

“Phew! I guess I’m in the right place, then. Hi, JB. I’m the new production intern—did I say that already? But I couldn’t find the production! Those hallways go on forever…”
She laughed a little nervously.

Everyone just kept staring.

“What happened is the strap on my fanny pack broke when I got in the building and I got all turned around ’cause I lost my Chapstick at some point and—” She showed the broken fanny pack to everyone.

“First of all, Corliss,” said JB sympathetically, “you have found the production! Second, as luck would have it, I always carry a travel sewing kit for fanny-pack emergencies.”

“You do?”

JB whipped out his pocket-size sewing kit and Corliss handed over her fanny pack.

“Wow…I owe you, JB.”

“Don’t mention it. Someday you can fix my fanny pack.” He heard himself and giggled. “I think that came out wrong.”

Corliss giggled back. Max hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Not five minutes in the door and she’d already been able to get other people to do work on her behalf.
Brilliant,
he thought.
This girl is a model of competency and accomplishment.

“You,” he whispered.

It took Corliss a moment to realize that Max was referring to her. “Me?”

“The one with the broken fanny pack, yes.”

Corliss took a breath and approached Max, gently brushing past the cast members seated at the table. When she got to Anushka’s chair, her jaw went slack and her legs came to a complete halt. Observing this, Max half expected her to pant and drool.

“C’mon, c’mon. You’ll have plenty of time to fawn over Anushka,” Max said.

“Oh, God, sorry,” said Corliss. “Ever since I moved to Hollywood last month, I’m like a fawning machine!” She rolled her eyes at Anushka, who glared back at her.

When Corliss finally reached the finish line, Max extended his hand to her. “I’m Max Marx, creator and director of
The ’Bu
. Tell me about yourself.”

“You are? And you want
me
to—” She looked over at JB, who nodded encouragingly. “Oh, um, well, sure, Mr. Max.”

“
Marx.”

“Yes, Mr. Marx.”

“No ‘mister,’ please.”

“Yes, Marx. I mean,
Max.
I mean, Mr. Marx without the mister…” Corliss’s face went pink.

Max made a rolling gesture with his hands for her to continue.

“So, yeah, so Ross Meyers is my uncle, and, um, I’m from Indianapolis—which you can
totally
hold against me because, boy oh boy, is it the lamest place to come from. It’s like all about car racing and cheese—
bor-ing
! Anyway, I really want to study psychology someday, and Uncle Ross said LA is
loaded
with psychologically disturbed people, so he paid for my plane ticket and—”

Max raised a hand to silence her. “I’ve made a decision.” Corliss’s mouth hung open in silence. “You’re my new assistant.”

“Oh my God, really?” Corliss said. “Are you serious? ’Cause if you are, I’m so, so ready to be helpful. To you, Marx—
Max—
and to
The ’Bu.
”

“I’m excited to hear you feel that way, Corliss,” Max said as he jotted the phrase “interested in psychology” in his BlackBerry.

“I do! Utterly and completely. People from Indiana may not have a lot going for them, but they do have enthusiasm.” Her face went pink again. JB gave her the thumbs-up.

“Very good,” whispered Max. “It’s obvious to me your utter lack of regard for outward appearances suggests you have a brilliant mind, Corliss.”

Corliss looked down at her red Le Tigre polo streaked with beet juice and her faded Wet Seal jeans.

“This makes you my smartest assistant
by far.
I have only two rules: First, whenever you approach me, you need to stand one to two feet away, no more, no less, and at all times be ready for, you know, whatever.”

“
Whatever,”
Corliss echoed, matching Max’s gravity.

“The second rule is to always be poised to jump whenever I say.”

“Jump. Gotcha. And by all means, tell me if I don’t jump fast enough. While I’m pretty bright upstairs, my gym teacher said my physical reflexes are a little on the slow side.”

“I’m not looking for a circus performer, Corliss, I’m looking for
someone with smarts.
And I already have a crushingly crucial, time-sensitive activity that demands that level of smarts.”

Corliss’s eyes opened wide and she moved within the prescribed one- to two-feet radius.

“I need you to run to Trader Joe’s. Pick up some cases of Poland Spring. As many as you can carry. And they’ve got some low-fat rosemary crackers that I like, get a few boxes. Then head to the Kabbalah Center on Robertson. I need four bottles of their Kabbalah water.”

Corliss blinked. Max could see she was confused.

“I have a crucial meeting this afternoon with a network executive whose wife is up to her implants in Kabbalah, and I don’t want to offend her,” he explained.

“Kabbalah…?” Corliss asked.

“It’s a Jewish thing. And the Poland Spring is for any gentiles I have to meet with. The network bills me for water—blessed by God or not. And I refuse to subsidize everyone’s water intake based on their religious beliefs.”

“Makes sense. I was raised Presbyterian myself and—”

“Another thing,” Max continued. “And this is very important, Corliss.”

“Yes, Max. I’m ready.”

“My stepbrother, Legend, has the day off from school. His nanny came down with the stomach flu and, obviously, I can’t look after him right now,” Max continued. “Would you mind if he went with you?”

Before Corliss could respond, Max led her to a door that opened into a small dressing room. Inside, plunked down on a black leather sofa, frantically Game-Boying away, was a pudgy five-year-old with a nose that looked like the object of some serious picking.

“Say hi to Corliss, Legend,” Max said, as if speaking to a two-year-old.

“Hi, Corlith,” Legend lisped without looking up.

“Hi, Legend,” Corliss said hopefully. “Is that like King Arthur’s legend?”

“No. My motherth family are all living legendth.”

“Legend and I come from a family of world-famous zoologists, Corliss. Our great-uncle Thaddeus attempted to mate a chicken with a hummingbird. It didn’t work, but he
certainly made a name for himself. Legend can explain it all to you in the car.” Max peeled Legend from the couch and pushed him toward Corliss.

“Sure, Max,” Corliss said. “It would be a pleasure to hang out with Legend.” It was obvious, however, that Corliss dreaded this assignment and was only trying to be helpful.

“Here’s my American Express,” Max said, handing over a jet black American Express card. “Save the receipts.”

“Will do,” said Corliss.

Max watched Corliss take Legend’s hand and lead him from the soundstage.

“Excellent,” whispered Max. “I can now begin to realize
The Awesomeness of
The ’Bu.”

Corliss’s Rental Car, Somewhere in Brentwood—11:42
A.M.

Legend kept taking off his seat belt and Corliss kept putting it back on.

“But do I hafta? Legendth only die in plane crasheth.”

Corliss sighed, impressed by his skewed reasoning. “Legend,” she said, using her strictest babysitter voice. She knew zilch about child psychology, but she guessed it was necessary to establish firm parameters with difficult kids. “It’s a rule in
my car
that anyone under the age of puberty should be strapped in.”

“But ith a
rental
car…” he chirped, unbuckling his seat belt yet again.

“Legend, work with me here. What if a cop gave me a ticket?”

“Maxth would reimburth you,” replied Legend.

“I can’t bill my new boss for a traffic ticket the first day of work! Please, Legend, if you keep the seat belt on, I promise to get you some peanut brittle at the Farmers Market on our way back to the studio.”

Legend pouted and looked out the window.
This is a kid who probably has a closet full of peanut brittle from the Farmers Market,
thought Corliss. She strapped him back in and hoped for the best.

This trip was turning into a nightmare. Corliss had a GPS in the car, but the minute they were off the UBC lot, Legend had offered a surefire “shortcut”—which Corliss had been naive enough to take. A drive directly over Laurel Canyon that should have taken half an hour was now clocking in at ninety minutes—with no end in sight.

“The beach?!” shrieked Corliss as she realized she’d headed in the wrong direction yet again. Sure enough, dead in front of them was the West Coast itself. She swore to herself she wouldn’t cry.

Legend looked at Corliss with the innocent eyes of a cherub.
Could he have planned this?
thought Corliss.

“Legend, why did you tell me to go west on the 10 freeway just now?”

The pudgy lisper shrugged. “Becauth I like to thee all the cool carth.”

Corliss took a big breath. “Okay, I’m taking big breaths to calm myself. So here’s what we’re going to do. From now on we are going to listen to the electronic GPS lady. I gave you your turn and now it’s hers, okay?”

“But that lady ithn’t even real!”

“I know, she’s a computer. And computers are our friends.”

“Okay, Corlith. There’s jutht one thing I want to know.”

“Of course, Legend—anything. I want us to be buddies! So what do you want to know?”

“Um, hath anyone ever put their hot dog in your hamburger?”

Back at the Soundstage—11:43
A.M.

JB ran back into the cavernous room. His face was flushed, and sweat dappled his brow.

“JB,” said Max sternly, “five-minute breaks are not
twenty
-minute breaks.”

“Yes, Max, sorry. Just checking my e-mail.” He scuttled over to his chair and reorganized his pencils.

“Fine, but don’t let it happen again. We’ll be on a very tight schedule with this production and it’s imperative that everyone be prompt.”

Max approached the table where all the actors sat waiting for him. He sized them up as the pieces of clay he thought them to be. They looked up at him with anticipation. Even Rocco seemed ready to start.

“Okay, before we begin, I have a few words about your characters. Trent, you’re playing Travis, the lifeguard. Good guy, not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He’s been involved with Alecia on and off, but Tessa immediately replaces her in his heart. Tanya, you’re playing Tessa. Extremely sweet girl who would give a starving man the bikini top off her back. She’s new in town and a little naive. Anushka, you’re playing Alecia. After
the sun itself, she’s the hottest thing on the beach. She’s with Ramone now, but still has lingering feelings for Travis. Rocco, you’re playing Ramone, the mysterious muscly guy who’s head- over-heels for Alecia. And JB, you’re playing Ollie, the lovable geek who’s everybody’s confidant.”

JB raised his hand. “So I take it we’ve all been cast against type?”

Everyone thought that was funny—except Max.

“You get exactly one funny-guy comment like that per day, JB.”

JB sank in his chair. Rocco shot him a smile.

“So. We’ll read through our first episode and then I’ll send you home. I’ll expect to see you bright and early tomorrow on location at the beach,” Max said as he took his seat at the head of the table. “And now, the history of
The ’Bu
begins…”

The ’Bu

Pilot Episode

EXT. MALIBU BEACH—2:30
P.M.

TRAVIS, 18, all-American, blond, model good looks, sits high atop his lifeguard station. He surveys the beach like a prince on his throne. Crystal clear sky. Perfect swells. Suddenly, his face grows dark. He leaps to his feet and blows his WHISTLE.

TRAVIS

Too far out!

He waves in a PACK OF TWELVE-YEAR-OLDS who are splashing one another on their boogie boards. But that’s as tough as it’s been

all day, and he smiles his perfect smile.

GIRL’S VOICE

What are you smiling at?

It’s TESSA, a lanky brunette beauty who’d caught his eye earlier that week. Just 17, she’s standing beneath his station in a butterscotch bikini. Travis hops off his booth and plays it cool.

TRAVIS

Isn’t a lifeguard allowed to smile?

His expression turns grave. The depths of sadness behind his bright exterior are suddenly revealed. Tessa can’t see this yet, however, and she continues, flirtatiously.

TESSA

Sure a lifeguard can smile—if

a lifeguard has a legitimate reason.

Travis looks past her to the ocean where children cavort, and to the beach where families laugh.

TRAVIS

Maybe I just take pride in guarding the sanctity of life.

Tessa is now deeply moved. Travis’s eyes grow moist.

TESSA

That’s an awesome responsibility.

TRAVIS

It is, yes.

TESSA

My name is Tessa, by the way.

But Travis is now looking into the far distance, remembering something he wishes he didn’t. Tessa gazes into his empathetic eyes. There she sees a man, not a boy. Unknowingly, they move closer.