Let's Stay Together (3 page)

The offensive lines were still there.

Lauren squeezed the script so hard, it almost tore in half. “Wow,” she said. She felt like gouging out her eyes.

Wow,
she thought.

She felt like rinsing her eyes with hydrochloric acid.

She looked for and found the writer listed under the title: A. Smith.
Only
one
human being wrote this and thought it was doable. I never want to meet this person. I do not hang out with ignorant people. But somehow a television studio executive passed this ignorant script up the chain, a producer put up the money for a pilot, and a director signed on to direct. Were
any
people thinking when they read this disaster of a script?

I’ve read some bad scripts, but this script
really
sucks a rusty hubcap.

She reread the script, and if anything, it got worse.

She rolled the script up into a tight scroll. “If you stick into the ceiling, I’ll read for the part.”

She threw the script up at the ceiling. It bounced off and caromed into the kitchen.

She sighed deeply, falling back into the love seat.
How can I make a comeback with this mess? I know it’s a paycheck, but do I really want to lower myself to this level for my first work in seven years? It’s not funny. It’s sad. I need something with some integrity here, not this . . . excretion.

Oh, I
know
why they want
me.
I’d be playing the desperate single black woman in search of a white man. I have been there and done that. First, there was a white guitarist back in college who introduced me to his “other” girlfriend, who said she would be “cool” with me joining them in their mostly sexual relationship. I wasn’t cool with either of them. I spent time with a premier athlete who worked out with performance-enhancing drugs more than he even spoke to me. And then I made the mistake of falling for Chazz, an actor who was, is, and shall always be more gay than straight. None of them were good to me or for me for very long, but at least I have some experience with interracial relationships. The writer of this script obviously doesn’t.

She sighed.

But I need to do
something
to keep from going insane. I have to stay busy.

Lauren had grown up near Martin Luther King, Jr. Avenue in Congress Heights, Southeast D.C.’s capital of car theft, robbery, and assault. While jets had screamed overhead to Bolling Air Force Base and Washington National Airport (since renamed Ronald Reagan Washington National), and cars had packed I-295, Lauren had tried valiantly to survive Ward 8. She missed going to Martin Luther King Elementary. She missed the barbecue chicken pizza from The Pizza Place. She missed the come-ons from the men at Fullers barbershop. She missed having her hair done at Styles Unlimited hair salon, where her first head shot still greeted customers as they entered the shop.

I can’t go back there,
Lauren thought.
That’s what Congress Heights expects to happen to anyone who escapes. They expect me to crawl back with my tail between my legs. I’m sure they’re all talking about me at Styles Unlimited. “Oh, that Lauren Short has the worst luck with men, doesn’t she? That’s what happens when you get uppity and mess with white men. . . .”

She called Todd. “I read the script,” she said as soon as he picked up.

“And . . . ?”

“It’s a piece of rancid bat guano, Todd,” Lauren said. “It’s the cheesiest, most derivative, most clichéd, and ultimately most stereotypical and racist script I have ever read.”

“Well,” Todd said. “Say what you mean, Lauren.”

“I can’t see me doing this show,” Lauren said. “I can’t see any intelligent black woman doing this show. I can’t see any woman living or dead doing this show. Even the most desperate actress would have to be either crazy or brain dead to do this show.”

“Let’s see,” Todd said. “You haven’t worked in . . .”

He has to remind me.
“Look, I know my career took a seven-year hiatus,” Lauren said, “but this show would end my career and tarnish my former career
completely
if I did it. Why did you think I would be interested?”

“You
are
desperate,” Todd said.

“I’m not that desperate,” Lauren said.

“Come on, Lauren,” Todd said. “It’s strictly for laughs. It’s a comedy. You do remember comedy, don’t you?”

“But it’s not funny, Todd,” Lauren said. “Comedy is supposed to be funny. It should at least be somewhat amusing, like
Seinfeld.
This show is demeaning and shameful and patronizing. It degrades just about every segment of American society.”

“Geez, Lauren,” Todd said, “don’t take it so seriously. It’s a job, and you need a job, right? Get back on your feet and all that, right? This is just the beginning of your comeback. All comebacks start small. We need to build you back up to the big time gradually.
Some
of the script was funny, wasn’t it?”

“I tried to laugh, Todd,” Lauren said, “but laughter shouldn’t give you gas and make you want to remove your eyes with an ice cream scoop. I mean, the premise may have promise, and there’s plenty of room for more interracial relationships on television, but the execution of the premise is horrific. Train wrecks have more class, dignity, and integrity. Horror films have more humor.”

“You’ve only read the first scene, Lauren,” Todd said. “I’m sure the rest of the script will improve.”

“I doubt it,” Lauren said. “My namesake is off to Hell’s Kitchen to find herself a white man. The only way this script will improve is if they fire A. Smith, whoever that is, and hire someone who has some sense. I don’t think the writer has ever even been in an interracial relationship. You know, I could write a better script than anyone else could.”
I could base her love interest on Chazz. Yeah. That might actually be fun to write.
“Why don’t I just
write
for the show? I have plenty of experience in interracial relationships.”

“You, a writer?” Todd said. “Lauren, with your track record with men, you could only write something called
No Sex in the City.
” Todd laughed. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It certainly was,” Lauren said.

“You knew Chazz was gay, didn’t you, Todd?” Lauren asked.

“I think the word is
bisexual,
” Todd said. “And you have to be the only woman in LA who
didn’t
know. And anyway, I thought you knew all along and didn’t care.”

“I really didn’t know, Todd,” Lauren said.

“Come on,” Todd said.

“Really.”

“You were engaged to him and living with him for
three
years, Lauren,” Todd said.

“I know, I know,” Lauren said. “I have always been too trusting, and look at the mess I’m in because of it.”

“Chazz doesn’t seem worse for wear,” Todd said. “In fact, his star may even be rising. I hear quite a few scripts went back into circulation the day he dumped you.”

“
I
dumped
him,
” Lauren said.

“That’s not what
Entertainment Tonight
said,” Todd said. “And without your rebuttal, his word is the truth now.”

“But you told me yesterday to ignore all that!” Lauren shouted. “You told me to rise above the foolishness, keep a low profile, and say nothing!”

“And you listened to me?” Todd said. “We have some serious damage control to do, Lauren. I can set up an interview.”

“I can’t even remember my last interview,” Lauren said. “It was at least eight years ago.”

“And that magazine has since gone out of business,” Todd said. “We can’t go print media with this. We have to go live. I’ll try to set up something with Fallon first, of course, and then
The Today Show.
NBC owes you for canceling
Crisp and Popp.
And then—”

“No, don’t bother,” Lauren interrupted. “I want it all to go away as soon as possible.”

“Or we can keep it all going for a reality TV show,” Todd said. “You know, that sounds doable.”

“What?”
Is he kidding?

“We could call it
Lauren: Short on Love,
” Todd said. “You get what I did there?
Lauren
and then a colon and then
Short
—”

“No!”

“Oh, come on,” Todd said. “Doesn’t that sound fabulous ?”

“No!”

“I could have a deal done by noon today if you give me the green light,” Todd said. “The groom dumped her for his best man—or men, as the case may be—and now Lauren is short on love but long on longing. See our angel rise to heavenly bliss again. What viewer could resist watching that?”

He’s out of his mind, as usual.
“No, Todd,” Lauren said. “Never.”

“Never say never in Hollywood, Lauren,” Todd said. “Viewers will eat you up if you’re on a reality show. They love to see the high and mighty in extreme pain. It’s a
great
way to make a comeback. We could work on the script together.”

“What script?” Lauren asked.

“Don’t be naive,” Todd said. “Every reality show is scripted these days. It makes them more real.”

“It’s a stupid idea,” Lauren said.

“You’ll really cash in,” Todd said. “You’d make six figures easily.”

“I don’t want to cash in on my pain, Todd,” Lauren said. “I want to cash in on my talent.”

“There’s no questioning your
former
talent,” Todd said, “but your pain and suffering are worth millions right now, and we have to act fast. If you wait too long, no one will remember you were even engaged to Chazz Jackson.”

“I hope they forget by the end of this week,” Lauren said. “Todd, I will not do a scripted reality show about how stupid I’ve been. I want to get on with my life and put all that mess behind me.”
Check that. I just want to get on with life.

“Why do that when you can make some money off that mess first?” Todd asked.

“The answer is still no, Todd,” Lauren said.

Todd sighed. “You’re missing a golden opportunity, Lauren. It’s the American way. No one would fault you for making a few bucks off your mistakes.”

“No. End of discussion,” Lauren said.

“Okay, okay,” Todd said. “Did you happen to see Chazz’s pictures on TMZ? He was surrounded by gorgeous women.”

“Who was he smiling at?” Lauren asked. “The photographer or the women?”

“Why, the photographer, of course,” Todd said.

“And the photographer was a man, no doubt,” Lauren said.

“I think so,” Todd said.

“Chazz has to keep up his rep on
both
counts now,” Lauren said.

“And you have to build up your rep again,” Todd said. “You only live once, Lauren, and a rep has to be maintained.”

“No, Todd,” Lauren said. “You only
die
once. You have to live every day.”
No matter what little test hangs over your head.

“You know what I mean,” Todd said. “You need to get your name back out there again immediately. This show is an excellent way to do it.
Gray Areas
will be your ticket to future greatness.”

“
Gray Areas
will be my ticket to anonymity,” Lauren said. “Have you contacted the
Saturday Night Live
people?”

“Not this again,” Todd said.

“Yes,
this
again,” Lauren said. “I could rock that show, and you know it.”

“Fifteen years ago maybe,” Todd said, “but certainly not now.”

“Why not?” Lauren said. “You know I would be perfect for that show. I was born for live television. When’s the last time you talked to them?”

“It’s been at least a decade,” Todd said.

“Put my name in front of them again,” Lauren said. “Tell them I’d even do a few guest appearances here and there to get my feet under me again.”

“Lauren, you need to get
Saturday Night Live
out of your head,” Todd said. “Chazz hosts that show once a year. You know that. It would be awkward if you were in the cast.”

“For him or for me?” Lauren asked.

“For both of you,” Todd said.

“People would tune in to watch to see if sparks flew, though, wouldn’t they?” Lauren asked.
And fists.

“Hmm, they would,” Todd said. “That might be the angle I use. Big star live onstage with his ex. What might
she
say? What might they
argue
about? Yes, it has possibilities.”