Unscripted (8 page)

“Yeah, that’s what I live for. To make my fans happy.” Bill laughs smugly. Mean Ponytail’s face is expressionless and Chris looks as if he might break out into big girly tears. “Are we ready yet?” I ask Nicholas, my voice squeaky.

“Just about. Okay, speeding.”

And we begin.

Question: Let’s start with your ABT sitcom
Hill Days.
Can you give me a one-liner on what that show was?

Answer:
Hill Days
was an amusing and important television show.

Question: Describe your character, Tommy Hill.

Answer: Tommy Hill was an amusing and important character on that show.

Question: What drew you to Tommy?

Answer: He was amusing and important.

Question:
Hill Days
really pushed the boundaries of a traditional comedy. Can you describe the tone of the show?

Answer: (laugh) You think I’m going to say amusing and important, but I’m not. The tone of the show was the key of D-flat.

Oh sweet Jesus.
We are paying him $10,000 and this is what I get? He’s not going to give me a real answer.
What the hell do I do?
I want to cry but I give a little fake chuckle and trudge ahead.

Question: Tommy was known for breaking into dance whenever he sold a car. What did you think of that character trait when you first read it in the script?

Answer: I thought it was amusing and important.

Question: All right. (I sigh loudly) Can we talk a little about
Mellow and The Fuzz?

Answer: Well, you put your dime in the jukebox. (Laughs)

Question: That narration has inspired songs, even novels. Can you recite a few lines?

Answer: Not off the top of my head. Why don’t you refresh my memory?

Brace for humiliation.

Question: He’s a private eye with an eye for the ladies and he’s the baddest cop in town. And together, they bring the heat.

Answer: Man, you should really consider voiceover work. The way you said that had such a ring to it.

Question: Uhh, thanks. Can you give it back to me?

Answer: Why mess with genius?

Question: Do fans still quote it to you?

Answer: Yes, and it brings tears to my eyes.

Damn you, Peter, and your stupid car wreck!
I have to do something here.
Think damn it.

Question: I know you’ve done a million of these interviews. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?

Answer: Nope.

Wait. I have it. Why didn’t I think of this before? A few weeks ago, I found Claire Cobin, the actress who played his young daughter on
Mellow and the Fuzz.
She decided against the interview, but we talked for a while and she gave me some good scoop on the show. If this doesn’t crack his corroded heart, nothing will.

“Oh, I meant to tell you earlier, Claire Cobin says hello.” Okay, not really. But it’s just a tiny lie. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. “She lives in Arizona now.”

“Claire?” Bill cracks a smile, but for the first time since we sat down opposite each other, it’s not a smug smile. “I haven’t talked to her in thirty years. Is she doing the interview?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s having some health problems. But she had some really great things to say about you. She still remembers the snake incident.”

Bill throws his head back and laughs. “I haven’t thought about that in years. I had to carry her around all day. She was a sweet kid.”

“She said she was lucky enough to have two fathers growing up.” All right, what she actually said was that he was a father figure up until the show became a hit and then he was distant and a little jerky. But, let’s not split hairs now. “If you’re interested I can give you her email. She’d love to hear from you.”

“Great, give it to Emily.”

“I will. Okay, I have a few more questions. When you first read the script for
Mellow and The Fuzz
what did you think? There certainly was nothing else like it at the time.”

“It was out there. I was a waiter at the time, so I couldn’t be choosy. I had no idea what I was getting into…”

Forty minutes later, we start our wrap-up. I cannot believe that after my little fib, Bill finally gave us complete (and sometimes even thoughtful) answers to all of my questions. I want to hug him.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Loudon. That was great,” I say as he gets up from the chair. He ignores me.

“It’s been a real honor,” Chris says as he removes the mic from Bill’s lapel. I try not to cringe.

“I’m sure it has,” Bill mumbles as he walks away without saying goodbye.

Well, I didn’t say he wasn’t still an asshole.

After the interview, I head over to the Arclight Cinemas to meet Jeff and Zoë for dinner and a movie. I park and check myself out in the rearview mirror. Staring back at me is someone who looks like she’s just taken a short vacation to hell. The eyeliner under my eyes is completely
smudged (and not in that fashionable/smoky eyes way either), my nose is bright red and my long, carefully sculpted tendrils have blended into one large hot mess.

I’m still trying to figure out what actually just happened. I mean, I know what just happened: I just wrestled through my first major celebrity interview, with a television icon, aka the biggest prick on the planet (and perhaps other planets), and won. It was as if Bill Loudon was a jar of peanut butter that had been sitting in the fridge forever, but with a series of firm taps on the lid, that jar slid right open. I’m not saying that it was the best interview in the world, but I know I did a pretty good job all things considered, and nothing can break this mood.

Jeff waves his hand from one of the booths as I walk up the steps toward the restaurant section of the movie theater. “Hi,” I call out as I practically skip toward him.

“Hey, kiddo.” Jeff takes a swig of his beer as I hoist myself into the dark wooden booth across from him. “Zoë’s going to be a few minutes late, but she’ll definitely make it in time for the movie.”

“Okay. Did you already buy the tickets?” I ask.

“Yep, got all three. It’ll probably be sold out. It’s a good thing we got here early.”

“I hear it’s really funny,” I say, glancing over at the box office line. “I love me some Judd Apatow.”

“The guy can do no wrong.” Jeff smiles. He actually looks happier today than I’ve seen him look in weeks.

“What are you all smiley about?” I ask as I open the menu.

“I got a job offer.”

“That’s good. But you get a new job every three months.”

Jeff looks at me excitedly. “This one’s different. It’s a new drama series for FX.”

“Shut up!” I lean over the table to hit him on the shoulder. “You did not!”

“I did.” Jeff nods his head. “The only bummer is it’s an AE job.”

“They’re making you work as an assistant editor? But you’ve been lead editor for three years.”

“Yeah, but for reality. You know the scripted people look down on us reality hacks. That’s just the way it is.”

I know it’s true. They’re the cool kids and, well, we’re not. But it’s still shocking that he has to start from the bottom again after all of his hard work.

“I have a friend who’s an editor on the show. He worked his way up in scripted ever since film school, which is what I should have done years ago. I have to take a step down. But it’s a foot in the door, you know?”

Lord have mercy.
Does this boy not know his own fiancée? She’s going to kill him. She’s going to tear his head off, chew it up and spit it on the floor.
Step-down
does not exist in Zoë’s vocabulary. Especially since Jeff probably makes $4,000 a week as a lead editor. I can’t even imagine what his pay cut will be as an assistant. But I’m certain Zoë can say goodbye to her two-and-a-half carat, emerald cut.

“Does Zoë know?” I ask as casually as I can.

“Not yet. I just found out myself.”

I start pulling at my eyebrows, pushing myself to ask the next question. “So, um, how long will you be an assistant for? I mean, when will you make the bump to editor?”

He stares at me for a second, as if he knows exactly where I’m going with this line of questioning. “A few years, I don’t know. Depends on how long the show runs and if the show runner likes me.” Jeff looks at me harder. “Listen, it’s a big deal for me. I know Zoë will get it.”

“Hey, I’m not saying nuthin’! I’m keeping my nose out of this one.”

Jeff sighs. “All I’m saying is, this would be very good for me.”

I really wish I could encourage him, because I know that in the long run, this is a good move. But if I take his side, Zoë will bludgeon me in my sleep.

I nod but before I can say another word, Zoë pops out from nowhere and slides in next to Jeff.

“Have you read the trades today?” she asks me, without even saying so much as a hello.

“You know I never read the trades,” I reply, checking out a rolled-up copy of
Variety
in her hand. “Why?”

She slaps the magazine down on the table in front of me. “Go to page twelve.”

“Okay.” I look at the headline.

“What the hell is this?” I say, raising my voice to barely below screech level.

“Well, looks like Matt finally sold a screenplay.” Zoë pulls the magazine away from me and shows it to Jeff. “Matt Corrington is Abby’s ex,” she whispers.

“God. I’ve seen commercials for this thing.” I shake my head and laugh, but it sounds hollow. “Well, I guess our breakup really did give him more time to write.” My stomach is churning so I take a swig of Jeff’s beer to try to dull the ache.

“It’s probably a piece of shit,” Jeff adds, as he scans the article.

“Not according to
Variety,
” I say, sounding absolutely pathetic. “What does it say?”

Jeff continues to read, then places the paper on the seat next to him. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The reviewer liked it. But that’s just one review.”

“I can’t believe this is the first I’ve heard of this. How does Matt make a movie and I don’t know about it? How in the hell did he even do this?” I feel the tears beginning to build, and do my best to blink them away.

“His parents are bazillionaires,” Zoë says. “Guys like that don’t struggle. You have so much more talent, creativity and imagination than he will ever have.”

I glance over at the huge, box-office display screen ahead of me. On the right, in bright orange lettering I see SNEAK PREVIEW; IT’S NOT ME, IT’S YOU. I twirl around and look back at Zoë and Jeff. “Oh my God. It’s playing here. Matt’s movie is here tonight!”

“So what?” Jeff says, attempting to look uninterested. “Let it go. Don’t give him your $14.”

Zoë nods her head in agreement. “Jeff’s right. I just thought you should know. But now that you do, you’ve got to let it go. Don’t even go and see it.”

Yeah. Right. Great. I love how Zoë throws this bomb at me and then says to just let it go. If it happened to her, she’d be trampling over people to get a ticket.

My breath hitches at a horrible thought. “You don’t think he’ll be here tonight, do you?” I sink lower in my booth.

“Doubt it,” Zoë says assuredly. “I’m sure he went to the premiere, who cares about a sneak preview.”

“His movie starts thirty minutes after ours, even if he comes we’ll miss him,” Jeff adds.

Yeah, this is exactly how I’d like to run into Matt after three years: at a screening of his movie, looking like Hagrid on crack.

I fumble for a tissue out of my purse and blow my already raw nose.

“Maybe I should just go home.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Jeff says. “This guy is a nobody.”

Yeah, sure, he used to be a nobody, but now he’s the new darling of romantic comedy, and I’m not even writing anymore. Jesus, listen to me. I sound so petty. I don’t want to be that person. “Listen, you guys, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal. I’ll stick around for the film.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Zoë tilts her head, frowning.

“I’m fine. Hey, maybe I can ask him for his autograph if we see him.”

“Or maybe you guys can get a picture together,” Zoë jokes.

“I have some news too,” Jeff says.

“What’s up, hon?” Zoë asks, turning to face him.

“I got a job offer on
Fire Jumpers.
”

“The new FX drama?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Ooh! I’ve always wanted to date an editor on a
scripted
show.” Zoë winks at me as she squeezes Jeff’s arm lovingly.

Here we go.
I keep my eyes locked on Zoë. This is going to get ugly.

“Actually, it’s an assistant editor job.”

Zoë’s face drops. Her eyes begin to blink as she tries to take in what Jeff has just said.

“Did you say
assistant?
” She practically hisses out the word.

“Zo, you know I’d never be able to walk on to a scripted as a lead editor.” Jeff takes off his glasses and wipes them on his shirt. He appears calm and cool.

Oh you foolish, silly man.

“What’s the pay?” she snaps.

“$1,500 a week.”

“$1,500 a week!” Zoë shouts. “Tell me you’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

I swallow hard as I notice the waiter making his way over to our table.

“What would you ladies like?” he asks.

Zoë ignores him so I lean in to quietly give him my order.

“Hi there,” I whisper. “What kind of beer do you have on tap?”

“How in the fuck are we both supposed to survive on $1,500 a week?”

The waiter looks over at Zoë, and turns back to me with both eyebrows raised. “Ah, well, we have Miller Genuine Draft, Guinness, Sierra Nevada, Pilsner…”

“We are about to start a life together, Jeff, or did you forget that?”

I swallow hard and lean closer to the waiter. “Um, what was that last one you said?”

“What’s your problem? You make money too, Zoë.”

The waiter’s mouth opens but nothing comes out.