Up & Out (23 page)

“I don’t know. Lately I feel like I am not sure what I’m doing. You know my whole life.” I sound like I’m pleading with him. And for what—to leave me alone? Is that what I want? I don’t know. I just don’t know if I’m ready to get close to someone, to be disappointed by them or to disappoint them, myself. It’s all happening so fast.

“I see.” He looks at me, like he can see through me.

“I know it sounds lame.”

“Yeah, it kind of does.” I wasn’t expecting that.

“What are we going to do? Start dating?”

“Why not?”

“We met at a bar. It’s weird.”

“To who?”

“Me. Everyone.”

“Not me and not you. Not the other night.”

“I know, but the other night wasn’t…” I really don’t know what to say. His expression is weakening my resolve. He wants something from me that I’m not sure how to give.

“What?”

“It was unreal.” He doesn’t say anything. “I was just getting used to being alone.”

“And that’s what you want? Why are you so scared?” Why is he so persistent? I make what I’m certain is a very exasperated face. He reaches out and touches the inside of my arm with his knuckle, like he did on the street. I was sweating—now I have chills.

“I’m not a psycho and I’m not interested in anyone else,” he says without removing his hand. “You know where I am. I won’t try to bother you again. The ball is in your court, Rebecca.”

“Okay.”

“Can I know your last name? Now that you know mine. In case I find out that you were the psycho killer.” I laugh, awkwardly.

“It’s Cole.”

“Rebecca Cole. That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” He is able to say the things I can’t. I sigh.

“Well, I hope I see you around, Rebecca Cole.” Here is my chance to say something to save this, but I don’t say anything special.

“Bye.” And he walks away. Who can blame him? Now it’s all up to me.

Great, I love it when the ball is in my court. Proactive is my middle name. Yep. Rebecca Proactive Cole. I wonder if he would think that was a beautiful name.

After meeting Ben, I no longer feel like running. I take the subway back up to Midtown. There is another ad for the Teaching Fellows. It says, “You made your dreams come true, how about someone else’s?” I think of Ben.

How about nobody’s?

There is a message from Meg, Hackett’s assistant, on my cell phone. She wants to set up a meeting with Hackett and me. I don’t get it. I’ve known Meg for a while and she had nothing to do with my layoff, so I call her.

“He didn’t say why, just wanted you to meet him at the Red Cat.” Yum. Talk about fresh fish…

“When?”

“Tomorrow at six.”

“I can’t make it until seven.” I know this is a stupid game.

“I’m sure that will be fine. Hey, did you hear what happened to Delores?”

“Yeah, from several people.”

“These things happen to people who don’t know how to order their own office supplies.” Ah-ha, assistant revenge. What a breath of fresh air.

Tommy calls me as I am rubbing the freshest fish in the city with salt and pepper.

“What’s up?” he asks. I can tell right away that he is going to tell me something I don’t want to hear or disappoint me somehow.

“I wasn’t sure if you were making dinner tonight. I wasn’t expecting you to, but if you were I wanted you to know that I wasn’t going to be home. I’m, um—not going to be around.” I appreciate the notification. It is unlike the Tommy I know. I failed to train him properly and now someone else is doing a better job. Perhaps Failure is a better middle name. Rebecca Failure Cole.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” Cordial, now that might be a good one.

“You weren’t making dinner tonight, were you?”

“Of course not, don’t worry about it.”

“All right, see you tom—whenever.”

“Okay, bye.” I think about telling him to use a condom, but Martyr doesn’t appeal to me.

The freshest fish in New York gets wrapped in foil and saved for another day when it won’t taste as good. But then again, it might not taste very good tonight, alone.

I eat my usual summer meal of tomato, basil and fresh mozzarella. I take a few extra pieces of the fresh mozzarella. I jogged today and disappointed a boy. I could use a little cheese to cheer me up.

H
ackett is already at the bar when I get there. He gives me a big smile and a kiss on the cheek. I am not sure how I want to be with him, but I let him get me a drink.

“I put our name down for a table.”

“Oh, was this a dinner date?”

“Yes, I have a proposition for you.”

“Really,” I say. It’s been a long time since I have been wined and dined by an expense account, but I must be strong. “Actually, I made other plans for dinner. I thought we were just having a drink.”

I haven’t prepared anything, but there is a low-fat burrito and day-old fish in the freezer and it’s worth the missed gourmet meal for the look on his face.

“Okay. I hope you are open to what I have to say.”

“Of course I am, shoot.” I sip my drink through the straw. I used lipliner and I don’t want to ruin it. I accept that I’m trying to make an impression although I’m not exactly sure why.

“You heard what happened to Delores.” I nod. “I have to say people feel very loyal to you still.”

“I wonder if it’s me or just that they hate her.”

“Regardless, we have a vacancy.” He sips his drink and looks at me. “C’mon, Rebecca, you know what I’m suggesting.”

“No, I really don’t.” He cocks his chin. “I cannot believe you are saying you want me to take her job. Remember, I got terminated for performance problems. According to my documents, I couldn’t handle my job. Do you realize how shitty that is?”

“Look, Rebecca, we knew there was a problem and we tried to deal with it. It didn’t help that you antagonized Jack Jones.”

“I didn’t antagonize anyone. I said what I thought. We were supposed to be a kids’ channel, not a bunch of anorexic white supremacists.”

Hackett laughs and shakes his head. “You’re incredible.”

“Thanks, I guess. What, is
she
fired now?”

“No.”

“Because it wouldn’t be cool to terminate someone in a body cast?”

“She’s not in a body cast, but she is unable to work. Eventually she will be—” he hesitates “—repurposed.”

“Oh, the new buzzword. Isn’t everyone? Doesn’t it ever get tiring to just keep replacing people with whoever puts a bug in your ear?”

“Rebecca, this is the industry.”

“Well…” I don’t know what to say. He is making me feel so naive. “It sucks.”

“You would be doubling your salary. The assignment would be three months. If I’m not mistaken your severance ended last week. Also, when the three months are finished, I am more than sure we will have a place for you.”

“What? Working side by side with the troll?”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.”

“You’re right, we do. It’s not that I don’t want to pay off my credit card bills or get my own apartment, but under those circumstances I’d prefer being unemployed.”

“You know the expression cutting off your nose to spite your face? I’m not the enemy.” I shake my head, and he orders another round. “Oh, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re young.”

“I don’t feel young anymore.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but you are, and that’s why you can be like this. God, I wish I could bottle that. Are you sure you want me to take the offer off the table?” For a minute, he has dropped the businessman and become the sort of paternal character he was when I first started working for him. It’s seductive. I could so easily say yes and get my old office back. I could have a door and a place to go again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I manage a smile. “I don’t need to be tempted anymore.”

“Okay, then can I be frank with you?”

“Does that mean you are going to insult me?”

“No, I’m going to give you a piece of advice and an observation.”

“Okay, shoot.” He takes another rather large sip of his drink.

“You are a likable person, Rebecca, but just remember that can piss some people off.”

“So are you suggesting I be less likable?”

“No, I’m suggesting you don’t take things personally and that you remember that sooner or later it all comes around. You will have to deal with some of the same people again, and in their own way, they will have to deal with their consciences.”

“For as long as I can, I am going to avoid being in a position of managing other people to do things I don’t believe in, or working with people I can’t stand. Even if it means I never have an office or a show or money. Peace of mind is worth more than that.”

“Nice, Rebecca. I would love to hear how that works.”

“And I would love to keep being patronized.” The nice thing about not working for him is that I have the balls to say what I want in whatever way I want. “What’s your observation?”

“Well, why didn’t you fight your termination?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just accepted it in the HR office. You barely batted an eye.”

“What could I do? I was in Human Resources getting a severance package to sign. It seemed like the deal was done.”

“I think you never believed you could do it.”

“Do what?”

“I think all the while you kept expecting it to happen, expecting to get canned. Even before Delores. You felt, I don’t know, unworthy or something. You were always waiting for someone to wake you up from the dream. You thought you were lucky—not talented. That’s one thing, that lack of trust in yourself, maybe the only thing I’ll never regret about not being young. Confidence comes hard.”

I feel like I just got smacked in the head by a bunch of bricks. I can’t believe it. I think Hackett is right.

“One day, I suspect we’ll work together again in some capacity, and I hope, Rebecca, that you only have to grow up just a little.” He hands his credit card to the bartender.

“Thank you,” I say, grateful that I don’t work for him anymore so that he can say whatever he wants to me. “I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, and signs the receipt. He gets off the stool and squeezes my shoulder. “Thank you. Enjoy your dinner plans.”

I know where I can find a better dinner than the one in my freezer. I think it’s time I start ruling my destiny. I can wait for karma, but it might never catch up with me. I consider going jogging, but instead I take a risk and take the subway to Ben’s bar. Will, the bartender, waves to me and says I can go on back to the kitchen. When I push the swinging door open, he is bent over a pot of chili, stirring.

“Hey,” I say. He smiles when he looks up and then when he sees that it’s me, his smile grows wider.

“Hello there.” He looks me up and down and points out my purple toes. “I like your toes.”

“Thanks, I just did them myself. My severance ended. I can’t afford pedicures anymore.”

“What’s up?”

“I was hungry and I thought you could make something to eat when you’re finished working and then maybe if you still wanted to we could go up to your apartment and look for stars.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and wiping his hands on his apron. “Does that mean you are going to give this a chance?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m in.”

When it rains it pours. Don calls me after my meeting with Hackett. In his message, he is the usual slick Don that I am starting to like, and he says that he needs to “pick my brain” about some things.

We meet at Molyvos, a Greek restaurant in Midtown. I get there first and wait for him in a booth. He kisses me hello on both cheeks. He looks and smells good.

“How are you?”

“I’m fabulous. I got laid off.”

“Oh, no! Because of Jordan?”

“Partially, they think I could have done a better job casting. Honestly, it was too confusing for kids to get to know Gus and then try to relate to his cousin. Also, it seemed too much like
Blues Clues.
Meanwhile, that’s what they said they wanted. Anyway, the network’s pretty broken. I’ve already got five offers.”

“That’s great, Don. I wish I had your connections. Where are you going to go?”

“That’s the beauty of it. I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking this opportunity and using it to my advantage. I am following fate. I’m reading the signs.” Not the follow-your-bliss crap again. Please.

“What are you doing, joining the seminary?”

“I think Sarah would have a problem with that.” He winks at me, but keeps talking. “I’m starting my own production company.”

“That’s cool,” I say.

“I figure I have worked on and developed enough shows in-house to know what I need to do. I’m not getting any younger. I’m thirty-two. It’s now or never.”

“I guess so,” I say. I have never seen him this excited before. It’s almost contagious.

“Anyway, I want to start pitching shows. It’s us against them now.”

“Us?” What is he trying to tell me?

“Yes, Rebecca. I need your tween-girl connection. You’re like a big self-conscious tween, and I want that. It’s big.”

“Thanks, I guess. But what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to start writing spec characters and scripts. It’s going to be different now. We’re going to get the best deals and beaucoup cash. It will be a while before we see any of it, but I can promise you that even if something happens between us, you’ll never get screwed on your shows again.”

“What if they don’t sell?”

“They’ll sell. One thing I learned is that the networks listen to whoever charges the most. And we are going to be pricey, Rebecca. We are going to pillage them, we are going to bend them over a chair and—”

“I think I get it,” I say. “When do you need these?”

“I just need paragraphs by next month. I brought a contract. It lays out what I will pay you for the ideas and what you’ll get when the show gets picked up. It’s time to start behaving like guerrillas.”

I wonder if this is too good to be true or if Don has started taking drugs or what. When I look at the contract I’m speechless. He is going to pay me a decent sum for the specs and if the shows do get developed I will be getting more depending on whether I help develop and produce them. Either way, I should be able to support myself by just creating these characters. I can’t believe someone is going to give me money to do something I love. With this kind of money I could eat a plate of rock shrimp tempura every night. How could I be so lucky? And like some kind of sick Jiminy Cricket, I remember what Hackett said about not believing in my own talent.

“You’re crazy,” I say. But, I’m worth it, right? I deserve this. “Okay. I’m down.”