your teeth capped and taking an inordinate number of showers.
What the heck is going on???
TO: Jausten
FROM: Shoptillyoudrop
SUBJECT: The Deep End
This time, your father has definitely gone off the deep end. I am NOT having an affair with John Koskovalis! Good heavens, I’ve only met the man once, at the clubhouse. I asked him for his autograph, and he gave it to me. End of story.
And as for those other accusations, just because I’ve joined a Jazzercise class and lost a few pounds and decided to make a lifelong dream come true by having my teeth capped, that doesn’t mean I’m having an affair. And, yes, I’m taking a lot of showers. It gets sweaty at Jazzercise!
PS. Are you sure you don’t want me to give your number to Ernie Lindstrom?
Chapter Seven
N ews of the Vanessa/Quinn boff-a-thon spread through the studio like wildfire. Everyone was talking about it. On my way to my office the next morning, I saw Marco, the prop guy, huddled with Teri, the makeup lady.
“They had to send the bedspread to the dry cleaners,” I heard Teri say.
“And one of the stuffed animals, too,” Marco added.
Outside Stan and Audrey’s office, their secretary, Bianca, was deep in conversation with Danny, the production assistant, whispering something about statutory rape.
No doubt about it; Quinn and Vanessa were definitely the topic du jour. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the hookers on Santa Monica Boulevard knew about their fling.
Kandi was already in our office when I got there, sitting slumped behind the desk, pale and puffy-eyed.
“How’s it going, kiddo?” I asked.
“Quinn called me last night. At eleven o’clock. Wanted me to come over.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No, uh…of course not,” she stammered.
I shot her a look.
“Okay, I did, but just for a little while.”
“Kandi, what am I going to do with you?”
“Don’t worry. It’s all over. He acted as if nothing had happened. When I asked him how he could cheat on me with Vanessa, he told me to grow up and stop acting like a baby. He actually expected me to hop into bed with him.”
“Did you?”
“No way. That much of a masochist, I’m not.”
“So what did you do?”
“The only dignified thing I could do. With my head held high, I walked out of his house, down his driveway, and wrote Screw You in lipstick on the windshield of his Porsche.”
“That was taking the high road, all right.”
“Hey, Quinn’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I sure would have liked to.”
At which point we looked up and saw Bianca standing in the doorway. A sharp-faced young woman with small teeth and darting eyes, Bianca reminded me of a ferret named Freddy my sixth-grade class adopted as a science project.
Bianca had been Audrey’s secretary for the past seven years. According to Kandi, Audrey had lured Bianca with vague promises of a writing assignment. But seven years later, Bianca was still answering phones and picking up Audrey’s dry cleaning.
She was standing in the doorway now, fiddling nervously with a chopstick hair ornament that speared her dull brown hair in a French twist.
“Uh…hi, guys,” she said, trying to pretend she hadn’t been listening to our conversation. “I brought you the revised scripts.”
Then, as quick as Freddy the ferret, she tossed us our scripts and scurried away, armed with fresh fodder for the gossip mill.
We spent the morning with Audrey and Stan, writing the teacher-in-the-sink scene. Audrey had totally regained her Ice Queen composure. Looking at her, you’d never guess that less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been oozing fury. In fact, she was so cool and collected, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe she hadn’t been having an affair with Quinn. Maybe her anger yesterday was simply the anger of a head writer whose actors have been behaving badly.
But then I looked down and saw how tightly she was clutching her pencil, so tightly that the veins in her
What the heck is going on???
TO: Jausten
FROM: Shoptillyoudrop
SUBJECT: The Deep End
This time, your father has definitely gone off the deep end. I am NOT having an affair with John Koskovalis! Good heavens, I’ve only met the man once, at the clubhouse. I asked him for his autograph, and he gave it to me. End of story.
And as for those other accusations, just because I’ve joined a Jazzercise class and lost a few pounds and decided to make a lifelong dream come true by having my teeth capped, that doesn’t mean I’m having an affair. And, yes, I’m taking a lot of showers. It gets sweaty at Jazzercise!
PS. Are you sure you don’t want me to give your number to Ernie Lindstrom?
Chapter Seven
N ews of the Vanessa/Quinn boff-a-thon spread through the studio like wildfire. Everyone was talking about it. On my way to my office the next morning, I saw Marco, the prop guy, huddled with Teri, the makeup lady.
“They had to send the bedspread to the dry cleaners,” I heard Teri say.
“And one of the stuffed animals, too,” Marco added.
Outside Stan and Audrey’s office, their secretary, Bianca, was deep in conversation with Danny, the production assistant, whispering something about statutory rape.
No doubt about it; Quinn and Vanessa were definitely the topic du jour. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the hookers on Santa Monica Boulevard knew about their fling.
Kandi was already in our office when I got there, sitting slumped behind the desk, pale and puffy-eyed.
“How’s it going, kiddo?” I asked.
“Quinn called me last night. At eleven o’clock. Wanted me to come over.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No, uh…of course not,” she stammered.
I shot her a look.
“Okay, I did, but just for a little while.”
“Kandi, what am I going to do with you?”
“Don’t worry. It’s all over. He acted as if nothing had happened. When I asked him how he could cheat on me with Vanessa, he told me to grow up and stop acting like a baby. He actually expected me to hop into bed with him.”
“Did you?”
“No way. That much of a masochist, I’m not.”
“So what did you do?”
“The only dignified thing I could do. With my head held high, I walked out of his house, down his driveway, and wrote Screw You in lipstick on the windshield of his Porsche.”
“That was taking the high road, all right.”
“Hey, Quinn’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I sure would have liked to.”
At which point we looked up and saw Bianca standing in the doorway. A sharp-faced young woman with small teeth and darting eyes, Bianca reminded me of a ferret named Freddy my sixth-grade class adopted as a science project.
Bianca had been Audrey’s secretary for the past seven years. According to Kandi, Audrey had lured Bianca with vague promises of a writing assignment. But seven years later, Bianca was still answering phones and picking up Audrey’s dry cleaning.
She was standing in the doorway now, fiddling nervously with a chopstick hair ornament that speared her dull brown hair in a French twist.
“Uh…hi, guys,” she said, trying to pretend she hadn’t been listening to our conversation. “I brought you the revised scripts.”
Then, as quick as Freddy the ferret, she tossed us our scripts and scurried away, armed with fresh fodder for the gossip mill.
We spent the morning with Audrey and Stan, writing the teacher-in-the-sink scene. Audrey had totally regained her Ice Queen composure. Looking at her, you’d never guess that less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been oozing fury. In fact, she was so cool and collected, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe she hadn’t been having an affair with Quinn. Maybe her anger yesterday was simply the anger of a head writer whose actors have been behaving badly.
But then I looked down and saw how tightly she was clutching her pencil, so tightly that the veins in her
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