I'm Doin' Me (2 page)

That was episodes ago. Now she was established and doing well as the executive producer and head writer for
Boy Crazy.
Today was the day she had to convince Todd and the evil-ass, non-smiling bastard and acting CEO that the show needed to transition from high school graduation to college graduation. She felt the show did not have to pick up with the girls being in college, because every situation they could get into had already been done in all the episodes of them being “boy crazy” in high school.

“Myah, please promise me that you will be on my team even if it's not at KCLN,” she asked. Her assistant was the best of the best when it came to assistants.

“If that means I won't be on the unemployment line, I'll promise,” Myah said.

Finally, it was time for Tiffany to walk into the idea room. That was where they sat at a large oval table to play with their ideas. “I can't promise you that just yet, but I know my life would be an unorganized mess without you.”

“Well, go in there and keep us both employed,” Myah said, giving her boss a little shove.

Tiffany went in and took her seat. Todd walked in with Mr. Keiffer. Mr. Keiffer was the network owner's brother. He was filling in because Bill, the real deal, was out ill. His presence in the room made a difference. Tiffany's confidence deserted her. For the first time in the idea room, she was fresh out of ideas.

Tiffany said, “I think the show has run its course with these women playing students. Shana is almost twenty-four, and the cameras are not so agreeable to Joy anymore. She doesn't look seventeen anymore. I think the new season should be about their lives after college graduation. We can then focus on the ladies coming into adulthood. You know, like starting their lives, looking for husbands, planning for children, getting a mortgage, and so forth; grown folk's stuff. The show will be like a new-age
Girlfriends
or
Sex and the City.
”

The approval on Todd's face was in contrast to the disapproval on Mr. Keiffer's face. “Miss Richardson,” he said, “that's the point. I don't want this show to shout
Girlfriends
or
Sex and the City.
”

“It won't, sir. That is just the foundation of the show. Trust me, women eighteen to fifty are going to love this show. It is going to be a newer version of those series that women loved, but with a fresh appeal. With all due respect, William gave me creative rights over this show before he became ill. He put this show in my hands, Mr. Keiffer, and technically I have the right to take the show in whatever direction I choose.”

Mr. Keiffer didn't budge. “And this is still my network, Miss Richardson, and I decide what shows stays or goes.” He leaned toward Todd, whispered something into his ear, and then stood. He walked out with no more words to Tiffany, just a nod to Todd with a look that said, “Handle this.”

“Come up with college material,” Todd said as soon as the door shut behind Mr. Keiffer.

“Come on, Todd,” Tiffany said. “These three characters are close, but in some cases, best buds attend different schools. To put all three girls in the same college won't be realistic and we are going to lose our audience. Hell, Joy looks like she is going on thirty.”

Even though Mr. Keiffer was intimidating, her team nodded in agreement, and Darryl said, “So true,” loud enough for the room to hear him.

“Come up with a college storyline or there's no more show,” Todd said firmly.

“Todd, you can't be serious,” Tiffany protested in disbelief. He'd always had her back, and she wondered why Mr. Keiffer forced him to put his tail between his legs.

“I'm dead serious. Listen, Tiff, I wanna back you on this, but this is above my head,” he said.

She couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He'd always given her complete creative control.

“Todd, you gotta talk to him,” she cried desperately.

“Come on, Tiff, you've pulled us from number six to number one in just one season, so come up with something fabulous like you always do.” He walked out, leaving her speechless.

“Now what?” Darryl, her co-executive producer, asked.

Tiffany had no idea. Her hopes of turning her
Boy Crazy
cast into adults and not crazy college students had just been shot down. “I don't know,” she admitted for the first time. All the writers on her team sat in silence. “Okay let's take a vote, and I want everyone at this table to be one hundred percent honest with me.” She knew they would be. If an episode idea was corny, they'd make it known. And as a team, they would make it right. “All in favor of college days for
Boy Crazy,
raise your hand.”

Only one of the six hands went up.
I knew your white ass would be,
she thought, looking at Brad. He was the only non-black writer for the show. “All in favor for post college raise your hand,” she said. The other five writers raised their hands.

“Okay, no worries, you guys,” she declared. “
Boy Crazy
must go on, but it may not be with KCLN.”

After she got back to her desk, she wished she could take back her words. “Oh my God,” she cried. “What am I going to do? If I don't get another season, I and several others will not have a job.” Her intercom buzzed. “Yes, Myah?”

“Your cast members are here.”

“Please send them in.” All three walked in seconds later. “Ladies, how are you?”

Melinda spoke up first. “Not good, girl. Rumor has it that the network won't give us another season after this senior year season.”

“Yes, that is true, not a rumor. That's only if we bypass college. I know you ladies are tired of being students. We've had this conversation many times before. If we don't do what the network wants, I need to know your opinions on where we should go from here,” Tiffany said nervously.

Tia shook her head. “Go from here? Tiffany, if there is no more show after this season, where else can we go?”

“To another network,” she said. The women looked confused. “Listen, I was thinking I should start shopping the show to other networks, but it's more effective if the original cast members are on board. I have to get a commitment from you ladies that if KCLN doesn't sign us for another term, then we are willing to go to another network. Bill trusted me, and I know he didn't leave me in charge of this hit show for his arrogant-ass brother to shut it down. If he wants to shut it down here, he can, but we can take it to another network.” Tiffany studied the three women sitting before her.

The ladies looked at each other.

“Well, I'm in,” Melinda agreed.

Tia then agreed. “Yes, if you can keep the show running.”

The only one left to say she was in was Jennifer. “I don't know, Tiffany,” she said. “I mean, how hard will it be to get us a new home? I would love for the show to go on, but if it's not, I have to keep my options open. I don't need to be off the scene too long. That would be murder to my career.”

“I know, Jennifer,” Tiffany said. “But we have an entire season ahead of us, and that gives me a little time to at least shop the show. It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Jennifer relented. “I'm in. Hell, this show was my start to fame, and if I can play Claire for another ten years and be adored by my fans, I'm in.”

“Great, ladies, that is great. I will be honest, I have one more meeting with the heads, and if they are not saying anything, this season, while we are taping, I will do my best to shop the show. Hopefully, get us another network that wants to do what we want to do.”

“Well, Tiff, I trust you, but be sure that Claire has the hottest crib and ride in our adult series,” Jennifer said.

“Hey, I want a nice crib too,” Tia said.

“Listen, ladies, those are small details. We have to find a home first. If KCLN doesn't want us, we will find a network that does. Hell, our show is number one on this network. They will yield,” Tiffany said with confidence.

 

 

A week later, after impatiently waiting for the verdict from Mr. Keiffer, Tiffany got the sad news from Todd that the network would not yield. They wanted what they wanted, even though the writers and the cast members thought otherwise.

She left the office for the first time pissed off and beyond confused. She never saw the show coming to an end, but that was exactly what was going to happen after the taping of this season. She felt like a Mack Truck hit her in her chest. Not wanting to stick around after hearing the news, she left early and drove home in a daze, wondering how she was going to deliver on her promise to her writers and cast members to find another network. She had no leads and no idea how she was going to start to shop the show.

She pulled into her driveway and smiled a little when she saw Jeff's car. Her boyfriend was at her place a little more than she cared for, but she didn't complain because at least he did cook. She walked in, tossed her keys into the bowl on the table near the door, and stepped out of her shoes. On the way to the fridge after grabbing a wine glass, she thought she heard a giggle. She paused and listened, but heard nothing. She proceeded to get the wine from the fridge and could have sworn she heard moaning. She stopped again to listen. The sounds got louder.

“Awww, hell naw,” she mumbled and put the wine bottle and glass on the counter. She made her way to her bedroom and pushed the door open to find Jeff in bed with her housekeeper, Carmen.

The other woman's toes were pointed to the ceiling while Jeff's toned ass rolled around deep inside her pussy. The scent of sex was in the air, and from the way the bed was in disarray, Tiffany could tell they had been at it for a little while.

“Get the fuck outta my damn bed!” she roared. The couple jumped up. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jeff?” she yelled even louder. “I mean, for real?”

The maid got up, scrambled for her dress, and quickly stepped into it, but Jeff sat on the side of the bed.

“Miss Richardson, I am so sorry,” she said with her thick Spanish accent.

She was sexy, young, and stupid, Tiffany thought, wondering why she even attempted to offer an apology.

“I am so, so sorry,” she said again.

Tiffany addressed her without taking her eyes off Jeff. “Get out, Carmen, you are fired! Don't ever step foot in my house again!”

The woman tried to make a quick exit, but she didn't move past Tiffany fast enough. With a thrust of her foot, Tiffany shoved her out the door.

“What don't I do, Jeff, huh? Tell me what the fuck do I not do? I suck your dick. I fuck you in the strangest places because that turns you on. I pay my own damn mortgage and bills and I don't ask you for shit. All I ask of you is to be my fucking boyfriend, and for that you decide to fuck another woman in my bed?”

His answer was said so low she barely heard him.

“What? Excuse me?” she asked. She wanted him to be a man and say what the fuck he had to say.

“I can't compete,” he said, this time speaking louder.

“Compete? Compete, Jeffrey?” Tiffany was confused. “What the hell do you mean? What do you mean by that?”

“You . . . you are this gorgeous, popular executive producer and writer for the hottest show on television. You are invited to exclusive parties, red carpet events, and movie premiers. All I do is fix cars. It's like I'm just your date or your escort, not your man or your boyfriend,” he said.

She wanted to slap the shit out of him. “Jeff, you cannot be serious. Every event, every party, and every red carpet event, you are there. Every magazine or captured moment is with your ass.”

“But the focus is on you!” he yelled.

For a moment, Tiffany felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. When she caught her breath, she got in touch with her anger. She truly wanted to punch him in the face.

“That is because of what I do, Jeff. The focus would be on you if we attended a red carpet mechanics event. When I met you, I met you as the guy who fixed my Beemer, and when you asked me out, did I ever once throw me all up in your face? When I told you at the table that night on our first date what I did and who I was, you said you could handle it. Never did I make you feel like less of a man. If you felt that way, that was your own personal issues, so don't blame it on me.

“The thing is, right now, I'm not even mad at you for fucking around on me. No, that is not what I'm mad about. I am mad as hell at the fact that you thought it was okay to fuck her in my damn bed. You had the audacity to go there with her here, in my room, in my bed, on my fucking satin sheets. You should have fucked that bitch in the guest room on the cotton ones if your dick needed to be pleased that bad!”

“You are right,” he said. He finally stood, and she saw he still had an erection. She wondered briefly how his dick was still hard after he had just gotten busted.

“Make sure you get all of your things and give me my key before you leave,” she said and stormed off to the kitchen. She grabbed the wine bottle and instead of pouring a glass, she put the bottle up to her lips and took a long swig. Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. “You are not going to be defeated, Tiffany Lashaye Richardson. Don't you shed one tear for that bastard,” she coached herself and took another swig.

The bottle was almost finished by the time Jeff came out with his duffle bag. “Well, I got everything,” he said.

Tiffany didn't look at him. “My key, please?” He tossed it and she caught it. “See your way out, and please don't even attempt to dial my number again.”

Jeff didn't argue, he just left. When she heard the door close, she broke down. Her career and love life were in the toilet in the space of a few hours, and she didn't know how she was going to bounce back.