Scared Scriptless (23 page)

For the last twenty minutes I’ve been talking with Brett, our brand-new story producer, and Joel, show runner for
Never Cry Wolf
, about the magic that was the first season of
The Real World
.

“All my high school friends had a crush on Eric Nies,” I tell the guys.

“Oh, but Kevin Powell stole the show. So much drama.” Brett has just moved here from New York City and hasn’t even found a place to live yet. He’s worn the same green shirt three days this week.

Brett, Joel, and I have had some fascinating discussions and fierce debates about reality TV in our daily production meetings. Brett worked on
The Real Housewives of New York City
and has some really good gossip about those ladies. But from our conversations over the last couple of weeks has come a clear understanding of what we want our show to be like. I have already used up three spiral notebooks on just the prep for production.

We are chomping at the bit to get up to Wolf and start filming next week. We’ve gotten Ed to sign off on one episode focusing on Wolf County “getting ready for winter.” And then we’ll hold off until the snow falls for the rest of the season.

It’s a little tight, getting the crew ready and the field producers up to speed. Luckily for me, I have Joel by my side, because one of the first lessons I’ve learned is that I have to be careful who I reveal my inexperience in reality to. As snobby as scripted
people can be about reality, the reverse is true too. Reality TV people can be total purists about their style of TV production, and I’m tired of the “Well, that’s not how we do it” comments. I want to do it the way that makes the most sense for
Never Cry Wolf
.

Joel keeps telling me that I am a good test sample for him of what the people in Wolf are going to be like. “Maddy, I know if I can convince you, I can get these Wolves to do anything.”

We’ve spent this meeting trying to figure out how to shoot the resort getting ready. My brother and dad hiring the ski school employees, the seasonal lift operators, the most interesting parts for the audience to see. We’ve also talked a lot about the ground logistics. The crew will be staying at The Mount Inn, which is a tiny bed-and-breakfast near the lodge. With only eleven rooms, the
Never Cry Wolf
team can take up the whole inn and effectively make it headquarters. My mom mentioned that the owner, Marybell, had told her that she bought all new sheets for all the rooms and tried a new recipe for blueberry muffins. It’s like I’m bringing a dozen guests home for dinner, but I know the crew will love the Wolf hospitality.

I look at the clock in the corner as we wrap the meeting and note that this will be my fourth sixteen-hour day in a row. Every day for the last week, I’ve woken up, driven straight to the Wolf offices, worked my tail off all day, breaking for lunch if someone forced me to, and then come home and fallen asleep before I could even watch a minute of the news. Not that I am complaining, because the upside of this brutal schedule is that I haven’t had one spare second to think about Adam.

Which is not to say I don’t feel a split second’s hesitation every time my phone rings or beeps a new text, but it’s never Adam. Well, he did text me once, the morning after Thong-gate:

I know he was making light of the situation to defuse the tension, clearly he also just wasn’t taking my feelings seriously. I really needed to talk to him, explain myself, which is what I was going to write back, but I knew I had to sort out my thoughts first. When I’m with him, it’s hard to keep a thought in my head anyway. So I figured I would spend some time coming up with a script of sorts, and then I’d be able to explain my feelings clearly when I saw him. But then I got so busy with work and one day led to a week, and one to two, and we haven’t spoken at all. There’s no way he’s going to come back on a white horse at this point given that (A) I’m not a damsel, (B) he doesn’t even know if I am in distress, because (C) I’m the one who picked this fight. If this were a fairy tale, I’m actually more the villain, or just a fool.

And why did I do that? I had a trumped up list of reasons in my mind, but I had to cross them off, including that stupid mysterious dinner. Some fashion blog had pictures of him leaving the restaurant with Alice and her husband Tony that night. So I’m left with nothing to hide behind except the main one, circled in red at the top: I’m scared. Adam—hell, Adam’s whole world—is so far out of my league, it’s not even funny. He’s going to realize it sooner or later and go back to dating the Lola Stones of the world, or fans with sexier underwear, who would die to be by his side at all of his fancy events. I’ll remember why I had my rule in the first place. I’m saving us both the trouble. Aren’t I?

“So is that a yes, Maddy?”

“Sorry, Joel, I zoned out there for a sec. What’s the question?” Please let it be something easy to answer.

“We’re going to the pub across the street to grab a quick drink since we’re all going to be here so late. You in?”

An easy question indeed. “Yes, a drink would be great.”

In the spirit of bonding with my new team, I grab my purse and follow Joel out. He has a couple of the younger producers in tow
and we all file into the pub behind him like ducklings. One of the quirks about Hollywood is how quickly crews can become so close. When you’re working such long hours with a group of people, you can’t help but get tight, quick. It’s like an adult version of summer-camp friendships. Now that
The Wrong Doctor
has wrapped, I’m glad to have this camaraderie with a new team. Sometimes, after a show wraps, it can be months before you come back from the hiatus or start a new show. When you’re used to being with a huge crew for sixty-plus hours a week, it can be… quiet.

As we’re waiting for our drinks at the table, I reflexively check my phone for any messages. Nothing.

“So what’s your deal, Maddy?”

I look up at Kaitlin, one of the new young producers getting her first big break.

“My deal?” I ask evasively.

“Yeah, you got a boyfriend?” She looks at me sincerely, as if that isn’t a totally inappropriate question to ask your boss.

“Um, no.” I’m definitely not telling my story here, so I need to seem firm. “I don’t.”

“That’s crazy,” she says loudly, and then turns to include Joel in the discussion. A discussion I really don’t want to be having right now. “That’s crazy isn’t it? I mean, Maddy is amazing. Joel, we have to find someone for her, don’t we?”

“Sure, I have straight friends,” Joel says. Now I’m going to die. “What’s the age range you’re looking for? My old roommate is a manager; he reps some good people. Totally legit.”

“I’m actually not looking to date anyone right now.” I swallow hard. “I used to have a rule that I don’t date actors, but I’ve sort of expanded it. I don’t want to date anyone in the industry.”

“Gotcha. Once bitten, twice shy?” he replies, too knowingly.

“Wasn’t that a song?” Kaitlin asks, perking up. “They play it on eighties flashback weekends. I love that song.” And luckily
the waitress shows up with a tray full of drinks before any other awkwardness can continue.

I ordered a beer on purpose. I don’t want any of this new crowd mistaking me for the fruity-drink type. With every sip, though, I can’t help but miss the refreshing cheerfulness of the fun drinks I got into the habit of ordering with Adam. But I firmly remind myself that isn’t who I am, and there’s no use pretending anymore.

After one drink, we all walk back to the offices. There is still tons of work to be done to get ready to shoot next week. Even the front office people are still working as we stroll in.

“Hey, Maddy. Someone’s here to see you.” The receptionist hails me as I head over to the employee entrance. She waves me back toward the main lobby. As I make my way to the seating area on the other side of the reception desk, I have a stupid fantasy that it will be Adam.

Int. Shiny lobby

Camera sees a blurry figure through the glass doors. They burst open and it’s Adam, with a huge bouquet of expensive flowers. Looking tired and unkempt, he approaches the reception desk.

As Adam starts to sink to one knee, right in the middle of the lobby, we go close-up on Maddy’s happy tears.

I round the corner, and there he is. Not Adam, of course. Some stranger I don’t know, in a suit.

“I’m Maddy Carson. May I help you?” I ask, politely covering my disappointment.

“Madelyn Carson?”

“Yes.” Didn’t I just say that?

“Great. You’ve been served.” He shoves an envelope at me and darts off.

I’ve seen this in the movies and, I think, on an episode of
Friends
. I half expect him to come back and say, “Just kidding.” I mean, it’s not divorce papers… what the hell? I rip open the envelope and read the official letterhead of James Goodman ESQ, pronouncing in ridiculous legal mumbo jumbo that I am being sued by one Craig Williams for defamation of character, that my malicious lies led to his “wrongful termination” at Hogan Chenny Productions and that I “stole”
Never Cry Wolf
from him. He wants a piece of the profits and producer credit.

I read it three times before it truly sinks in. I cannot believe I am standing here reading this. And for all my bravado and tough “Wolf” skin, I am truly scared. What will Ed Greenling think? What will Hogan say? What am I going to do?

The papers are starting to get crumpled in my now slightly sweaty hands. As I get in the elevator, I smooth them out on my thigh. I go to press number 7, my floor, but my finger hesitates above the panel of numbers. What will waiting do? Nothing can
make this better right now. I might as well rip the Band-Aid off quickly. I hit PH, stand back, and watch the lights tick away, taking me to Ed’s office on the top floor. On the ride up, I e-mail Hogan to please call me as soon as possible. We need to collaborate on a plan of action. But I need to hear Ed’s reaction and get out in front of this.

“Does Ed have a minute?” I say on my way to his door. I’ve learned that when it comes to assistants, the more strong-willed I am about getting inside, the better chance I have. I know if I meekly stood in front of her desk, it would be twenty minutes at least.

“Um… Ms. Carson, I’m not sure…,” she stutters, leaving me the opening I need.

“I’ll just check. If he’s busy, I’ll sneak back out. No problem.” I don’t know how I pulled off that casual voice, but it seems to have worked. She sits back in her seat.

Ed’s office is huge and covered in windows. We’re right in the heart of Century City, so there’s a 180-degree view from downtown LA to the ocean. It’s breathtaking. Ed’s on a call, but motions me in while he rolls his eyes at the phone. I act as if I’m in no hurry and stroll over to look at the ocean, hoping for some serenity. A few deep breaths and I am actually glad he’s still wrapping up the call. It gives me a chance to script out what to say in my head.

“Sorry about that. One of our main advertisers. Gotta keep ’em happy, right?” He chuckles ruefully as he walks over to sit in one of a pair of matching leather armchairs near where I am standing. I smile at him, but it’s thin. I sit on the sofa and only for something to do, reach for a bottled water on the coffee table between us.

“Ed, I have a concern. It could be nothing really, but I wanted to bring it to your attention immediately.”

“Okay.” Ed remains relaxed, but his graying eyebrows furrow slightly. “Shoot.”

“When I first started working on
Never Cry Wolf
, there was another employee at HCP who was developing it with me…”

“Craig Williams, right? I remember.”

“Right, yes. Craig.” Treading lightly, I continue. “Well, he’s making some waves, and I just wanted you to be aware of it. He’s crying foul that
Never Cry Wolf
was his idea, and he wants to hold on to a piece of it. First of all, I want you to know that it’s completely untrue, but either way, it was in Craig’s contract at HCP that all development done while working for Hogan is owned by HCP. That’s clearly stated. So, to be clear, he has no legal leg to stand on… but, you know… he could still make things awkward.” I finish and firmly remind myself not to ramble on as I usually do when I’m nervous. Now is not the time to chatter. But it’s hard as the silence stretches on. Ed seems to be in no rush to continue the dialogue, so I force myself to sit patiently.

Finally he speaks. “You’re sure the contract is clear? He can’t force his way in?”

“I’m sure.” Hogan spelled it out for me; obviously he was savvy enough to know this might be an issue. “Hogan can get you a copy of the deal memo if you need to see it.”