The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) (34 page)

Holy shit! I guess they can’t, I muse as Libby segues into the first discussion question.

“Okay, ladies, what do you think of the show
Kurt Kussler
?”

Despite being told to talk one at a time, the women break out into pandemonium. I hear a cacophonous chorus of “Oh my God! The best show ever! I love it!”

Reminding the women not to shout out all at once, Libby launches into a series of questions about what they like and dislike about the show.

The long and short of it:

Likes: Everything. Especially the lead character Kurt. They love the action-packed stories and all the flashbacks of him and his late wife Alisha. They also adore the secondary characters, especially Kurt’s faithful assistant Mel.

Dislikes: Kurt’s nemesis, The Locust, whom they love to hate. And the fact they have to wait a week for the next episode. A couple of women complain about my recent absence on account of my accident. They’re all relieved to hear that I’m okay and will be in all the new upcoming episodes.

After a quick sip of her bottled water, Libby tells the group they’re doing a great job and focuses her questions on the character I play.

“Okay, ladies. Let’s talk a little bit about the character, Kurt Kussler.”

Again, another outburst.

“Oh my God, sex on a stick!”

“I love him!”

An older woman fans herself. “Holy hotness Batman. He’s so amazing!”

“Totally!” gush several respondents in unison.

“What about Brandon Taylor, the actor who plays the part?” asks Libby.

Yet another uncontrollable outburst. A few of the women look like they’re going to swoon.

“Oh my God. I’d kill to meet him!” pants one.

A shiver skittles up my spine. I’m sure she doesn’t mean that literally, but the words of Detective Billings circle in my head. Would some crazy fan actually do that?

Another woman suspiciously stares at the one-way mirror. “Is he sitting behind that mirror watching us?”

Before Libby can respond, the women start shrieking. I swear they sound orgasmic. They wave and blow kisses. One even jumps out of her seat and presses her lips against the glass. She’s practically in my face. I feel myself flushing. On my next breath, they’re all out of their seats and peeking through the window in search of me.

Blake laughs. “Guess they’re infatuated with you.”

Obsessed is more like it. They’re like a pack of wild dogs in heat.

Convincingly denying my presence, Libby tells the ladies to sit back down and brings order to the unruly group. She continues to probe about my character’s appeal and then moves into a discussion about the other characters. After talking about Kurt’s late wife Alisha, she focuses on my assistant, Melanie, who I call Mel.

“I love her,” says one respondent.

“She’s so cute and funny,” says another.

“And she cares so much about Kurt,” adds yet another.

“I feel sorry for her,” comes the voice of the youngest respondent.

“Why is that?” asks Libby, totally poker faced.

“Because she’s madly in love with Kurt.”

“Do the rest of you agree?” Libby throws out the question to the group.

“Totally!” the respondents shout out in unison.

“Does Kurt know Mel is in love with him?”

The women chime in one after another.

“Maybe.”

“Not sure.”

“Yes. But he’s too in love with Alisha and feels guilty.”

“That’s what I think. He’s suppressing his feelings.”

It takes no prodding for the other respondents to agree. I listen carefully to what the insightful women are saying. The image of my own assistant Zoey unexpectedly flashes in my head, and it puts a smile on my face. The smile quickly fades. I’m sure she hates me. I treat her like crap.

Blake’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Here comes the big question.”

Libby: “Okay, listen up. How would you feel if Kurt and Mel got together?”

“You mean, like fell in love with each other?” asks one of the respondents.

Libby nods. “Yes.”

The women once again break out into orgasmic shrieks. They talk over each other, but I understand every word.

“Oh my God! That would be amazing!”

“I would love that!”

“How ’bout like yesterday!”

“I’m dying for them to kiss!”

“That would be so hot! Mel deserves happiness. So does Kurt.”

“Why can’t it be me?”

After a few more similar responses, Libby wraps up the group. She thanks the helpful participants and then hands out envelopes with their compensation. While the envelopes get passed around the table, she reaches beneath it and retrieves a large box. She stands up and sets it in the middle.

“I have one more thing for you…
Kurt Kussler
sweatshirts.”

The women shriek yet again and go at the box of sweatshirts like vultures. Thanking Libby, virtually every one of them slips their sweatshirt on before departing.

Two minutes later, a beaming Libby steps into the observation room.

“Great job, Libby,” Blake commends.

The show execs second the motion.

Her smile widens. “Thanks. I think you got the answer you were looking for.” Her eyes zero in on me. “Brandon, viewers love your idea.”

My ears perk up as she continues.

“Of having Kurt finally realize he’s in love with his assistant Mel.”

So, that was my story idea. I wonder what inspired it. Before I can utter a word, Executive Producer Doug opens his mouth.

“So, Brandon, are you still up for writing the season finale? You said you wanted to.”

I did?
I gulp. “Yeah, sure. It’s my idea.”

Blake smiles broadly. “That’s great. We’re going to run it as a two-hour special and promote the shit out of it.”

Christ. What have I gotten myself into? I don’t think I’ve ever written one word of a script. How am I going to do this?

Doug picks up on my anxiety. “Brandon, don’t stress out. We’re all going to work with you.” He turns to Mitch. “Mitch and his team will be there every step of the way.”

Mitch gives me a thumbs up. Maybe I should ask him to write the script, and I’ll dot a few i’s and cross a few t’s.

Trevor, the network executive, looks up from his cell phone. “I already texted the Publicity Department.” He smiles triumphantly. “They’re on it. Your writing debut will be headline news in tomorrow’s trades.”

“Great,” says Blake.

Not great.
I’m doomed. There’s no backing out. I call on my acting skills and bullshit a couple of ideas I have for the episode.

“I’m going to end the episode with a passionate kiss between Kurt and Mel.” I pause searching my mind for more. Bingo! “And one of them will have their life in jeopardy.”

“The Locust?” asks Trevor.

“Fantastic! A killer cliffhanger!” exclaims Blake before I can respond. “Our viewers are going to love it! The ratings will go through the stratosphere, and they’ll be salivating for more.”

Kiss-up Doug pats me on the back “Brandon, I’ve got to hand it to you. At first when I heard your idea, I had my doubts, but now I’m totally convinced. I have to ask you—what inspired that twist?”

I stare at him blankly and stammer, “I don’t remember.”

I truly don’t. Damn my amnesia. Maybe I discussed my storyline idea with Zoey and she knows. Mental note: Talk to her.

Blake packs up his briefcase. “Listen, everyone, one last thing…I don’t want any of you to share what’s going to happen on the season finale with anyone. And I mean anyone. Especially your co-workers. I want this to be top secret. It stays in this room. You’ll each be receiving a non-disclosure agreement from Legal tomorrow. Trevor, take care of that.”

Blake’s soldier readily agrees.

Well, I guess that means I can’t discuss my script with Zoey. That sucks. She could be helpful since she knows the show so well. Read over what I’ve written and make suggestions. Even fix lines and typos I miss. Take dictation. My stomach tenses at the daunting task that lies ahead. Will the action hero make it as an action writer?

With this ponderous question weighing on my mind, I follow Blake to the exit door. As I’m about to split, Libby corners me.

“So glad to finally meet you. Give my best to Zoey.”

My brows shoot up, “You know her?”

“Yes. My brother Chaz is dating her brother.”

“I didn’t know that.” The truth is I don’t know much about Zoey at all.

“I’m surprised she never told you.”

I heckle. “Maybe she mentioned it once, but I must have forgotten.” That’s likely the truth too.

Blake, checking his briefcase before he leaves, chimes in. “Libby and Chaz happen to be my wife’s best friends.”

Confused, I say, “Five degrees of separation.” Part statement, part question.

Libby corrects me. “In this town, it’s more like two.”

I laugh lightly. She’s right. Given her connections, I bet she knows my fiancée. I give it a shot.

“Do you know my fiancée, Katrina Moore?” I ask after Blake and the others take off.

She snickers. “Sure. Everyone knows your fiancée. She’s America’s It Girl.”

“I mean, do you know her personally?”

She gathers up her belongings. “I have to go. I want to start writing up the focus group report while the findings are fresh in my mind.” She extends her right hand, the one that’s not holding a giant tote bag. “Really, so great to finally meet you, Brandon. And way to go on the season finale story direction. I can’t wait to see the episode.”

I shake her hand. My mother always said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all. Libby totally avoided my question. There’s no doubt in my mind she has nothing nice to say about Katrina. Does anyone?

Five minutes later, I’m back outside. The night air is crisp and I walk briskly back to my car. Ideas for the season finale are already spinning in my head. The idea of Kurt Kussler finally acknowledging his feelings for his assistant Mel feels right to me. With all the emotional and physical obstacles my alter-ego faces, I just don’t know how he’s going to get there. I only wish
my
assistant Zoey could help.

Zoey

I
have a terrible case of the uglies. I’m not talking a bad hair day, major zit, or bloat. I’m talking hate, jealousy, and anger. I hate Katrina. I’m jealous of her. And I’m angry with myself for feeling the way I do.

It’s seven o’clock. Brandon must be back on the Conquest Broadcasting lot watching the
Kurt Kussler
focus groups. After my meeting with Pops, I came home and put together a file of the people who would be attending from the network and show. Rather than reviewing it with him face to face, I texted him and told him that I was leaving it on the coffee table. He texted back with one word: Fine. While I should have been relieved, disappointment rippled through me. I was expecting him to ask me to meet with him. Wishful thinking. I’d set myself up for a letdown. An emotional slap in the face. Reality stung. He was probably too busy fucking Katrina. Finishing what they’d started in the afternoon.

That tormenting image moves to the back of my mind as I picture the focus groups. I wish I could be there and hear what viewers think about Kurt. I did a focus group once when I was a masseuse—to test out a new line of aromatherapy oils and lotions. It was a lot of fun. I got to give my opinions and I even got paid one hundred dollars. Plus, the beauty supply company gave all the participants a bagful of their expensive products.

I imagine what it would be like to be in the
Kurt Kussler
focus group. While I change into some comfy sweats, I play a silly game in my head: Intimate Focus Group of One.

Moderator: “What do you think about the character, Kurt Kussler?”

Me: “Oh my God. He’s so sexy. Every word that comes out of his mouth makes me swoon.”

Moderator: “Be more specific. What exactly do you like about him?”

Me: “His sultry voice. His gorgeous body. Those piercing violet eyes. The way he moves. His fearlessness. His passion.”

Moderator: “Is there anything you don’t like about him?”

Me: “I can’t think of anything.”

Moderator: “What about the actor playing the part?”

Me: “You mean Brandon Taylor?” (I say his name to myself dreamily.)

Moderator: “Yes. What do you think about him?”

Me: “He’s perfect…I mean, for the part.”

Moderator: “Is there anything you don’t like about him?”

Me: “Just one thing. He can never be mine.”

While the moderator laughs at my response in my head, hopelessness sweeps over me. I curl up on my bed with my Kindle and some erotic romance I downloaded before my spa “vacation.” I can’t get past the first paragraph. My mind jumps back to that unfortunate encounter. All I can think about is what I saw. Fucking Katrina turning on the tears and then sucking Brandon off. Believe me, I know fake tears and Katrina’s were the premium crocodile type. But Brandon fell for them and then fell for her blowjob big time. The scene, culminating with his ecstatic groan of relief and his impassioned expression, plays again and again like it’s on a loop.

Stop it, Zoey. Stop it!
You’re a chunky, lowlife assistant who gets lost in the crowd. Brandon has never looked at me as anything more than his go-to girl. His personal slave. Sure, the slave driver’s been a little nicer, but that’s likely because he’s lost his mind. Maybe he’ll remember…