Chapter 3. Day 2 ~ I Am Never Drinking Again

Do you think that when Stanley Kubrick said, "The truth of a thing is the feel of
it, not the think of it" that he was talking about the day after consuming gallons
of alcohol?

 MONKEY POV

 

"Those are for the actors, dude."
Emmett sounded almost as bad as I felt the morning after our night out at the
bars. I'd crossed the line and had one too many shots and he'd had one too
many of…something.
The bagels laying on the platter that had been brought in by the intern who
was supposed to have showed up the day before, but didn't and for some
reason wasn't fired because they'd had ME to abuse all day looked like just
what I needed and as Emmett informed me that I wasn't supposed to be
eating them, I shoved one into my mouth and choked.
"Fankfs," I muttered as he kept on moving along, toward camera number two.
A pounding fist against the breakfast table made the pain in my head vibrate.
"Who ate my goddamn onion bagel!" someone shouted, and I peeked to see
Mike. Daytimer using, stick up his ass, leading guy dude, glaring at the platter
and for a split second I froze, holding the one and only onion bagel in my
hand, half of it in my mouth.
Once I snapped back into reality, I did what any honest, low life, could be fired
for the mere act of breathing, hard working intern would do.
I turned around and shoved the rest of the bagel into my mouth, destroying
the evidence.
"Tan! There's not one goddamn onion bagel on this fucking table, what the
fuck?" he screamed and Tanya rolled her eyes.
"I ordered onion, Mike, just like I do…EVERY day for you."
I could almost HEAR her thinking "Idiot" after that comment.
Part of the bagel got caught in my throat and I panicked, trying not to cough
until I could swallow it down, but the spit in my mouth just wasn't hacking it.
Shit.
"Well," he laughed manically. "It's NOT HERE."
Water, I needed water…where the hell was the water!
I caught a glimpse of Emmett over at camera number two. He was shoulder
bobbing and shaking his head at me.
This was all his fault.
Had he not purchased infinite amounts of alcohol for me the previous night, I
wouldn't be hungover, needing breadish material in my stomach desperately. I
also wouldn't have been dehydrated, and therefore would not need
WATER…like…NOW.
Tanya stalked over to Mike and looked down her nose at him. "Let us make
this clear, shall we, Michael…I'm not your lacky, I'm not an intern, and I
mostcertainly am not your monkey…" she poked him in the chest as I very
inconspicuously choked, watching. "Don't…push…me."
If I hadn't been dying from asphyxiation, I'd have laughed.
Monkey.
Mike rubbed his chest where she had pushed her index finger into him as he
walked away scowling and I made a run for the hallway, hoping a water
fountain was there somewhere.
And ran smack goddamn dab into our leading lady again.
Mother of fuckery.
"Mmmph!" I said, because you know, I'm like Rico freaking Suave with this
woman.
She made the same face she'd made the night before and asked me, "Are
you okay?"
I choked again.
Smooth like Vanilla Ice, that's me.
"Do you need some water or something?"
Oh god, yes, thank you sweet woman.
"He's fine," said the voice I suddenly realized was beside her.
James.
That guy seriously needed to make a like a leave and…well…leave.
The next cough brought a mouth full of crumbs out of me, and all over
James's pristinely dry cleaned shirt.
"Fit, forry" I blurted out, trying to wipe it off of him, but he batted me away.
"See, Isabella? He's fine, nothing a little humble pie won't fix, right, monkey?"
he asked, as he patted me harder than he needed to on the back, pulling Miss
Swan away from where we were RIGHT in the middle of a moment.
Monkey?
Did he just call me a monkey?
It was the second time that day I'd heard the word used to
describe…someone and my face twisted. I wanted to say something, honest, I
just…couldn't get the words to form.
And it was too late anyway.
She was gone.
Again.
"Pussy," I mumbled, thinking it was to myself, but then I heard, "What the fuck
did you just say?"
I guess I hadn't wandered far enough away to be un-heard.
Darn.
"I uh…said pussiant…you know, powerful, strong, mighty…" I said, trying
really hard not to laugh.
"That's, Puissant, you dick hole," James informed me.
Duh….
"My bad," I nodded, taking note of how Miss Swan pursed her luscious lips
together in silent giggles as I turned to walk away again, her chest heaving
quickly as she tried not to let the fuck head see her laughing at him.
I took the opportunity to wink at her, and she didn't scrunch her nose at me.
I took that as a good thing.
"And he's supposed to be our new writer?" James mused and she looked over
her shoulder at me again, this time with a deep "V" in between her eyebrows
while he made a similar face at her.
Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy.
Just say it. You. Are. A. Big. Pussy.
"What did you say your name was?" she asked me, pulling away from James
just a little bit.
I hadn't, but I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth and it certainly didn't
stop me from smirking a bit at our friendly neighborhood asshole Producer.
"Edward…Edward Cuhhhh…Masen," I started, reaching to shake her hand.
Shit.
She blew air out through her nose again at me. "Edward Kuhmasen? Is
that…Indian?"
God I love the way she says my fake name like that.
I squinted my eyes shut and shook my head. "Masen…just,
Masen…Edward…Masen."
God I am such an idiot.
She finished taking my hand and time stopped for a moment.
It was kinda cool, actually.
Her hand was warm, and tingly…I felt the pleasantness travel up my arm, like
it had just dove into my blood and swam upstream like those fish do that are
too stupid to follow the current…I think they actually have a reason for
swimming upstream, but I couldn't remember exactly what that reason was at
the moment…I was too busy not letting go of Miss Swan's hand.
When I finally opened my eyes after what felt like an hour, she was looking up
at me with those sparkly eyes, and her mouth was just slightly ajar, the
corners of her mouth turned upwards just a little.
Then, just like that, she was jerked away again.
"Come, Isabella, you have lines to memorize and I have a feeling Mike is
going to be in a foul mood since SOMEONE…" he eyed me over his shoulder.
"Stole his one and only onion bagel this morning."
I put my hand up to my mouth and breathed out, checking to see if it stunk as
they walked away.
I choked again, but not because the bagel was lodged in my throat anymore.
It was the combination of liquor from the previous night, and the onion smell
from that bagel that made me suddenly want to find a bathroom and puke.
"Blech."
I kinda felt like a hero, though, stealing the onion that is. Since it meant that
any lines Miss Swan had to do with that Mike guy wouldn't involve her
smelling that putrid bouquet of rancidness.
'Till I saw my uncle standing covertly in the shadows, watching me, that is.
Great. Way to look like an idiot, Edward.
"MASEN!" Tanya screamed from the small room off of the main stage area
and I jumped. It was pretty far away but I could hear her like she was right
next to me.
"Better get a move on, monkey," Emmett teased. "She doesn't like tardiness."
He went back to fiddling with his camera and I ran off to meet my fellow
writers.
As I got to the door of the meeting room I realized, I hadn't even LOOKED at
the script from the night before that Tanya had given me and I am not gonna
lie…I freaked out a little, stopping short of the door, my eyes darting in
desperado fashion, trying to figure out a way to work around the situation.
Then I had an idea.
Insert genius light bulb above head here.
I knew what the basis of the story was. I distinctly remember the eye roll I'd
given Carlisle when he briefed me on it. Typical "bad boy"…that would be
Mike I'm guessing…meets girl in trouble…damsel in distress kinda thing…I
had to assume that was going to be Miss Swan, who didn't seem at ALL like
the damsel in distress type…he saves her from near death on a weekly basis,
angst angst angst, yada yada yada…
It was only a matter of time before they jumped the shark and the ratings
plummeted.
If I played my cards right, I could save my ass and the eventual loss of
viewers.
I held my cool, walked in and found a seat opposite Tanya.
Introductions were made, insults on our intelligence, fun stuff like that, then we
got down to the nitty gritty.
She was intimidating. I watched as she simply LOOKED at another writer and
he started crying.
Seriously.
She wasn't gonna make me cry though, I was readying myself for her while
she went around the table, and figured, by the time she got to me, I'd blow her
away.
When Carlisle walked in a little while after the meeting started, followed by
James, Mike and…fuck me, Miss Swan…I felt the air deflate from my balloon
of cockiness and slunk down into my chair, wishing Tanya had already called
upon me for torment.
"Welcome, Carlisle, James…leading actors."
She said that last part with venom. I had the feeling she didn't like one of
them…or both of them.
"I was just about to ask the shiny new toy his thoughts on this week's notes,"
she said toward Carlisle, and as he sat down, he told her, "Excellent, I'm
curious to hear what he thinks."
I was sweating.
I could feel the clamminess beading up on the back of my neck, and my dry
throat syndrome was returning.
"Well?" she asked, eying me harshly.
"I don't uh…"
"Yes, GENIUS? Enlighten us with your…thoughts. Please," James said,
receiving a chuckle from leading dude asshole guy, Mike.
Miss Swan was simply waiting.
The woman was like the definition of prestige.
I looked over at Carlisle, who was just watching, waiting to see if I'd tuck my
tail between my legs again and run away.
"S…" I started, and then choked on the dryness in my mouth.
I walked over to the water fountain in the room and took a sip, hearing the
snickers and sarcastic huffs as I did it.
I stood up, wiping the excess water from my mouth and looked at the picture
hanging on the wall, there was a reflection of the people sitting around in the
room, one in particular that caught my eye.
Isabella Swan.
She was watching me, ignoring Mike Newton's whispers in her ear, waiting to
see what I had to say, and that's what did it for me.
I turned around and looked James in the eyes and said, "I think...that 79% of
this market today is filled with fucking drama stories. People are all drama'd
out." I waved my hand at nothing. "They've got crime drama, ER drama, life
drama, newly discovered kid drama, drug addict drama and any other kinda
drama you can possibly think of or wanna spew out for ratings."
Tanya narrowed her eyes at me, but didn't interrupt.
"That shit is old news, boring, yawn worthy at the least. I say you shred this
script." I nodded at the many copies laying on the table in front of me. "Give
your viewers something that looks those dramas in the eyes and spits in their
faces…People want to laugh. They have enough goddamn drama in their
OWN lives, give them something to take their mind off of that drama for an
hour."
I took a breath and let it out slowly and quietly as I watched the table.
Carlisle leaned back in his chair, putting each of his hand's fingertips against
each other, staring at me.
Tanya was still quiet, I had to take that as encouraging.
It was James that spat out, waving his hand violently at me, "This kid is brain
fucked, he was out all night drinking with the stage help, C…you can't
POSSIBLY be taking him seriously."
Mike laughed.
But Miss Swan didn't. Her eyes went from James, to me, to Carlisle and then
he asked her, "What do you think, Bella?"
Bella.
It suited her so much better than Isabella.
Beautiful, fair...yeah, definitely her.
If she was nervous, she didn't show it, and because she didn't, neither did I. I
just waited calmly for the axe to fall. I'd had nothing before this...position...I
could go back to that.
She arched an eyebrow and told him, "I personally think the script was fine,
however, if changes are going to be made, I'm in…I think a fresh take on this
story wouldn't hurt any of us."
Man, she was good at the P.C.
That's "Political Correctness" for the few people out there that don't know.
I almost smiled.
She never did look back at me.
"Tanya?" Carlisle added.
She raised her hands in synchronization with each other and said, "I'm just the
coordinator, Carlisle, this is your call."
So, there was a weakness to her after all.
Everyone's apparently.
Carlisle.
You could have heard a pin drop in that room for the complete silence it had
taken on over the next several minutes.
Even James didn't dare spit out a sarcastic retort of some sort.
Hey that rhymed.
When Carlilse finally stood up, my heart rate had reached levels I don't think
would have shown up on hospital instruments.
"I like it," he said as he left the room. "Tanya, make it happen. Everyone else,
I supposed you have the day off."
The other writers in the room started at each other, then me, a few smiled and
nodded, others just shook their heads as their eyebrows raised a few inches,
two of them in particular rolled eyes at each other in perfect synchronization,
then left the room with their white, three ring binders in hand.
Part of me wondered if my uncle had only said that because I was his
nephew, but Carlilse Cullen didn't exactly come across as a guy who played
favorites, in the short time I'd known him.
If I'd screwed up, I was pretty sure he would have let me know.
Miss Swan was gone again before I'd had a chance to look for her response
to Carlisle's reaction and although I scowled in determination, I didn't get as
far as the door, to go look for her, before Tanya tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned around and he was holding out another script for me.
"What's this?" I asked, taking it.
"This…monkey…is your re-write…don't lose it, and have the changes on my
desk in the morning," she demanded, then walked away.
Wait…
"Wait, what? But I thought that…"
"Your idea, your job, monkey…5 AM."
Again with the monkey shit?
I wanted to kick myself.
For drinking so much the night before, for not coming in prepared, for spitting
all over James right in front of Miss Swan…for…being a complete and utter
big mouth in the face of fear…
I made a list of the things I desperately needed to get done before the next
day.
Start working on the script re-writes…
Get a job…
Get a place to LIVE…
Shit.
I leaned against the door jamb, just wanting to go to sleep, but knowing that
was not gonna happen, since Carlilse's receptionist was upstairs, and I was
pretty sure she wasn't going to smile and say please to me crashing on her
couch while she was taking calls and looking busy.
"Y'alright?" Emmett's voice sounded from behind me as a hand lay on my
shoulder.
I looked up at him and he just smiled. "You the reason we're all getting sent
home?"
"Something like that," I told him, apologetically.
"Need a ride home?"
That time, I laughed. "Um…I guess I would, if I had a home."
"Where've you been…?" he started, but then just decided it wasn't worth
questioning. "Nevermind, you can crash with me till you find somethin', come
on." He started off and I followed him.
"Know anyone with a job opening?" I asked him as we left.
Emmett's smile got even bigger, if that was even possible, then he said, "As a
matter of fact, I do."
That only left one thing to do...the script.
New York wasn't so bad after all.
I'd get a job, write some opening script lines, then get some much needed
sleep.
Yes...I do believe I am, THE MAN.
Surely someone like Emmett, with a responsible job like being the camera
man number two to the largest TV station in the nation, had a nice simple,
quiet apartment somewhere that I could relax in and get things done.
Right?