Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [76]
“Why would I want to do that?”
“To generate buzz,” exploded Dad. “It’s the classic Sex Pistols maneuver.”
“The what?”
“Sex Pistols,” repeated Mom, even finger-spelling the words for me.
“They were a seventies punk band,” Dad continued. “Made headlines when they went on a British talk show and used the f-word. And not just once either. It was before tape delays, and no one had the sense to cut away to a commercial break.”
I believed Josh was capable of a lot of things, but something like that just didn’t ring true. “I don’t know, Dad. It didn’t exactly feel planned.”
Dad almost seemed disappointed. “Well, either way, it had the same effect. Finn’s been monitoring your stock value overnight, and right now, Dumb is a definite buy.”
“Oh God,” I moaned, curling up with a pillow. “So you’re saying I might have to keep this thing going?”
Dad shrugged. “That’s up to you. But if you do, you’re going to have to talk to Josh. His behavior was way out of line.”
“But—”
“No buts, Piper. Take charge. It’s your job.” With the sermon over, Dad’s finger relaxed. He reached into his pocket and tossed me my cell phone. “And while you’re at it, check your messages. That damn thing’s been beeping at me all night.”
“For the love of Pete! LANGUAGE! Grace is LISTENING,” implored Mom.
I glanced at Finn and we burst out laughing. I couldn’t stop myself. Then Dad and Grace joined in, and all I could do was pat Mom’s hand reassuringly as she shook her head.
When the laughter died down, I flicked open my cell phone and discovered that I had 143 text messages. I didn’t even know 143 people.
“Does that really say one forty-three?” asked Mom, leaning over.
“Yeah.”
I looked at the first text message. It was from Tiffany, the producer of Seattle Today: SHAMEFUL BEHAVIOR. CONTRACT VOIDED.
I felt my stomach flip, and pushed the plate of pancakes away, much to Dad’s chagrin and Finn’s delight, as he reached down with his free hand and shared one with Grace.
Mom leaned over and read the message. “Well, I can’t disagree with her about the first part, but I’ve seen that contract, and they’re not getting out of paying you.”
I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes. “Just let it go. It’s only three hundred dollars. Anyway, I don’t think I can deal with this right now.”
Mom cupped my chin, waited for me to open my eyes. “It’s your call, Piper, but Dumb has just gone big time. If you want to see this thing through, I can help.”
“How?”
“I’ll start by asking why no one cut to a commercial break when things started to fall apart. She and the director had so many chances, but they chose to stay with Dumb. And you know what I think? I think they did it because that show has been dying slowly for years, and you guys just gave it an injection of new life. Their viewership is about to take a giant leap, and I’ll bet they knew it too. This pathetic attempt to threaten you is just for show, a smokescreen to distract studio chiefs from something they’ve probably already worked out for themselves.”
I looked at the next text, a particularly delightful ditty from someone at school I didn’t even know.
“What does it say,” asked Dad.
“It says I’m completely screwed.”
“Language, Piper! Grace is ...” Mom rolled her eyes and waved the thought away.
I looked at Mom, her jaw set like she was preparing for battle. By the door, Finn clasped Grace to his hip as he shoveled pancake into her mouth. And loitering beside the bed was Dad, so desperate to make amends, to show that he truly cared. Even though I knew I should be in a state of mourning, or shock, or something appropriately depressed, I couldn’t help noticing that for the first time in months my dysfunctional family was together, behaving like a team. All I wanted was to go back to sleep, but I figured that if resuscitating Dumb and taking on Seattle Today gave Team Vaughan a mission, then bring it on. What did we have to lose?
“Can we really get paid, Mom?” I asked.
“Yes. If