Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me - Chelsea's Family, Friends [32]
In truth, I was actually a little envious of Johnny getting so much face time with Harbert. I relished any one-on-one time with Ted so I could pepper him with questions about the industry. Now here was Johnny going to sleep in his boxers and T-shirt and waking up with the guy. In my mind, his future as a successful TV producer was a lock. I was now obsessed with assuming that Johnny was quickly becoming Ted’s “guy.”
If you think I was overreacting, then you’re right, I probably was, but Johnny and Ted’s relationship was rapidly blossoming. Stories of their camaraderie were making me sick.
First came Chelsea’s announcement at a meeting that Ted had gone into Johnny’s room that morning and said, “I’m doing a load of laundry. Do you have any colors, Johnny?” Really? Johnny was letting his host, the CEO of Comcast Entertainment, do his dirty laundry? I started to twitch.
Then came the dinner at Katsuya, Chelsea’s favorite LA restaurant. It was a Thursday night, and my wife and I were there with Chelsea, Ted, and another couple. I was conveniently situated at one end of the table, next to Ted, and hoped to capture some wisdom or insight from him. Ted loved answering my questions, and I saw this as a chance to reassert myself as his number one. I always had this weird fantasy that I’d say something so profound that he’d respond with “You’re right, Brad. That’s genius!” and anoint me as his new programming guru and I’d become his most trusted adviser. In reality, I usually ended up getting drunk and passing out. Yet I always clung to that dream.
We’d been seated for fifteen minutes when Ted’s cell phone rang. He looked at his screen. “Oh, it’s Johnny. Hold on.” With that, he answered the phone. “Hey, Johnny. What’s up?”
Wow, I thought, I can’t believe Johnny has the fucking nerve to call during dinner. What was so important that Johnny, knowing full well that Ted was out to dinner, would call him? It had to be a critical, time-sensitive matter… something like Ryan Seacrest wanting to refrost his hair and needing Ted’s approval on the color scheme. Johnny hates imposing on anyone at any time, so he would never be so forward as to interrupt someone’s dinner.
“You want to watch a DVD in the living room?” Ted asked. “Sure, I’ll walk you through how to do that.”
Unreal! That took major balls to call and ask something like that.
“Oh, that’s cute,” Chelsea said. “He wants to watch a DVD.”
That’s not “cute.” That’s obnoxious. Figure it out yourself, Johnny. Suddenly I envisioned Johnny lounging around Ted and Chelsea’s condo like a sloth, probably in his underwear, helping himself to popcorn and whatever booze they had, wanting to watch a DVD. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to call with such a concern. If I were Johnny, I’d have sat in total fucking silence until they got home. But no, not Johnny Kansas. He wanted his DVD on demand and had no qualms about ringing up ol’ CEO Teddy and asking him to put down his Tuna with Crispy Rice sushi to walk him through the process of starting a DVD on a sixty-inch HDTV. Johnny was getting too comfortable, and I was fuming.
“What DVD do you want to watch?… Oh, that’s a good one,” Ted assured Johnny. I was beside myself. Ted was not only unperturbed by the interruption, but he’d actually offered Johnny kudos on the DVD selection he’d just made! He suddenly admired Johnny’s taste. All sorts of assumptions ran through my head about how Ted and Johnny would start their own guys’ movie night and discuss