Up & Out - Ariella Papa [26]
I am touched that they wouldn’t play hooky from working late without my okay. My amount of work hasn’t changed, but my motivation has. It’s Monday night, but I feel like tying one on. I deserve it.
We got a big table at the back of the bar. Although Don comes off slimy sometimes, he has the right idea and there is a pitcher of beer on the table before we even have our jackets off. I never do this. I had been at Explore! for a year and a half and I never just went out with the crew after work. Tonight, I meet the young PAs and the producers of the other shows and everyone just chugs beer and talks shop.
We start playing the name game and talking about where we have all worked before. Everyone has a story. Everyone has been in a tough situation. Even the few representatives from Programming are letting loose with their war stories.
I am getting drunk, but fuck it. I tell Don Beckford never to call me Becky again. Janice and John hold hands openly.
“Just come clean, I don’t care,” I yell at them. I grab Janice by the shoulders and shake her. She laughs. “I’m glad that someone is getting some.”
I put songs on the jukebox. Don Beckford comes and stands too close to me. We dance to some Biggie. It is fun.
Three hours later, we are doing shots. We are toasting mutual funds. Cheryl from Programming and one of the PAs from Let’s Go, the game show, are making out. They might regret it in the morning. We all might.
“We need to get some food,” I say, and everyone cheers.
“Let’s split this,” Don whispers in my ear.
“What?” I am leaning too close to him, a result of drinking. I am beer-goggling. Maybe his leather jacket isn’t so bad.
“Production expense. You get Janice to put half on her card, I’ll get my AP to put half on his. Then, they’ll expense it and we sign it. Regime change, they’ll question, but they won’t kick it back.”
“Can I do that?”
“Rebecca, you are the executive producer. You’ve got signing power.”
“Another round of shots! I’ve got signing power!” I beat a drum on the table and knock over everyone’s drink. They groan, I laugh. I yell over the music, “Another round for everyone!”
I might as well enjoy it while I can….
The next morning, my head is pounding. I don’t want to push my luck, but there was no way I could get in before ten-fifteen. There is a scribbled sticky note on my computer from Hackett. It reads:
B, TTM Re: al—M
It was Hackett code. Translation. Becky, Talk to Me Regarding Everything, Matt. Great. I check my hair in my computer monitor and grab a breath mint. I sniff a strand of hair on the way to his office. So I might not be able to keep up the new hair, but it was still too short to absorb much smoke.
“Hi,” I say to Hackett when I knock. I notice he’s on the phone. “Oh, sorry.”
He shakes his head and motions for me to come in and shut the door. I hate closed doors. This is bad. He finishes up his call.
“Becky, I’m sorry about all this getting off track.”
“You mean with production. Yeah, well, all these meetings might affect our deadlines for season two.”
“Rebecca, I know you were tight already, but you’re going to have to make it.” He is calling me Rebecca; that is more serious than a closed door. “I’m going to be taking a position of greater importance in the company. I’m meeting with all the EPs to let them know. My replacement starts tomorrow. I would like to stay for your transition, but unfortunately Kristina Amos has left the company.”
How typical they get her to deliver the news and then they shitcan her. Great for morale. It is as if Hackett can read my mind.
“She got quite a nice package.”
“Where is Jen?” I ask.
“She hasn’t been feeling well. She’s young—you know how it is. She doesn’t understand that this is just business. In our industry these changes happen all the time.” Do they? Was I suddenly ancient?
“If you have anything you want me to approve before I go, please get it to me before five. I’m on the red-eye to London tonight.”
“Do you have to relocate?