Television Romance

Caged

INT. TABLE READ ROOM - NIGHT

Vian's sketch did not make it on the list. She didn't expect it to. It was her first week. And it wasn't necessarily her best work. Anyway, it didn't. One sketch that did make the list, however, was a sketch innovatively titled "Crow Sketch," a fact that was met with a long series of swear words from a particular blonde writer at the show.

"Greg is fucking with me," she said decidedly. Bill laughed and warmed his arm around her. Jerry was still in Four, having instructed Bill, Juliet, and Vian to report back once they had discovered the lineup.

"Aw, Jules, it'll be alright. They'll cut it before the live." That was, before the live show.

"Or Sam. Sam's fucking with me."

"That's what you get for writing a half-decent sketch, Jay," Michael joked from behind them, "You should have bombed it."

"Nice job on the high school chemistry sketch, with the callbacks," Juliet said genuinely in response. As she did, she could feel Bill's arm tense around her.

"Thanks," Michael said.

"Yeah, I liked it too," Vian said quickly. She regretted the lackluster words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Michael glanced at her. His long eyelashes almost touched his eyelid when his eyes were open.

"Thanks. Hey, uh, it's Vivian, right?"

"Vian, asshole," Bill said immediately.

"My bad, Vian. I'm no good with names," Michael said earnestly. He didn't say anything Vian was just trying her best not to blush.

"We should tell Jerry that his chocolate sketch is in," Juliet sighed and tugged on Vian's arm. Snatched from her stupor, Vian followed her back down the hall.

"What's next?" she said.

"You can go home if you want. The writing's done. All that's left is endless cuts, edits, and rewriting. But that starts tomorrow."

"Are you going home?" Vian asked. Bill split off with a wave to duck into his room.

"Probably not for a while. I usually get a ride from Mia but she likes to fuck around for a while."

"Which one is Mia?"

"Gorgeous, voice of an angel? Not the box braids, that's Meredith."

"Meredith has the braids?"

"Yeah. Mia has long curly hair."

"Oh, her. Why is everyone here ridiculously attractive?"

"You know you work in show business, right?"

"Good point," Vian conceded. She winked inadvertently, the side effect of a failed attempt to keep both eyes open.

"Go home and sleep," Juliet said, "It's a long day tomorrow."

"Was today not a long day?"

"Well, every day is a long day. Just be back at eight. You can help me figure out what the fuck to do about this crow sketch."

"I bet Hugo could help."

"Oh God, I bet he could."

~~~~~

INT. TABLE READ ROOM - DAY

Days later, Vian told Juliet she was almost glad her sketch hadn't made the cut when she sat down at the writer's table the next day. Everyone who had written something on the setlist had a hundred choices to make, from the costumes to the makeup to the set to the delivery. Then, once all of that had been decided and the people in charge of those departments disappeared to get to work, it was time for rewrites. Endless suggestions, variations of the same joke, everyone hoping to make a line fractionally funnier. Juliet was dressed in a blue Hawaiian shirt and white shorts. Everyone else stayed the roughly same; Jerry just had a different button-up, Bill a different t-shirt, Michael a different and tighter Henley shirt. Vian herself had settled on black jeans and a navy t-shirt. Juliet was fashionable enough for all of them combined.

"I think we cut the first line on page two," Meredith said, toying with the end of one of her braids. Juliet was barely listening. She was trying to find her happy place.

"And then the crow goes, 'Blackbirds. The Beatles write one song about them and they get so stuck up.'"

Happy place, Juliet thought to herself, happy place. Every time she heard the word "crow" she lost a day of her life.

"Hey, is anyone else cold?" Juliet asked suddenly. She had forgotten to ask Sam to turn down the AC and Table was congealing the blood in her veins. Everyone else nodded.

"I'll go fix it," Juliet said and moved to stand up. Meredith, who was in charge in the absence of Sam, made a noise of discontent. They really had to keep going.

"Oh, I can do it," Vian offered.

"No, I'll go, it'll only take a second. You guys can keep going without me." Juliet had every intention of dragging her escape out for as long as possible, but no one needed to know that.

"Really, it's no problem." Vian was already standing. If only Juliet could telepathically communicate that she did not care at all about the temperature, that she was far more concerned with slipping away from a table full of people all earnestly discussing the worst sketch she had ever written in her adult life.

"Vian, why don't you go convince Sam that this building is not a penguin habitat," Meredith said. Juliet was tempted to argue, but when Meredith spoke, it was generally final. Meredith reminded Juliet of Medusa: her thick brown-black box braids resembled elegant snakes sprouting from her scalp and a stern look from her could turn any intern (and most of the cast and crew) to stone.

Juliet stared straight ahead as the New Kid left, dead in the eyes and in the soul.