Play Date

1 Casey and Emmy

Downtown Los Angeles, two years ago.

Paige Welphelt is oblivious. She pays no attention to her husband, Riley, seated beside her, nor the pedestrians and buildings they pass on the crowded streets, nor the light rain, which could wreak havoc on her hair and makeup once they arrive at the theater. Paige's phone consumes her. In all fairness, Riley is buried in his as well—they both take advantage of these precious few moments of downtime before the real work commences.

"Fucking children," Paige sighs. Riley doesn't look up from his phone.

"Now what?"

"Cerise is pregnant." That gets Riley's attention. "One more person we'll never see again." Riley sets his phone in his lap places his hand on hers.

"I'm sorry. How far along is she?"

"Eleven weeks."

Riley says nothing but counts with the fingers on his free hand.

It's absolute chaos outside L.A. Live as Paige and Riley's driver pulls into the line of limousines dropping off passengers at the red carpet. The organizers hastily erected a canopy to protect guests and reporters from the unexpected rain. That canopy irritates the show's director—no overhead shots for the broadcast. Coverage on the red carpet will be limited to cameras on the ground. The show's producer is more concerned with negotiating a discount for the now useless Goodyear blimp hired to circle above the Microsoft Theater.

A tuxedo-clad valet opens the limo door for Paige and Riley to climb out of the car and into the circus. Much more polished than their last two appearances, Paige is poured into a strapless designer gown, her third of the season (her third ever, truth be told), hair pulled back like a slingshot, an explosion of diamonds guarding her décolletage. Her newly-hired stylist upped Paige's game overnight. In the form-fitting gown, she stands as an equal of the hardest of Hollywood bodies. The five-hundred-dollar makeup job softens her features into a radiant elegance.

For his part, Riley is approachable and handsome, but in his first tuxedo that didn't come off the rack, he looks like a guy on the arm of a woman way out of his league.

Their arrival sets off a torrent of camera flashes. It's a far cry from the People's Choice Awards, where they had to show their IDs before security would allow them entry. The Golden Globes was not as embarrassing, but still, they had to hold up signs bearing their names for photographers at the start of the red carpet, so photo editors could identify them later. That's all changed since they won the People's Choice 'Favorite TV Show' award and the Golden Globe for best dramatic series, for their show, "The Casey Fields Mysteries."

The real mystery in Hollywood is how the KidTime network's show about a tween detective snatched those awards from the hands of the 'serious' competition from HBO, Netflix, and Amazon, and are tonight poised to do the same at the Emmys. That's the question every reporter vying for Paige and Riley's attention has been ordered to ask.

Figuring they didn't stand a chance, the producers of the two previous awards shows stuck Paige and Riley in the rafters. After their names were called, it took them long enough to get to the stage on those broadcasts, the orchestras had to repeat the walk-on music and later, two award winners' thank you speeches were cut short. Tonight's producers aren't going to chance it. Ushers guide them to their seats within the first ten rows, alongside their boss, executive producer Jerry Simon, and his blonde trophy wife, Laura. Jerry is a fifty-something silver fox. Though Laura's exact age is a closely guarded secret, she falls somewhere between Jerry and Paige and Riley's thirty.

Neil Patrick Harris looks dashing as ever when he says, "These are the nominees for Best Television Series—Drama" and the video 'package' of selected scenes from the competing shows plays on the main feed of the broadcast and on enormous LED screens flanking the proscenium. When the clip from Casey Fields hits the screen, Paige squeezes the living daylights out of Riley's hand.