Private Lives

55



For a Friday afternoon in late summer, the Limelight Productions lot in Burbank was heaving. This time of year, most media executives were on vacation, but there was a hive of activity around the warehouse-like sound stages as Jessica swung her Aston Martin on to the lot. People always assumed Hollywood was Glamour City, but the fans would have been disappointed to visit a working studio. It was like a rather drab industrial estate, with each of the anonymous warehouse buildings housing a set. Inside, you might find a suburban living room, familiar as the setting for a sitcom perhaps, or maybe a realistic operating theatre from one of the many medical dramas Limelight seemed to pump out season after season. But from the outside, that magic factory could just as easily be a storage facility or an auto shop.

Jessica pulled into her named parking space right by the doors of the All Woman production offices. The show was due to start filming three weeks ahead of a mid-October premiere, and John Hartnett, the executive producer, had called the senior team in to run through the storylines for the new season. Jessica had already had Harry Monk, her agent, pre-check it all of course; she had her sights set on cracking the movies, but for now, All Woman was her meal ticket and there was no way she was going to leave Sally, her character, in the hands of some overexcited junior writer. Two seasons ago, she had been so unhappy with one episode she had jumped on the first plane to Palm Springs and refused to shoot a frame until they axed the storyline.

‘Jessie, you’re looking so gorgeous!’ exclaimed John Hartnett, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘Have you been away? You look a million bucks.’

Jessica waved the compliment aside impatiently.

‘Where is everyone?’ she said. She could see the boardroom through the glass panels of John’s office; it should have been full of writers, producers and actors.

‘They’re on their way. I pushed it back by thirty minutes.’

‘You could have told me,’ said Jessica, thinking that she could have dropped into the cute little nail bar near the lot. Amazing French polish and ego boost – the Korean technicians loved the show – and only ten bucks, too.

‘Actually, you were the reason why I pushed it back,’ said John, showing her to a chair. ‘I wanted to talk to you in private.’

‘John, it’s okay, I’m fine,’ sighed Jessica. ‘All that crap with Sam’s in the past. I’ve moved on.’

‘That’s great to hear, but I wanted to talk this through with you.’

On his desk was a stack of scripts. He took one and handed it to Jessica.

‘Episode One,’ he smiled.

‘About time,’ said Jessica, leafing through, mentally estimating the ratio of lines for Katie and the other characters. It was always important to get the most face-time on screen.

‘So we’ve got a hot new writer this season,’ said John. ‘Robert Levine. You know his stuff?’

‘Of course,’ she lied.

‘We’ve been thrashing out the story arc for Season Five, making a few tweaks.’

She looked up. ‘I thought we’d discussed where this season was going. You ran through it with my agent.’

‘Sure we did, and we took on board everything you said. But, well, we have to keep things fluid, Jess. Adapt, change it to keep it fresh.’

Alarm bells were immediately ringing. Words like ‘change’ and ‘fresh’ always made her nervous.

‘Okay. So what’s the plan?’

‘We’re ramping up the drama a little. I think we’ve been playing it too safe.’

Jessica couldn’t really disagree with that. After several seasons it was easy for shows to fall into a rut. If she was honest, that had happened with All Woman. The characters had been fully fleshed out and their storylines exploited – and consequently the viewing figures had begun to dip.

‘What did you have in mind?’

John held up his hands dramatically.

‘A love rival for you and Billy.’

Billy was the on-screen love interest for her character Sally. He’d started off as her flatmate, a hunky shoulder to cry on through numerous ill-fated love affairs, including a fling with her dentist and a farcical relationship with a pair of identical twins. But through it all, he and Sally had crackled with sexual chemistry, and their ‘will they, won’t they?’ storyline had been one of the most electric on-screen relationships since Moonlighting.

Season Three’s finale, where Billy and Sally were trapped in an avalanche and finally consummated their love in a log cabin, had pulled in the highest ratings of any sitcom that season. But Season Four, following Billy’s bumbling attempts to propose, just hadn’t had the same tension. Hence the love rival angle. But Jessica didn’t like the word ‘rival’, not at all. Sally was the undisputed star of All Woman, and Jessica didn’t want her to have a rival anything.

‘What are you thinking? A one-night stand? Or how about a dream sequence starring the twin sister Sally doesn’t even have? I’m thinking good twin, bad twin.’

John shook his head.

‘I’m talking a proper knockout love interest, Jess. A real adversary for Sally – and I’ve found an actress who I think would be perfect.’

He picked up a remote control and zapped on the seventy-inch television at the far end of his office. The screen popped on to a beautiful brunette smouldering through some dialogue.

‘Brooke Geller. She’s great, isn’t she?’ gushed John. ‘Twenty-four, only done a couple of duds in pilot season before now, so she’s fresh.’

Jessica’s stomach turned over as she watched the audition tape. Brooke Geller was stunning, a smouldering raven-haired yin to Sally’s all-American yang. John was right, she would be perfect. This girl was gorgeous, had a Victoria’s Secret body – and looked at least a decade younger than Jessica. Brooke Geller was a star, plain and simple, and there was no way Jessica wanted her on her show.

‘What do you think?’ said John, pressing the pause button.

‘Billy wouldn’t go for someone like that,’ she said tartly.

‘Didn’t you see that rack? Billy is a man.’ John smiled, taking off his glasses to clean them. ‘Besides, we need to make Billy more fallible, more rounded. He was too much of a goody-two-shoes before.’

‘I didn’t notice his two million fans on Twitter complaining.’

‘Well they’re going to Tweet even more when Billy and Brooke start an affair.’

Jessica’s mouth dropped open

‘Tell me you’re kidding,’ she said, her voice quivering with anger. ‘Billy cheating on Sally with some tramp? It’s a bit insensitive, isn’t it, in view of everything that has happened to me this summer?’

‘Jess, it’s not meant to be about that.’

But the way John’s face coloured, she knew that was exactly what it was meant to be about. They were cynically chasing the ratings, pulling back the audience with the promise of art imitating life. No wonder Hartnett and his new writer had kept the script such a secret until now.

‘What a low shot,’ she hissed. She was so livid she was struggling to breathe. ‘And how long do you see this storyline continuing? One episode?’

‘Six episodes initially; we’ll see how the fans react.’

‘You mean the whole season, don’t you?’ Jessica’s heart was thudding. ‘Is this about these “Desperate Jess” headlines? Because if it is, don’t worry, I’m taking those bastards to court.’

‘It’s not about that, I promise you.’

She jumped to her feet, grabbing her cell phone.

‘I’m getting Len on the phone right now,’ she snapped. ‘We’ll see what he has to say about this.’

Len Morgan was the head of the studio. He was a disgusting lech who had spent years trying to touch her up, and Jessica felt confident she could wrap him around her little finger.

‘Stop a minute, Jess,’ said John, putting his hand over her phone. ‘This was Len’s idea. He’s a businessman. He’s only interested in the bottom line.’

‘No,’ she whispered, trying to hold it together.

‘Jess, look. You are a wonderful, wonderful actress. You are the undisputed star of this show. But you know how important the eighteen to twenty-five demographic is for advertisers. Unless we can convince the studio we can bring that revenue in, there might not even be a Season Six.’

She steeled herself. ‘And you think Brooke Geller is the answer to your problems? She might have sucked your cock to get this gig, but it will take more than that to convince the American public. They love me.’

‘They did, Jess,’ said John. ‘But things change.’

‘Screw you, John,’ she growled. ‘Expect a call from my lawyer.’ She grabbed her bag and wrenched the office door open.

‘Stop, Jess. Come on,’ he called after her. ‘We can sort this out.’

But Jessica was already running out of the building, her eyes clouding with tears. How dare they? How dare they use her heartbreak as a way of shoring up the ratings? It was disgusting, immoral.

Scrabbling her keys out, she jumped into her car and flipped down the vanity mirror. You know how important the eighteen to twenty-five demographic is. Like she was too old. Like she was becoming irrelevant. She peered into the mirror, pulling her cheeks back. Well, a good cosmetic surgeon would ensure that didn’t happen. She’d show them who the public wanted – America’s sweetheart or some slut with perky tits. She shoved the key into the ignition and revved the engine in a roar, screeching across the lot. She indicated right to turn the car on to Mulholland, and as she put her foot on the gas, she peered into the mirror again. Maybe a bit of under-eye work wouldn’t go amiss either, she thought. Then her whole body jolted sideways, her head slamming into the windscreen, metal squealing and crumpling as another car smashed into hers. And then she felt nothing.