“A seven-foot fence?” Deirdre interjected, hoping to stave off a confrontation between Jackie and Ethan. “That seems kind of extreme, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Ethan answered. “We’ll plant hedges on either side so it won’t be an eyesore.”
“Still …”
“Just think about poor Trebuchet,” Ethan said, playing what he hoped would be his trump card.
At the mention of Trebuchet, Jackie got up and left the room. No one stopped her, and Ethan thought this was a good thing. The girl had been trouble from the start, and she wasn’t adding anything positive to this conversation. He was holding back from playing his actual trump card; the contract Jared signed allowed the network to pretty much do as it pleased. If the show stayed on the air, Ethan Overbee was the master of this domain. But as it turned out, he didn’t need to play that card.
“I guess,” Deirdre offered, like a reluctant friend being dragged to a movie she really didn’t want to see. “I guess it’s for the best.”
Jared patted her hand and said, “I need to go lie down.”
And just like that, without any vote of cloture, debate ended.
Later that afternoon, construction started on what everyone involved would come to think of as “The Wall.” Ethan was regaining control.
***
Max’s plan was simple. He and Jackie would create a shadow version of Life and Death and post it on YouTube. She would shoot video with her iPhone and send it to Max. He would edit it into a finished product and upload it. They would do it “down below the radar” as Max suggested, for as long as they could.
Jackie
It’s “under the radar,” Max. And why would we need to do that? Do you think people will really want to see our video?
Max
Solnyshko, do you not know that you are television star?
Jackie didn’t know how to respond. While she knew in her heart of hearts that Max was right, she didn’t want to admit it. But it was getting harder and harder to deny.
The week after the premiere aired, Jackie received a stack of mail that was more than fifty times the sum total of all the mail she’d received in her life.
“Fan mail,” the show’s producer had said when she dropped the stack on Jackie’s bed. It was heavy enough that it caused the comforter to wrinkle and bunch around it.
“For me?” Jackie asked wide-eyed.
“Of course it’s for you,” she answered.
Jackie moved the pile of mail, along with the five that followed it, to the floor of her bedroom closet, unopened, untouched. Now she wondered if she should read them.
When she was four, with her mother’s help, Jackie wrote a fan letter to Steve, the easygoing host of Blue’s Clues. She nearly fell over when she got not only a letter in response but an autographed photo of Steve, Blue, Tickety, and Side Table Drawer. Now that she was older, she realized that Steve hadn’t actually written the response; it, along with the photo, was a form letter. But it didn’t matter; for that one day in her four-year-old life, the world was perfect.
Jackie made a mental note to start going through the stacks of letters. Besides, she knew it would bore the director to tears to watch her open mail, and that meant Jackie would be largely out of the next episode.
She turned her attention back to Max.
Jackie
Do you think they’ll let me film them?
Max
Tell them it is for class project.
Jackie
Oooh. Good idea!
Jackie had never felt so conspiratorial, and she found herself enjoying it.
Jackie
What are we going to call our show?
Max
I was thinking on this. I think we call it “The Real Stone Family of Portland, Oregon”? It is joke on terrible show we see in Russia called “Real Housewives of Orange County.” I hope this is not too, what is word, unsensitive?
Jackie
LOL. The word is insensitive, Max, and it’s not. I love it. But can we change it to Family Stone instead of Stone Family?
Max
Yes, of course. Is this how American families are called?
Jackie
No, but my grandfather used to listen to a band called Sly and the Family Stone, and it became a kind of joke in our house.
Max
Da. It is settled. “The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon.” We go into production right away.
***