Chapter 7
SEVEN
“What is Meg doing here?” Wendy asked Donald.
“Finn’s not ready.”
“Why didn’t you get Kathleen?”
“And risk her finding out she was second choice?”
Meg looked a little less happy finding out she was second, well third choice. Donald said to her, “Don’t be afraid, come on up.”
Then Louis was there announcing, “One Giant Green Monster!”
“Oh God. No! No! No! That’s for Finn. He’s not ready yet. Put it on ice. It’ll be fine for half an hour. We need a Mango Mania.”
“Excuse me?” Louis said, trying to catch up.
“Now! We need a Mango Mania, now!”
Louis turned around and went back to the craft room. Wendy noticed the troll doll in Meg’s hands, and said, “Did you bring that for Grace? She used to collect them.”
“No. I’m the one who collected them.”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure it was Grace.”
“It wasn’t me,” Grace said from her seat in the front row.
“It wasn’t?” Wendy said. “Then who was it?”
“Me.”
“No, it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been Kathleen, could it?”
“Oh gosh, Wendy, it was me .”
“Well. If you say so, dear.”
A furious Louis returned, holding a hastily made Mango Mania. Meg was seated on the stool in front of the red curtain. I stood at the table with Eldridge. Ricky and Keely had come out to nibble, while Marc and Grace sat in the front row gossiping. Donald and Wendy were behind the camera taking turns looking into the viewfinder.
Louis said, “A-hem.”
Wendy turned around. Seeing the drink, she said, “Oh wonderful.”
Taking it, she said to Louis, “Now, did I explain you’re the only one to make the drinks? No one else is to even look at the recipe book or the proprietary ingredients. Am I clear?”
“We’ve gone over this. Three times.”
“Well. Good. Then you’ll remember. It’s important.”
Louis turned and walked over to the table to stand with us while she brought the drink over to Meg, who immediately went to take a sip. Wendy nearly shrieked. “Hold on, Meg, let’s get your first honest reaction. Ready Donald?”
He studied the camera carefully then pressed a button. “Action.”
“Stop!” Wendy said, then she went over and adjusted the cup so that the Juicy Juice logo was more prominent. “Okay.”
Frowning, Donald again said, “Action.”
Meg took a long sip of her Mango Mania, smiling and saying, “Wow, that is good. Sweet.”
Donald left a pause, then said in a smooth, fatherly voice, “So, Meg, tell us about who you are today.”
After a moment, Meg nervously began, “Well, uh, after Kapowie! ended, I went to UCLA where I studied botany. I’m currently a professor at Cal State Fullerton, where I teach…”
“So, you’re a science teacher?” Donald asked.
“A botanist.”
“A science teacher.”
“Well… I suppose you could say I’m a science teacher, yes. Professor is more accurate, though. I do have a doctorate.”
“And is there a man in your life?”
Her brow wrinkled. “The dean, I suppose.”
“You’re dating the dean?”
“No. God, he’s like ninety. Oh dear, could you not put that in? I really don’t want to insult the dean. He’s a nice man who’s probably only seventy.”
“So, you’re single?”
“I’m far too busy to worry about men.”
“Lonely, isn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“Cats?”
“What?”
“Do you have cats?”
“Just one.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. What’s your cat’s name?”
“My cat’s name is Agnes. After Agnes Arber who was a famous bot?—”
“Do you call her Aggie?”
“No, I call her Agnes. Because that’s what I named her.”
“Getting back to men… Hold on, let’s take a little break.” He pressed the button to stop filming. “Meg, it’s okay to talk about how lonely you are.”
“But I’m not lonely. I just said I’m too busy to be lonely. And this show is for kids. Why would I talk about loneliness? Even if I was lonely. Which I’m not.”
Donald shrugged and said, “OTN wants to promote womanly values. Let’s give it another shot.” He pressed the button. “Action.”
Meg just looked at the camera a moment before she tried again, “Not to toot my own horn, but I recently published a paper in The Annals of Botany on the ways we might genetically modify plants to survive the effects of greenhouse gases. It was very well received.”
Donald whispered loudly to Wendy, “Greenhouse gases? What is she talking about? This is going to be really hard to edit.”
“Cut,” Wendy said. “Listen, Meg, the science stuff isn’t going to fly. Could you talk about when you used to do the homemaking and cooking sections of the show and how helpful they are now that you’re a grown-up woman. And maybe how you’re hoping to cook your way into a man’s heart.”
“I don’t cook.”
“That has nothing to do with this. If you could just… take another stab at who you are now. Science teacher. Lonely spinster with cats.”
“One cat.”
“It’s fine to exaggerate.”
“But—”
Wendy stepped in close to say a few more things to Meg. I looked at the others gathered around the table. Ricky and Keely were each holding plates and nibbling.
Keely swallowed, then said, “They were like this when we were on the show. Always forcing us into stereotypes. Creating narratives that had nothing to do with who we actually were.”
“They’re going to love me,” Ricky said. “They always made me play the nerd on the show and now I’m a jock. That’s an arc. Arcs are great for TV. They’re gonna eat it up.”
“They always made me play the Black girl who doesn’t act like a Black girl. I doubt they want anything else from me.”
I glanced at Eldridge who was giving me your basic, ‘Where are we?’ look.
“Okay,” Wendy said, loudly. “We’re ready to give this another try. Meg, take another sip and center yourself. Whenever you’re ready.”
She nodded at Donald who said, “Action.”
After a beat, Meg said, “Hi! It’s me, Meg.”
“Tell us, Meggie, what have you been up to?” Donald asked.
“Well, after the show I went to college and now I’m a science teacher. Still looking for the right guy… maybe someday. Still practicing my upside-down pineapple cake hoping to catch a man. My favorite thing about teaching is the kids. I hope to have a bunch of my own someday. When I meet that right guy. In the meantime, I have the most adorable kitty to keep me company. Her name’s Aggie. I’m thinking about getting another one. You know, to keep Aggie company. Sometimes she gets lonely. I mean, we all do. Right?”
“What do you miss most about Kapowie! ” Donald asked.
“Oh gosh. So much. I think I miss my castmates. They still mean so much to me. Getting to sing and dance with them. Tell jokes. Being kids together. Oh gosh, it’s so wonderful to think about.”
After a pause, Wendy said, “Oh that was wonderful, Meg! Such a good job.”
Meg smiled weakly at the praise, before asking, “Is that all you need?”
“It is for now,” Donald said. “Hopefully there will be time at the end, and we’ll be able to do some additional shots. So if you think of anything you’d like to add?—”
“I won’t. Do you think I could go home now?”
“Oh no, no, no…” Donald said.
“We need you for the dance number,” Wendy said.
“Even though I’m in the back where no one will see me?”
“Yes, even though you’re in the back.”
Meg walked over to where Marc and Grace were sitting in the front row of the risers. They watched her sympathetically. Well, Grace did. Marc was looking at Donald in a way I could only describe as dangerous. Kind of like a lion cornered. I thought he might hiss.
Looking around, Donald called out, “Ricky! My man! How about you go next?”
“Sure thing.”
“Great. We’ll go in a couple of minutes. Is that the shirt you want to wear?”
“Is it okay?”
“Do you have something with sleeves?”
“Yeah, all right.”
As he left, Donald and Wendy came over to the craft table.
“Oh, this all looks just great,” Donald said, immediately picking up a chip and scooping up about half a cup of guacamole.
“Yes, this is all wonderful. Thank you, Louis. What are the little specks in the shortbread?”
“Lavender.”
“Oh my,” Wendy said, setting a piece back down.
“Keely,” Donald said. “You don’t have a lighter shade of foundation?”
“I’m not wearing foundation.”
“It’s just with the backdrops we’re using… We’d like you to pop.”
For a moment, it seemed like she might say something. Instead, she walked over and joined the three others in the audience. Surprised, Donald asked his wife, “Was that a yes?”
Wendy was stacking strawberries onto a plate. “Donald, I think this time we need to show the actors the clips from the show we’re considering. Help them get back into character.”
Donald shrugged. “They should be more professional than that.”
“Well… they’re not.” She took a folded-up sheet of paper out of her pocket while saying, “Louis, we’re going to need a…” She found what she wanted on the sheet. “… a Pineapple Punch for Ricky.”
He took a step away, but I said, “Actually, Wendy, Ricky said he wanted a Banana Blast.” I was beginning to think I might be good at this craft table thing.
She studied me for a long moment, as though I was something unpleasant left on her doorstep. Then she said, “A fan. Well, I suppose that makes this easy. Louis, we need a Banana Blast!”
As Louis walked away, she shoved a very large strawberry into her mouth. Chewing, she said, “Also… Donald, this time let’s try to break things up. Talk about the juice first, how much he likes?—”
Ricky was back, wearing a black polo that was at least two sizes too small. He said, “I get to talk about my gyms.”
“Sure. Tit for tat,” Wendy said before turning back to her husband. “Just let them say whatever they want about themselves. If it doesn’t work, we’ll reshape it and ask them to try again. Then go on to some reminiscence about how fondly they remember the show. The whole show’s only going to be a half an hour. We need roughly a minute with each cast member, more for Finn and Kathleen. We’ll interview ourselves, and the rest will be highlights from the series.”
By the end of her instructions Donald was clearly seething. Obviously, he was the kind of guy who relied on his wife to tell him what to do. He was also the kind of guy who didn’t see himself that way and hated her for helping. He said, “Got it” so sharply that I was surprised he didn’t draw blood.
“My gyms need to make the final cut,” Ricky said, having picked up on at least some of what they’d been saying. “I want a verbal agreement on that. In front of witnesses.” He waved a hand at me and Eldridge.
“Mmmm-hmmm. Don’t worry about it,” Donald said, which wasn’t exactly agreement.
Ricky took his place on the stool. Donald and Ed spent quite a bit of time looking into the viewfinder and making adjustments, while Wendy ate strawberries. A tiny bit later, Louis delivered the Banana Blast to Ricky and came over to the table.
“Are there more oatmeal cookies?” Eldridge asked. “We’re almost out.”
“Yeah, in one of the… Oh! How about you go grab them out of one of the bags?”
“Sure,” Eldridge said, before walking off.
I stared at Louis. He’d clearly wanted to get rid of him. As Ricky began his bit, I leaned over and whispered to Louis, “That wasn’t very subtle.”
He shrugged then whispered back, “How are the nightmares?”
Also, not subtle. I almost said he didn’t know what he was talking about, but it was June in Los Angeles and far too warm to close bedroom windows. Marc and Louis slept directly below me. Or, at least tried to, as I apparently let out the occasional yelp.
“I think they’re getting better. I hope they are. Maybe I should be asking you.”
“The first few times it happened Marc thought you were having sex. I pointed out it didn’t sound like happy sex.”
“And you think I’m a happy sex kind of guy?”
“Totally.” After a moment, he said, “If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
I said, “Thanks,” but knew I wouldn’t be talking to him about it. I mean, I had talked to him about it. After I’d been kidnapped and nearly murdered, I told my friends everything that had happened. I took it all in stride. We took it all in stride.
Honestly, even as it was happening, I took it in stride. I mean, people threaten your life enough times and it becomes kind of normal, right? But… the weird thing was that the dreams weren’t about being kidnapped, or finding one of my employees dead, or having a gun waved in my face, or waking up with a dead person, or finding a corpse in my garbage bin… In fact, they weren’t really about anything. The dreams were little more than a feeling. I knew I was in bed. I knew I was alone. But I’d be feeling fear, fear that wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt. Worse than what I’d felt in any of the actual situations I just mentioned. Irrational fear. Growing fear. Fear that made me yelp—well, scream. A little.
And then Eldridge was back with a giant plastic bag full of cookies, and Ricky was in front of the camera saying, “So, yeah, I’ve got three gyms: one in Studio City, one in Van Nuys, one in Sherman Oaks. I mean, when I was on the show, I was this skinny, brainy little nerd. And I want everyone to know that you don’t have to stay that way. You don’t gotta be skinny or brainy or a nerd forever. You can turn your life around. Just come to a Lift for Life gym and we’ll make you one hundred percent muscle.”
“Did he just do a commercial?” I whispered to Louis.
“Sure did.”
Wendy heard us and turned around putting a finger over her lips to shush us.
Donald asked, “What’s your favorite memory of being on Kapowie! ”
“The friendships. I’ve been friends with these people nearly twenty years. I mean… Finn, what a great guy. Kathleen is always there if you need a kind, comforting word. Little Marc—well, not so little anymore—always there with a joke. Hey Marc, if you’re listening, come by one of my gyms and I’ll give you a free membership.”
I glanced back at Marc who looked like he might explode. Clearly, he was not enjoying any of this.
“Keely, you’re my sista, girl. And Meg, don’t worry, there’s a man out there for you.”
There was a pause, during which Grace stage whispered, “He forgot about me, thank God.”
“What about Wes?” Donald asked.
“Oh man, I wish I knew where he was. I miss that dude. Miss him a whole lot.” He appeared to be choking up. He looked away, as though struggling to keep his composure.
After a slight pause, Donald said, “And… cut. That was great, just great, Ricky. Exactly what we’re looking for.”
“Great, thanks, guys. I appreciate it,” he said with a big sunny smile.
And then, rather foolishly as it turned out, Donald said, “Marc, would you like to go next?”