Chapter 13
BENNETT
Sunday was awkward as hell. Even more than when Laina’s mom walked in on us getting hot and heavy back when we were just dating. Knowing my wife couldn’t stand to be near me was hard as fuck, but I’d earned it.
So I stayed out of her way, mostly working on script outlines in my home office with the door half-closed.
I cut a Sally sequence that was inspired by Laina and made a note to work on it today.
Which was bound to be interesting because I had no doubt every writer in the room would see the statement that would be released in ten minutes.
I was in the kitchen rinsing my cup when Lucy came down, already dressed and carrying her backpack. “Shelly’s mom is picking me up early for a project. I have practice after school, and Mom said she’d pick me up.”
“Okay. Text me if anything changes.”
She grabbed a yogurt and a small bottle of pressed juice, hesitated like she might say more, then just nodded and headed for the door. “Bye.”
“Bye, kiddo.”
After the front door closed, I stood in the quiet kitchen a moment longer. There was no noise coming from upstairs now that Lucy had left. I hoped that meant Laina was sleeping in because then she would’ve gotten rest while I tossed and turned all night.
I made her another iced latte and put the tumbler in the fridge, leaving a similar note on the counter so she knew to look for it. Then I grabbed my keys and left.
I kept the radio off during the drive, contemplating what the reactions might be when I got to the writers’ room. The statement was out there now, but I resisted the urge to check. Julian knew what he was doing, and I trusted him to get the job done.
The writers on my team will see it soon. So would the network executives.
Some would understand what I was trying to do.
Others would only care about what it meant for the upcoming season’s promotional plans.
To avoid the clutter of competing debut shows, the network had given us an early October spot for our season premiere.
This had also allowed them to run ads pushing the award-winning angle across their channels to maximize the hype and draw in new viewers, which had already started last week.
My statement could send those new viewers running or draw even more in. But I couldn’t afford to care because it needed to be done. I’d deal with the outcome, whatever it was. The important thing was that the plan to protect Laina was now in motion.
And I was about to walk into the writers’ room and make everyone’s jobs harder on purpose for the next step. With that knowledge weighing on me, I pulled into the studio lot, parked, and sat with the engine off for a moment before getting out.
The room was already half full when I walked in. Conversation lulled when I came through the door, then picked back up a little too carefully.
Jordan looked up from his seat near the center table. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
Stella tapped her pen against her notebook. “Saw the statement.”
A couple of the others glanced over and then away. Maya kept her eyes on her screen. One of the newer writers suddenly became very interested in a cold open outline.
“I figured you all would.” I dropped my bag by my usual chair.
Jordan leaned back. “Network’s already asking how it affects the early October push. They’re worried about the tone of the promo.”
“They can worry all they want. The statement stands.” I pulled out my chair and sat. “If they have a problem with how I’m handling this, they can talk to my attorney. I haven’t done a damn thing that violates my contract.”
Jordan lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Nobody’s talking about coming after you, man. This show is your creation, and they know that.”
His reassurance hit differently than it would have a couple of weeks ago. I’d been so damn proud of my success that I’d lost sight of what was really important. None of it mattered without my wife at my side.
Almost as if she knew where my thoughts had gone, Mila finally looked up and asked, “How’s Laina doing?”
“Not great,” I muttered. “But Julian found me a publicist who understands the difference between protecting my image and protecting her, so hopefully that’ll help some.”
“With how that statement reads, I bet it will.” Jordan exhaled and reached for his laptop. “But we need to focus on the script for episode seven so we’re ready to shoot on Friday.”
Chairs shifted, and Mila got up to write on the whiteboard. Everyone in this room now knew I’d put my wife’s reputation ahead of mine, but I still needed to tell them about the part that would impact them directly.
I let the current discussion on episode seven run for a minute, then stood and waited for the side conversations to die down.
“Before we go further, there’s something else.”
Jordan glanced over. Stella set her pen down. Mila turned from the whiteboard.
“I cut a sequence out of the future outlines yesterday. It was centered around Sally and had roots I’m not going to use anymore.” I swept my gaze across the room, meeting each writer’s eyes so they could see how serious I was. “We’re not refining it. We’re replacing it entirely.”
After a beat of silence, Stella was the first to speak. “Which one?”
“The voice notes.”
“We can’t change Sally’s personality. It’s already been established for four seasons,” Jordan pointed out.
“If that’s what I was suggesting, I would’ve cut a fuck of a lot more than that one scene.” Leaning forward, I pressed my palms on the table in front of me. “But anything new that Laina inspired is off the table.”
Jordan frowned. “September doesn’t give us a lot of room to throw out pages and start clean.”
“I’m aware of the calendar.” I sat back down and pulled my laptop closer. “And I’m still telling you those wells are capped. We brainstorm new directions that don’t touch my marriage. If a pitch even brushes up against it, we kill the idea and move on.”
Stella leaned back in her chair. “You’re asking us to rebuild pieces of Sally while the season is already in production.”
“Yes.”
Jordan scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then nodded. “Okay. Then we stop talking about what we lost and start filling the holes.”
Stella got up and joined Mila at the whiteboard. “Constraints first. Same tone and escalation pattern, zero personal source material. Anything else off-limits?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Everything else is fair game as long as it works for Sally’s character.”
She picked up a marker and turned toward the whiteboard. “Then we need new pressure points for her. Fresh delusions, different stakes.”
“That’s the job this morning,” I agreed. “We don’t leave this room until we have workable replacements or clear paths to them.”
“What about the table read?”
I shot Steven an exasperated look. He was the newest writer in the room, but the answer still should’ve been obvious. “We head to the soundstage for it, then come right back to hammer this out.”
He nodded. “Gotcha.”
No one argued further. I watched them begin, regretting that I’d made their jobs harder. But not nearly as much as I wished I’d never hurt Laina. So it had to be done.
That didn’t mean it was easy, though. By the time I left the studio that night, I was completely drained. But we’d replaced the sequence I’d deleted and come up with a few solid ideas for future skits that didn’t have their roots in Laina’s personality. It was a good start at least.
The house was dark when I pulled into the garage. Only the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen were on.
I set my keys on the counter and stopped.
My note from the morning was gone. In its place was a smaller square of paper with Laina’s handwriting.
Plate in the fridge.
3 minutes.
There were none of her cute doodles, and she hadn’t even signed it. But knowing she’d worried about me coming home hungry packed a hell of a punch.
I crouched down and let my back slide down the cabinet until I was sitting on the floor, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.
I didn’t want to read too much into this, but it was hard to not have hope when she wouldn’t even tell me where she was one week ago.
But Laina was the kindest person I knew. She would have wanted to feed anyone under her roof. That was who she was. And the fact that she could still extend even this small kindness to me after everything I had done only made my regret grow.