5. Aarti
AARTI
I flop face first onto my bed, the day a blur of scrapped sketches and inadequate pitches, desperately searching for any possible alternative to scouting a goddamn sidekick in a matter of days.
I’m relieved that I have the place to myself tonight.
Sex with models is great and all, but my brain is mush and the stress is compounding into an aching migraine.
“Tea?” Diti appears, pushing my cracked door open, steaming mugs in hand. Guess I don’t have the place to myself.
“Ungh,” I moan, rolling over to accept the drink from her. I take a sip and burn the shit out of my mouth, but it’s worth it.
“Almost as good as Mom’s.” I fall back onto my pillow.
“Tough day?” Diti asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“How’d you know?” I say, dryly.
“No supermodel supercar in the guest spot.”
“I need my space tonight.”
Diti gives me a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, is that it, fuckgirl?”
I shake my head. My sister has always had my number, and it’s both a joy and a nuisance to be seen this deeply. “This isn’t about the supermodel or her supercar, D. It’s the show. They want to send us to the midnight graveyard.”
“Now why would they do a goofy thing like that?” She gets in bed next to me, shoving me halfway off my own pillow to make a spot for herself.
“They called it generic .”
Diti fixes me with a look. “Well, you’re not generic. And I think we both know how you could show them that.”
I roll my tired eyes. “Sure, and then my entire career can end up dead just like my predecessor’s.”
“Mmmmk…” she shrugs. “But roasting the president is different than owning your sexuality.”
“It’s not different; it might even be worse. Are you living on the same planet as me?”
“I’m living on the planet where you’re just too chickenshit to take a stand.”
I hit her with my decorative ‘You’re the problem, it’s you’ pillow. “Shut up, ya straight.”
“You’d think the best comedian in the world would have a better comeback.”
“Get out,” I groan. “I must wallow myself to sleep.”
She stands, turning off my lamp. “You could come out with me and forget all your woes instead…”
“Begone!”
“Love ya, sis,” she says as she closes the door behind her.
I stare at my dark ceiling and trill my lips.
I have some of the best comedy writers in the world on my team.
I know we’ll get there. We have to get there.
I’ve never been one to be patient, but I remind myself some of the best ideas come at the last minute, in the comedy pressure cooker.
I’m just waiting for that spark, that something that takes my show from good to great. I will find it.
Just as I’m finally about to drift to sleep, my phone buzzes on my nightstand.
brIGITTE
Come out with me tonight.
I turn over with a sigh. Not even the world’s hottest supermodel could get me out of bed.
brIGITTE
Pleeeeeease
brIGITTE
Seriously, this is like the last time you’ll be able to go out without everyone recognizing you!
She’s not wrong. Sure, my golden years on Midnight Live made me a face that gets inquisitive double-takes, but I’ve also mastered the art of being incognito enough to pass unrecognized in most places I go.
That’s about to end. The billboards and building-side advertisements for the host changeover of the longest-running late night show of all time make it that way.
I won’t just be someone they know from somewhere, I’ll be the brown lady in the suit who peers down at them when they’re stopped at the endless red light at Virgil and Sunset.
brIGITTE
I know you’re seeing this your read receipts are on dumbass
As if by some miracle, my headache fades. I slide out of bed and pull my pants back on.
Did I say the world’s hottest supermodel couldn’t get me out of bed tonight? Well, I never claimed to be a reliable narrator. I live to entertain.
I arrive at the bar and valet my car in the packed lot. I walk in, searching for Brigitte’s bombshell blonde locks, when I notice the art on the walls. A classic Georgia O’Keeffe. A portrait that proclaims Sappho Fucks. An intricate and anatomically correct 3D-printed labia.
I spot Brigitte amongst a school of women at the bar and pull her off of a stool.
“What the heck, Aart!”
I tug her into the empty All Gender bathroom and grab her shoulders.
“You brought me to a lesbian bar?! ”