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Nichola knew there wouldn’t be any difference, but she held out hope. She was still kind of hopeful things would change for the second half of the month, even through technical problems and missing reels and the AC going out during the (so far) hottest day of the year.
The crew wasn’t exactly an issue. No more than usual. Anarchy continued to reign, while paradoxically, work continued to get done with or without Wilford there. But it was no less tiring. The survived another week of production, got the show filmed on time and submitted for air, and the world kept spinning. It was no less exhausting than it always was. The drive through Vinewood and Rockford Hills was no less stressful than it always was. Her condo was no less welcoming than it always was. She was alone in the elevator for her 15-floor journey, making it her first time without having to deal with another human being since six o’clock that morning. It was a brief minute in absolute silence, and she soaked in every second of it. When it finally dinged and let her off on her floor, she was greeted to an empty lobby as well. A quick glance at the wall told her it had taken her over an hour to fight her way through traffic. But who takes a combine harvester onto the surface streets? Honestly.
Her apartment was at the end of the hall. The first thing she did after stepping inside was lowering the AC temp a couple degrees. She knew she might regret that later, but right now she wanted to freeze. As she headed to the fridge, she pulled out her phone and brought up her messages. She hadn’t checked on Wil in a few days, so she sent off a quick text to make sure he was still coping with his vacation. She had enough time to dig through a bunch of beer and wine coolers she didn’t want, eventually settling on a glass of wine before her phone dinged. Rather than a text, she got a video. Thirty solid seconds of the new puppy barking at an enormous dandelion.
Then she got a text.
She’s been doing this for half an hour
Nichola laughed but didn’t respond. She took her phone and her glass of wine to the bathroom and ran a bath, taking time to wash her face and pull all the pins out of her hair while the water ran. The tub wasn’t enormous, but it was quite a bit bigger than any she’d had before, and it took a while to fill. She had time to find some music on her phone, find some pyjamas suitable for the oppressive LS heat, and send off a few more texts to a few more people before she got into the water. There was a pool and a hot tub downstairs, but after spending all day in a studio under hot lights, running around to make sure everything was going smoothly, she didn’t want a pool. She wanted to feel clean, and relax in peace. But first relax, for as long as it took her to finish a glass of wine. She closed her eyes and soaked everything in. She almost felt like she could stay there forever. Right up until her music became suddenly muffled, snapping her out of what was quickly becoming a trance.
“Pete,” she complained. She looked over at her phone, and the fluffy white cat sitting on it. “Don’t put your butt on my phone.”
Pete didn’t budge. He just meowed. Loudly. Nichola swatted at him, but he was all the way over on the counter, well out of her reach. And the little bastard knew it. He meowed a few more times, and stood back up. For a second, Nichola thought he was going to come closer. Instead, he knocked her phone onto the floor and kept crying at her.
“Pete, why do you suck?” she asked. She found a safe place for her wine and drained the tub so she could shower and scrub all the day’s sweat and general feeling of disgustingness away. By the time she was done, Pete had had his way with the bathroom. Her pyjamas were on the floor, along with several towels, and the toothpaste. Pete was nowhere to be seen.
“You suck so hard,” she complained as she quickly picked everything up and got dressed. There was absolutely nothing glamorous about cut-off sweatpants and a shirt she’d stolen from one of the boys, but her work day was over. Once the work day was over, she was no longer a TV producer. She was now a shut-in who wore cut-off sweatpants and made little crocheted animals. But she couldn’t pick up her unicorn until she dealt with Pete.
“You still have food,” she said when she saw his bowl. All the kibble had been pressed up against the sides, so she gave the bowl a good shake.
She did not have food though. Since moving out here, she found herself cooking less and less. But she didn’t like cooking, and wasn’t very good at it, and there were 100 restaurants that delivered to her building. The building managers even kept an online list of all the current nearby places, so she pulled that up on her phone and scrolled through the list. Italian sounded great, but it also sounded hot. Sandwiches. Not as satisfying, but also a nice, cold meal for a stupidly hot day.
Soon after she placed her order, someone knocked on her door. Nichola had barely had time to get started on her unicorn again, so it couldn’t have possibly been dinner. Still, she got up and opened the door. It was not her dinner. It was her neighbour.
“Oh, I thought you were dinner,” Nichola joked as she let Marley in.
“I can come back if you’ve ordered something.”
Nichola shook her head. “No, come in. You’re fine.”
Marley came in and sat down in a chair near one of the huge windows that overlooked the city, while Nichola headed to the kitchen and poured another glass for Marley.
“I was just going to have a couple sandwiches and ignore the heat,” she said, handing Marley the wine.
Marley laughed. “Oh my god, I know. When I moved out here from New York, nobody warned me about the weather. I mean, I knew it was going to be hot, but not this hot all the time.”
Nichola finally picked up her unicorn from its basket and quickly counted the rows so she could figure out where she left off. “Do you ever get used to it?”
“I don’t think the human body could ever get used to it. Get better at dealing with it, I guess,” Marley said. She took a sip of her wine as Pete jumped up onto her lap. She greeted the cat and gave him a little scratch between the ears.
One way or another, all of Nichola’s new West Coast friends were in the business. It meant that a lot of conversations eventually turned toward industry gossip, who was hiding which scandals, who was on house arrest. They chatted and shared the sandwiches and fries Nichola had ordered, ignoring Pete’s insistence that his bowl was still empty.
“Oh, my god, you heard about Angie, didn’t you?” Marley asked, pointing at the floor. Angie lived three floors down, with her husband and their four kids.
“No, what about her?” Nichola liked Angie. She was sweet, in that air-headed morning show presenter sort of way.
“She’s been having an affair with her brother-in-law since before she and Clark got married.”
Nichola almost choked on her wine. “What? The same brother-in-law she set me up with?”
Marley nodded.
“Ew!” Nichola almost gagged. “How did Clark find out? And why’d it take him so long?”
“I don’t know. He left a couple of days ago, and Angie was crying that he’s refusing to pay alimony or child support unless a DNA test says the kids are his.” Marley was enjoying this way too much. Not that Nichola wasn’t.
“Can he even do that?” she asked.
“Maybe? I mean, if they’re not his?” Neither Nichola nor Marley had kids, or husbands, so this entire thing was uncharted territory for both of them.
“I’d say ‘poor Angie’ but oh my god,” Nichola said, laughing now. “How long have they been married?”
“Well, their oldest is ten, so at least ten years?” Marley guessed.
Nichola laughed. She shouldn’t have laughed, but the whole situation was absurd. “Jesus, how do you get away with something for that long? I can’t even hide a candy bar in my desk without ten people finding out about it by lunch time.”
Marley laughed as well. “Maybe it explains all those blind dates she kept setting him up with. She set me up with him too, but he stood me up.”
“Oh my god, ew.” Everyone calling her and ruining the date was probably the most convenient excuse he’d ever had to leave. “I’m never dating another man again. That’s so disgusting.”
Marley didn’t leave until almost ten, after they exhausted every gossip topic they could find for the week. By then, Nichola was exhausted. She cleaned up dinner and made sure Pete had fresh water and food before she headed off to bed. She didn’t have to be at the studio the next day, and it was going to feel so good to sleep in. She couldn’t wait until she could do that every day again.
The crew wasn’t exactly an issue. No more than usual. Anarchy continued to reign, while paradoxically, work continued to get done with or without Wilford there. But it was no less tiring. The survived another week of production, got the show filmed on time and submitted for air, and the world kept spinning. It was no less exhausting than it always was. The drive through Vinewood and Rockford Hills was no less stressful than it always was. Her condo was no less welcoming than it always was. She was alone in the elevator for her 15-floor journey, making it her first time without having to deal with another human being since six o’clock that morning. It was a brief minute in absolute silence, and she soaked in every second of it. When it finally dinged and let her off on her floor, she was greeted to an empty lobby as well. A quick glance at the wall told her it had taken her over an hour to fight her way through traffic. But who takes a combine harvester onto the surface streets? Honestly.
Her apartment was at the end of the hall. The first thing she did after stepping inside was lowering the AC temp a couple degrees. She knew she might regret that later, but right now she wanted to freeze. As she headed to the fridge, she pulled out her phone and brought up her messages. She hadn’t checked on Wil in a few days, so she sent off a quick text to make sure he was still coping with his vacation. She had enough time to dig through a bunch of beer and wine coolers she didn’t want, eventually settling on a glass of wine before her phone dinged. Rather than a text, she got a video. Thirty solid seconds of the new puppy barking at an enormous dandelion.
Then she got a text.
She’s been doing this for half an hour
Nichola laughed but didn’t respond. She took her phone and her glass of wine to the bathroom and ran a bath, taking time to wash her face and pull all the pins out of her hair while the water ran. The tub wasn’t enormous, but it was quite a bit bigger than any she’d had before, and it took a while to fill. She had time to find some music on her phone, find some pyjamas suitable for the oppressive LS heat, and send off a few more texts to a few more people before she got into the water. There was a pool and a hot tub downstairs, but after spending all day in a studio under hot lights, running around to make sure everything was going smoothly, she didn’t want a pool. She wanted to feel clean, and relax in peace. But first relax, for as long as it took her to finish a glass of wine. She closed her eyes and soaked everything in. She almost felt like she could stay there forever. Right up until her music became suddenly muffled, snapping her out of what was quickly becoming a trance.
“Pete,” she complained. She looked over at her phone, and the fluffy white cat sitting on it. “Don’t put your butt on my phone.”
Pete didn’t budge. He just meowed. Loudly. Nichola swatted at him, but he was all the way over on the counter, well out of her reach. And the little bastard knew it. He meowed a few more times, and stood back up. For a second, Nichola thought he was going to come closer. Instead, he knocked her phone onto the floor and kept crying at her.
“Pete, why do you suck?” she asked. She found a safe place for her wine and drained the tub so she could shower and scrub all the day’s sweat and general feeling of disgustingness away. By the time she was done, Pete had had his way with the bathroom. Her pyjamas were on the floor, along with several towels, and the toothpaste. Pete was nowhere to be seen.
“You suck so hard,” she complained as she quickly picked everything up and got dressed. There was absolutely nothing glamorous about cut-off sweatpants and a shirt she’d stolen from one of the boys, but her work day was over. Once the work day was over, she was no longer a TV producer. She was now a shut-in who wore cut-off sweatpants and made little crocheted animals. But she couldn’t pick up her unicorn until she dealt with Pete.
“You still have food,” she said when she saw his bowl. All the kibble had been pressed up against the sides, so she gave the bowl a good shake.
She did not have food though. Since moving out here, she found herself cooking less and less. But she didn’t like cooking, and wasn’t very good at it, and there were 100 restaurants that delivered to her building. The building managers even kept an online list of all the current nearby places, so she pulled that up on her phone and scrolled through the list. Italian sounded great, but it also sounded hot. Sandwiches. Not as satisfying, but also a nice, cold meal for a stupidly hot day.
Soon after she placed her order, someone knocked on her door. Nichola had barely had time to get started on her unicorn again, so it couldn’t have possibly been dinner. Still, she got up and opened the door. It was not her dinner. It was her neighbour.
“Oh, I thought you were dinner,” Nichola joked as she let Marley in.
“I can come back if you’ve ordered something.”
Nichola shook her head. “No, come in. You’re fine.”
Marley came in and sat down in a chair near one of the huge windows that overlooked the city, while Nichola headed to the kitchen and poured another glass for Marley.
“I was just going to have a couple sandwiches and ignore the heat,” she said, handing Marley the wine.
Marley laughed. “Oh my god, I know. When I moved out here from New York, nobody warned me about the weather. I mean, I knew it was going to be hot, but not this hot all the time.”
Nichola finally picked up her unicorn from its basket and quickly counted the rows so she could figure out where she left off. “Do you ever get used to it?”
“I don’t think the human body could ever get used to it. Get better at dealing with it, I guess,” Marley said. She took a sip of her wine as Pete jumped up onto her lap. She greeted the cat and gave him a little scratch between the ears.
One way or another, all of Nichola’s new West Coast friends were in the business. It meant that a lot of conversations eventually turned toward industry gossip, who was hiding which scandals, who was on house arrest. They chatted and shared the sandwiches and fries Nichola had ordered, ignoring Pete’s insistence that his bowl was still empty.
“Oh, my god, you heard about Angie, didn’t you?” Marley asked, pointing at the floor. Angie lived three floors down, with her husband and their four kids.
“No, what about her?” Nichola liked Angie. She was sweet, in that air-headed morning show presenter sort of way.
“She’s been having an affair with her brother-in-law since before she and Clark got married.”
Nichola almost choked on her wine. “What? The same brother-in-law she set me up with?”
Marley nodded.
“Ew!” Nichola almost gagged. “How did Clark find out? And why’d it take him so long?”
“I don’t know. He left a couple of days ago, and Angie was crying that he’s refusing to pay alimony or child support unless a DNA test says the kids are his.” Marley was enjoying this way too much. Not that Nichola wasn’t.
“Can he even do that?” she asked.
“Maybe? I mean, if they’re not his?” Neither Nichola nor Marley had kids, or husbands, so this entire thing was uncharted territory for both of them.
“I’d say ‘poor Angie’ but oh my god,” Nichola said, laughing now. “How long have they been married?”
“Well, their oldest is ten, so at least ten years?” Marley guessed.
Nichola laughed. She shouldn’t have laughed, but the whole situation was absurd. “Jesus, how do you get away with something for that long? I can’t even hide a candy bar in my desk without ten people finding out about it by lunch time.”
Marley laughed as well. “Maybe it explains all those blind dates she kept setting him up with. She set me up with him too, but he stood me up.”
“Oh my god, ew.” Everyone calling her and ruining the date was probably the most convenient excuse he’d ever had to leave. “I’m never dating another man again. That’s so disgusting.”
Marley didn’t leave until almost ten, after they exhausted every gossip topic they could find for the week. By then, Nichola was exhausted. She cleaned up dinner and made sure Pete had fresh water and food before she headed off to bed. She didn’t have to be at the studio the next day, and it was going to feel so good to sleep in. She couldn’t wait until she could do that every day again.