Ian felt good as he walked into his office that morning. The morning power meeting was brief and precise. He informed the team of his rendezvous with Amanda Jackson, and that all in that respect looked hopeful. Just to keep things from leaking to the press, Ian referred to only a casual meeting where they playfully tossed a few ideas around.
Blake informed him there was a small change in Ian’s afternoon schedule. David Turner had requested, as the Chairman/CEO of the company, that Ian set aside time that afternoon to meet him in his office.
“His office?” Ian was shocked, usually Turner always wanted to meet in Ian’s office. “Did he say what it was about?”
“Just to be there around 1 P.M.”
“Around? Not exactly, on the dot?”
“Nope, around, nothing more, nothing less.” Blake looked up at his boss with an apology on his face.
“Did he say what it was about?”
“Ian, it was short and sweet…” Blake imitated the old man, “Tell Young Justyn to set aside some time this afternoon to meet me in my office, say around one, thanks sport…click.”
“Should I be nervous?”
Blake shrugged.
“Do you know what this is about?”
“How would I know what this is about?”
“Blake, you know everything. That’s why you’re here…”
“Sorry, Boss man can’t help.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t. I’ve tried every resource I know, without creating a stir. No one has any idea.”
“I just…ooohhh crap.” Ian went into his office, and flustered the rest of the morning away.
Respite came briefly moments before lunch when he was informed that Elizabeth Elysian had faxed a power of attorney to the Realtor and the only thing lacking now was his own signature to make everything official. It took all of fifteen minutes. He didn’t even have to leave his chair.
His accountant had a grin on his face that wouldn’t stop. The man picked up the huge document and copies patting Ian on the back. “Congratulations Ian Justyn, you got a deal.”
“I am very aware of that, thank you.”
“I mean this never, never happens.”
Ian agreed. “For the first time in my life, fate seems to be stacking the deck in my favor. Every day, whenever I walk in the house I am just amazed. So, do we need to discuss some sort of budgeting?”
The accountant looked surprised. “Well, if you would like to. I’ll be happy to increase my documentation for you, but you actually spend so little. Of course, once all of this gets rolling we may want to discuss diversification and investments, but I need a little time to just to see exactly what we’ve got here.”
“If that’s what you think best. I just don’t won’t to over spend, I’d hate for the first check to bounce.”
The accountant laughed. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ve got insurance that covers all that. As soon as I get this portfolio together in more detail, I’ll set up a meeting.”
“Yes, of course.” As the balding man strolled happily out his office door, Ian wondered if maybe he should look for a new accountant. He was part of the HRT pool, but his attitude about Ian’s financial concerns seemed just a little cavalier.
As the accountant jauntily meandered out of his office, Ian was shocked to see a very white, shaken Jenson Michael just standing there…sweating.
“Jenson?” Ian looked at him.
“Uhm…hi?”
“Are you alright?” Ian asked.
“Sure?” The writer finally focused his eyes on him.
“Can I help you with any thing?” Ian asked, starting to get concerned.
“Kill me? Kill me now?”
“Okay…” Ian motioned the man to come in his office. “Blake, would you mind getting Jenson and I a couple of soft drinks?”
Blake disappeared to wherever it is Blake disappears to. “Jenson, come on in here and we can discuss disposal of the body.”
“Yeah.” Jenson chewed on his thumb and nodded his head. “Yeah. That’s good.” He stepped into Ian’s office and rabbited to a seat near the balcony window.
Before Ian could say anything else, Blake appeared with his handy dandy little tray. Ian took it from him. “Any idea what this is all about?”
Blake shook his head. “Just got out of the elevator and planted himself right where you found him about five minutes ago.”
Ian looked at his watch. “Bad timing…it’s “around’ one. If I’m not out of my office in five minutes, call Mr. Turner explain the little emergency and tell him I’ll be right up.”
“Got it.”
Ian took the tray and put it on his desk, double checking his watch. Jenson looked up at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“What?”
“You looked at your watch.” Jenson grabbed his stomach. “Oh, God. It’s time, isn’t it?”
“Uh…”
“Did you know about this?”
“Jenson, what are you talking about?”
“The call, did you know about the call?” He mumbled.
“Dude…get yourself together. Tell me, what call are you talking about?”
“David Turner, David Turner’s secretary called me this morning and told me to be in Mr. Turner’s office around one o’clock.” Jenson shot up from his position and started pacing the room. “You’ve decided you don’t like it. You don’t like anything and you’re ripping up the contract and I have to give all the money back. I know it. I just know it.”
Ian tried to get the man to stop pacing. “Jenson, hold on. I got a call, too. I don’t know anything, but if you got a call my guess is it is probably something about the series…”
Jenson grabbed his head and sat back down in the chair. “Oh God, oh God, oh God..."
“Calm down, calm down. Let me finish my sentence, man. I was going to say, yes it’s probably something about the series. Did Saxon Allen’s people contact you? It’s more than likely more about her taking on the reins of Executive Producer.”
“Saxon Allen….Saxon Allen…someone called me, but…but…”
Ian put his hands on the man’s shoulders. “For God’s sakes, Jenson, take a breath man. Take a breath. Look, if this were bad news, believe me, they’d make me deliver it. I’m the bottom of the totem pole, the big wigs don’t do the dirty work.”
“You’re sure?”
“Only one way to find out. Let’s go up there. Hey, if it’s bad news, you and I, we’re in this together.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Both of Jenson’s legs nervously bouncing. “Okay. Yeah.”
Ian had to help the man out of his chair, put his arm around him and practically guide him to the elevator. The poor man kept chewing on his nails. Ian was afraid that if the elevator doors didn’t open soon blood would start spurting from all ten fingers.
With relief, and trepidation, the doors finally opened to the penthouse office. Ian guided Jenson out of the elevators and to the service desk. “Good afternoon, Barbara.” Ian smiled.
She looked straight up. “Ah, good afternoon Mr. Justyn and Mr. Michaels…everyone else is in Mr. Turner’s office.”
“Everyone else?” Ian swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“Yes. Go right ahead in. They’re waiting on you.”
“Thank you.” Ian guided Jenson to the office he’d never been in. As he reached for the door latch, he had to fight the temptation to grab one of Jenson’s hands and start finishing up the chew job. Before he pushed the door open he looked at Michaels.
“Okay, stand up straight.”
Michaels obeyed.
“Take a deep breath.”
They both did.
“And here we go…” Ian pushed open the door.
“Hey there, Baby Doll!” Came the familiar voice a split second before he was racked in a bear hug.
“Tippy?” Ian pushed her back.
“And you must be that writer Ian keeps talking about.” Before Jenson could spit out a nail, Tippy had bear hugged the man, grabbed him and yanked him the rest of the way in the office. “Now this is my husband, Colton Shores, and the man behind the curtain over there is David Turner. Mr. Turner, I believe this is Mr. Jenson Michaels or is it Michael, singular, I’m not quite sure?”
“Uh…” Jenson was processing the speeding train that was Tippy Shores, when Turner stood and took over.
“Mr. Michaels, Young Justyn…please join us. May we get you something to drink?” He motioned to two empty chairs.
“I’m fine, Mr. Turner, thank you.”
“Mr. Michaels…Jenson? Something for you?” The old man asked. When Michaels shook his head, Turner had a seat. “I can only assume that you are wondering why I asked all of you to come on such short notice…”
Jenson’s leg began go bounce, and Tippy took her hand and squeezed his knee, smiling. The nervous tick ceased, and she turned back to Turner.
“Ian, I’d like to congratulate you on your instincts. You’ve spotted a real talent in Mr. Michaels here and had the good sense to nail him down.”
“Thank you, Mr. Turner, but I can’t take all the credit. The team found him, I just took the initiative to hunt him down and kill him." He laughed nervously. Michaels looked moments away from a coronary.
“Colton?” Turner turned to the quiet man. “What did you think?”
“I agree, Dave.” Colton turned to Jenson. “I’m not exactly sure why I was asked here this afternoon, Mr. Michaels, but the three scripts I was asked to look over are just about the best pieces of work I’ve seen.”
Tippy patted her husband’s arm and reached over and gave a soothing rub to Jenson’s back. “And we’ve both be around a long time, honey, so that’s a pretty high compliment.”
“Well, thank you. I’m flattered.” Jenson nodded humbly. “Though I’m thoroughly confused. I’m sure there’s a big ‘but…” coming.
“I’ve taken a very keen interest in Young Justyn here, and asked if I could take a look at the things that seem to be exciting him. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of getting Shores here to take a look as well.”
“Not at all sir.” Ian said. “But I am just as confused about what’s going on as Jenson is.”
Turner nodded his head. “Bear with me just a moment.”
Ian nodded. Turner nodded his head and picked up one of three manuscripts on his desk. Let’s start with the pilot script.”
“Anything you say, Mr. Turner…” Jenson gulped and squirmed in his chair.
“Usually in a freshman series the first episode is always the strongest. That isn’t the case here.”
Ian and Jenson looked at each other.
Turner waved his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, for an average series, the pilot script is great. Perfect set up, great presentation of character and plot, everything that signals a strong start to grab an audience and keep them tuning back in.”
“I agree, Dave.” Colton chimed in. “I’ve never read anything, in drama anyway, that by the end of the first scene you knew exactly what to expect from the two main characters with a set up to make you that anxious to know more.”
“I think Colton here will agree with me when I say, usually the next episodes always tend to be a let down.” Both Jenson and Ian started to speak. Turner cut them off. “Not in this case, the next episode is stronger than the first and the third, well let’s just say I think with the right cast and the right production team episode three would be classic.”
Both Ian and Jenson let out held breaths and relaxed in their chairs. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” Jenson groveled.
“Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Michaels. I am far from finished. I understand that Saxon Allen is interested in Executive Producing?”
“We have discussed that.” Ian said. “She’s requested a meeting with Jenson to see if they feel they would be able to work as a team together.”
Turner nodded. “Yes, I actually spoke with Ms. Allen this morning.” Turner looked at Ian with a wry smile. “She’s sends her best.”
Ian nodded his head, and couldn’t help but notice Tippy and Turner exchange looks. “She’s interested in forming a production company, I’m not sure if this would be a part of that, or if she would just be contracted through the network.”
“Yes.” Turner, “We discussed that at length, very smart, talented woman there, Young Justyn.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now. Let’s cut to the chase. Taking a look at everything and weighing some options, Mr. Michael…Ian, I’ve decided to over ride your green light for a pilot.” Turner said.
Both Ian and Jenson’s faces fell. “But Mr. Turner…” Ian tried to change his mind.
“Save your breath boy, you won’t change my mind. I’m nixing the pilot. Why waste the expense? At the meeting Wednesday I’m going to announce that we have already given you a contract and the go ahead for a full season order.”
Jenson almost passed out. Backs were slapped and congratulations were shouted.
“Wait…wait…” Turner insisted. “I have one condition…”
“Anything…anything Mr. Turner…” Jenson and Ian both chimed in.
Turner turned to Colton. “Now we get to why I not only asked you to take a look at these manuscripts, but why I asked you to join us as this little meeting.”
Colton nodded his head as the old man continued. “I will only okay this full season order without a pilot on the condition that you agree to play the father. It’s time you came back to television and I think this is the perfect vehicle.”
Colton was stunned, as was the rest of the group.
Turner quickly turned to Ian. “I apologize for stepping in with casting, but as you reminded me earlier in the week, I’m the boss and I’ve decided to step back in occasionally to throw my weight around.”
Colton looked at Turner, then to Ian . “I don’t know what to say…”
Jenson slapped his forehead. “Mr. Turner, how did you know?”
Turner smiled. “Justyn here isn’t the only one with good instincts…”
“How did he know what?” Ian asked.
“When I was writing the script…this is embarrassing…” Jenson looked at his feet. “I always imagine someone I know in the role or the character itself is simply a facsimile of someone. When I was writing this, well “Small Town Private Eye” was my favorite growing up and Mr. Shores you just became the main character. I am honored that Mr. Turner and Ian want to do this series, but I’d be even more honored if you would consider taking the role.”
“Colton, I’m sorry, I never thought of you, but you are perfect.” Ian apologized. “This series is…is not a soap, not a detective show, a little bit of old fashioned everything with jaw dropping twists every step of the way.”
Colton was obviously moved and nodded his head. “Well, I am tempted to just say yes, but I need to talk this over with my wife. It’s a big step, commitment to a series and all…”
They heard a throat being cleared behind them and they turned to see Tippy standing, trademark hands on hips. “The wife is honored the husband wants to talk it over first, but the wife thinks the husband is a darling idiot who needs to get back to work.” She said and very calmly reseated herself.
Colton tried to hide the fact that he was a little teary eyed. “Well, I guess that settles that.”
“Why don’t you come in the office next and we’ll work out the contract?” Turner told Colton who just nodded his head and held the script reverently in his hands.
And it was settled. David Turner got his hands dirty in his company once more. Colton Shores got a series. Mamie Rae Tipton got her husband out of the house. Ian Justyn got his first notch on the fall schedule and Jenson Michaels got his color back.
While Colton was off in the corner in deep conversation with Jenson and Turner, Tippy slipped her arm around Ian and kissed him on the cheek. “Congratulations, Baby Doll.”
“Thank you, Tippy. I didn’t realize how horrifying and exciting something could be at the same time.”
“It’s just the beginning.” She cooed. “Now, I think we should have a little family celebration, a big dinner.”
“I think that’s a great idea. You all enjoy yourselves.”
“You all? I said a family dinner, Baby Doll.” She looked at him with surprise. “I expect you to be there.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. I cannot express how much your friendship means to me but you don’t need me intruding in on a family celebration.”
“Ian…” Tippy put both hands on Ian’s shoulders, her eyes looking very deep into his. “Friends are people you run across in life and choose. They send a birthday card when they remember and give you a call to ask how you’re doing when they’re the ones who are lonely. Family is just always there, like or not.”
“I know.” He smiled at her.
“I don’t think you do, Baby Doll.” She cupped his jaw in her hand. “You got family, now—like it or not…and it’s not just me. Colton adores you, and look what you’ve done for Reese. I don’t know what you did, but he’s smiling again, living again and Jesse’s like Ralphie, looking for any excuse to wag his tail and follow you around. I know we’re not blood, sweetheart, but we all share the same heart.”
Ian took her hand and kissed her palm. Tippy quickly grasped his hand. “Ian, you got this big ol’ heart with a big ol’ stonewall around it. Everyone around you can see that. We feel it, and I know you’re trying, but it feels like you’re afraid to let someone love you back, darlin’. Let us.”
She pushed him a little. “I dare you. Come on over to the house, no paperwork, no excuses. Help us mess up the kitchen and have a big old loud family meal. We’re Baptists. You can’t have any kind of real celebration without lotsa noise and fried chicken.”
“Well, if you’re going to put it that way…”
“Good.” Tippy giggled. “Now, I’ll give Saxon a call and get her over there, too. Can she cook or at least help us make a big mess?”
Ian laughed. “Actually, she’s out of town.”
“Well, I’ll call and leave a message anyway. She needs to know she’s always welcome, too.” Tippy pulled out her cell phone. “What’s her number, Baby Doll?”
Ian gently took the cell phone and closed it. “Tippy, Saxon’s on a romantic getaway with her boyfriend.” He handed the phone back.
“Oh, honey…”
“Don’t act like I’ve been jilted.” Ian slipped an arm around her and started walking with her toward her husband. “I kept trying to tell you that Saxon and I are just friends. I’m happy for her.”
“If you say so…” Tippy took a deep breath. “Now, what shall we have with the fried chicken…?”
“Well, taters…” Ian was shocked she even had to ask. “You got to have taters and white gravy.”
“Can you make white gravy, old fashion white gravy?” She asked.
“Mamie Rae Tipton…” Ian squeezed her close. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my white peppered gravy.”
Ian barely had enough time to gather the team and announce that Jenson’s script had garnered them a guaranteed spot on the fall schedule, when David Turner made an unscheduled appearance. He was handed a glass of champagne and he seemed to be as genuinely excited as the rest.
Before that glass was emptied, the team was already off and running on the next project. With one firmed, they were stoked to make sure they had more to offer. There was a comedy they all liked, a Jack Benny-esque show within a show format, but modernized with a setting of a local cable show that was broadcast from the home of a rural housewife.
Wella and Ian both were intent on figuring out a way to bring back the old fashion variety show, but they couldn’t agree on a star for the vehicle. The rest of the team insisted that they had to find a modern twist to it, which kept them at a stalemate. Of course that lead them right back to the problem called the daytime schedule.
While Turner led the group on a heated debate on exactly where the line was in the speed of daytime story telling, Ian sat back and thought over his conversation with Amanda Jackson. He knew it was too soon to let them know, that “Blood Kisses” was theirs. The legal and moral issues of what was to happen would be a soap opera in itself.
Ian had already alerted Turner to what was going on. The man kept looking at Ian with a knowing twinkle the younger was beginning to recognize in the older’s eye. The two of them had to do some quiet investigation, hoping not to alert a media fire storm. It was going to be big but the fall out at this point could fall either way. The “subteam” had to make sure that the odds of aftermath were lined up just right to explode in their favor.
“You just name two families, and decide which hot chick from the rich family and which hot chick from the poor family are going to do nasty things to each other to win the love of the hunky doctor who just moved into town.” The voice Ian didn’t recognize said. “It’s pretty simple.”
The team stopped and all peered in unison at the stranger who had entered the discussion uninvited. The man smiled, leaning on a desk with his arms crossed as though he’d been a part of the debate from the beginning. “What? Is that not right?”
David Turner looked up. “Maybe you’d better stick to reading from the pages you’re handed.”
The man dazzled the group with his smile. “That’s what you’re paying me the big bucks to do.”
Turner extricated himself from the group and went over to shake the man’s hand. He turned to Ian’s team. “I’m sure this man needs no introduction but formally, ladies and gentlemen meet Jeff Torkelson, one of the newest additions to our family.”
The group applauded kindly. “Thank you all, forgive me for just slipping in.”
“Not at all, Jeff.” Turner slapped him on the shoulder. “What brings you down here with the masses?”
“I just finished up a meeting with Simon Kent, and thought I’d wander in this direction to see what all the fuss was about.”
Ian extended his hand to the man. “We are honored that you joined us. Thank you.”
“I’ve heard all the noise.” Torkelson said. “I thought while I was here, I’d see if I could find out for myself…impressive. Don’t really know what the hell you where talking about, but it sounded like you knew what you were doing.”
“I’m glad you wandered down here.” Turner said. “I had planned on seeing if I could set up a meet with the two of you. I’m happy you did it on your own.”
“Thank you, Mr. Turner.” Ian smiled. “But I am sure Mr. Torkelson is just figuring out how things run around here. He’s been a part of a different network for almost a decade now. I’m happy he bumped into our floor.”
“Actually, I was specifically looking to run into you.” Torkelson corrected him.
“Well, I’m flattered.”
“Do you have a moment to spare for me?” He asked. “I see that you’re busy. I can set up a more convenient time for you.”
“Uh, no. We were just finishing up here. Would you like to talk in the office?”
The TV star smiled. “Thank you.”
Ian turned to the CEO, “Would you care to join us, Mr. Turner, if that’s alright with Mr. Torkelson?”
“Please.” Torkelson responded. “I had planned on wandering back up to speak with you as well.”
“Then by all means, I’ll join you.” Turner turned to the group. “As always, it has been a pleasure. Again I congratulate you and look forward to the excitement you are creating for this company. Please, keep up the good work.” He strode without prompting toward Ian’s office.
“Would you like a glass of champagne, Mr. Torkelson?” Ian asked as his used his arm to guide the man toward his door.
“Thank you, but no.” A few steps later, Jeff Torkelson was seated between Turner and Ian in a comfy clatch that had been arranged to enjoy the view off the balcony doors.
“Now, what may the two of us do for you, Mr. Torkelson?” Turner asked quickly.
“Basically, Mr. Turner…” Torkelson popped both hands on the arm of the chair he was seated in. “I wanted to meet the two men who were unhappy with my new show coming to the network.”
“Jeff,” Turner shook his head, half smiling. “I think you have been slightly mislead. Neither Young Justyn and I are unhappy. The two of us simply expressed reservations at the rush.” Turner looked at Ian for support.
“I can’t speak for Mr. Turner, but I think we were both thinking the same thing. We wanted to make sure that the series was worthy of the talented people who were eager to make such a commitment.” Ian scooted closer to the edge of his chair.
Torkelson nodded his head. “You didn’t agree with Simon then, that we needed to do the spin off immediately?”
“Well,” Turner chose his words. “It certainly would have been a contractual point I would have argued with, but when Kent informed me that he had been approached, I told him to do whatever it took with few provisions.”
“If you will forgive me, Mr. Torkelson…” Ian broached.
“Jeff, call me Jeff.”
Ian nodded his head. “Jeff, I’m not sure I understand. The contracts have all been signed. We are giving you a plum birth on the schedule. The network is committed, determined, to make the best vehicle possible. What difference is does it make now, that there were reservations about timing? I can assure you that everyone in this building shares the same goal, to make the “The Jeff Torkelson Show” more than just the most talked about new series of the fall, but to make sure it’s stays the most talked about after it’s debut.”
“Thank you.” Jeff leaned forward and put his elbows on his thighs. “I guess I just needed a little reassurance. When Kent inferred that the CEO and his latest protégé argued against the show, especially after the network approached my people with the deal of a lifetime…”
Ian looked at Turner. “We approached your people?”
“Well yes.” Torkelson looked at Ian. “Everyone else on the show has forged movie careers. I like television. This is my medium, but I’d planned on relaxing a year or two, taking my time finding the right project.”
“Jeff, pardon me for asking, “ Turner cleared his throat. “But exactly when did you decide to forge ahead with a spin off, if you’d made other plans?”
“When Simon Kent contacted me and dropped this sweet deal in my lap. I was apprehensive myself, but he said it had to be a spin off and it had to start this September. I usually follow my instincts, but he seemed to make everything fall in place, most of the same writers, offering the same time slot. When he told me the two of you would probably fight every step of the way, I was beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Kent approached you?” Turner sat rigid in his chair.
“Yes.”
Ian looked at Turner. Turner looked at Ian. They both turned to see the sudden panic on Jeff Torkelson’s face. Ian sat back and tried to look as relaxed as possible in his chair.
Ian smiled. “Jeff I admit that I had questions, but this is your show, yours and Simon Kent’s. I have no control and no input. I totally support you.”
“Well, thank you.” Jeff looked at Turner. “I apologize. I think you both misunderstand my reasons for wanting to meet with you, especially now. Simon has mentioned several times that Ian doesn’t like the concept and that he’s using his relationship with you to pressure Kent for changes…”
Ian was beginning to see red, “Jeff…I have in no way…”
“…But…” Jeff put up his hand and cut Ian off. “I’m not an idiot. I only play one on TV. I don’t trust Kent. I’ve been talking it over with my wife, and she encouraged me to do a little investigation on my own. That’s what I’m doing here today.”
“You are asking to be let out of your contract?” Turner couldn’t help but let slip out.
“No. The more I look, the more I like HRT. I think this is going to be good, but I am asking if it’s possible to get out of Simon Kent.”
Ian put a finger in the air. “Jeff, may I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“I have to admit, I obviously misunderstood a lot of what was said when Kent made his announcement at what was literally my first scheduling meeting. I just want to make sure that I am clear. Is this series being produced by your own production company or is it owned and produced by HRT?”
“Kent tried to get it produced under his umbrella head, but I made it a stipulation that it be network owned and produced with a codicil depending on the success to form my own company with HRT having first look at all future productions.”
“His umbrella head?” Turner was struggling to control the tone in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Torkelson, rest assured that if you want Kent to back off. Kent will back off. You and the people you have assembled make the show you want to make. I will personally see to it that you get anything you need, and the network will take a hands off approach creatively unless you ask for input.” Turner tapped his cane on the floor.
“Thank you, Mr. Turner. It is a relief to find that we aren’t going to be forced to make changes we have reservations about. You don’t have any reservations, do you?” He asked.
Turner shook his head. “Jeff, I look forward to what will hopefully a long and creatively profitable relationship for all concerned. I’ll have a little chat with Simon Kent personally. I apologize, but I feel that there have been several misunderstandings here, I hope that this brief chat has helped to qualm any trepidation on your part, and may I reiterate on behalf of both Ian and I, that there were never any qualms about the vehicle or your participation in it, only in the manner in which Simon Kent chose to market it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Turner.”
Turner stood. “If the two of you will excuse me.”
Torkelson stood. “Of course. I appreciate that you took time out of your busy schedule to soothe what was obviously just my ego.”
“Jeff, one thing you will learn, hopefully very quickly about this company, if I thought this was only about your ego, I’d have tossed you out on your ass.” Turner shook the star’s hand, and tipped his head to Ian. “Young Justyn, will you stop in my office before leaving for the day? I’ll tell Barbara to show you right in.”
“Of course, Mr. Turner.” As soon as the door was closed, Ian turned to Torkelson. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Jeff?”
“Do you guys always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Bounce ideas around like that.”
“You mean outside with the team? Yes, several times a day. It’s our version of the think tank.”
“Have you discussed my show that way?”
“No. As I told you earlier, other than eagerly awaiting to see a finished product, it’s nothing I’m involved in. I’m busy trying to get a few of my own ideas polished to hopefully get a slot or two on the schedule.”
“Have you read the pilot script?”
“No, again. Not privy to that. Kent keeps his projects under lock and key. I have trouble even getting copies of contracts that directly affect me, but that’s the way he does things. It works for him.”
“You don’t like the way he does things?”
“It doesn’t effect me, Jeff. Well, it does is if one of his projects knocks mine out of contention, but I’d like to think that meant that he had the better project. It’s all subjective.”
“I can only assume that the two of you don’t get along.”
“Interesting turn of phrase, Jeff. I have nothing against the man personally. I don’t know him. He’s made a point to keep me as far away as possible, which is sad because I think there’s a lot I could learn from him.” Ian walked over to the cabinet on the far wall of his office. “I’m in the mood for some hot tea. Would you like some?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
Ian filled a small kettle with water, and placed it on a hot plate. “Simon Kent has been a part of this network and this business for a long time. It saddens me that someone as green as I am, has been banished from enjoying the history and knowledge that would come from working with and beside someone with that lineage.”
“May I ask, what caused this, from what I see, rather lop sided rift?”
“I have no idea. I showed up for work, and he made it clear almost from the moment we met that I was person non grata, and I simply accept that. Growing up, coming from where I do and the way I did, I learned the only thing I can do to change one’s opinion is too do the best I can, and earn it. I truly hope that at some point, even if we never become “bestest buds” that I manage to earn a little of the man’s respect. His longevity has certainly earned mine.”
“That’s not what I expected at all.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad?”
“Good. I’m understanding what everyone seems to be talking about.”
“Jeff, I never know how to take that statement. As an executive, any good buzz is to be savored, but as a human being and a self proclaimed artist, I would hope people had better things to talk about.”
“It’s always frustrating when people seem to be buzzing about you, but believe me it’s just as frustrating when they stop.” Jeff stood and walked toward the bar where Ian was filling a tea ball with black leaves. “I’d be interested in your opinion of what we are doing with the show.”
“All I know is that you are taking the character and moving him to a new town with a new set of friends. My understanding is that it is more of a star vehicle than an ensemble show.”
“And?” Jeff smiled. “Be honest.”
“I think you as a talent are very worthy of a star vehicle. I fear the character is not.”
“Ouch.”
“However, taking a look at successful spin offs, with good writing and a strong format almost any character can be made into not only a successful series, but a great one not matter how much the new guy goes…” Ian did his valley girl impression “I don’t see it.”
“May I send you some of the scripts?”
“Actually, I’d rather not rankle the ire of Simon Kent. I’ll wait for the debut like the rest of America.”
“No, I’d really like to know what you think, and Kent doesn’t have to know. I do owe the man for putting this deal together for me, but I have recently been assured by the CEO of this company now that the ink is dry, Kent doesn’t really have any input in to what I do or don’t do.”
“Ah, but I have to share a building with the man, you don't."
“Our secret. I give you my word.”
Tea was shared and the conversation for the next half hour meandered from existentialism to workout regimens to whether or not a Snickers bar was better frozen or just a little “melty’. When Jeff Torkelson was escorted to the elevator, Ian was laughing to himself to the odd turn of events that happened each and every day in his office.
Ian called David Turner a brief two hours later, asking if it would be a good time to come to his office. Ten minutes later he was seated for the second time that day being apologized to by the CEO and Chairman of the Board.
Turner was upset that Kent had basically lied to all involved in order to snag a hot property. He was also worried that Ian might be feeling Kent was presenting him to his cronies as little more than a yes man. David Turner wanted to assure Ian that not only was his tenure at HRT assured, but that it was because he was any thing but a yes man, proving to have a natural ability to spur creative confidence among the talented and influence quality.
Ian was humbled at Turner’s words. He thanked him with honest humility and promised that he would do his best to keep the man’s opinion of him so high.
As he left the office and headed for a brief shopping spree, all he could think about was how it seemed his work at HRT had only inspired lies and deception from Simon Kent. Granted he had exchanged some words that he shouldn’t have, but the man continually seemed to be goading Ian into a battle he had absolutely no intention of getting involved in.
Maybe that was a mistake he pondered. Perhaps Ian should get involved in all the politics of power. Should he worry about who actually got appointed Tolan’s position once he retired? Tolan had given Ian this job, when clearly many thought he was the wrong choice.
He would earn this year more money than he had his entire life three times over. Thanks to some wise savings and investments he had been able to purchase a beautiful home at a yard sale price with practically no mortgage. All that could all be put in jeopardy, should Tolan be replaced by Kent or someone with a similar opinion.
No, Ian’s best bet was to do the best work he could and keep as far away as possible from what would obviously become a ferocious battle for VP of the network. It was a job that clearly Ian had no chance of obtaining this early in his career, and the possibility of making more enemies than aligning himself any part of that bloodbath would just be, well, bad politics.
It took Ian longer than he intended but he had finally gotten everything that he needed, he hoped. He had pulled in the driveway and had just figured out how to get everything in one trip when he realized that he’d pulled in the wrong driveway.
He piled everything back in his old Chevy, backed out of his own driveway, piled over into the Shores and started the whole battle again. He had managed to get up the steps without dropping anything and then stood there wondering how the heck to ring the doorbell.
Just as he was about to slip off his shoe and aim his big toe, the door swung open, a beaming Tippy on the other side. “Boys!” she immediately screamed. Reece and Jesse sprang to the rescue each grabbing part of Ian’s wares and carrying them to the kitchen.
“Okay, what’s cookin’ in here?” he asked as he made his entrance. Jesse was at the sink washing potatoes, Tippy was stirring something boiling in a pot and Reece was looking into a bag.
“What are all these green beans for?” He asked.
“That’s a little something special for your Mom.”
Tippy’s eyes got wide. “You’re not! Tell me you can’t do that!”
“I can…my Aunt Hil’s very own recipe!”
“Ant Hill?” Jesse stopped scrubbing spuds. “You gonna make ant hills out of green beans?”
“No, my neighbor back home, her name was Hilary, but I always called her Aunt Hil.”
“Baby Doll, I don’t care if you called her Uncle Cow Plop, if she taught you how to make Pickle Beans.”
“She did, as soon as we get them snapped, I’ll get the pressure cooker started.”
Reece pointed to a box on the table. “Is that what that thing is?”
“Yep, wasn’t sure there was one here, so I bought one…”
“How did you learn to do all this, honey?”
“My Grandma died when I was young and I was raised by my Uncle who basically just expected me to do everything, so I cooked and I cleaned and I raised myself.”
“Oh sweetums.”
“He nearly had a fit when I was given a full scholarship to college. He was demanding that I not go, I had obligations, fortunately he got drunk one afternoon working in the fields and ran himself over with the hay baler.”
“Ewww!”
“Next subject.” Ian said.
“I’m on potato duty. Spuds all cleaned up, sir!” Jesse saluted.
“Peel ‘em, soldier.” Ian Saluted back.
Jesse found a peeler in a drawer and started peeling. Ian found a large pot and filled it full of water, adding salt and rosemary.
“You put rosemary in your potato water?” Tippy asked.
“Yes ma’am.”
“That’s why they tasted better than mine.”
“Tippy nothing tastes better than yours. Mine just tasted a little different.”
“They were better…” Reece said and quickly ducked the handful of potato peels Tippy lobbed at him. Her phone rang.
“Hi honey! I’m divorcing you and marrying Ian, it’s just for the food though, we can still have sex…Sure we’ll be here for a while I assume…what kind of problem….Earl Wayne, I told you to watch him…okay, just pour him in the AV and get him here…You are in so much trouble….Love you too” she hung up the phone.
“Boys listen up for your Daddy’s AV, when you hear it, run outside and give him a hand. He said he was just up the street. Ian check and make sure there are clean sheets in that guest room right there.” She pointed to the closest of the two. “I think we’re gonna end up with an uninvited overnight guest. Sorry.”
As Ian double checked the guest room he yelled back to the kitchen. “Whose the guest?”
“An old friend of ours, Jimmy Sage.”
Jimmy Sage was one of the hottest country music acts around. He’d had 14 straight top tens, 9 of which went number one, in a short five year span. It seemed nothing could stop the man. His rugged country boy looks, his sexy baritone and his self depreciating demeanor sent him kept him at the top.
He had abruptly cut his tour short last year to spend time with his wife. Rumors brewed about trouble with in his marriage. He had married his high school sweetheart the day she turned 18, he was only a few weeks older. Three months ago his record company announced that his wife had succumbed to a long fight with breast cancer at the age of 31. The public hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
Suddenly there he was, at the Shore’s front door, three sheets—no make that five sheets---to the wind and barely being held back by three full grown men. “Miss Tippy!” he slurred and did something slightly resembling a walk to Tippy and hugged her. “Me and Colton had a couple of small beers. I don’t remember this part of your house. Did you just built it?”
“Yes, Jimmy, while you and Colton were having a few beers, the boys and I built a whole new wing. Do you like it?”
“Yes, ma’am” he nodded and pointed at Ian. “Who this?”
Ian stuck out his hand, “I’m Ian Justyn, Tippy and Colton’s neighbor. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jimmy fell forward and threw his entire six foot three body weight onto Ian’s shoulders. “Gawdang, boys watch yerseffs. You tripped me.” He pronounce tripped with two syllables.
“Why don’t you come over here on the couch Jimmy?” Ian offered.
“I’ll get some coffee.” Tippy offered and shot a look at Carlton who was white with silence. “Earl Wayne! I will deal with you later.”
“Who the hell is Earl Wayne?” Jimmy hiccupped.
“Uh, that’s m’Dad” Reece offered.
“Mom always calls him by his real name when she pissed at him.” Jesse added.
Jimmy nodded his head, “What’s she pissed at ya for Earl Wayne?”
“I’m afraid I let a buddy have a little too much to drink. Course, it didn’t help that while I was nursing a beer, he was sneaking shots of bourbon.”
“Ooh, bad buddy…bad buddy…Is it just me or iss it hot in hyere?” Jimmy started unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his pants at the same time.
“Here let me open the windows.” Ian said.
Colton jumped in, “I’ll do that, you just see if you can keep him from getting naked…again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, I’ve given up.” Colton threw back the curtains and twisted the latch.
By the time Ian had turned back around. Jimmy was standing up with his jeans down around the tips of his boots, and was struggling to get his hands out of the inside out shirt hanging from them. Reese and Jessie were struggling not sure which way they should be helping.
Jimmy stopped in mid struggle. “Oh Gawd! I need to use the bathroom. Where’d you boys build the new one?”
Reese had managed to get Jimmy’s hands free. Ian slung one of his arms around his shoulder and helped waddle Jimmy to the bathroom as quickly as he could. Amazingly, Jimmy’s cowboy hat managed to stay on the entire time, until the moment he bent to the commode and vomited. At which point and time the hat was the first thing to be filled.
At the first sight of vomit, Reese covered his own mouth and ran off to the next free toilet. Ian had been through this many times before, but this time he at least felt sorry for the man and didn’t have to fight the need to hold his head down in his own vomit and flush.
Ian grabbed a guest towel and ran it under cold water, twisted it and dabbed Jimmy’s face in between rounds of puking his guts out. He flushed and rubbed Jimmy’s head and fed him soothing words. Jimmy kept looking at Ian, helplessly as he just could not control what he had done to his body.
“Just relax, Jimmy, everything will be just fine. Just relax.”
Jimmy would nod his head, and vomit some more. Ian knew the best thing for him was to get as much of the alcohol out of his system as possible. He kept flushing as often as he could, knowing from experience that the smell of fresh water would cause a drunken stomach to heave.
Tippy slipped in the bathroom and put a tray of black coffee on the vanity. “Looks like you have everything under control.”
Ian looked at Tippy. “I have lots of experience with this.”
She patted him on the shoulder and nodded. “You just holler if you need help. We’ll be by the pool snapping beans.” She started to turn and leave but paused long enough to grab the hat and slip it into one of the empty grocery bags. “I’ll just have Colton hose this off and send it to the cleaners. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
“Tippy, don’t be too hard on Colton. When a man’s in pain, he’ll find a way to make it stop no matter how hard good friends with good intentions try.” Tippy smiled and nodded her head.
Ian turned back to Jimmy. The heaving had stopped and he was still on all fours panting, eyes watering and red faced. Ian rinsed out the towel again and patted his face and mouth. “How ya doin, Jimmy?”
“Oh…” Jimmy said, “I’m hanging in there.”
“Hope it doesn’t make you taller." Ian flushed the toilet. “Come on…” he helped Jimmy stand up and got him to the sink. Ian filled a big disposable cup with tap water and handed it to Jimmy. “Here. Don’t drink it. Just rinse out your mouth…you’ll feel better.”
“No I won’t,” he protested.
“Yeah you will. Just trust me, Jimmy. Maybe not now, but you will feel better.”
Jimmy slugged the water and Ian could see him swish it around in his mouth. He leaned over and spit and burst into tears. Ian turned on the spigot and rinsed the sink, steadying Jimmy who was uncontrollably sobbing.
“Come on, Jimmy, let’s sit back down, just you and me. We’ll close the door and you just let it all out.”
“Okay.” He said like a child.
He helped Jimmy to the floor and eased the door shut with his free hand. Ian reached down and yanked Jimmy’s boots off, tossing the boots and the vomit covered jeans in the tub. He sat down beside Jimmy and put his arm around his shoulders.
Jimmy turned and looked in his eyes and softly said, “I loved her so much…” and then absolutely crumbled.
Ian held him tight. “Yes you did, Jimmy.” He rubbed his shoulders with one hand and patted his back with the other. “It’s okay, buddy, just let it break.” And he did, sobbing so long and so hard that by the time the tears stopped flowing Jimmy couldn’t even speak, his throat as raw as his heart.
Ian finally poured a cup of coffee and helped hold it as Jimmy drank thirstily. “Let’s get you to bed and some sleep.”
Jimmy nodded his head, and Jimmy seemed pretty steady only using Ian as a crutch a couple of times. Ian finally got him to sit on the bed. “You just relax and try to get some sleep. We’re all here for anything you need.”
Jimmy looked at him with red puffy eyes and just nodded. Ian took a fresh towel and wiped Jimmy down with it. Jimmy held out his arms and feet while Ian cleaned them like a toddler dutifully being bathed.
By the time he had dampened another towel and returned to the guest room, Jimmy had managed to stretch out on his back, hands at his sides staring straight up at the ceiling. Ian covered the trembling cowboy with a throw. “Good night, Jimmy.”
Ian turned off the light and turned to go. Jimmy grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “You want the light on?”
Jimmy nodded his head, and let go of Ian’s hand. In a moment he was sound asleep. Ian pulled the throw around the sleeping cowboy’s shoulders and quietly pulled the door to.
He found the group out by the pool snapping beans. As soon Tippy saw Ian she grinned broadly, “This is so “Beverly Hillbillies” don’t you think? All the clan sitting around the cement pond as the sun goes down a snappin’ beans.”
Ian put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Tippy patted Ian’s hand and said as she went back to her beans, “He’ll be as fine as he can be, Baby Doll.”
Ian sat cross-legged on the ground and started stringing a handful of beans. Tippy chucked his chin, then looked at her youngest son. “Jesse, darling, when you snap ‘em, pull the strings off, too.”
“Sorry, mama, I haven’t done this much, the bean thing anyway.”
“It’s alright baby, just look ‘em over real good before you put ‘em in the bowl.” She dropped her handful in a large bowl and grabbed another that she plopped in her lap. “Jimmy has family all around him tonight, and as long as he needs us.”
Ian nodded his head and reached for another handful of beans. Tippy grabbed him by the chin and held his face so she was looking right into Ian’s blue eyes, “And you, too, don’t ever forget that.”
Ian just nodded his head and tightened his lips so they wouldn’t tremble.
“We should do this more often.” Reese said to no one.
Colton remembered, “We always used to have a family night once a week until we all went off on our separate ways. We’d have a big old meal and play board games and stuff. It was fun.”
“Mama always made us have Sunday dinner together,” Tippy said, “It was a cardinal rule in our house, as long as you weren’t dead and someone could drive you there and back before bedtime you were expected.”
“Now Ian, what about this Aunt Hil you were talking about. Was she your mother’s sister or your father’s?” Tippy asked.
“Actually neither. I just always called her that. She and my grandma were close, but were not related in any way, unless we were a lot more Southern than any one is willing to admit.”
Tippy smiled and nodded her head. Jesse looked at them, “Huh?”
Reese nudged Jess. “Ian’s Aunt Hil was an old black lady who lived in a house beside the farm.”
“She was probably the closest thing to a mother I had. She always made sure I was well fed and able to take care of myself after Grandma died. Taught me how to cook and made sure I knew how to get things done that needed to be.”
“Who taught you to play guitar?” Reese asked.
“Nobody really. I kinda taught myself. I’ve just always been able to pick up things real quick when I set my mind to it. Aunt Hil said I had ‘the ear’, but Uncle Nate always called it a curse. Pitched a fit if I even hummed in the shower. Not that we had a shower or a toilet.”
“Surely those people who bought the house put a bathroom in.” Tippy said never taking her eyes off her lap of green beans.
“Oh they tore the whole place down, or blew on it and let it fall down. Kyle and Janie rebuilt the house. It was a nice piece of land though.”
“Wait a minute,” Jesse said, “You grew up in a house without a toilet or a bathtub?”
“I grew up in tobacco and coal country Jesse; no one had a lot of money. Granted most had indoor plumbing, and if Grandma had lived a little longer we probably would have too, but Uncle Nate just never seemed to bother.”
Jesse shook his head. “I can’t imagine that.”
Ian tried to explain to him. “There was a big silver tub that we’d fill with hot water out in the Spring House for baths. And we did have running water, so that wasn’t as big a chore as it could have been. And there was a working outdoor shower stall that Aunt Hil said had been put in when the place had ranch hands. Of course, I only used that during the summer.”
“Do you know if that little Sugar Plum won his prize or not?” Tippy asked.
“All I know is that first thing Tuesday morning, a big black limo pulled up in front of Lost Mountain Grammar School and a man in a uniform hand delivered a package to Ronnie Osborne in his classroom that he had to sign for.”
“Bet that still has the whole town talking.” Colton chuckled as he picked back over the beans Jesse had snapped.
“Did you send everything?” Tippy wanted to know.
“I sent five letters, a number of autographed pictures, my Oscar program signed by Saxon and a number of others, including two of the winners. I got everyone in my office to sign some promo sheets from HRT and included a DVD of two episodes of some children’s program that runs on Saturday mornings that haven’t aired yet.” Ian looked up at Tippy.
“Not bad.”
“The only other thing I could scrounge up was a token for a car wash and a voucher for a free bikini wax.”
“I don’t know…” Tippy shook her head. “That could have persuaded the teacher a little.”
Ian was just about to grab another handful of beans when his cell phone rang. Ian slipped it out of his pocket and held it out to Tippy. “Did you wanna get this for me?”
“Who is it?” she asked.
Ian looked at the number flashing. “I don’t know.”
“Well answer it Baby Doll and find out.”
Ian flipped open the phone. “Hello?”
“Mr. Justyn? This is Janie Osbourne…”
“Janie! We were just talking about Ronnie . Did he…”
“That’s so nice Mr. Justyn, but this isn’t really a social call…”
“Janie…what’s wrong…?
“Oh honey, I don’t know how to tell you this…” Ian wasn’t sure, but he thought she might be crying.
“Janie just blurt it out, don’t think about it….”
“Mr. Justyn…Ian…Miz Hilary has passed….”
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