was standing in the door to Sy’s office exactly two minutes before their appointed meeting, anger bubbling over.
“Sy,” she said. “I’d like to speak to you about—”
That was when she noticed Shoshona was already sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, wearing, as usual, something from Crewcuts, the J.Crew children’s section; she was that skinny.
“Oh, Meena,” Shoshona Metzenbaum said, tossing some of her long, silky dark hair. “There you are. I was just telling Sy how much I love the little treatment you gave him. The one about Tabby being in love with that bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks? So sweet.”
Sweet? Up until today, Shoshona’s only job responsibility at Insatiable had been, like Meena’s, to write the dialogue for story breakdowns, especially those featuring the show’s biggest and longest-running star, Cheryl Trent, who played Victoria Worthington Stone, and now her teenage daughter on the show, Tabitha.
Except that Shoshona had rarely been able to handle even that, always leaving early to go to the gym or calling to say she’d be late because her convertible had broken down on the way back into the city from the Metzenbaum family weekend home in the Hamptons.
Or the decorator who was redoing her downtown loft hadn’t shown up on time.
Or she’d missed the last flight out of St. Croix and was going to have to stay another night.
Not that anyone who mattered ever got upset about these things, considering who Shoshona’s aunt and uncle were: Fran and Stan Metzenbaum, Insatiable’s executive producers and cocreators.
It would have been different, Meena thought, if Shoshona had actually deserved this promotion. If it had been Paul or any of the other writers who actually showed up to the office once in a while, Meena wouldn’t have minded.
But Shoshona? Meena had once overheard her bragging on the phone to a friend that she’d never even watched the show until her aunt and uncle had hired her to come work for them … unlike Meena, who’d never missed a single episode—not since she turned twelve. Shoshona didn’t know the names of every single one of Victoria’s ex-husbands, the way Meena did, or why they’d broken up (Victoria was insatiable, it was true, but not terribly lucky in love). Or that Victoria’s beloved teenage daughter, Tabitha, was following in her mom’s footsteps. (So far they’d managed to kill off every single one of Tabby’s love interests. The latest had just been blown up in a Jet Ski accident intended for Tabby by a spurned stalker.)
“I’m glad you like it,” Meena said with forced patience. “I thought throwing in a bad boy for Tabby might attract a younger demographic—”
“That’s exactly what we’re hearing from corporate,” Shoshona said, flinging Sy an astonished glance. “We were just sitting here discussing that. Weren’t we, Sy?”
“We were,” Sy said, beaming at Meena. “Come on in, kid, and take a seat. You heard the great news about Shoshona?”
Meena couldn’t bring herself to look at Shoshona, she was so furious. She kept her gaze on Sy as she sank into the other Aeron chair in front of his desk.
“I did,” she said. “And I was really hoping to have a word with you in private this morning, Sy.”
“Nothing you can’t say to me in front of Shoshona,” Sy said jovially, waving a hand. “Frankly, I think this is just fantastic. We’re going to have some real estrogen power going on here!”
Meena stared at him. Had Sy really just said the words estrogen power?
And could he actually not know that Meena had been the one doing all of Shoshona’s work for the past twelve months?
“Right,” Shoshona said. “So I think Meena should be one of the first to know about the new direction the network would like to see us start heading in.”
“The network?” Meena echoed bewilderedly.
“Well, our sponsor, really,” Shoshona said, correcting herself.
To Meena’s knowledge, Consumer Dynamics Inc.—Insatiable’s sponsor, a multinational technology and services conglomerate, which also happened to own Affiliated Broadcast Network—had never once lowered itself to bother with the show.
Until now, apparently.
“In a word,” Shoshona said, “they want us to go vampire. All vampire, all the time.”
Meena immediately felt the bagel and coffee she’d had for breakfast come back up.
“No,” she said after swallowing hard. “We can’t do that.”
Sy blinked confusedly at Meena. “Why the hell not?”
She ought to have known. Her day, which had already started off so badly, could only get worse. Lately her whole life had been headed in a steady downward trajectory.
“Well, for one thing, because there’s already a soap opera on a rival network with a vampire story line that’s killing us in the ratings,” Meena said. “A little show called Lust. Remember? I mean, we have to have some pride. We can’t just outright copy Lust.”
Shoshona pretended to be busy straightening her patterned hose as Meena spoke. Sy, peering over his desk, couldn’t take his eyes off her long, coltish legs.
Meena wished she had a mini-Butterfinger for sustenance. Or to smash into Shoshona’s flat-ironed hair.
Flat-ironing! Who even bothered anymore?
Certainly not Meena, who had hacked off most of her dark hair at Leisha’s command—Leisha’s “gift” was that she could look at anyone and immediately tell them exactly the most flattering way they ought to be wearing their hair—and who had enough problems making it to work on time without having to worry about flat-ironing, even when she wasn’t busy trying to save young girls on the subway from certain death by white slavery.
“We’ll look like total fools,” Meena said.
“I don’t think so,” Shoshona said coolly. “Lust is obviously doing something right. It’s one of the few soaps right now that hasn’t been canceled or been forced to move to L.A. to shoot to save money. It’s actually going up in the ratings. And like you said, if we’re going to survive, we need to pull in a younger demographic. Kids don’t care about soaps. It’s all about reality shows to them.”
“And what’s so real,” Meena demanded, “about vampires?”
“Oh, I assure you, they’re real,” Shoshona said with a catlike smile. “You’ve read about those girls they keep finding, drained of all their blood, in parks all over New York City, haven’t you?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Meena said sourly. “They weren’t drained of all their blood. They were just strangled.”
“Um, excuse me,” Shoshona said. “But I have an inside source who says all three of those girls were bitten everywhere and drained of every drop of their blood. There’s a real-life vampire here in Manhattan, and he’s feeding on innocent girls.”
Meena rolled her eyes. Okay. It was true some girls had turned up dead lately in a few city parks.
But drained of their blood? Shoshona was taking vampire fever—which, yes, gripped the country, there was no denying that; it was obvious enough that even Consumer Dynamics Inc. was aware of it, and they were so oblivious to trends that they still thought having a MySpace page was cutting-edge—too far.
“So let’s give the show a pulled-from-the-headlines feel,” Shoshona went on, “and have a vampire feed on the girls in Insatiable. Tabby’s friends. And let him brainwash Tabby, and let Tabby be his vampire bride.”
Sy pointed at Shoshona. “Vampire bride,” he yelled. “I love it. Even better, CDI loves it!”