Page 61 of Collateral Damage
“No offense, but it’s pretty obvious you don’t have experience working in reality television. I’ve seen these shows. Drama pays the bills, and somebody’s got to be the villain, and usually that somebody doesn’t know they’re the villain until it’s over and keyboard warriors are sending them death threats.” He sighs, but I hear him getting out of bed, so at least there’s that. “How do I know if I’m the villain?”
I snort. “That’s easy, Benton. Don’t do villain shit.”
He draws in a long breath, as if thinking it through. “Fine. Let’s do the damn thing.”
After we hang up, I’m motivated to push past my nerves and go in there like a boss. Benton needs me, and so do the other cast members. But I can’t help but think about what Benton said as I shower and get ready.Dowe need a villain for the show to be successful? If so, how are we going to handle that? Who’s going to fit that role? Perry will know what to do, but I wonder how far he’s willing to go to make sureTop of the Worldis successful.
I have a sinking feeling someone isn’t going to leave this show unscathed.
I arrive at set an hour before my call time, dressed in a cute black jumpsuit. We’re calling the penthouse the “set” and Cooper’s new apartment a level down “basecamp.” The new apartment is three bedrooms, and Cooper has relegated himself to the primary suite, leaving the other two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen and dining area to the show. It’s selfless of him, but I can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t get a third apartment. The man is practically made of money, so why live at basecamp?
An overwhelming flurry of activity greets me as I enter the penthouse. I find Cooper first. “How are things going?”
“Perry’s nervous,” he says, peering at me with a grim expression. “Not that he’ll show it, but look at the guy.”
Perry has gone into full-director mode, and a thin sheen of sweat lines his face.
“Yeah,” I say, “but that means he cares. He’s going to do great.”
“I agree.” Cooper leans in. “Fake it till you make it and all that. How areyoufeeling?”
“I’m nervous, too. Excited, though. All the feelings.”
Cooper bounces on his feet, a familiar move he used to do all growing up, and I wonder what that’s like for him now with a prosthetic. Does it hurt? Does he notice the difference?
“Same,” he says. “Only one hour until the first cast member arrives.”
And we’ll be rolling.
A middle-aged woman with a clipboard strides over to us, an earpiece visible under her short haircut and a take-charge gleam in her eyes.
“Hi there. I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Perry’s production manager, Ricki.”
I smile and shake her hand. “Hi Ricki, I’m Sybil Laurence. I’m one of the producers.”
She nods. “Yes, I know. And you’re Cooper, right?”
Cooper shakes her hand, and something about Ricki makes me relax. She seems like she knows how to make a set run smoothly, and she’s not afraid to make a few people cry to make that happen.
“What do you need from us?” I ask.
“That’s up to Perry. I won’t tell you to do something unless Perry wants it or has delegated it to me to delegate to you. Sound good?”
Coop and I nod like schoolchildren.
She points between us. “You should act like omnipresent gods around here. You know, watch the shit happen, but don’t get in the way. Let the little humans figure it out, and only intervene if it’s life or death.”
I frown. “Perry told us we were going to produce the talent. Doesn’t that mean we have to talk to them, at least?”
She gives me a polite smile. “Here’s how it works. You talk to Perry if he’s not busy or you talk to me. We’ll tell youhowwe want you to produce your people. If we say you need to make them cry on camera, then you bring up their dead grandma. Got it?”
“Fuck,” Cooper groans. “Are you for real?”
“I’m for real, for real. Say it with me, ‘drama is conflict, and conflict is drama.’”
Cooper rubs his hand over his mouth to hide his chuckle. I know that move, too. It’s also one he’s been doing since we were kids. “Drama is conflict, and conflict is drama.”
She points to me. “Your turn.”
