Free Let's Stay Together by J.J. Murray

woman turned to Randy. “You told me it was a good script.”
    “It is a good script,” Randy said. “It only needs a few minor adjustments.”
    “But she just said it needed major adjustments,” Miss Smith said. “I didn’t think the truth needed to be adjusted.”
    “Miss Smith,” Lauren said, “please don’t tell me you based this script on actual events in your life.”
    Miss Smith straightened. “I did. It’s all true.”
    “When?” Barbie asked.
    She beat me to it again! Lauren thought. I am getting old.
    “I was much younger then, of course,” Miss Smith said, “but every bit of this script is true.”
    She seems sincere, Lauren thought. Maybe it’s all true—just not in this century. “Well, I suppose I could dress up like Thelma from Good Times and we could have a funk soundtrack.”
    “I get to play Penny, then,” Barbie said.
    “This is not going to be another seventies show,” Randy said.
    “It might as well be,” Lauren said. “Miss Smith, this is a dated script. It is not relevant to today’s world. I keep hearing Martha and the Vandellas and Marvin Gaye in the background. Unless we all wear bell-bottoms and platform shoes, no one will take this show seriously. No one.”
    Miss Smith stared at Lauren. “You think you’re the shit, don’t you?”
    Is she serious? Of course I still am! Lauren stood, the iron chair squealing behind her. “Yes.”
    “You ain’t done shit in years,” Miss Smith said.
    “At least I can write about this century just fine,” Lauren said.
    “Lost your man, didn’t you?” Miss Smith said. “Had to get a job because your sugar daddy’s gone.”
    “I actually lost him to men a long time ago,” Lauren said. “What’s your point?”
    Miss Smith blinked. “Chazz Jackson is gay?”
    So everyone doesn’t know. Lauren nodded. “He’s heavily bisexual, yes. So what was your point?”
    “Damn.” Miss Smith shrugged. “I never would have thought that.” She smiled at Lauren. “I didn’t have a point. I was just pissed off, you know. I had to fuss at someone. You understand. It’s what we ladies from my generation do when we’re angry.” She turned to Randy. “Is she going to rewrite everything I write?”
    “No,” Randy said. “She will not.”
    “Yes, she will,” Miss Smith said, and she sighed. “Isn’t that why you asked for her to play this role, Randy? To make my script better?”
    “No,” Randy said. “I didn’t. She wasn’t my first choice, anyway.”
    “That Erika James is a mess, Randy,” Miss Smith said. “You should be glad she didn’t take the part.”
    Lauren bristled briefly but regained her composure.
    “Randy, I have told you a hundred times that my script was from the late sixties and early seventies, but did you listen?” Miss Smith asked. “You didn’t. I told you it was a slice-of-life piece. That’s the way we talked back then. That’s the way we talked about white men back then. We weren’t trying to be politically correct. We were just telling it like it was. I told you it wouldn’t work for a modern audience, but you’re as stubborn as your father was.”
    Lauren looked from Miss Smith to Randy. Wow. There’s a strong resemblance. I only thought he was extremely tan, like every other director in Hollywood. That’s his mama? Well, no wonder he’s fighting for her script!
    “You’re . . .” Barbie whistled. “You’re Randy’s mother.”
    Miss Smith nodded. “My son is trying to break me into show business.” She smiled. “The entire first season is true, and it ends with me. That’s your character, Lauren. It ends with me meeting Randy’s daddy and having Randy.”
    “You met Randy’s daddy at a flea market in Hell’s Kitchen,” Lauren said.
    “No, at a Jimi Hendrix concert, actually,” Miss Smith said. “The Hollywood Bowl, nineteen sixty-eight. I take a few liberties with the truth here and there.”
    What is going on? Lauren thought. How does a Hendrix concert at the