Free So 5 Minutes Ago by Hilary De Vries Page B

Dorothy when she finally spies the real Wizard. I landed at DWP on a whim, a lark, an answer to a failed marriage. A
fuck you
to my parents and all their buttoned-down expectations and Amy, who couldn’t wait to fulfill them. Now, the whole thing has become much more than a temporary stop, an
entr’acte
in the larger drama of my life. “So how do I get back to Kansas? Call up Josh and beg him to take me back? Move to Maine and work with the indigent? Beg Charles to take me away from all this?”
    “Look, most days it doesn’t bother me. It makes me laugh. It makes
you
laugh.”
    “But you live your life with more irony than I do. Than I
want
to.”
    “That’s only because I’m gay.”
    “All I’m saying is I want some authenticity that doesn’t come saddled with celebrity. And I can’t find it out here.”
    “If I was less ironic, I would say you’ve learned in three years what most people
never
learn in Hollywood. Or would never admit to learning. But since I’m not . . . ,” he says, sighing, and I can tell his patience for my metaphysical breakdown is wearing thin.
    “You know, it’s fine,” I say. If there’s anything I can’t stand more than pity, it’s impatience with my fears. “It’s fine and let’s just forget it.”
    “No,” he says, rallying now that the goal line is in sight. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, but why don’t you try and get some sleep now. You’ll have enough to deal with, with Scooby and Scrappy.”
    I close my eyes and try to imagine who he’s talking about. “Scooby and Scrappy? Am I meeting with someone from the Cartoon Network this week?”
    “You wish. No, their human counterparts.”
    My eyes fly open. “No way!”
    “Yes, Suzanne’s handing them off to you. Actually G’s handing them off to you. They’re unhappy with Buffy or Muffy or one of his Biggies and the word is G’s moving all his problem clients to DWP agents. Flush out the dead wood. I was going to tell you tomorrow but Suzanne said she’s already set up your first meeting with them for tomorrow afternoon.”
    Suddenly I’m beyond exhausted. G has laid his cards on the table even before our first official staff meeting. He engineered the buyout of DWP and now he’s trying to kill it off. It’s kind of like the Time Warner–AOL merger, if you think about it. And my poison pill is to be Scooby and Scrappy, the gay couple of the moment. Actually, they
were
the gay couple of the moment, until they came out of the closet—so pious and so stupid—and now they’re pariahs, out of work and scorned. A publicist’s nightmare.
    “I actually see this as a vote of confidence in your abilities,” Steven says, and I can tell he’s trying to soften the blow. “I mean, G’s trying to thin the ranks but Suzanne obviously thinks you can handle it.”
    “Don’t try and make me feel better. I may hate my job, but at least I wasn’t in danger of losing it. Until now.”
    I close my eyes again. I have to bring this to a close and start all over again tomorrow. Tomorrow when I’ll find the strength and clarity of mind to deal with G and Scooby and Troy and Val and sit in the office with my headset on and just make it all work.
    But that’s tomorrow.
    Besides, I hear another call coming in. “Hang on,” I say to Steven and warily click over.
    “You’re home? You’re never home. I just thought I’d try and grab you before Mom does.”
    Amy. Or
Amee,
as she called herself now. Better her than Mom. “Hey, I just walked in,” I say, starting out the way I usually do with Amy: with a lie. “Hang on, let me get off the other line.
    “It’s Amy,” I say to Steven. “And we know she never calls unless it’s important. Like she got a new horse. Or Barkley scored a hole in one. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, and give me everything we have on Scooby first thing in the morning.
    “I’m back,” I say, clicking over to Amy.
    “I meant to call you earlier but I figured I would miss you then and I