Television Romance

Betting Day

As promised, Saturday arrived soon enough. Jerry didn't think of it as Saturday, however. He thought of this special Saturday exclusively under the title of Betting Day.

"You have your bets all lined up?" Juliet asked him in the backstage hall. Jerry nodded solemnly. Vian stood by and, like a five-year to whom no one would explain an adult joke, grew increasingly frustrated with her ignorance.

"Are you ever going to tell me what Betting Day is?" she asked.

"It's pretty intuitive, Vee," Juliet said, "It's the day where you place your bets."

"No way," Vian deadpanned, "Place your bets on what?"

"On everything. On anything. First Saturday of the season anyone can declare up to ten bets, the reward for which will be received on the next Betting Day, one year later."

"What do people usually bet on?"

"You'll see when it's betting time. The Man"--Juliet rolled her eyes--"has a big board with all the bets on it, amounts, and time constrictions. Otherwise, people forget and then there are disputes," Jerry said.

"So there's a bunch of bets that are ending today?" Vian asked.

"Yep."

"Do you remember what they are?"

"A couple," Jerry said, "Hey Juliet, it's an hour till showtime."

"Is it your turn or mine?" Juliet asked him.

"I think you're up," he said and Juliet bowed away from the conversation. She was now wearing a long black leather coat, and when she turned away it was with her signature dramatic flair. Jerry could easily imagine the tail of her coat whipping up to become the tail end of a leathery wing as she morphed into a bat and flew away.

"Up for what?"

"To talk to Bill. He gets really nervous like an hour before the show and shuts down. Someone has to keep him calm or it's all a mess. You can probably join the rotation. Right now it's just me and Juliet. Are you good at talking to people?"

"Um... I don't know. What do you say to him?"

"It doesn't matter, you just have to steer him away from the show or else he spirals and clams up, and then it's all a mess."

"Mhm."

"You can also get him talking about Michael, then he's all fired up. But we only break that one out on special occasions or else they would've broken each other's faces a long time ago."

"Interesting. How come I didn't know that?" Vian asked. Jerry shrugged.

"No one makes a big deal about it. It's just his thing. Everyone had their thing." He turned his head to follow Juliet, who could still be seen in the distant hallway, about to spill into the bullpen as a river spills into a lake.

"What's yours?"

"What?"

"What's your thing?" His eyes flashed momentarily. It was the most vibrant emotion Vian had seen from him yet, though if asked to describe exactly what she saw, she would have been at a loss for words. She suddenly regretted her question.

"I'm not sure," Jerry said, "I'm sure you'll find out."

~~~~~

The donkey went over well with the audience. Not so much with Greg, who's scowl radiated a terrifying heat. Everyone else, excepting perhaps the cleaning crew, thought the farm animal trotting down the hallways and onto the stage was hilarious. In the sketch, the donkey, whose name was purportedly "Buttercup," only had three minutes on stage. Nevertheless, she managed to steal the show. A true performer, Buttercup waited until halfway through the sketch to begin eating Eli's shirt. It was pretty clear the whooping and cheering after the button was mostly out of admiration for Eli's casual demeanor as Buttercup gnashed her finger-sized teeth inches away from his skin. Once everyone was backstage again, Reese was threatening to frame his tattered shirt. Given the way her last threat went, Bill was inclined to believe her.