The phone rang incessantly in her pocket, much to her annoyance as she struggled to carry her notes and a tray full of drinks all at once. She knew who was calling, and this was the fourth time in 10 minutes that he tried to reach her. Cursing the scenario quietly, Brielle frustratedly arranged the binder under her arm and fumbled for the vibrating cell phone in her pocket. "John, I'm working," she told her husband in a biting tone, something she instantly regretted. The stress had been tremendous for the past 6 months- the weight of late nights and little to no sleep, a newly born marriage, sheets of script paper slowly filling up her cramped home office in the shoebox of a Manhattan apartment. Bri thought she had it easy in her days as a comedy writer for Saturday Night Live, the ignorance of youth permitting nothing but good times. But life arrived on her doorstep soon enough and sobered her up as serious work presented itself as she made the decision to retire from the greatest show she'd ever been a part of. John, her writing mate turned soulmate had taken the leap with her, quitting the show a mere 5 months later. He took a chance on stand-up comedy, discovering his true success from years of sitting behind a desk. As for Bri, her post-SNL happiness came in the form of a pitch for a film involving her former 30 Rockefeller coworkers.
"I know! I know," John told her, his understanding tone making her feel worse. "I just wanted to tell you good luck at the meeting today, and- Oh! I almost forgot. I won't see you until late tonight. We've got rehearsal for Kid Gorgeous."
Bri yanked on the door of the shady looking office, trying to decipher if this was the right building or not. "Ok, I'll see you at home tonight. I gotta go...Jesus Christ, I'm so late. I love you, John. Bye." Tossing the iPhone into her bag without a lingering thought of the conversation, she forcefully tried the door one more time, slipping into the warm building and off to introduce her final script.
______________________________________________________________________
"Mrs. Hader, you're on in five! Did you get through makeup already?" A studio assistant squinted at Claire's slightly-off appearance, reaching to fix a stray strand of hair as the talk-show host swatted her away. "Yes, I'm ready to go when you are," she told the possible intern with an undertone of frustrated urgency, wanting to get the damn show over for once.
For 7 years, Claire had fulfilled her post-college dreams on Weekend Update, as a regular cast member for Saturday Night. Despite being sheer joy to fill that time in her life, Lorne had given her the opportunity to go solo on a late night spot with NBC. Seeing no reason not to, Claire willingly accepted, not realizing just how much she wished she could return to the sea of people she was surrounded by every weekend instead of the spotlight fixated on her with "The Weekly with Claire Hader".
Now she stood in the wings, waiting for her producer to give her the thumbs up to walk onto set as she wrung her sweaty hands. The sudden eruption of the live studio audience was deafening, and her ears were ringing as she put on a smile and walked out, careful not to rush. Taking her place behind the desk, Claire waited for the cue prompting the audience to quiet down as she shuffled her papers. "Welcome to another late night, I'm your host Claire Hader! Let's get into the updates for this week. On Friday..."
The rest of the show dragged on, Claire interviewed her celebrity guest mindlessly and remained distracted as she said goodnight to the television-watching world. She ripped the mic from her lapel, brushing past her staff with clear intentions of reaching her dressing room. Once safely past the bustle, she closed the door and leaned her head against it, closing her eyes as she waited for the anxiety to subside. A ping from her phone sounded from across the room and Claire tore herself out of her thoughts to glance at the screen. Just the person I needed.
Bill: Dateline marathon tonight. Get home soon!
______________________________________________________________________
"Joey! Stop biting your sister!" Cass exclaimed at her 2 year old, who held his baby siblings chubby arm as he glanced up guiltily at his mother. "These fucking kids..." she mumbled under her breath, although unable to keep herself from smiling at the sight of her little ones. They babbled amongst themselves, patiently awaiting the return of their daddy from filming that night. Cass picked up 9 month old Audrey and bounced her as she walked into the kitchen, sifting through the schedule for the beginning week of filming. She picked up the phone to call her sister in law, the only person she trusted with the script of her beloved film. Just as Bri pushed her to voicemail, Andy walked in, distracting Cass from Bri's often mindlessly cold manner. "Babe, can you tell your son that his sister is not a snack? He won't stop munching on her." Cass crossed the room to kiss her husband, transferring Audrey into his arms. "Well hello to you too," Andy joked, smiling warmly at the site of his family. "Listen, I've got to figure out the meetings for next week and your sister isn't answering my phone calls...per usual," Cass added with a playful eye roll, leaving Andy to tend to the children.
Taking on her first movie role was an overwhelming task, and although she had the experience and was equipped with more than enough skills, Cass doubted every move about this. She needed the support of Brielle, who pushed her beyond her limits to get it done, which finally put the project in motion.
In fact, she needed her now more than ever as she hit redial...
______________________________________________________________________
"Hey, man, are you gonna get up?" Ryan felt a nudge in his side as the voice drifted into his consciousness. "Hmmm...?" He managed to mumble, rolling over onto his stomach without daring to open his eyes. "Dude, it's 7:00, you gotta get out of here." Ryan's forehead wrinkled in confusion as he felt his head begin to pound trying to comprehend what this person was saying. He vaguely recalled the party from the night prior, and thoughts of drunken escapades in obscure New York clubs manifested into his mind. "God...Ok...I'm up," he muttered, getting to his feet and pulling the coat around him as he braced himself against the chill of November, ready to head home on foot. Wherever that was.
Toeing off his boots and tentatively closing the door to the small apartment behind him, Ryan kept the lights off lest he exacerbate his splitting headache. A light broke the blackness from a place on the counter, and he turned, slightly perturbed, before noticing that it was his abandoned cell phone. Glancing at the cracked screen, his lips curled up into a smirk as he read the unexpected message.
Cass: How's your acting lately? Actually, how does a movie contract sound?
---
