“I’m so glad you could join us on such short notice,” Scott continued.
“It’s an easy flight from Palm Springs,” Patrick offered as they continued to stand awkwardly around the table.
“There’s a flight from Palm Springs?” one of the staffers asked, insinuating the obvious—it was probably an easier drive. Patrick found there was a uniform banality to network staffers—certainly this bunch—like they all got their hair cut at the same place, or held similar opinions on something unknowable, like the future of broadcast TV.
“There is.” Patrick was lucky to get the direct, otherwise you connected through Phoenix. “I don’t drive,” he offered as explanation, not sure if it made him seem less eccentric to a potential employer, or more.
“Take a seat,” Scott gestured. His face was boyish, betrayed only by some premature graying over the ears. Instead of adding gravitas, it made him look like he had powdered his temples to play a part. Patrick took an open chair at the table’s midpoint; Scott assumed a seat at the head. Patrick faced the room’s window, looking out on a bubbling fountain. He thought momentarily of Maisie and Grant on their pool floats before focusing instead on the room. Several execs produced pens, but none of them had anything to write on.
Everyone breathed in unison and exhaled.
“We loved you in The People Upstairs. Big fans,” cooed the one that may or may not have been Kelsi. She wore oversized glasses and had some kind of topical lapel pin; political but not controversial. In fact, it might have just said women.
“That’s nice to hear. It’s been a hot minute. You worry people forget.”
The table murmured some version of “Never.”
Patrick continued. “People don’t even watch TV anymore. Do you know there’s something called TikTok?”
The table laughed. They knew. But also, they were there to defend.
“How much tik could a TikTok tok if a TikTok could tok tik?”
The table laughed again, harder this time. Someone declared, “That’s too much!”
Scott signaled everyone to be quiet. “Well, we watch TV here. This table loves TV.”
“And people watch our network. You should see our live+3. And our streaming service? We’re changing the metrics of how you measure success.” Someone （Abner?） flung a spiral-bound report in his direction; it came to a stop three inches from the edge of the table with the network’s logo facing him perfectly.
“And you know who else watches TV?” asked the one in a bow tie. “Families.”
Again the table murmured in agreement. Bow Tie grinned, proud of his contribution. And then he winked, as if to broadcast his queerness, too, and define this as a safe space for Patrick.
“That’s right,” Scott confirmed. “Which is why we are always looking for a new take on the family comedy.”
The sun passed behind a cloud, momentarily darkening the courtyard. Patrick hoped this wasn’t an ominous sign, but no one else seemed particularly bothered.
“We all loved the videos you posted with your kids.”
“My niblings.”
“Excuse me?”
“My niblings,” Patrick whispered, as if leveraging them was a betrayal. But this was supposed to be for them, so he attempted confidence in his voice. “My niece and nephew.”
“What’s that?”
Patrick cleared his throat. “They’re my brother’s kids.”
“Right.”
“Their mother passed away last spring and they came to live with me for the summer.”
“Our condolences.”
Murmur.
“That’s good, we can use that.”
Patrick started to object, but Scott raised a hand to apologize, agreeing it was crass.
“You have a real chemistry. With children. The way you talk to them! Like little adults. It’s edgy, but . . . safe. That’s the tone we’re looking for. New. But familiar. Tone is everything. The rest we can figure out, the circumstances and whatnot. Plot. With your input, of course.”
Patrick nodded; as a response it was better, but shy of great. “Thank you. To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness.” The room erupted with glee. Patrick didn’t even bother to attribute the quote, he’d already moved on to other concerns. （If they were going to model the show on him, they would learn soon enough about his love of Wilde.） Did he have chemistry with the kids? Is that what it boiled down to? Not connection, but chemistry? Not love, but science? “I do have a certain rapport with those kids, I suppose. It developed over time. They don’t drink martinis, so we had to find something else to bond over.”