Could you come up here a moment?” Monica responded to Jimmy’s request with a queasy smile. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way up to the control booth to face Jimmy and Michael, the executive producer. They were about to tear her a new one for suggesting Monty to replace Wallace; she knew it. Right now, the shooting schedule was at least an hour behind, and it was all Monty’s fault. As Monica had expected, Monty had flared his nostrils at her and hurled choice words of disdain when she suggested he fill in for Wallace. But the mention of money as well as the possibility that some work might come of it turned him around, as did half a bottle of brandy. He learned his few lines in no time flat. It was executing them in front of the camera that was turning out to be the problem. Monica entered the booth, striking preemptively. “I know what you’re going to say.” “No, you don’t,” said Michael with a glare. He looked down at the set, where Monty was now sitting up in the hospital bed, smoking a cigar in between takes.
