S2, E6 | Lights Upon Roosevelt Island

ORIGINALLY RELEASED ON 10TH FEBRUARY 2024.
UPDATED FOR THE PURPOSE OF REFORMATING AND CLEAN UP ON 6TH MAY 2026

\ Wednesday, May 9th, 2007 /
\ 8:52 am est. - 5:52 am pst. /

Just three blocks from the LMC offices, Aiden disembarks his taxi, hand guiding the door shut. “Thank you!” Aiden remarks with appreciation, turning for the cafe he’d been dropped off beside. The bell above the establishment’s door ringing as he enters, Aiden’s mind takes to the lives existing around him, orders read aloud at the front of the line he now joins, college students cramming through notes in preparation for exams near it’s rear.

A satchel draped across his body, Aiden stands on his lonesome, hands coupled together at his lap, awaiting the line’s progression. “And now, onto what has been our recurring segment in 2007” a television mumbles from the shop’s corner, the tube mounted atop a set of metal supports, “our Brittney watch picked up a-”

His place in line undisturbed, Aiden approaches the monitor, lowering the volume until the sound is no more. “What? You don’t like trash television?” a familiar voice inquires, sat in the shop’s corner behind an open newspaper, his words trapping Aiden’s attention. A small, white cup placed atop an equally small, round plate to his side, Juno sets the paper down upon his table, one leg crossed atop the other within the confines of his booth.

“Juno, I don’t want any trouble” Aiden replies, taking a few seconds to organise his thoughts. “Neither do I” Juno replies, a calmer tone in his voice than Aiden would have anticipated, “I’ve got no reason for trouble, do I?” Though he hides his worry well, Aiden’s inability to speak through pauses presents a different tale, one Juno picks up on rather soon.

“Look, I’ve got no reason to cause drama. What happened between us happened, it’s in the past, and it’s got no reason to impact the present” Juno explains, “at least, as far as I’m concerned, it’s water under the bridge.” Though careful to buy into Juno’s words, Aiden’s distrust diminishes, the words that leave Juno’s mouth making sense, even though it feels like they shouldn’t.

“I’m glad I ran into you, though. I heard some news through the grapevine” Juno continues, closing his paper and setting it onto the table, “I heard you’re producing ‘On Air’ now.” The impromptu conversation stressing him slightly, Aiden tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, his guarded stance easing. “Y- yeah” Aiden replies, slowly gaining the courage to speak without trepidation, “yeah, I started almost two months ago.”

Nodding, Juno remains quiet, the attempt at being gracious not assisting the anxiety his presence fills his once-rival with. “I like it” Aiden adds, unsure of what else to say amidst Juno’s silence, the confidence he’d developed over the last year burning to ashes, his socially uncomfortable, short-breathed appearance making its return.

“Aiden, I’m not gonna fight you. I’m not gonna lunge at you from this table” Juno reassures, continuing to pick up on the man’s uncomfortability, “I’m actually more interested in the opposite.” Though he remains wary, Aiden’s posture continues to ease, Juno’s attempt at solace continuing to strip him of the sceptical walls he’d erected.

“What does that mean?” Aiden responds, his left hand gently tugging at the satchel on his side, his extremities not certain on how to rest comfortably. “Well, I always had a hunch that you and Carly had a thing-” Juno recalls, his expression growing more regretful with time, “-I didn’t always handle it as well as I should have.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Aiden steps closer to the table, the booth across from Juno unclaimed as far as he’s able to see. “Do you mean that?” Aiden inquires, advancing closer toward Juno, though only by a single step, “because, Carly’s told me about these self-realisations of yours. They’re not always genuine from what I’ve heard.”

“I won’t lie, I haven’t always been consistent- that applies double for when I was with Carly” Juno admits, his posture the most relaxed Aiden had ever seen of him, “but, while I’m not blaming Carly for that, I won’t deny that she didn’t help matters.” Puzzled, Aiden steps closer, the picture Juno has painted drawing him closer to the booth. “What do you mean by that?” the producer replies, lowering himself into the seat across the table, the curiosity outweighing his fear.

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Juno responds, his right arm laid across the table, “you and Carly were hooking up while I was with her. Again, I’m not gonna fight you over it, but I was right, wasn’t I?” At first shaking his head in refusal, Aiden’s guilt begins to settle in, Juno’s calm demeanour having brought an empathy upon his guest. “I’ll take that look as a ‘yes’” Juno replies, his back pushing into his booth, “it may not have been right, but my jealousy was justified, no?”

His head lowered into his hand, Aiden visibly remorses, a gesture Juno refuses to hold against him. “Listen, I know how alluring Carly is. I may not like you for it, but I get why you’d do- what you did- for lack of a better word” Juno cajoles, watching Aiden’s face take back to his, “I am mad at you for it, but I don’t think I’m as mad at you for it as much as I am at her for it.”

Reciprocating Juno’s earlier gesture of remaining silent, Aiden waits for the man to continue, wanting to hear what Juno has to say. “I’ve had time to reflect. I’ve been able to step back and see where I went wrong” Juno admits, his voice dropping a slight amount, “and, now that I’ve ran into you, I have the chance to try to help stop you from making the same mistake.”

“Hold on, I’m gonna stop you right there” Aiden interjects, the confidence he’d garnered over the past year swiftly rediscovered, “I’m not some jealous brute, Juno. I’m not gonna throw some guy against a wall and threaten him if I see something out of place.” His head bowed, Juno lets the man respond, believing himself to be deserving of the verbal malice.

“I- I- I’m sorry Carly cheated on you, and I’m sorry I hooked up with her behind your back” Aiden replies, noticing the disappointed frown on Juno’s face, “but I am not- I’m- I’m not you.” with a sigh, Juno’s large hand slides into his cup’s handle, another sip from the drink beside his paper taken as Aiden waits for his response. “An argument wasn’t my intention, Aiden” Juno calmly responds, his past behaviour making such a retort unusually strange.

“I’m not saying you will be, or you won’t be, or you should be anything” Juno restates, his forearms pressed atop the table, “I’m just telling you to be careful.”

“Be careful of what?” Aiden replies, the rush of his words and responses presenting his indignation as irrefutable, “be careful of Carly?” Collecting his thoughts, Juno lowers his head, sitting in silence as Aiden begins to leave, wishing to leave the conversation to their shared past just as their various encounters have been.

As Aiden leaves the table, he makes way for the door, his hand outstretched to the handle just as Juno speaks, his words stopping the man from applying even the slightest force. “She cheated on a brain surgeon with me” Juno proclaims, the dining room having gone silent amidst his declaration, their work or conversations interrupted by his voice. As the patrons return to their duties and voices pick up once more, Aiden looks back, Juno’s eyes locked onto him.

Interest fully restored, Aiden pulls away from the handle, returning to the booth he’d left seconds prior without a word. “Three years ago, she started seeing this guy she’d met at a red carpet event- it turns out, they shared a mutual friend and got introduced through her” Juno continues, speaking through the complete silence Aiden answers him with, “they dated for a little over a year before she started seeing me. It was around a year after that when you caught her eye.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Aiden wastes no time in inquiring, already having assumed the answer, though intent on hearing it from Juno himself. “Because people are like puzzles, and like puzzles, people have patterns” Juno responds, his well-built physique having masked his intelligence, “Carly cheated on him with me, then she cheated on me with you, and-”

“Don’t- don’t say it” Aiden cuts the man off, his voice lowered to a near-whisper, trying to reclaim control of his unsteadied breaths. With a sigh, Juno leans back into his seat, Aiden’s hands having coupled atop the table he hunches over, staring at the white specks painted upon the table’s green backdrop. “If you don’t want to get hurt, you have to ask yourself the hard questions” Juno remarks, empathising with Aiden just as he’d empathised with him.

“I mean this as no offence, but what do you have that some other guy doesn’t? What’s so special about you that Carly just can’t live without?” Juno inquires, leaving the question as bait. “The guy before me? Well, the size of that man’s wallet may just exceed that of some movie stars” Juno remarks, starting to laugh through his nose, “and me? Well, just one look at me will give you all the information you need.”

Remaining silent, Aiden lets Juno continue, not wanting to admit the fact that his words have struck their intended chord. “You work for her show at a lesser pay than you used to I assume- don’t quote me on that- so you’re not the brain surgeon” Juno continues, only hitting the point home further, “and if it’s sex that you’ve got? Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I’m fairly well-endowed. Listen to my exes like you would food reviews and you’d think I was an NBA centre.”

Letting a breath leave through his nose, Aiden leans back in his seat, listening to Juno continue without any intentions of stopping him. “I’m not saying Carly’s a bad person, even though I’m sure you can make an argument for that” Juno concludes, Aiden’s eyes finding his as the final point is made, “but there are some women that can commit to relationships, and there are some that just- just don’t.”

His lips jutting forward, Aiden’s arms cross as his head presses into the booth, eyes taking to the window just beside the bustling street. “Again, I’m not trying to scare you into jumping to conclusions, I just want you to be careful” Juno promises, lurring Aiden’s eyes back to him, “I just don’t want you getting hurt the same way that I did.”

Though he’s irritated, Aiden lets Juno finish his thought, left with nothing to say by the time it ends. For a few, delicate seconds, the table goes silent, the only voices to be heard coming from those they share the building with. His body sliding out from the table, Aiden resumes his prior attempt at leaving, Juno’s satisfaction reached, the only reason for speaking with the man settled, his past squared away in a nice, neat way, his only business left lying further down the road.

= Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onward =

\ Thursday, May 10th, 2007 /
\ 9:59 pm est. - 6:59 pm pst. /

“With Prime Minister Blair’s decision, Labour will now find itself under the leadership of Gordon Brown as the country prepares for the next federal election in just under three years” Grant concludes, his left arm draped over the desk’s top, “that concludes our broadcast, I’m Grant Haste.”

The biggest button it has to offer pressed beneath the weight of Vickers’ thumb, the television shuts off, his office quiets as the monitor goes dark. “The transition was handled beautifully, Sam” Robin remarks, seated across the desk from her employee, who folds his hands over his chest, laying back in his chair. “The E.P we replaced was best friends with the E.P we replaced him with” Vickers replies, not caring to hold back his grin, “it’d be a bad sign if the transition wasn’t beautiful.”

“Still, you deserve the credit” the woman replies, her right leg folded over her left, the purse she’d brought with her sat upon her lap. “On the other hand, we have issues elsewhere” the woman continues, Vickers prompted to begin sporting a frown. “It’s been just under two months, and the show has changed substantially” Vickers replies, already privy to the critiques bound for his direction, “viewers just need time to adjust.”

“How long are you expecting me to wait, Sam?” Robin replies, her rejoinder further deepening Vickers’ frown, “eight o’clock has lost almost half a million viewers since production switched.” Nodding, Vickers remains quiet as the woman proceeds, not wanting to interrupt her prematurely. “Now, I’m happy as long as nine o’clock isn’t suffering. As a matter of fact, I’m giddy about it!” Robin chirps, “but even without being our premier program, the drop at eight o'clock hurts.”

“And I’ve spoken to Aiden about it. He’s already aware that the board wants to see results” Vickers replies, his guest not as generous as he is, interrupting the moment she sees fit. “The board doesn’t even need results. Just getting back to eight million would suffice” Robin replies, running her hand down the inside of her blazer, “the fact that almost half a million people preferred the old format enough to stop watching the hot brunette- with the kind of tits I wish I still had- is troubling.”

“Well, what did you anticipate, Robin? Eight o’clock had the same format for six years!” Vickers retorts, “personally, I think the change of pace is a breath of fresh air!” Her lip curling, Robin’s head tilts to one side, not only sceptical of the man’s answer, but doubtful of its importance. “Sam, I’ve seen you stare at those lines dissecting across your computer before” Robin replies, “-it might have been as you reached the end of a bottle, but you’ll watch just about anything that moves.”

“If that ‘anything’ was in their underwear, dancing on a stage next to a pole- then you’re absolutely right!” Vickers declares, laughing mid-sentence, “change is a necessary part of life, Robin! If that wasn’t true, we’d all have settled for the horse-and-buggy life ages ago!”

“Sometimes I feel like we should have” Robin cuts in, fixing her posture as her body begins to sink further into the chair, “there’s no built-in lighter on my ‘06 Silverado at the beach house.” With a shrug, Vickers returns the conversation to its original place, again raising questions. “Why give him creative control over the broadcast if you didn’t want the chance at losing viewers?” Vickers inquires, the woman’s concerns not lining up entirely.

“Have I not described Ms. Carpenter’s figure adequately enough for you?” Robin ponders aloud, her eyes rolling, “if you put her on the airwaves yourself, would you have expected anyone to tune out?” Conceding the point, Vickers alters course, powerless to provide answers himself. “He’s got creative direction written into his contract- and from what I know, it saved the network a few pretty pennies” Vickers replies, throwing his hands out, “even if i wanted to do anything, I can’t.”

“I’m not telling you to do something, I’m telling you to get involved” Robin responds, her chin lowering toward the ground, “our eight o’clock is dropping while CSN’s is rising. The last thing I need is Carly Carpenter dropping in the ratings to Neil ‘pause for laughter’ Kirk.” Having himself a chuckle, Vickers sinks further into his seat, the plush leather embracing him with a loving comfort.

“Sam, I’m serious about getting involved” Robin responds, leaving the chair in preparation to exit, “he can have all the creative control he wants, but if his ratings tank, I’ll have more than enough legal authority to terminate the contract entirely.” Less humoured than before, Vickers’ lips press together, the woman’s exit presenting him with his ultimatum, a deep worry grown within him.

|

\ Friday, May 11th, 2007 /
\ 11:19 pm est. - 8:19 pm pst. /

“Holy shit, you guys left the office at a reasonable hour!” Vince exclaims, setting his beer upon the bar counter he, Shane and other producers occupy. “Yes, we did” Taylor replies, followed closely behind by Grant, both anchors removing the bags from their shoulders as they occupy unclaimed seats, “and what’s even crazier is that we chose to come here instead of going home.”

“I’m sure Grant’s excited about that” Shane jokes, walking his sights toward the end of the counter, the man in question finally setting himself upon the stool. “I’ve fallen for New York, but I will never love it’s roadmap” Grant replies, waving to the bartender near the counters opposite end, the two fingers he’s held up quickly becoming one as the hand falls in Shane’s direction, “fuck the goddamn traffic” the man concludes, his hand falling to the bar.

“Don’t you have an apartment a few streets away, Taylor?” Abby inquires from further down the bench. “I’m there for, like, three hours a night” Taylor responds, tipping her head toward the bartender as a tall glass of lager is handed to her, “I leave work, sleep on the couch, wake up and get back to work. I think I spend more time in Albany on weekends than I do in my flat throughout the week.”

“At least you have an apartment close by!” Grant exclaims with a laugh, “I live in fucking’ Thompson Ridge.” As Shane turns his head with an expression of confusion, Grant answers the question he knows is around the corner. “It’s in Ulster County” Grant murmurs, again met with the same confused look, “-quiet land, land of the Amish, farmland, home of grass, grass and more grass, etcetera” Grant proceeds, finally earning a nod of understanding from Shane.

“I’m just glad I didn’t get a cat” Taylor jokes, taking a sip from her beer with a smile, “poor bastard wouldn’t stand a chance.” Guided to the sensation of buzzing in his pocket, Grant departs the conversation, tapping Taylor’s arm before seeking a quieter area.

“Hey, can we get LMC on?” Vince calls out to the bartender, her guests behaving and tipping well enough for their request to be granted without question. “Vince and his fiance might be in the market for a new place” Shane remarks, speaking just loud enough for Taylor and the man in question to hear.

“Odd topic to bring up out of nowhere, but okay” Vince jokes, shrugging as Shane’s explanation persists. “Well, if Taylor wouldn’t mind getting a smaller unit to stay in on weekdays, maybe Vince’s search won’t have to go through so many hoops?” Shane suggests, his coworkers intrigued for different reasons. “It’s really more of a condo than apartment-” Taylor corrects, her thought finished off by Vince, “-and my commute is only twenty minutes. It’s not that much of a problem.”

“Vince is paying almost nine grand for a three bedroom apartment, and Taylor’s condo is completely paid-off” Shane recalls, his friends looking toward him with suspicion. “It doesn’t matter how I found that out, it only matters that it’s true” Shane defends, both hands raised beside his head, “the point is- Taylor can get a small place she won’t need for much other than it’s roof, and Vince can get himself a place to settle into within walking distance from work.”

Though curious and slightly concerned over how Shane became cognisant to their information, Taylor and Vince appear less interested in the proposition than they’d expect to be. “Alright, your points are solid-” Taylor begins to respond, breaking through the contemplative silence just as Grant re-enters the bar, tapping Taylor’s shoulder before her thought can be finished.

“We need to get back to the newsroom now” Grant proclaims, the staff they’d sat with sharing in Taylor’s surprise. “Wh- what? Why?” Taylor queries, slowly removing herself from the stool, prepared to follow Grant regardless of the reasoning. “I don’t know. Vickers told me to get us both here, so I told him that I would” Grant replies, shaking his head with a widened-eyed look, “it’s urgent and that’s all I know.”

“Does he need us?” Marcus inquires, sharing the seat between Olivia and Keith. “No, it was just us from what I can tell” Grant replies, reclaiming the light jacket he’d brought from the chair he’d laid it upon, “if that changes, I’ll call Shane and have him bring the rest of you. Until then, no one leave this bar.”

Making for the door with Taylor’s hand in his own, Grant squeezes through crowds as he re-enters the city’s streets, their eyes set on the cylindrical building that rises through New York’s skyline.

|

\ Friday, May 11th, 2007 /
\ 11:27 pm est. - 8:27 pm pst. /

“Why? What did he tell you?” Carly inquires, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants. “The exact same thing, he just wanted us to come in alone and A.S.A.P” Aiden replies, placing his phone atop the island of Carly’s upper Manhattan kitchen countertop. “Fuck, do you think he needs me on the air?” Carly wonders aloud, her phone left across the same countertop as Aiden’s as she ventures for the bedroom.

“If he needed us on air, I don’t think he would have told us to leave the staff behind” Aiden replies in the direction of the hallway Carly treks. Two glasses of red wine sat before him, Aiden remains where stood, his shoes left at the door upon entry. “Exactly how long is it going to take you to be ready to leave for this urgent meeting?” Aiden inquires, sliding his glass a short distance away, too tempted to drink what’s left in his glass.

“Part of the reason I have a job is because men think I’m hot” Carly remarks, throwing the sweatshirt off of her torso, “the last thing we need is the tabloids snapping a picture of me in mom clothes.” With a chuckle, Aiden’s attention travels elsewhere, content with waiting for the time to pass.

Her phone buzzing, Carly remains too far away hand it her attention, the washroom door adjacent to her room closing loud enough for Aiden to hear it from afar. Buzzing a second time, the bright screen of her Motorola Razr flashes a bright, white light, almost daring Aiden to follow through on the thoughts he tries valiantly to fend off.

As if the third buzz had flipped a switch in his mind, Aiden extends his hand forward, his palm resting on the flip phone’s cover as a note slides beneath Carly’s apartment door. As if intentional, the note draws Aiden’s focus entirely, the post offices having closed too long ago for such a gesture to be anything less than intentional.

Drawn to the sound, Aiden leaves Carly’s phone where it was left, his feet carrying him to the large, steel door. In the short, unoccupied space between the entrance and the floormat, a white envelope sits discarded, Aiden’s name scrawled across the front in black ink. Claiming the envelope as his own, Aiden peers through the front door, the apartment situated in the middle of a long corridor, neither side of which occupied as far as he can gather.

Cautious, Aiden lets the door close slowly, the envelope still clutched within his left hand. The flap left purposefully unsealed, Aiden slides out a folded piece of paper, his name again written on the back in black ink. Holding the message beneath the kitchen light, Aiden reads what’s written slowly, his face easing the longer he reads.

“I knew you’d be here on a Friday. If you got this note, I was right again. What I said the other day- it wasn’t an attack on you or Carly, and it wasn’t meant to make you live in suspense. I’m just trying to look out for you” the note reads, it’s conclusion coming sooner than anticipated, “I’m moving on with my life. I took a job out in Detroit, so don’t worry about me invading your coffee breaks anymore. Take care, man- best wishes, Juno.”

The expression of guilt from days prior returning, Aiden lets the note close upon itself again, returning the paper to the envelope it was contained within as the distant bathroom door opens. “Alright, let’s go!” Carly exclaims, her voice bouncing off her hallway’s narrow walls as Aiden tucks the note into his pocket, choosing to keep it away from the woman’s sights.

“Taxi!” Aiden exclaims, his thumb held in the air as he races beside Carly to the cul-de-sac at the end of their street, the taxi having just pulled in, intending to use the curb for a U-Turn. “Thank you!” Carly exclaims, stepping into the backseat first, Aiden’s right leg dipping in directly afterward until his interest is stolen elsewhere.

“Aiden, come on” Carly remarks in a tired breath, rummaging through her purse as her boyfriend remains unseated. Though he doesn’t speak, his mind races with questions, peering across FDR Drive, the East River separating them from Roosevelt Island. “Aiden, you getting in?” Carly wonders aloud, a tube of lip balm run over her lip as she waits for the seat beside her to be occupied.

Still silent, Aiden stares across the river, unable to look away from the bundle of flashing police lights that occupy the other landmass, incapable of looking away from reasons he can’t understand. “Ye- yeah” Aiden stumbles, slowly lowering himself into the cab, continuing to look at the scene across the river until his door closes.

== Tonight at 9 ==