S4, E10 | Perhaps the Show Doesn't Go On

Season 4 Finale

\ Monday, April 28th, 2008 /
\ 12:10 pm est. - 9:10 am pst. /

“Well, we haven’t been back to your cabin upstate in a couple of weeks” Taylor quips, dressed in a thin, long-sleeve shirt as she joins her fiance in the shaded sunlight of a New York spring on the deck of their inherited yacht. “It’s a villa or a lodge, and it’s been a couple of months” Grant corrects, wrapping his non-dominant arm around his lover’s waist and pulling her close, pecking her on the cheek.

“We’re on our yacht for the first time ever, and you’re wearing a long-sleeved shirt, dark grey slacks, and a pair of sneakers?” Grant queries, earning the sarcastic, furrowed brows that his lover’s face takes back to him with. “The only reason we’re out here is because the water’s finally not covered in ice. That doesn’t mean it’s not still cold out here” Taylor replies, looking him in the eyes with a hand gently resting against his chest, “besides, look at what you’re wearing.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Grant questions back, taking a small step away to display his attire properly, “it’s a white t-shirt, a pair of board shorts, and sandals.” Gently grazing the skin of the man’s arm with the tips of her index and middle finger, Taylor feels the small bumps that rise through his flesh and points them out as her proof.

“And as tough as you’re trying to appear, this beach day wear that you’ve got going on doesn’t change the fact that you’re cold” Taylor rebuttals, only for the man who takes her back into his arms to scoff at this notion. “It’s a bit chilly, but I live in upstate New York- what do you expect me to wear?” Grant questions back, “Manhattan winters aren’t as unrelenting as upstate winters, and Manhattan summers are just more of the same.”

“Oh, honey. Go back to college and retake geography... We’re in Long Island, not Manhattan” Taylor prods back, receiving a playful jab at her shoulder from the man’s free hand. Responding back with light laughter, the couple continue to stare out at the daylight as it burns overhead, their paid vacation continuing on with no end in sight. “Hey, have you seen the news?” Grant questions aloud, only for his significant other’s head to shake in refusal.

“Not since I stopped covering it, why?” Taylor wonders back, resting her head against the man’s chest as a slight breeze rolls in, much warmer than the ones they’d grown accustomed to. “I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping too much of an eye on it myself; this just felt like the perfect moment to ask that question” Grant jokes, feeling his fiance’s hand swat at his chest as she chuckles, walking back into their newly signed-for vessel.

“You’ve really not been watching the news?” Grant wonders aloud, following the woman into the shade that their boat’s overhang affords, tucking his hands into the pockets that his board shorts had been graciously fitted with. “I get updates every now and then when someone from the office calls” Taylor corrects, taking a bottle of wine into her hand before pouring some into a glass that had been sitting empty atop the private bar, “but, no. I haven’t seen a news show properly since February.”

“Oh, no... Who do you think the governor of New York is?” Grant asks with wide eyes, feigning shock as he closes in on the woman. “Well, of course it’d be Eliot Spitzer, no?” Taylor whispers back, aware of the events that led to his resignation, but deciding to play along with her co-anchor nonetheless, “our beloved governor who would never fuck a prostitute and send the entire state into an uproar calling for his resignation... He must still be governor.”

“Honey, I’ve got some news for you” Grant jokingly replies whilst his fiance presses the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to pass out before filling her glass of wine to satisfaction. “So, it’s really been over two months since you turned on the news?” the man wonders once more, receiving the same answer on round number two that he did in the opening one.

“I don’t like many news programs anyway. Aiden and Carly’s isn’t exactly for me, but it’s better than what the other networks are putting on” Taylor re-establishes, resting against the bar with her drink in tow, shrugging at the unimportance she takes the confession with. “Besides, we’re on paid leave for a reason” she doubles down, watching as her fiance takes a seat upon one of the built in stools, “why would I want to see that man’s face when I’m literally paid to not compete against him?”

Staying quiet for a moment, Grant looks toward the countertop whilst his lover sips from the glass, their ears catching the sound of a brief breeze rolling through the air outside. “Probably because you’ll have to eventually?” he soon questions back, doing so reluctantly out of fear that he’d kill the good spirits they enjoy together. Glancing off to the side, Taylor licks the taste of red wine off of her top lip once more before coating them for a second time, taking another quick drink.

“Do I?” Taylor wonders aloud, looking back at her fiance with lifted eyebrows, not entirely convinced in the stance that her better half has decided to take. Humoured, Grant subdues a modest chuckle before shrugging, “eventually, you will” the man reiterates, nodding along with the answer that he pays to her, “once we’re back behind that desk, we’ll be pretty well aware of what’s going on in the tower a few miles away.”

Shifting to the side, Taylor’s lips pucker together as she looks into the distance, staring in the direction of the cloudy skies beyond their semi-indoors interior. “My contract runs up near the end of next year” she rejoinders, stepping away from the bar with her glass in hand, returning to the deck that New York’s early-spring weather takes its course on.

With a confused look in his eyes, Grant follows his fiance’s figure with his eyes as it wanders off, trying to figure out what the insinuation provided to him was meant to suggest. Climbing off of his seat, the man takes after the woman as she comes to a stop at the railing of her elevated deck, watching the American flag wave in the gentle, rolling wind.

“So, you’re thinking about not renewing?” Grant wonders aloud, letting his fingers wrap around the metal cylinders that make up the obstruction that prevents them from toppling over the edge. “No, I’m thinking about riding it out” Taylor answers, not wasting much time in coming clean with her significant other, puckering her lips together in a purposeful frown as she looks to the man’s direction, “there’s no time limit on our paid leave. I can ride it out until next September and just retire.”

“And let Barry push you off the air like that?” Grant follows up, feeling immediately guilty as he watches his lover’s expression instinctively sour at the mention of the man’s name. “I’m sorry. But honey, nonetheless, you can’t let him be the reason that you take a bow from the desk!” the beach-dressed anchor reiterates calmly, standing firm in the stance that he takes on, “this has been your life’s work for almost a decade; you can’t let him take that away from you.”

“I don’t have to be caught in this mess between Russo and LMC, Grant” Taylor quickly restates, looking to her lover with a slight lift in her eyebrows, “the only reason he’s even on the air right now is because of that fight. And I understand that Russo only brought him onto the air to get at me, but I’m willing to accept that it worked.”

“You can’t leave nine o’clock, honey” Grant hastily responds, earning a wide smile from his fiance’s face as it falls to the ground. “At the very least, you can’t let them be the reason that you leave all of that behind” the man doubles down, speaking to internal strings that his beloved has already plucked at.

“I’ve spent so long just forgetting that he ever existed. After the first year, I’d gotten so busy with nine o’clock that I’d just shut it all out” Taylor confesses, looking back toward the waters that their vessel sits atop with a look of semi-peace in her visage. “When he got back, it felt like it was 1998 all over again” she continues, being caught in a break of the clouds, her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight that spills upon her like a charm.

Downcast, Grant follows the line of sight that his significant other carries toward the calm waters, his side directed toward them whilst his co-anchor’s full front faces the sea. “I was just a dumb intern at the time. I didn’t have any power, I didn’t have a portrait outside of Sam’s office, I didn’t have any of it” Taylor continues to speak, shaking her head in disbelief at the time that has passed, “I didn’t have a home to grow old in, or a legacy that I’d left behind, or someone that I love so greatly that I’d be willing to spend the rest of my life with them.”

Gradually turning to face the waters, the male anchor’s unchanged demeanour carries his free hand to the same place as the one opposite it, fingers wrapping around the railing near their vessel’s stern. “When I saw him on that screen, I felt like a terrified little intern all over again. None of the things that I’d done since then- none of them- changed how powerless I was...” Taylor mutters, lifting the drink to her face before pausing, wanting to finish her statement before sipping again, “...I never want to feel like that again.”

Pressing the lids of his eyes together, Grant simmers with his disappointment as he lets out a long breath, hearing his fiance’s concerns without the ability to feel what it’s like to walk in her shoes. Satisfied with the way in which she’d explained herself, Taylor takes relief in the taste of her alcoholic treat, much more composed and quietly reserved than her lover is, trying to prevent such a truth from muddying the tranquillity that the calming scene surrounds her with.

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

\ Friday, May 2nd, 2008 /
\ 2:48 pm est. - 11:48 am pst. /

“How did the meeting go?” Aiden inquires, stepping into his girlfriend’s office just as she takes off her light jacket, tossing it onto one of the empty visitor’s chairs as she makes for her desk. “We’re still nearly a million dollars apart” Carly answers, visibly displeased with the conclusion that her latest round of negotiations has taken. “How much is nearly a million dollars in this scenario?” the executive producer wonders aloud, picking up her jacket and carrying it to the nearby coat rack on her behalf.

“We’re about eight hundred thousand dollars apart” Carly answers, quickly swaying her head from one side to the other as she takes an elastic from around her wrist, using it to tie her long, brunette locks into a ponytail. “And where did we open up negotiations?” Aiden queries, returning to the open seats before taking up one of them, noticing his girlfriend’s fast attempt at fixing her hair to be a sign of more dissatisfaction than she’s letting on.

“We opened a million and a half apart. We’ve cut the divide down just around half” Carly responds, quickly taking her hands from the locks of hair and to the keyboard just before her. “Alright, that’s not bad progress in only a couple of months” Aiden replies, trying to take the optimistic route without much success.

“My agent is already hassling me about meeting with other networks to see what I can get offered there, and that’s not going to slow down until we start really making progress” Carly rebuttals, shaking her head from one side to the other at any positive notion. “That’s negotiation 101, right? Use the numbers the other networks offer you, take it to LMC, and use it to cut the divide down even further” Aiden replies, only to receive a sigh from his significant other.

“The only issue with that is the fact that LMC doesn’t really like to counter-offer that way. They just replace the anchor with someone less expensive as long as the ratings aren’t through the roof” Carly replies, skimming the laundry list of emails that her account has been sent in just the last few hours. “I may have an advantage if we can show consistent growth in the demographic. Having fantastic tits might also serve me well” she honestly proceeds, “but that might not be enough to cut down the last eight hundred.”

“Would you really not be willing to take a lesser salary or a shorter contract in the short-term like Vickers said?” Aiden questions back, trying to find room to manoeuvre around the conclusions drawn. “It goes against my laurels, and I’m not willing to go against my laurels” Carly replies, opening one email in specific before skimming it, quickly pressing the tips of her fingers to her keys in an effort to reply.

“As much as I understand that, allow me to ask you a hypothetical question” Aiden wonders back, listening to each key being tapped along as the woman plays the role of a two-birds, one-stone shooter. “Let’s say LMC decides that this offer- the one that you just got- is their final offer, and a company like the Finley Network offers you three million dollars more to host a late night talk show” the executive producer puts forward, “which one would you rather take?”

“Finley comes with a lot more baggage than I’m willing to take on” Carly passively replies, refusing the offer without even a moment of consideration. “So it’s safe to say that you’re willing to accept less pay for a better working environment?” Aiden questions back, watching the woman finish off her reply before setting full attention upon him.

“I wouldn’t accept an offer from Finley, but I wouldn’t necessarily rule out taking an offer from ACN or CSN for the same price” Carly replies, standing firm in her belief, “as much as I love working here, LMC isn’t the only place with a decent work environment.”

“You do realise that CSN is the place Grant came from before he’d become the morally-redeemed anchor that covered up his former co-host’s rape, right?” Aiden double-checks, only to receive a shrug from the eight o’clock host. “The people that let Nalty get away with what he did for so long were forced to resign after Grant went on the air with his story” Carly responds, taking a momentary glance back toward her computer screen, “their feet have been held to the fire to improve their internal working environment ever since. I’d benefit from that.”

“What exactly do you expect to go to one of those networks and do? A morning show? A talk show?” Aiden questions back, quickly bringing up the side of the conversation that his girlfriend has yet to take into account, “because I’m pretty sure you won’t be allowed to take the show we’re doing here over there.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t gotten any of their offers yet” Carly responds, directing her mouse’s cursor toward another unopened email as she finishes the thought, “but their offers would likely be for the show that we’re doing. I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to do our show over there.” Parting his lips to reply, Aiden falls silent for a moment as he listens to his better half’s fingers begin tapping along the keys once more, replying to the next message amongst her laundry list of others.

Having wanted to say something completely different, Aiden’s mind fails to let go of the woman’s latest response. Pressing his teeth together whilst Carly remains preoccupied with other business, the executive producer allows the air to remain without a voice occupying it, the silence having yet to be noticed by the eight o’clock anchor.

“We?” he questions back with a slight dip in his chin, both eyebrows raised on the producer’s face as the woman continues to type, hearing the clarification be raised before instinctively answering it in kind. “Yeah, they’d probably be making us an offer to take our show over to their-” Carly replies, only for the click of her mouse on the ‘send’ button to trigger a moment of consideration, her confused expression taking itself to her boyfriend’s face as she asks for further emphasis, interrupting herself to do so, “-wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

|

\ Sunday, May 4th, 2008 /
\ 12:51 pm est. - 9:51 am pst. /

“Sorry for the clouds, I wish it was sunnier out” Grant remarks, approaching the company’s chair woman with a glass of red wine in tow, her appreciative smile paid to him. “I didn’t know you could control the weather, Mr. Haste” Robin jokes, earning an amused chuckle out of the anchor as they take in the sights of the water from the front of the boat. “I’ve been on a boat in far worse conditions; cloudy skies are merely a mood-dampener” she reiterates.

“One of these days, we’ll get this thing out on the water when the conditions actually do it justice” Grant vows, nodding his head as the boat is guided further through the Long Island Sound, “until then, we’ll just have to deal with New York’s nonsense.” With a smirk, Robin bobs her head to the side in agreement, “I made the same choice when I chose to renew LMC’s lease on 44th street for the first time” she confesses, “in that moment, I dared the snow to do its worst. I paid the price sometimes.”

“There’s a cyclone hitting Myanmar right about now, so I suppose we could have it worse” Grant responds to a humoured grin, extending his own beverage toward the woman. Clinking the glasses together, Robin quietly presents her agreement as the waters being torn through by the steel reinforcement of the boat’s front make for wonderful viewing.

“How have you and Taylor been? We haven’t had any major shakeups back in LMC to clue you in on, so I haven’t gotten much of an opportunity to check in” Robin explains, keeping her eyes glued to the waters ahead. “Do you know how many CEO’s or chair people check in on the daily lives of their employees? You’ve gone out of your way more times in the last year alone than any of them will” Grant assures, “I just hope you realise how much that’s appreciated.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to get attached to many people in this industry. But then again, I don’t think many people can properly predict the future” Robin responds, only to have her stance reaffirmed by the third party that approaches. “You say that to someone who’s had his life changed for that very same reason” Vickers remarks, smiling as he walks up between the vessel’s passengers, “do you know how reluctant Taylor was to bring Grant into LMC in the first place?”

“The only reason that she agreed was because she owed you one” the anchor in question responds, flattering the president as he closes in. “I expected her to have given you the rundown by now. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t like pulling teeth” Vickers responds, pulling in a deep breath as he slides his hands past the flaps of his suit jacket, tucking them into his pockets, “I knew what kind of man Grant was. He did walk into New York with a big head, but Taylor popped it with haste... no pun intended.”

“We really were made for each other, weren’t we?” Grant quips, sparking laughter out of the pair beside him, genuinely believing such in a way that leaves him capable of using it for the sake of humour. “We took a chance creatively doing that too, you know?” Robin questions aloud, passing a look toward the still on-leave anchor of nine o’clock, “most networks just have their flagship broadcast hosted by one person. Hell, even Ms. Carpenter flies solo on her show.”

“I knew the Taylor English-Grant Haste duo would work like magic within a short while. I didn’t expect it to be as quick as it was, but I did expect it to work” Vickers remarks, pleased with the conclusion that’s become of it. “Look no further than our competitors- and I use that word loosely- as evidence of that” Robin doubles down, “aside from being entirely sour on the Nalty hiring, people don’t believe either man is gelling with the other. No one likes their version of the two-man broadcast.”

“As pleased as I am to hear that, what does it have to do with Taylor and I? Aside from the obvious, of course” Grant questions aloud, turning his full attention away from the sound and toward his colleagues. “The fact that every publication is just jotting them down as a rip-off of you two” Robin answers, earning a nod over the face of her company’s president, “besides, people have been clamouring to get the two of you back. That’s how well your show does.”

Appreciating the woman’s praise, Grant smiles before locking his eyes with the patio that they stand upon, trying his best to conceal the information he knows out of respect for his fiance’s private comments. Nonetheless displeased with the comments that Taylor had left him with just days prior, the nine o’clock news man stands in silence and embraces the beauty of the water that’s afforded to him whilst Robin and Vickers keep the conversation going- playing a spectator.

|

\ Wednesday, May 7th, 2008 /
\ 9:08 am est. - 6:08 am pst. /

“Nevertheless, the lack of comfort behind Clinton’s primary win in Indiana just further solidifies the idea that she’s lost what little remnants of being the frontrunner for the party nomination that she had entering the month” Carly carries onward, seated in her usual chair for eight o’clock in a tank top, a pair of black, denim shorts and a pair of running shoes, “we inch closer and closer to the McCain-versus-Obama election in November that experts have been predicting.”

“Hold on, we’re going to have to retake that last part” Aiden interrupts, holding up a hand to the woman as he looks into a monitor just beside the camera, “the thing went out of focus for some reason right near the end of that.” Letting out a sigh, the woman crosses one leg over the other and rests her forearm against one of them, staring into the lens with a playful face whilst patiently waiting to resume filming.

“The camera may be out of focus, but it is still recording” Aiden remarks, putting an immediate pause to the woman’s mannerisms as she laughs at herself. “It was adorable nonetheless, darling” the executive producer adds on, keeping the nature of light-hearted banter going as he shakes his head disapprovingly at the equipment. “Hey, Joey. Do me a favour and get one of the guys from the control room out here, please... I can’t-” he carries onward, “-I can’t get this thing to focus properly.”

“It’s Wednesday, Aiden” Colin interjects, answering on his friend’s behalf before watching the executive producer’s eyes roll as his face lifts toward the heavens. “Shit, they run late Wednesday’s because of the fucking train” the man sighs, throwing his hands out toward either side as he raises his voice just slightly, “alright, we’ll pause this segment and pick it back up when the rest of the crew gets in.”

Wearing a frown as she lets out a purposefully-exaggerated groan, Carly steps off of the seat and shakes her head at the executive producer, wagging her finger at him playfully as if it were her fault. “Listen, I suggested that we just zoom in on your boobs for the whole broadcast before we started it, but you’re the one that had the problem with that” Aiden jokes, sparking a smile over the anchor’s face as she flips him off, retreating to her office as the entrance to their level is pushed in.

“Well colour me shocked” Aiden proclaims, watching the approaching of the grinning face of his visitor take toward his direction. “As infrequent as my trips upstairs are, I believe the ones I make to the eight o’clock office are even more rare” Vickers responds, extending arms out at each side whilst taking an amused glance around the earlier-hour panopticon.

“Well, you did have a heart attack in the doorway to my office... So I can’t exactly say I blame you for the rarity in your trips” Aiden comments back to a chuckle. “Geez, it's bigger up at nine o’clock” Vickers comments, pointing out the difference in bureaus depending on the show.

“We like to run a more modest ship down here at the professional level” Aiden chirps back to an even deeper chuckle, the space that had remained between the executive producer and his immediate superior now cut entirely. “With the decreasing-height of the collars on your girlfriend’s shirts over the last few episodes of your online show, I’d say that you and I have different understandings of the word ‘modest’” Vickers rebuttals to a quick chuckle.

“Wait, you’ve been watching our online shows?” Aiden questions back, only to watch the expression in the president’s face take on the look of surprise that he’d be expected not to. “I employ you, I employ your girlfriend, I employ your crew, and I signed off on your show after you pitched it to me” Vickers comments back, shrugging to the man opposite himself, “of course I watch your show.”

Pleased, Aiden’s ability to take appreciation in the man’s viewership fails to be given the time to make itself clear, his shoulder being graced by the palm of the president’s hand. “I wanted to come up here and let you know two things. First one of them is that Robin called me to let you know that the improvement in your proper eight o’clock audience is beginning to sell ads for the right demographic” Vickers explains with a smile on his face, even further making the day of the eight o’clock producer.

“Second thing is that I wanted to remind you to start working on a new deal with the network” Vickers explains, letting his hand fall back into the pocket of his slacks, “I understand that your current deal expires in April next year?”

“That is correct, but I am waiting to see what Carly’s deal ends up looking like” Aiden responds, tucking a single hand into his pocket whilst the other guides itself toward the woman’s office. “The show that I’d be getting paid to do would be the show that she hosts” the man carries onward, offering a look into his mindset to the man whom he answers to, “I don’t want to sign a deal without knowing whether or not I’m going to have my lead anchor in the chair.”

“Yeah, I understand that. But, aside from it expiring, I do want to make it a point that Carly’s contract is only in such financial limbo because of the salary” Vickers clarifies, making it a mission to point out the difference, “she’s the person who hosts the show, but you’re the one that put the layout together. In finance’s eyes, they’re more likely to see you as the irreplaceable part of this project than they are her.”

“But I’m not the person presenting the show, I’m just the guy putting it together. People don’t know me” Aiden responds, earning a nod of agreement from the man opposite himself. “That’s true, which is why you won’t be able to get them to back up the brinks truck for you the way they would for Carly” Vickers explains, just wanting to ensure the executive producer has a clear idea of the situation at hand.

“When negotiating deals, the people in a position to decide who is worth what will be left asking whether or not they can lose either of you” the president continues to explain, “to them, it’s less likely that Carly could carry on the success of this project without you than it would be that you could keep the success going with someone else.”

“And they’d be more willing to let Carly go and bring in some other attractive girl because they wouldn’t have to spend so much?” Aiden queries, successfully finding the same line of thought that Vickers presents him with. “I’m not trying to tell you what to- or not to- do, I just want to make sure that you understand what your role in all of this is” the president concludes, “I know it might be tough to separate yourself from her internally, but I don’t want you to miss up on an opportunity for a strong, long-term deal with wonderful financial security just because you’re not clued into any of that.”

“I got it” Aiden assures, earning a smile across Vickers’ face as he pats the producer on the shoulder, nodding to him with satisfaction that the opportunities presented have been made properly clear. Not wanting his employees to leave money on the table if they can’t afford to or weren’t equipped to see it, the president carries on with his day by retreating the way he’d come. “Congratulate Carly for me, alright?” he concludes, leaving the eight o’clock producer with an interesting dilemma to consider.

Doing his good, charitable deed for the day, Vickers returns to the lift and descends the multiple levels to his office before passing a nod to his secretary and turning the corner for his office. “Taylor English is waiting for you in your office, sir” Nicole informs, capturing a smile from the president as he carries forward, stepping through the door that he’d left open to find the longer-tenured anchor of nine o’clock waiting for him in the centre of the room, alone and dressed like she’d gone out to run a couple of errands.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise” Vickers greets, finding the appreciative, curved-lip smile that sits atop his anchor’s face as he remains standing just in front of the door. “Is there something I can do for you?” the president queries, lifting both eyebrows as he draws interest to her unexpected arrival, having suspicions of his own as to the point of her presence that he keeps to himself.

“Yeah” Taylor replies with a nod, standing in the middle of the room with both hands held to her sides, the bottoms of her black jeans tucked into a pair of calf-high boots to go with the blue t-shirt she wears beneath a white sweater. Nodding for her to continue along, Vickers adjusts his stance adequately, crossing his arms as he watches the woman’s mouth part to speak, her figure outlined against the window that she stands just a few feet away from, her silhouette outlined by the skies of New York that finally find room to present some sunlight.

“I’m here to resign from Tonight at Nine” she answers, leaving no room for doubt as she assures her stance, bowing out of the business having prepared to say goodbye to it.

== Tonight at 9 ==