Teaming With the Shrew
Copyright© 2025 by Argon
Chapter 17: Buy-out
Almost a week after the dismissal of the law suit, I received an urgent call to see Marc. I had kept him and Sharon in the loop on the developments of the last weeks, and he had shrugged off the suit as nuisance. So long as the charges were refuted, nobody cared. Well, somebody did.
When I entered Marc’s office, he was not alone. Also present were the NBS head counsel, Pierre Thibaux, and the president of NBS, Gary Lattimer. Both wore undertaker faces.
“Mister Borgward,” Thibaux started, “the recently publicized unsavory aspects of your past make it impossible to maintain your association with NBS Studios. In the interest of the studio, the cast of the show, and the staff, we must terminate you contracts as of immediately.”
Lattimer nodded to this like a freaking bobble head, but Marc was shaking his head.
“I told them that I’m against this, Rick. It’ll be untenable in court and it’s unjustifiable to the public. Gary, you want to gut our Nº2 breadwinner because an unethical ambulance chaser filed a bogus lawsuit? Which was literally laughed out of the court at the first hearing?”
“UI can survive without him,” Lattimer answered brusquely. “We’ll find somebody to fill in.”
“Yes, but can it survive without the female lead? You don’t really think that Jennifer Saint David will stay on the show after you axe her husband?”
“She’ll fulfill her contract.”
“Her contract runs until late June, and she can veto any addition to the cast. She won’t take this lying down.”
“Then we’ll fire her ass, too!” Lattimer shot back angrily.
I held up my hand. “One moment. If you want to fire me, give it to me in writing. I have a binding contract until June, and you better find a good reason for the termination. I was hit with a frivolous lawsuit. The suit was dismissed with prejudice. My past as an adult performer was known to the studio since Monahan bought the show four years ago. So, knock yourselves out, send me a formal, written termination notice, and we’ll slug it out in court. Oh, and if you let your dirty mouth run on my wife again, you’ll have a real reason for firing me, you pathetic ass kisser. I’ll be in my office now.”
“You will wait here until a security officer will accompany you,” Pierre sounded.
“Have you a written and signed termination notice for me?”
“No. As it is, however, I suspend you effective immediately,” Lattimer announced heatedly.
“Okay then, I’ll just grab my lunch box and be gone. Come along if you don’t trust me.”
I turned and left Marc’s office, and Thibaux almost fell over his feet in his hurry to follow me. In my office, I grabbed my satchel bag which contained my tablet computer, my lunch box and my sports coat, looked around and turned to leave.
“I demand to see the contents of your bag, Borgward!”
“And I demand that you kiss my ass, you pompous fool! Did you actually attend a law school? You have no right to search my bag, you asshat! Oh, wait, that ball pen is my private property.”
I grabbed the old Lamy ball pen and left the office, heading downstairs, Thibaux following me.
“Can I say goodbye to my colleagues?”
“No! Get out!” was the expected answer.
“Fuck you, too!” I answered genially, moving towards the sound stage. Then, good old Pierre made the big mistake of grabbing my arm. I’m not trained in the martial arts, but my elbow check into his solar plexus still gave me enough lead to enter the sound stage.
“Jenn, we have to leave. Grab Carly and let’s be gone.”
“What is going on?”
“I’m suspended and will be fired for being wrongfully accused or something like that. Lattimer thinks I’m untenable. Guys, it’s been a pleasure. Let’s meet tonight at Romaro’s, and I’ll give you the scoop.”
“What about your scene tomorrow?” Jimmy Craig, the director, asked.
“Not my problem anymore, Jimmy. Tomorrow, I’ll be busy suing the pants off Lattimer and his lapdog Thibaux. Sorry, guys, really, but I was ordered off the premises.”
“What sort of horseshit is this?” Jenn demanded.
“Love, I have no idea. You see, they had nothing in writing for me, and the garbage they spouted is too ridiculous to be meant seriously. I need to see Josh, and we only have one car here. Ah, look guys, Pierre Thibaux can explain everything to you.”
“I’ll have you arrested, Borgward!” Thibaux screamed at me.
“For what?” I asked back.
“For assaulting me!”
“See, this is where slacking off in college hurts you now. Grabbing my arm from behind constitutes assault in California. I merely defended myself against your attack. Criminal Law 101. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my wife and I have to start legal proceedings. By the way, if I don’t have the written, signed notice tomorrow, I will come to work, and God help you if you stand in my way. Got that, dumbass?”
“You’ll never work here again, you arrogant...” he hesitated, seeing that I was now standing right in front of him.
“Speak your mind, why don’t you?”
“You ... you’re not imida ... intimidating me!”
“Why would I do that? You’re a wuss already. Now be a good boy and explain to these fine people why the best show on the network will be cancelled in mid-season.”
“You can be replaced, Borgward. You’re nothing but a peacock and these stupid skirts fell for your shtick.”
“Oh, I think I just heard a misogynistic slur from a senior network official,” Jenn shot back. “I believe this justifies a walk-out. You’ll hear from me through my attorneys.”
“Sorry, I cannot work in such a toxic climate,” Brenda spoke up.
“I am deeply offended too,” Lucy nodded, turning and leaving for her wardrobe. “Guess I’ll have to renew those old lawsuits against NBS, too.”
A few people, gaffers and makeup people, not really associated tightly with the show, stayed, but the entire writing staff packed their stuff, too. It was sad. One moment, we were a well oiled machine churning out funny episodes, the next moment, the show was gutted.
“Well done, Einstein,” I told Thibaux. “You singlehandedly erased $57 million annual revenue for NBS, and I’ll let the world know of it.”
“They can’t get out of their contracts,” he smirked. I wanted to punch that smirk from his face but restrained myself.
“Maybe not, but you won’t be here to see it. Your ass, my friend, is toast. Let’s split, Jenn!”
We did, but right outside, Jimmy Craig pressed a memory card in my hand.
“The episode is toast anyway,” he explained. “You and the ladies can have a better use for this.”
“Thibaux’s verbal suicide?”
“Yep. Nail that asshole, Rick!”
Lucy and Brenda were waiting in the parking lot, leaning against their muscle cars.
“I already called Jane McCauley,” Lucy told us. “We’re supposed to see her and Mister Hartwell in two hours. Chris and the others will meet us there to give depositions.”
“Let us get Marc into the loop before we burn any bridges,” I cautioned them. “He always stood by us.”
I called him on his cell. From the sounds, he was driving.
“Hi, Rick. Listen, I’m on my way to see Monahan to let him know what his minions just did. I have a hunch that he may be unhappy seeing his NBS shares go into free fall.”
“You can try, Marc. Did you hear what Thibaux did?”
“Yes, rumor travels at the speed of sound. The girls will sue his ass, I hope?”
“At the least. Look, Marc, we have two more episodes in the can, but those may be the last ever.”
“Shit! We had turned around NBS, and now those clowns tear it down. I’ll try to get through to Monahan.”
“Do your best, Marc. We’ll hold off for a day before we file.”
“I’ll let you know ASAP. Maybe I’ll quit too. If our earnings tank, they’ll blame me anyway.”
“Good luck!”
“You heard the man. He’s going into the lion’s den.”
“Do you think he’ll achieve anything?” Brenda asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe Monahan is behind this. Lattimer is his handpicked successor and Thibaux was installed on Monahan’s urging. He may want control over NBS again, and that means, Marc won’t last either. It’s a shake-up, you see. I am symbolizing everything that’s wrong with NBS, so they get rid of me first.”
“They’ll get rid of me next,” Lucy said darkly. “Ever since Earl and I went public, we’ve been getting flak from the Evangelicals. Maybe Monahan wants to shore up their support for his political aspirations?”
“As likely as not. Let’s wait what Marc will have to tell us. Hell, maybe we can get Monahan to buy us out against dropping our lawsuits. He had no problems buying me out back then.”
“And then what?” Jenn asked with her head tilted and her little quirky smile on her lips.
“Then, we’ll team up and contact one of the streaming services. I’m sure we can come up with ideas for a new show. Let’s face it: the roomy thing is getting tired, right Brenda?”
“Yeah, it’s getting stale. Adding Lucy gave us a good boost, but with Pris getting to be a celeb shyster, we’ll collide with reality at one point.”
“Guys, if I get out from UI, I have an option,” Lucy said. “Chris and I have a good name on the comedy circus. Elise says that she gets good vibes from Chuckles’N’More. They may offer us emcee spots starting next season. With his DUI, they want to axe Tom Woodley.”
CNM is a weekly comedy live show, and a highlight in the line-up of a popular streaming service. That had to be tempting for Lucy and Chris.
“That would be great for you two. Again, let’s wait for Marc before making our moves.”
Marc called us at 5:30 pm, and from the sound of his voice I knew what to expect.
“I just spent four hours with Monahan and his obnoxious wife. The bad news is, we’re all out. You two, Sharon, Lucy, the writers and the production team. Monahan wants to revamp the entire lineup. Family values, you know.”
“What’s the good news?”
“He has a buyer for his shares and they have money to burn. The CVC, you know, the Christian Values Coalition. They want an outlet for their agenda, and NBS will be it. Everybody involved with UI will get a buy-out offer. Pay until season’s end plus six months. The female cast and staff will receive a written apology from Thibaux and twenty K compensation each. It will come out of Thibaux’s own severance pay. Monahan called him and fired his ass while I was still there. CVC doesn’t hold with sexism; they’re no right wingers, just Christians, and Monahan is afraid of any lawsuits that may tarnish NBS in their eyes.”
“Why’d Lattimer fire me then?”
“He wasn’t let in on the buyout. Monahan only told him to identify people and shows to let go for a transition to a family value-based network, and Lattimer got excited and shot his wad prematurely. He’ll be gone, too, under the new ownership. Two DUIs in his past, you know.”
“What about the copyrights for UI and our back catalogue?”
“Yeah, I thought of that, too. Sold to CoolStream. I am to negotiate with them about finishing the season and the series. They would take over all your contracts and rent the soundstage. Monahan is not above making money off UI as long as it’s not under NBS flag. He even promised to attend the blow-out party after the final episode.”
“Yippie! Well, at least we may finish UI with some degree of dignity. The fans will appreciate it. Will there be a public announcement?”
“I’ll draft one and give it to you for approval. Your suspension is revoked by the way.”
“Where’s the catch?”
“We’ll be looking for new jobs come the summer. I’ll start floating my resumé.”
“Yeah, but we had a good run. Listen, when you start talking to the CoolStream people, offer them an extra, two-hour live farewell show, with bloopers, stand-up comedy, BTS materials, the works. The producers and you can also appear and offer their views.”
“That’s brilliant, Rick. Can you get the Olsens, too? We can try to get as many former guest stars as possible to attend live or to send video clips. Hell, even Hugh Dumont. You should really keep producing, Rick. You have the hand for it. Have you any ideas what’s next for you and Jenn?”
“We haven’t discussed it yet. Jenn should have no problems finding roles. Me, I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll just be the stay-at-home dad for Carly. Maybe, we’ll move to England and Jenn joins some theater company. We’re not hurting for money.”
“Okay, try to get the cast together to keep shooting. We’ll sort out the rest. Give my regards to Jenn!”
“Thanks for the call, Marc. I’ll see you!”
Everybody was there that evening at Romaro’s. We had a separate room and I tipped the head waiter, Enzo, to warn us if reporters showed. I asked him to wait with taking our orders for a half hour. After he closed the door behind himself, I told the crew of the new developments, first the bad news, then the good ones. Lucy and Terry took the news well. Their pay would run until year’s end, and by then, they would find new roles or activities. Our four writers were also optimistic. Each of them had options, and Chris was moonlighting with Lucy anyway. Brenda was okay, too, and even a little excited over closing all the story arcs by June.
Jean announced that he would manage Cherry full time. Like me, he had a nice portfolio earning him money, and he would enjoy traveling with his lover. The rest of the crew would keep working for NBS; they were not tied in with our show, and they were unionized.
When I floated my idea of a farewell show extravaganza, everybody promised to be available for the extra production time, provided CoolStream accepted the idea and paid for it. We had dinner then, and while our unionized crew enjoyed it as being free, cast and production staff huddled together to map out the remaining episodes and the ending. This meant scrapping most of what had been written already. Ideas were offered and rejected or modified until we had a half-assed exit strategy assembled:
Episode 21: Terry, using her share of the facial cream settlement, decides to attend law school and gives notice.
Episode 22: Pris is asked back to England to take over the well established solicitor firm of her ailing uncle and leaves California with Baby Cassandra.
Episode 23: Lucy, back to her natural skin color and with her settlement money securely invested, closes her social media accounts and becomes the national spokeswoman for a charity that supports education projects for American Indians. She leaves California, too, with Ricky living alone in the house until the lease expires.
Episode 24 (final, double length): Ricky has a near-death experience when a husband, coming home from a business trip, sees him massaging his nude wife — a genuine client — and grabs a handgun, shooting at the fleeing Ricky who barely escapes. Sitting alone in the house, Ricky takes stock of his life and sees himself as a lonely, frustrated man. After a phone call to Pris, asking how Baby Cassandra is doing, he realizes that she, too, has to be lonely without her roomies. He then checks Pris’s new hometown and sees that the only pub in the small town is closed and in need of a new publican. Cut to six months later, and Pris, tiredly walking home from her office, suddenly sees the village pub open again with a new name, Ricky’s Place. Already suspecting who the new publican is, she enters and sits at the bar. Ricky does not bat an eye and asks what she’ll have, and she answers with a happy smile, ‘You!’.