Hollywood, CA

Doug Showalter, CEO of AEE heard the faint “ding” heralding the receipt of a Teams message.

“Your ten o’clock is here.”

Jocelyn, his administrative assistant ushered into Doug’s office Andy Daniels, Senior VP for Streaming for Ascendant, and Riposte Reynolds, son of Actress Gennifer Planter and her musician husband Mike Reynolds, frontman for the British rock band HotRox. You could always tell a nepo by their name. Whether they were named after a planet, a fruit, or a vegetable, you could always count on a celebrity to be an attention-seeking asshat when it came time to choose a name for their kid.

Riposte? Really?

Very much resembling his father at a skinny one hundred-forty pounds with red hair and a beak of a nose, Riposte Reynolds had tragically for him, received his father’s looks and his mother’s brains. Riposte was the very definition of a Nepo Baby. As a favor to Riposte’s mother, (who had a first-look deal with Ascendant that dated prior to Doug’s elevation to CEO), Doug had agreed to listen to her son’s pitch for a TV series for the Ascendant Plus streaming service. Currently, the streamer’s programming was a mix of a re-boot of a fifty-year-old science fiction series along with a half dozen series being supplied by the Tyler Sherman production factory.

After getting comfortable and making sure everyone was settled and had coffee, Jocelyn departed Doug’s office for her own desk and duties as Doug’s gatekeeper. Riposte gawked at Jocelyn’s departing rear-end and was about to make a comment but saw the expression on Doug’s face as he watched him watch Jocelyn. Riposte wisely shut his mouth. Although sexist and boorish behavior was still common in Hollywood, the broom that had swept away trash like Harvey Weinstein was still being wielded by those who wanted the men (and some women) in the industry to be better. Cleaning up Ascendant after his predecessor had been fired for sexual harassment had been Doug’s mandate from the board of directors.

If Riposte had made a comment about Jocelyn, the meeting would have ended immediately. Fortunately, even a dim bulb like Riposte Reynolds knew to keep his comments to himself these days.

Gennifer Planter had for all intents and purposes, retired from acting in order to concentrate on her lifestyle website, “Spluge!” The website was a mix of new age self-help mumbo jumbo and overpriced products for sale; the most notorious being a $1200 Anal Rejuvenation Kit that analysis had revealed consisted primarily of a mixture of bleach and hemorrhoid topical ointment.

Gennifer’s daughter, Mango Reynolds had dipped her toes into the acting pool with limited success (her success primarily being driven by a willingness, even eagerness, to appear nude in every role offered, whether in the script or not) and now her son was trying to leverage his mother’s industry contacts to launch his career as a creative.

“So, Riposte, your mother says you have an idea you want to pitch us. Something about a new take on the police procedural?”

“Yeah, that’s right. And all my buds call me either Rip or The Ripper.”

Doug tried not to roll his guys at the arrogant little shit. He knew that the only “bud” this entitled jackass had was his mother’s limo driver. Andy was not as successful at hiding his disdain, but fortunately “The Ripper” missed the eye-roll.

“We’re always looking for a fresh take on cop shows. Next to football, they’re still our most viewed programs. Tell us what you have,” Doug said.

Riposte smiled a huge smile. “You’re gonna shit yourselves when I tell you. It’s fucking brilliant.”

Doug made a rolling gesture with his right hand, signaling Riposte to continue.

“It takes place in the big city. It doesn’t matter what city, because you guys are probably going to want to film in Toronto anyway, right? The hero is this tough-as-nails police detective. I mean, this guy doesn’t take shit from anybody. He’s a real head-busting, ass-kicking, shoot-first and ask-questions-later, kind of cop. That’s why he’s always in trouble with the chief.”

As Riposte paused to take a sip of coffee, Doug inwardly groaned. He had just described the basic plotline of every cop show ever made.

“But this guy is different. And here’s the gimmick: he’s a little bit of a retard. He’s got Downe’s Syndrome. The name of the show is Officer Downe, only Downe is spelled with an ‘e’ at the end.”

Riposte sat back in satisfaction, a big grin on his face as he looked from Doug to Andy, waiting for their excited approval.

Who, instead looked at each other with undisguised horror.

Riposte took their wide-eyed, open-mouth expressions as interest and continued his pitch.

“Do you remember that old TV show that had that one guy named Corky? Imagine that guy (and here Riposte stood and held his hands in front of him as if grasping an imaginary gun) kicking a door down (he mimed kicking in a door and extended his pretend gun in front of him) and screaming like a retard, ‘freeze futhermucker!’ It’ll be hilarious. We can even get him a police dog partner that’s also his service dog!”

Doug thought to himself, ‘Oh God, It just keeps getting worse and worse.’ It was, hands down, the most godawful, deplorable pitch for a TV show in history. And he had once been pitched a reboot of the 1980s TV series “The Facts of Life” but set in a Nevada brothel. With Mrs. Garrett as the madame.

“For the love of God, please tell me you haven’t pitched this to anyone else,” asked Doug. He was trying to mask his feeling of revulsion and was barely succeeding.

“No, you’re the first. Mom told me not to take it to anyone but you.”

“I see,” Doug said. He made a mental note to have a word with Gennifer Planter about her son and if she (or more likely a nanny) had noticed any disturbing signs regarding Riposte. Like mysterious fires being set or missing neighborhood pets.

“We need to think about this one,” Andy said. “See where it could fit in our schedule.” He rose to his feet, followed immediately by Doug. Riposte rose more slowly. He thought there would be more discussions about production or finances. Maybe even a direct-to-series commitment without having to film a pilot.

Andy gently grasped Riposte by his elbow and escorted him to the door.

“I promise you; we will get back to you in just a day or two with the next steps.” Doug and Andy knew that the only step for this pitch was going to be to take it to the trash.

After the door closed, Doug and Andy looked at each other and burst into simultaneous laughter.

Fucking Nepo Babies.

As Doug pulled into the garage of his Malibu beach house, he sat for a minute after turning off the ignition.

He dreaded going into his home. The home that he had renovated to his wife’s specifications. The home in which they were supposed to live the rest of their days.

The home where she fucked their contractor.

Doug Showalter had met Sharon Davies on the set of the television mini-series “The Millionaire Murderer”. Sharon had written a spec script that was optioned by one of the three major networks. It was the story of a Dallas oilman who had been arrested for murdering his wife’s lover and her daughter from a prior marriage. When the events actually happened, there had been a tabloid feeding frenzy. The story had everything that you could imagine: A popular oilman. His gold-digging ex-wife. Her boyfriend who had been a college football standout at Texas A&M.

The oilman’s lawyer, Harrison “Highway” Lee was a fast-talking, shoot from the hip, gunslinger of a defense attorney, and the story was told from his point of view. Highway Lee was the sort of character that only Hollywood could create. Only he was real. He wore cowboy boots, a Stetson, and a fringed leather buckskin suit. And every soundbite during the course of the trial has been replayed ad nauseum by every TV channel.

The mini-series was going to be ratings gold.

Doug had been hired as the second unit director for the mini-series. He only had one credit as a primary director at that time but had a good reputation as a second unit director for going on location and wrangling cast and crew into line and bringing back footage that was oftentimes better than what the director was getting on film. And that was what happened on the set of Millionaire. The producers were not at all happy with what they were seeing in the dailies and thought what Doug had produced on location as the second unit director was far superior. So, the director was fired and Doug was promoted to director. Of an overbudget and behind-schedule big-budget mini-series.

Doug worked closely with the screenwriter to get a feel for what her vision was (the previous director was not at all interested in her input) regarding the film and focused his attention on bringing that vision to fruition. The end result was that “The Millionaire Murderer” was brought in on time and only slightly over budget, despite the reshoots needed due to the first director’s hack job.

The mini-series did prove to be a ratings blockbuster. It also swept the Emmys that year, earning awards for Sharon Davies for original screenplay, Reggie Broome for his portrayal of G. Davis Conrad, the Millionaire Murderer, and Roy Barfield for his turn as attorney Harry “Highway” Lee. Doug Showalter also won for directing, but by this time, Doug and Sharon were deeply in love and talking marriage. It began as an on-set flirtation, that gradually grew into a serious love. They were both in their mid-twenties and although they had both been in relationships, neither one had ever felt like this.

They married in a small ceremony in Sharon’s hometown of Plano, Texas.

Married life was good for Doug and Sharon. Sharon continued to write scripts for television series. She became the executive producer and showrunner for the TV series “Highway to Hell” based on the (highly fictionalized) exploits of Highway Lee. By the time the series ended its five-year run, Sharon had born two sons and had decided to retire. She did keep her hand in by writing the occasional spec script for TV shows that she enjoyed watching, but due to her husband’s meteoric rise, she did not have to work unless she wanted to.

Thanks to the spectacular success of Millionaire, Doug Showalter became a highly sought-after film director. His first film directing job after winning the Emmy was bringing to life a script by noted playwright Norman Stein. The script was a slapstick comedy about two divorced, middle-aged men who are forced to share a cabin on a hijacked cruise ship and held for ransom in the middle of the Caribbean. The film was a romantic comedy in which even the bad guys came out okay in the end. The film starred Hollywood legends, John Melon and William Matthias. Not only were John and William close friends in real life, but they had made a half-dozen movies together over the years, including a couple that were considered classics.

Doug brought the movie in on time and under budget. And it was a huge hit.

Although it did not win any awards, it cemented Doug’s reputation. He was offered big-budget productions but instead, he chose to open his own production company. He wanted to work for himself on projects that he was passionate about, not just as a paycheck. This would also provide an opportunity for Sharon to find books or plays that she was interested in and cultivate them. Doug’s production company (Shado ShowTime; after Sharon and Doug and a play on their last name) was soon in business with offices on the lot at Ascendant Studios.

Over the next few years, they developed several movies and a dozen TV series. The boys were growing and doing well and Doug had time to attend their games and be an active father. Doug and Sharon remained in love and had a highly satisfactory sex life. They were adventuresome, and slightly kinky at times, but above all, they were monogamous with each other.

That was the reason Doug was absolutely gutted to find out that Sharon was sleeping with his contractor.

The boys were grown and out of the house (Stanford for Brian and Annapolis for Daniel) and Doug and Sharon decided it was time to begin winding down their production company. They had more than enough money. The wealth they had accumulated was generational wealth.

They purchased the Malibu house from a retired rock singer who wanted to move back to the UK because he was homesick, although Doug imagined the rumors about a pregnant eighteen-year-old high school senior might have something to do with the rocker’s sudden longing for Brighton.

Although they loved the location and the bones of the house, there was nothing subtle about the previous owner’s taste. He had managed to be both garish and trashy while spending a ton of money to achieve that aesthetic. Doug and Sharon partnered with an architect and interior designer to completely make over their seaside estate.

Bobby Cornwall had a good reputation in Southern California. Whatever your vision was, he could make it happen. And over the course of the next several months, that’s exactly what he did. Sharon and Doug continued to live in their Holmby Hills estate, only periodically venturing down to Malibu to check in with Bobby’s progress.

During this time, Doug had made it known that he was interested in selling Shado ShowTime Productions and he had received much interest from several studios. Chief among them was Ascendant Entertainment on whose studio lot SSP had their production offices. The board had made Doug an interesting offer; one that he had not yet talked to Sharon about. They wanted to purchase SSP, but they also wanted Doug to run the studio. As in president of Ascendant Studios.

Doug had been presented with the offer in the morning. That afternoon, he received a call on his cell phone.

“Hey, Mr. Showalter, this is Kevin Brewster. I’m the electrical subcontractor on your house? In Malibu?” He had made each sentence sound like a question; as if Doug might be having multiple houses remodeled.

“Yes, Kevin. I remember you. How’s it going?”

“Mr. Showalter, I hate to be the one making this call, but you need to know what’s going on over here.”

That got Doug’s interest.

“What do you mean Kevin? Is there a problem with the remodel? Shouldn’t you be talking to Bobby?”

Doug could hear a heavy sigh through the phone.

“That’s the problem, Mr. Showalter. It’s Bobby and Mrs. Showalter. They’re having sex here. If you know about it, just forget I called. But if you don’t know about it, I thought you should.”

Doug gripped the phone so tightly his palm ached.

“What exactly are they doing, Kevin.”

“Mrs. Showalter comes over just about every other day. Bobby takes her back to where the main guest bedroom is going to be. That room is already finished out and the carpet put down. He has really loud sex with her so everyone can hear it. He makes her say things about how big he is and how she loves it when he ... puts it in her butt.”