Writer's
Note: Please read the previous chapters and prologue of Invisible
Threads before reading this.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Al didn't usually
spend a lot of time thinking about magicians. Magicians were like
white bread. Something you always needed on the table but never built
a meal around.
Jim Harriman was
supposed to change that. With his stage presence and looks, he could
clearly capture hearts. She made a note. Harriman
needs to be single. No love interest.
His backstory was clearly fabricated, but as long as the mother was
on board, they could defend it.
He told jokes during
his act which could be more of a focus. If they could nudge him from
a magician who told jokes into the genre of a comedian/magician that
might put him over the top. With 70% of their viewership being women,
this guy would sell.
But then along came
Gary Richardson. His looks could reach average if he would dress a
bit sharper, stand up straighter, and carry himself with more poise.
His voice was adequate if he would learn to quit looking at the floor
when he spoke. He would already be gone and out of her hair if that
damn intern hadn't reinvented him on the fly and made him so
interesting.
His backstory
appeared rock solid. His father had died when he was young. They
needed more details on that. The intern's reports indicated that he
freely talks about having been under a psychiatrist's care. The
neighborhood where he grew up is lower working class, which would
resonate. And the nerd thing is new.
So, the concept for
the season had to change. If they didn't control it, the season
would boil down to a duel of form versus substance. And that is
exactly where she did not want it to go. If the audience understands
that dichotomy, then they would root for substance just to make
themselves feel less shallow. So, Jim Harriman needed one trick that
was as good as Richardson's.
She picked up the
phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found Ed-TM.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Hi Al. What do
you need?" He didn't mention that she was calling him after 9pm.
Working hours were twenty-four per day.
"Hi Ed. I need for
you to get with Jim Harriman and tell him to find a trick where he
never touches the cards or whatever."
"You want him to
come up with a Richardson trick."
"Exactly. It
doesn't have to be large or a centerpiece of his act but just
enough to show that he's in the same league."
"What if he
can't?"
"Then that will
totally change how we plan out the season and I'll have to redo a
bunch of work."
"Got it. I'll
give him a call.
Ed had been standing
in boxer shorts in front of the refrigerator debating with himself
whether it was too late to rustle up a snack. It was definitely too
late to be drinking coffee, but the steaming cup was already sitting
next to his computer. The call derailed his sandwich plans.
He sat down, took a
sip of coffee and pulled up the contestant contact list. If it was
9:30 in California, it was after midnight on the East Coast. But he
punched in the number regardless.
Harriman answered
immediately. "Hello?"
"Hi Jim, the is Ed
from Superstar.
Sorry about the hour but we're kind of working around the clock
here."
"No problem. I was
up working on the act."
"I don't doubt
it. Were you able to see Gary Richardson's act in Nashville?"
"I'm not sure.
Which one was it?"
"If you're
asking that, then you didn't see it."
"It was pretty
memorable, huh?"
"Very memorable."
He waited. People remembered things better if they came to
conclusions themselves.
"So, he's my
main competition."
"He's really
your only competition."
"Okay,"
"If I send you
some videos of him doing his trick, do you think you can duplicate
it?"
"No problem. If
you let me study a video of anyone's trick, I can recreate it and
make it better."
"Good. I'll send
you a link to his folder on the sharepoint. Don't make it too
flagrant but get something similar built into your act." He paused
a moment for emphasis. "The next part is important."
"I'm listening."
"Don't send me
any texts, e-mails, or messages about this. Nothing in writing. If
you need to discuss it, call me."
"Got it."
"Try and get some
sleep."
"I'll sleep when
the act is perfect."
"Attaboy."
They hung up.
Ed thought for a
moment about the ethics of what he had just done. Luckily, he had
been in Hollywood long enough to not lose any sleep over it. He
looked up at the clock and at the list of things he had to get done
before he went to sleep. A bologna sandwich was a good idea.
Hopefully, he wasn't out of mustard.
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