Read And Playing the Role of Herself... for Free Online

Danny a watery smile. "Yeah, Danny, I'm good."

I gave one final cough, and blinked rapidly.

Crap. My throat felt raw, my head hurt, and I was extremely embarrassed.

But on the bright side, Robyn had her hand on my arm and was looking at me with concern…life could be worse.

"Water?" She took her hand off me and reached for my glass, still half full on the table.

"Yeah, thanks."

Conversation around us started up again as I sipped and swallowed cautiously.

"Hey." Her voice was soft.

I looked over questioningly.

"It's good to see you, too." She gave me a crooked smile, and bumped into my shoulder with her own. "I missed ya."

It was such a guy thing to do, I couldn't help laughing. Even as the words made my heart beat double-time.

"Yeah?" I said with a stupid grin.

"Yeah."

We sat smiling at each other, and I felt sad and elated at the same time.

Robyn was beautiful, smart, funny…

And very, very straight.

I might never eat caramel sundaes off her stomach, but maybe I'd ask her to go for coffee sometime, or dinner, or a hike, just as friends.

Because I realized that I sincerely liked Robyn as a friend.

On impulse, I asked, "You have plans after this? For lunch?"

"I have to be back at ITD by one-thirty," she answered with a raised eyebrow, but no hesitation.

"Care to join me on a little trip?"

"Well, I certainly can't turn that down."

"Great, I'll…"

The room fell silent as the show's creator, Grant Hardy, walked in, along with the two other executive producers, two co-exec's and 4 writers, including the head-writer, or showrunner, Dorn Talren.

What the fuck was going on? Dorn rarely showed for these things, and Grant? Never. And how many executive producers did it take to do a preliminary read of a script?

I glanced over at Robyn, who looked as perplexed as I was.

"Good morning everyone!" Grant boomed.

A chorus of muted greetings accompanied the group as they settled into places around the long table, and Grant surveyed his cast members.

"Where's Liz?"

"Right here, Grant," came the reply from the door as Liz entered the room, frowning slightly when she noticed Robyn in the spot next to me. She walked by me, giving my shoulder a squeeze of greeting, and took the vacant seat on the other side of Robyn.

"Oh, good. I wouldn't want you to miss this. It was, after all, partially your idea." He waved at one of the writers who began distributing copies of the script around the table.

Liz looked confused for a moment, and then smiled brilliantly. "You liked it?"

"We sure did. The premise, anyway. We made a few changes that we think will work better."

Her smile faltered, but she took the offered script with a nod.

"Now," he boomed. "You're all probably wondering what's going on."

There were cautious nods around the table, and Grant smiled. "You all know how well the show is doing. We've been in the top five in our time slot all this season, and the numbers just keep getting better. The suits see that as a sign to keep doing things like we're doing them, but I didn't get here by sitting back and being cautious. I see this as an opportunity to take risks, to push the envelope, to see just what we can get away with. This season finale is going to set us up for some big things next year."

He stood and began pacing. "Our numbers in eighteen to forty-nine are the strongest, and that works perfectly for what we have in mind, since that's a demographic slightly more open-minded than the older or younger dems." He stopped his pacing and leaned his hands on the table, catching each cast member's eye. "We're going to take advantage of that, and make television history while we do it."

He sat down and opened his copy of the script. "Let's get started, shall we?"

There was an expectant pause, and finally Micah cleared his throat and spoke. "Grant? Are you going to tell us…"

The creator waved his hand. "No, I want you to look at this fresh, with no preconceptions. Just like the audience will."

Micah shrugged