I Hate Everyone, Except You Page 9

  CUT TO BLACK.

  END OF ACT TWO.

  ACT THREE

  INT. CHANGING ROOM SET – CONTINUOUS

  SHARNAY Don’t let Fiona bother you.

  CHETLEY She’s really charming once you get to know her.

  Sharnay and Minnie give skeptical looks.

  CHETLEY (CONT’D) I’m totally lying. She’s a demon.

  MINNIE Who does she think she is, calling me by my last name. Miss Mai. Miss Mai ass, skank. My real last name is Lefkowitz anyway. My father’s Jewish.

  CHETLEY Get out! I’m a half-breed too. Half WASP, half Jewish. Jewish mother though. So technically, I’m more Jewish than you. Except I never had a bar mitzvah, so technically I’m not Jewish. I think. I told my parents that for my thirteenth birthday, instead of a bar mitzvah I wanted a private performance of “A Chorus Line” in our backyard. My parents were crazy-rich, so they basically bought me Donna McKechnie.

  MINNIE I don’t know who that is, but mazel.

  ANGIE (exiting changing room in a boldly printed caftan) This is the twenty-third dress I’ve tried on and nothing looks good.

  SHARNAY Oh, stop. It looks good. If you’re hosting a key party.

  CHETLEY Or if you’re married to Mister Roper. “Stanley, would you stop bothering those kids upstairs!”

  MINNIE I don’t know who that is either.

  CHETLEY You really need to brush up on your 1970s pop culture.

  MINNIE I was born in 1992.

  CHETLEY Sharnay, she was born—in the ’90s.

  SHARNAY (to Chetley) I’m not deaf. (to Angie) You still haven’t tried on the orange satin sheath.

  CHETLEY (to Angie) It’s gonna be fabulous! Back inside. And hurry!

  Angie returns to changing room.

  CHETLEY (CONT’D) 1992. I got my start in this business in 1992. It’s true. I was Christina Applegate’s stylist in “Married . . . With Children.” Fishnet tights with denim shorts? That was me. You’re welcome.

  SHARNAY So, where were we? We know Juan Carlos is really Hector. (to Minnie) You’re a genius, by the way. But we still don’t know for sure if I slept with him.

  MINNIE We’ll need to figure out another way to trick him. When were you with him?

  SHARNAY Two years ago.

  MINNIE Where?

  SHARNAY Cabo San Lucas.

  MINNIE I’m on it!

  Minnie leaves.

  Angie opens up dressing room door. She wears the orange dress and it fits perfectly.

  ANGIE How’s this?

  CHETLEY Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!

  SHARNAY Yay! Orange you glad you tried that one on?

  Chetley and Angie groan.

  INT. HAIR AND MAKEUP SET – DAY CUT TO: Juan Carlos straightens up his hairstyling station. Fiona rifles through Minnie’s makeup station.

  FIONA I see Minnie has set up her station after all. Quite an assortment.

  (starts applying lipstick)

  JUAN CARLOS You probably shouldn’t be doing that.

  FIONA You probably shouldn’t be telling me what to do.

  Minnie enters.

  JUAN CARLOS You probably want to know that Minnie is right behind you.

  MINNIE Hi!

  FIONA I was just admiring your makeup assortment.

  MINNIE That’s a pretty shade you chose. It’s called “Scarlet Fever.” Which is interesting because I used it just yesterday on a drag queen with really bad herpes.

  FIONA (wiping mouth) Yuck.

  MINNIE Oh, don’t worry. I always use disposable brushes. I’m kind of a cleanliness freak. (she wipes the top layer of lipstick off the tube) That’s why I don’t like anyone touching my things without asking.

  FIONA I had high hopes for you, Miss Mai. Now I’m starting to question the network’s decision to hire you.

  MINNIE I’m sorry to hear that but I assure you I’m a professional. And thank you for understanding about not using my supplies. (hesitates for a second) Especially not the brow gel.

  FIONA The brow gel?

  MINNIE This stuff. (picks up small tube) It’s very expensive. I have it shipped from Japan. I can only get one tube at a time through customs.

  FIONA What’s so special about it?

  MINNIE Well, it’s really easy to apply. And it makes for perfect eyebrows every time. And I always keep it right here. (puts tube down very deliberately)

  FIONA Good to know. I’m going to check up on Sharnay and Chetley. How long does it take to find one stupid dress?

  Fiona exits.

  MINNIE That chick hates me.

  JUAN CARLOS Like a Puerto Rican hates birth control. (pause) I’m Puerto Rican. I can say those things. What’s up?

  MINNIE Not much. I was just thinking about my next vacation.

  JUAN CARLOS Interesting thing to do on your first day of work.

  MINNIE Never too early to start planning for a good time, I always say. Where do you think I should go?

  JUAN CARLOS What kind of vacation do you want?

  MINNIE A sexy beach vacation.

  JUAN CARLOS You could go to Thailand.

  MINNIE Too far.

  JUAN CARLOS There’s always Mexico.

  MINNIE Yes, Mexico! Do you have a favorite part?

  JUAN CARLOS I always have a good time in Cabo.

  MINNIE I knew it! Cabo!

  JUAN CARLOS I just realized I left my favorite hair dryer in the car. I’ll catch you later.

  INT. CHANGING ROOM SET - LATER THAT DAY CUT TO: Sharnay and Chetley are sitting on the floor. Only Angie’s legs and feet are visible. She is trying, with little success, to walk in a pair of five-inch platform stilettos.

  CHETLEY C’mon, Angie, you can do this!

  ANGIE I can’t.

  CHETLEY These heels are nothing! I styled someone in these exact shoes just last week. It was Ruth Ginsberg. She was doing a charity walkathon.

  SHARNAY Try, Angie. Shoulders back, boobs out. (to Chetley quietly) This is more painful than watching a brain-damaged giraffe take its first steps.

  Minnie enters. Sits on floor.

  MINNIE (to Sharnay) He told me he always has fun in Cabo. You totally had sex with him! (to Chetley) And so did you! You know that saying: When you have sex with someone it’s like you’re having sex with everyone they’ve ever had sex with? Well, if that’s true, you two have totally done it with each other.

  CHETLEY Please don’t tell me that. For the record, I just fooled around with him. A little bit of “eh.” And a little bit of “eh.” Not the full “eh-eh.”

  SHARNAY I did the full “eh-eh.”

  MINNIE Man, I hate that he’s being so coy!

  SHARNAY Me too!

  CHETLEY Me three!

  Angie falls flat on her face in front of them.

  INT. HAIR AND MAKEUP SET – CONTINUOUS

  Fiona rifles through Minnie’s makeup station again.

  CHETLEY (V.O.) Meanwhile, someone had a case of the sticky fingers.

  FIONA Hell if I’ll let that little brat tell me what I can and can’t touch. (applies brow gel to both of her eyebrows)

  INT. HAIR AND MAKEUP SET – LATER THAT DAY Juan Carlos is finishing up a haircut. CUT TO:

  CHETLEY (V.O.) And later, Juan Carlos proved to be an excellent hairstylist—and television host.

  JUAN CARLOS Angie, I am all done with you. I think your hair looks gorgeous, but I can’t let you see yourself yet. It’s a surprise! Next up, makeup.

  FLOOR MANAGER Cut! Nice work, Juan Carlos.

  JUAN CARLOS Thank you.

  FLOOR MANAGER Angie, please take a seat in the makeup chair. Minnie, we’d love to start immediately with you if you’re ready.

  MINNIE Ready, Freddie.

  FLOOR MANAGER That’s what I like. Coming to you in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

  MINNIE Hi, Angie, my name is Minnie and I’ll be doing your makeup today. I’d really love to bring out those beautiful green eyes of yours . . .

  INT. BACKSTAGE – CONTINUOUS FADE TO: Fiona is
watching the action on set. She scratches her brow and notices a single eyebrow hair on her fingers. She blows it off. She touches her brow again and this time two hairs come off in her hand. She runs to a mirror nearby and rubs a section of her right eyebrow and it completely falls off. She muffles her own scream and is hushed by the Floor Manager.

  CUT TO: INT. BACKSTAGE – NEARBY – CONTINUOUS Sharnay and Chetley stand side by side. They are also watching Minnie on set. They notice Fiona’s commotion and ignore it.

  SHARNAY (about Minnie) She’s good.

  CHETLEY Very natural.

  Juan Carlos sneaks up behind them and whispers in their ears.

  JUAN CARLOS Hey, sexy.

  CHETLEY (suspicious) Which one of us are you talking to?

  JUAN CARLOS Both of you.

  SHARNAY Can we help you?

  JUAN CARLOS I know what you two are up to.

  SHARNAY Is that so?

  JUAN CARLOS You’re trying to figure out which of you has made sweet love to me.

  CHETLEY We’ve already figured it out. And we’re already over it. It’s both of us.

  JUAN CARLOS Incorrect. It’s only one of you.

  SHARNAY (shocked) Which one?

  JUAN CARLOS I’ll tell you later.

  He exits. Sharnay and Chetley stare at each other in disbelief. CUT TO:

  INT. TELEVISION STUDIO – MOMENTS LATER Chetley, Sharnay, Minnie, and Juan Carlos stand in a row on the main set of “You Look Fabulous.” They are preparing for the last shot of the day, the final reveal.

  FLOOR MANAGER Thank you for your patience, guys. We’ll be ready to roll in less than two minutes.

  FIONA (O.C.) Minnie! Come here!

  MINNIE What?

  She runs off set. The others don’t know what’s wrong.

  CUT TO: INT. BACKSTAGE – CONTINUOUS

  FIONA (holding her hand over her forehead) What did you put in that brow gel?

  MINNIE Nothing. Why?

  FIONA You know why.

  MINNIE I asked you not to touch it.

  FIONA What was in it?

  MINNIE It’s a depilatory. It’s for people who don’t like plucking. You apply the gel to unwanted hairs and they just fall right out.

  FIONA I thought it was for taming brows, like all brow gels.

  MINNIE Not this stuff. Don’t tell me you . . .

  INT. TELEVISION STUDIO – DAY CUT TO: Sharnay, Chetley, and Juan Carlos are still on set waiting for the action cue.

  FLOOR MANAGER Minnie! We need you on set now!

  Minnie runs in and takes her place.

  MINNIE Well, it was nice working with you guys.

  SHARNAY What happened?

  MINNIE I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.

  JUAN CARLOS It was . . . Sharnay.

  SHARNAY (stifled excitement) I knew it! (speaking out the side of her mouth to Juan Carlos) It was good, right?

  JUAN CARLOS Excellent.

  CHETLEY I’m confused.

  MINNIE Me too. Who is Hector?

  JUAN CARLOS My twin brother.

  MINNIE Yeah, right.

  JUAN CARLOS I’m serious. (takes out phone and begins to scroll through photos) Look, I have a million pictures of him and me. Here we are in matching sailor suits as a kid. Here we are with mustaches. He’s a gay.

  MINNIE Cute.

  JUAN CARLOS Sorry, Chet. I remembered that about two years ago he told me he fooled around with some guy from a TV show. I figured it must be you.

  CHETLEY Great. I’m just some guy from a TV show.

  JUAN CARLOS He also told me you— (whispers in Chetley’s ear)

  CHETLEY Well, that makes me feel a little better.

  MINNIE I’m glad we figured this all out, ya big bunch of hose-bags.

  FLOOR MANAGER We’re coming to you, Sharnay, in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

  SHARNAY OK, Angie, it’s time to come out!

  CHETLEY Show us your new look!

  Angie comes out from behind a curtain. She looks happy and beautiful, with her orange dress, moderate heels, sassy haircut, and perfect makeup. The camera pans to Fiona who scowls—without eyebrows.

  CHETLEY, SHARNAY, MINNIE, AND JUAN CARLOS You look fabulous!

  CUT TO BLACK.

  END OF ACT THREE.

  ACT FOUR (TAG)

  Fiona sits, back to camera. Minnie is repairing Fiona’s eyebrows.

  FIONA I’m sorry I used your products without permission.

  MINNIE I forgive you. I’m sorry your eyebrows fell out.

  FIONA Nice work on Angie today.

  MINNIE Thank you. So I’m not fired?

  FIONA No. Not yet.

  MINNIE OK, I’m done drawing them back on. I think they look very natural.

  Fiona picks up a hand-mirror. Minnie has drawn on exaggerated Joan Crawford–style brows.

  FIONA Minnie!

  MINNIE No more wire hangers!

  FIONA Not funny!

  MINNIE It was a joke! I’ll do them right this time!

  CUT TO BLACK.

  So, there you have it. One of my many ideas that will never come to fruition, and I’m OK with that. As I mentioned, I prefer these characters live in my head than on a television screen anyway. My head’s nice and safe. And most important of all, I’m in control of it. At least I think I am. Anyway, gotta run. PowerBall is up to 300 million bucks and I am gonna win it this time! That is, if I ever scan the damn ticket.

  THE SWITCH

  The second time I met Damon was the first time I felt the switch, one of those moments when someone, or perhaps something, bigger, in the cosmic sense, pulls a little lever and—click—the track you’ve been traveling on is no longer your track. The old track just disappears behind you, as irrelevant as yesterday’s train schedule. Click. You’re going somewhere else now. Click. There’s no reverse. Click. Your reality will never be the same.

  This switch was different from all the previous switches in my life because I didn’t see it coming (maybe I could have, but I’m thankful not to have), and to this day I don’t know who or what flipped it, not that it matters much.

  Talking to people about switches, I’ve learned we all have them but most of us can’t pinpoint the exact moment they occur. That’s because, I believe, when you see a switch in the distance, you can emotionally prepare for it; the adjustment, sometimes subtle, sometimes not, is cushioned by the emotions you’ve spread out before you as you chug steadily, relentlessly, toward it. Let me give you an example: When I was a child, my biological parents, who at one point—I assume—were enough in love to marry and create a family, “grew apart,” and in the process failed to keep secret their utter contempt for each other. I knew on some level their union would not last, but I was consumed, naturally, with sadness and fear. They divorced, and soon I was the new kid in a new school.

  My track had changed. My parents changed it, obviously, but when? I can’t pinpoint the precise moment—and the moment had to be precise because one person can’t ride on two tracks simultaneously. At one point, I was a ten-year-old boy in a two-parent family. At another point, I was not. The switch occurred, but I missed it. Perhaps if I had been a little older, more attuned, less sad, less frightened, I would have felt it. But I didn’t. I had felt no switch, but I knew I was headed in a different direction.

  That’s the way life happens. Most of the time.

  * * *

  “Does anyone really want to be at this party?” I wondered while chewing a cube of vaguely Swiss cheese and watching a dozen or so female editors and reporters mill around the What Not to Wear studio. The series producer, a British woman named Sarah Jane, was urging two of them to step into “the dreaded three-hundred-and-sixty-degree mirror,” one of the show’s signature gimmicks, so they could see themselves from all angles. “I’ve been in once,” she said. “I thought I might die.” The event had been arranged by the publicity department to announce that the show had been picked up for another season. Good news for the cast and crew, of course, but I didn’
t really see the point. Why throw a half-assed party when a half-assed press release would suffice?

  Fully aware that I was expected to mix and mingle, I made my way toward a trio of women in their mid- to late twenties, all of whom were wearing dark-wash boot-cut jeans, a wardrobe staple of the time.

  “Hi, I’m Clinton,” I said. They worked at a popular weekly entertainment magazine, according to their name tags.

  “So . . . did we pass?” the most polished and outgoing of them asked, while the other two smiled halfheartedly. The question annoyed me then, as it does now, at least when used as a conversation starter. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer when someone introduces herself with a “Hello” or a “Nice to meet you.” Most of all, I enjoy an “Enchanté,” uttered with a languidly extended gloved hand, however hard they are to come by these days.

  Everywhere I went since the show became a hit, strangers in the supermarket, on the subway, in the airport would say things like Oh my God, you’re that guy from that show! How do I look? Is this what not to wear? Get it? “What not to wear”? My mother told me I’m too fat for this dress. I think she’s a total bitch. What do you think? I quickly learned it’s easier to give people the attention they crave than explain to them that the peanut butter I’m buying, or the book I’m reading, or the flight I’m running to catch is more important to me at that particular moment in time than pointing out to a complete stranger that her ill-fitting, too-small bra is creating four bumps where there should be two and her squared-off shoes make her look like she’s got club feet.

  This was a professional event, however, so I turned on the charm. “Let me see . . . ,” I said in my most affected voice and scanned the three of them from head to toe. I have created a particular facial expression for this kind of situation that conveys a winning combination of gentle playfulness, thoughtful concern, and mild disgust. “You’ve all passed. But I have a few . . . how do I say . . . concerns.”

  “Well, let’s hear them,” said the leader.

  I started with the plainest girl in a red jersey top. She had straight brown hair and wore no accessories. She seemed the least happy to be there, as well as the least happy to be alive in general. “So . . . your blouse is bringing out some of the imperfections in your skin. It looks like you have a little rosacea.”

  “I do. A little,” she answered quietly, her jaw clenching.