Author's Note: This isn't Twilight Zone fan fic, as I said in the story description. It's based on Late Night with Conan O'Brien. I don't own Late Night or Conan O'Brien, and none of this is real. Not a word of it. And everyone that I didn't create is probably way out of character a lot of the time. I really appreciate reviews, if you do read the story.
"Here it is." Victor, my agent, grinned as he handed me the first copy of my novel.
"Wow." I stared into the glossy cover and wondered how so much work could come in such a little package. Those pages contained my heart and soul poured out onto paper. For the first time in months, I allowed myself to smile. Six months of sleepless nights and incessant work had all culminated to this moment. Somehow, I thought it should be different than this. I thought seeing Melanie Franklin on the cover of a novel would bring me joy. Doubt still filled my mind concerning this novel's success. It could be just another flop that no one reads. Starton Publishing could never even read a query from me again. Morning Glory could end up just another source of depression in a troubled life. Only time could tell now.
"Don't worry about it, Mel. Just let things happen...and get some sleep. I know you haven't had one good night's sleep since you became a client to me. You're only 18, but you look about 30 right now." Victor patted my shoulder. "You really have a talent. And I know that you're gonna make it someday, hon."
"Thanks. I think I will go take a nap now...but what if someone calls about the book?"
"It doesn't go out into the stores until tomorrow. Just sleep until then. If not for you, do it for me. And if it makes you feel better, I'll have any calls for you forwarded to the apartment. I'll be there in a few hours."
"You're the best, Victor. I couldn't ask for a better agent or a truer friend." I walked slower than I ever had to the door before turning around. Victor was behind me, as if to keep me from changing my mind. I gave him a long hug and peck on the cheek before leaving the office. He had done so much for me as an author and as a person.
I hurried up to the apartment I was staying in while I was in New York. It was Victor's apartment, but he had a spare bedroom he was letting me use during this crucial time period in my writing career. The apartment was disorganized, as usual. With all the time he spent in the office and his usual lack of a roommate, Victor had little time to devote to cleaning. I knew there was no way I could sleep, so I began organizing the apartment.
It was mindless work and gave me an opportunity to play out my future in my mind. I began with the future if my novel was another horrible review, and I did not become famous. I would become a starving journalist, just trying to survive by hopping from newspaper to newspaper in search of articles to write. That sounds so pleasant. Everyone wants to live an impoverished life of pain and ruin. If this novel is successful, though, my life could be wonderful. That just won't happen. When things start to improve, they crash down around my feet.
My thoughts were interruped when I heard something being dropped on the floor. I whipped around and saw Victor, his mouth gaping open.
"I told you to sleep, not clean my apartment. But it does look great, best it's been since I bought it." He kicked off his shoes and removed his coat before trudging across the room to the refrigerator. He opened it. "You cleaned this out, too. Half the food's gone. Expired?"
"Yep. I had to throw it away. And I couldn't sleep at all." I decided not to mention I hadn't set foot in my bedroom, other than to clean it.
"I would tell you to take some more of my sleeping pills, but you've taken them the past seven nights in a row. I don't want you getting addicted." He grabbed a carton of orange juice from the remaining food and opened it, chugging it straight from the carton.
I cringed. This was one of the three male habits I simply couldn't stand. "You just drank it from the carton again."
He continued chugging for ten or fifteen seconds and slammed the carton down on the counter victoriously. "I drank all of it so you can't complain."
"You got me there. Don't forget to put the carton in the trash." I gestured at the trash can near my bedroom door.
Victor tossed the carton at the trash can, missing. I had to admit he did put forth some effort, though. I picked up the carton and dropped it into the trash can. Sometimes men really confuse me.
"You made my bed! I haven't been in a girl-made bed in years!" It was astonishing how something so simple could make Victor elated. If I would have known this is his reaction to me making his bed, I would have started doing it the day I moved here.
"I'm glad you like it." I crept to my bedroom and pulled the door almost shut. I slipped out of my clothes and into my nightgown before my strong exterior was broken. The tears flowed down my cheeks before I began sobbing into my pillow. My future depended on this novel. I chose to graduate halfway through my senior year, without an honors diploma, because of my writing. That eliminates any chance of scholarships I might have had. It's only January, and college, if I go to one, doesn't begin until September.
"Don't cry." A warm whisper soothed me, and I soon felt the presence of comforting arms around me. I lifted my head from the pillow and laid it on Victor's shoulder.
"But my life could be ruined beyond fixing really soon. I don't want to lose everything." I held back the tears and sobs, but still trembled with every breath.
"What do you want?"
"I...I want to keep doing what I love doing. I want to keep writing. Nothing else makes me happy."
"Do you call what you're feeling now happy?"
"No...but that's because everything is on the line right now."
"Were you happy when you were working on the last chapters of the novel when we first met?"
"No. But that's because I thought no one would publish me. What's the point you're trying to make?"
"Stop worrying, Melanie. Everything is going to happen like it's supposed to happen. I know it's hard for you to see, but this novel doesn't mean that much in your overall career. Lots of authors starting out don't make it at first. It takes time, usually. If this novel doesn't work out, then you can stay here and be my maid. All you have to do is clean the house occassionally, and you can spend the rest of the time writing. How does that sound?"
I began crying uncontrollably again. "Thank you," I managed to whimper between sobs.
"Shhhhhhhh." He hushed me as I grew very weary. The emotional stress had really taken its toll on me. My eyes closed when he began rocking back and forth. A sweet warmth and peace engulfed me as I drifted off.
I opened my eyes and saw a pair of pale blue eyes looking into mine. A smile spread across my face. For once I actually had a very good night's rest. I glanced over at the alarm clock and saw it was already past noon.
"I called in sick on the phone by the bed. I didn't want to wake you up." Victor still held me in his arms, but we were laying on my bed instead of sitting like we had been when I fell asleep.
"Thanks. This is the first time I've slept in a couple of days. I feel so...alive and vibrant now."
"You look so much more beautiful when you aren't tense and uptight. Your eyes go from this hard and icy blue to warm pools of periwinkle."
The compliments surprised me, in a much too pleasant way. My common sense flew out the window, and before I gained control of my emotions again, I was kissing Victor. It was electric and spread liquid sparks throughout my body. His sweet lips lingered on mine for a fleeting moment before we parted. Silence fell between us, and slight embarrassment filled the air. I was speechless, overwhelmed by emotions from a realm I had yet to explore. Before I left high school, I had one boyfriend. We kissed a few times, but those kisses were more obligatory than driven by emotion and lacked the spark this kiss had. This kiss scared me. It was intoxicating and tempting, more addictive than any drug. After a single taste, it is impossible to return to the former state of being. The desire will be there, and one can only wait so long before gratifying it.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the ringing of the phone saved me. Victor picked it up in an almost reluctant matter. "Hello," he squeaked before clearing his voice. "Yes, this is Victor Harmon...Morning Glory went into the stores this morning." A long pause ensued that filled my stomach with nervous anticipation. Someone was on the telephone talking about my book. "Yes, sir, I'll tell her that. Thank you for calling me. Goodbye."
"What is it?" I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.
"Some of the elite here somehow got their hands on your book a week before even you had it. They have finished it, and obviously have been recommending it to everyone because your book has sold out of almost every store in New York. And it's not even one yet." He beamed and gave me his 'I told you that everything would work out' look.
"This is wonderful! But I'm not going to think that this means my novel will be successful. This is just one day. Everyone could burn their copy tomorrow for all I know." I knew that I had to keep a realistic perspective. The higher one allows themselves to get, the harder it is to recover from the fall that will later come.
"Be happy, Mel! Let's celebrate! We can...bake a cake!" He was more excited than I had ever seen him.
If he wanted to bake a cake, I had no objections. "Why not? We'll have to go buy some supplies, but that's no big deal. What kind of cake do you want?"
"It's your novel day, but I love chocolate cake with chunks of chocolate and walnuts and chocolate icing with chocolate chips and chocolate shavings on top."
I couldn't help but laugh. That cake sounded like something a depressed woman would make to cheer herself up, definitely not something a man who is celebrating would make. I do love chocolate, though, so the cake did sound tempting. "Yes, that sounds like a good cake."
We went to the market and bought the ingredients. On the way home, a woman recognized me and asked me to sign her novel. I was surprised, but Victor acted as if it is something natural. We made the cake and celebrated for hours.
Several weeks passed, and the novel's success was increasing rapidly. I had begun writing my second novel and already had four chapters. Victor and I grew closer, and the wonderful kisses progressed to much more. We now spent almost every hour of every day together. I went into the office with him and wrote at a desk in the corner while he conducted his business. Everything seemed so perfect. I had never enjoyed life this much before.
The phone rang while Victor and I were in his office, something I had grown accustomed to. He received hundreds of calls, and this one seemed no different from the others at first.
"You would like for her to appear in two weeks on the Friday show?" Victor looked happy when I glanced over at him. "I'll ask her, if you'll wait a moment." He put his hand on the mouth piece and looked over at me.
"Is it about me?" I stood and stepped across the room to the desk.
"The talent coordinator from Late Night with Conan O'Brien would like to know if you are interested in appearing on the show two weeks from this Friday."
"Of course I am!" I had watched Late Night a lot in the past when I had insomnia and couldn't write. It was one of my favorite shows and always made me laugh regardless of how horrible a day had gone. For a long time I had wanted to go to a taping of the show, but time and my busy schedule had prevented me from doing it. For the past month, since Morning Glory was published, it had just slipped to the back of my mind.
Victor hung up the phone. "It's all set up. They're faxing us the times and everything. But I don't think I'll be able to come watch. I have to meet a client up in Albany that afternoon. I'll try to make it, though, if I can."
"I understand. We can watch it together when it airs on TV." I was disappointed, but tried not to show it. Victor knew me well enough to realize that I really wanted him to be there, though.
Two weeks passed quickly and soon it was the day I was to be on the show. I had prepared for my appearance the best I could. Even though it is against my usual motto that physical appearance doesn't matter, I had gone to several different beauty related businesses to make myself look beautiful. I took a cab down to Rockefeller Center and entered studio 6A to be greeted by none other than Conan O'Brien.
"Here it is." Victor, my agent, grinned as he handed me the first copy of my novel.
"Wow." I stared into the glossy cover and wondered how so much work could come in such a little package. Those pages contained my heart and soul poured out onto paper. For the first time in months, I allowed myself to smile. Six months of sleepless nights and incessant work had all culminated to this moment. Somehow, I thought it should be different than this. I thought seeing Melanie Franklin on the cover of a novel would bring me joy. Doubt still filled my mind concerning this novel's success. It could be just another flop that no one reads. Starton Publishing could never even read a query from me again. Morning Glory could end up just another source of depression in a troubled life. Only time could tell now.
"Don't worry about it, Mel. Just let things happen...and get some sleep. I know you haven't had one good night's sleep since you became a client to me. You're only 18, but you look about 30 right now." Victor patted my shoulder. "You really have a talent. And I know that you're gonna make it someday, hon."
"Thanks. I think I will go take a nap now...but what if someone calls about the book?"
"It doesn't go out into the stores until tomorrow. Just sleep until then. If not for you, do it for me. And if it makes you feel better, I'll have any calls for you forwarded to the apartment. I'll be there in a few hours."
"You're the best, Victor. I couldn't ask for a better agent or a truer friend." I walked slower than I ever had to the door before turning around. Victor was behind me, as if to keep me from changing my mind. I gave him a long hug and peck on the cheek before leaving the office. He had done so much for me as an author and as a person.
I hurried up to the apartment I was staying in while I was in New York. It was Victor's apartment, but he had a spare bedroom he was letting me use during this crucial time period in my writing career. The apartment was disorganized, as usual. With all the time he spent in the office and his usual lack of a roommate, Victor had little time to devote to cleaning. I knew there was no way I could sleep, so I began organizing the apartment.
It was mindless work and gave me an opportunity to play out my future in my mind. I began with the future if my novel was another horrible review, and I did not become famous. I would become a starving journalist, just trying to survive by hopping from newspaper to newspaper in search of articles to write. That sounds so pleasant. Everyone wants to live an impoverished life of pain and ruin. If this novel is successful, though, my life could be wonderful. That just won't happen. When things start to improve, they crash down around my feet.
My thoughts were interruped when I heard something being dropped on the floor. I whipped around and saw Victor, his mouth gaping open.
"I told you to sleep, not clean my apartment. But it does look great, best it's been since I bought it." He kicked off his shoes and removed his coat before trudging across the room to the refrigerator. He opened it. "You cleaned this out, too. Half the food's gone. Expired?"
"Yep. I had to throw it away. And I couldn't sleep at all." I decided not to mention I hadn't set foot in my bedroom, other than to clean it.
"I would tell you to take some more of my sleeping pills, but you've taken them the past seven nights in a row. I don't want you getting addicted." He grabbed a carton of orange juice from the remaining food and opened it, chugging it straight from the carton.
I cringed. This was one of the three male habits I simply couldn't stand. "You just drank it from the carton again."
He continued chugging for ten or fifteen seconds and slammed the carton down on the counter victoriously. "I drank all of it so you can't complain."
"You got me there. Don't forget to put the carton in the trash." I gestured at the trash can near my bedroom door.
Victor tossed the carton at the trash can, missing. I had to admit he did put forth some effort, though. I picked up the carton and dropped it into the trash can. Sometimes men really confuse me.
"You made my bed! I haven't been in a girl-made bed in years!" It was astonishing how something so simple could make Victor elated. If I would have known this is his reaction to me making his bed, I would have started doing it the day I moved here.
"I'm glad you like it." I crept to my bedroom and pulled the door almost shut. I slipped out of my clothes and into my nightgown before my strong exterior was broken. The tears flowed down my cheeks before I began sobbing into my pillow. My future depended on this novel. I chose to graduate halfway through my senior year, without an honors diploma, because of my writing. That eliminates any chance of scholarships I might have had. It's only January, and college, if I go to one, doesn't begin until September.
"Don't cry." A warm whisper soothed me, and I soon felt the presence of comforting arms around me. I lifted my head from the pillow and laid it on Victor's shoulder.
"But my life could be ruined beyond fixing really soon. I don't want to lose everything." I held back the tears and sobs, but still trembled with every breath.
"What do you want?"
"I...I want to keep doing what I love doing. I want to keep writing. Nothing else makes me happy."
"Do you call what you're feeling now happy?"
"No...but that's because everything is on the line right now."
"Were you happy when you were working on the last chapters of the novel when we first met?"
"No. But that's because I thought no one would publish me. What's the point you're trying to make?"
"Stop worrying, Melanie. Everything is going to happen like it's supposed to happen. I know it's hard for you to see, but this novel doesn't mean that much in your overall career. Lots of authors starting out don't make it at first. It takes time, usually. If this novel doesn't work out, then you can stay here and be my maid. All you have to do is clean the house occassionally, and you can spend the rest of the time writing. How does that sound?"
I began crying uncontrollably again. "Thank you," I managed to whimper between sobs.
"Shhhhhhhh." He hushed me as I grew very weary. The emotional stress had really taken its toll on me. My eyes closed when he began rocking back and forth. A sweet warmth and peace engulfed me as I drifted off.
I opened my eyes and saw a pair of pale blue eyes looking into mine. A smile spread across my face. For once I actually had a very good night's rest. I glanced over at the alarm clock and saw it was already past noon.
"I called in sick on the phone by the bed. I didn't want to wake you up." Victor still held me in his arms, but we were laying on my bed instead of sitting like we had been when I fell asleep.
"Thanks. This is the first time I've slept in a couple of days. I feel so...alive and vibrant now."
"You look so much more beautiful when you aren't tense and uptight. Your eyes go from this hard and icy blue to warm pools of periwinkle."
The compliments surprised me, in a much too pleasant way. My common sense flew out the window, and before I gained control of my emotions again, I was kissing Victor. It was electric and spread liquid sparks throughout my body. His sweet lips lingered on mine for a fleeting moment before we parted. Silence fell between us, and slight embarrassment filled the air. I was speechless, overwhelmed by emotions from a realm I had yet to explore. Before I left high school, I had one boyfriend. We kissed a few times, but those kisses were more obligatory than driven by emotion and lacked the spark this kiss had. This kiss scared me. It was intoxicating and tempting, more addictive than any drug. After a single taste, it is impossible to return to the former state of being. The desire will be there, and one can only wait so long before gratifying it.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the ringing of the phone saved me. Victor picked it up in an almost reluctant matter. "Hello," he squeaked before clearing his voice. "Yes, this is Victor Harmon...Morning Glory went into the stores this morning." A long pause ensued that filled my stomach with nervous anticipation. Someone was on the telephone talking about my book. "Yes, sir, I'll tell her that. Thank you for calling me. Goodbye."
"What is it?" I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.
"Some of the elite here somehow got their hands on your book a week before even you had it. They have finished it, and obviously have been recommending it to everyone because your book has sold out of almost every store in New York. And it's not even one yet." He beamed and gave me his 'I told you that everything would work out' look.
"This is wonderful! But I'm not going to think that this means my novel will be successful. This is just one day. Everyone could burn their copy tomorrow for all I know." I knew that I had to keep a realistic perspective. The higher one allows themselves to get, the harder it is to recover from the fall that will later come.
"Be happy, Mel! Let's celebrate! We can...bake a cake!" He was more excited than I had ever seen him.
If he wanted to bake a cake, I had no objections. "Why not? We'll have to go buy some supplies, but that's no big deal. What kind of cake do you want?"
"It's your novel day, but I love chocolate cake with chunks of chocolate and walnuts and chocolate icing with chocolate chips and chocolate shavings on top."
I couldn't help but laugh. That cake sounded like something a depressed woman would make to cheer herself up, definitely not something a man who is celebrating would make. I do love chocolate, though, so the cake did sound tempting. "Yes, that sounds like a good cake."
We went to the market and bought the ingredients. On the way home, a woman recognized me and asked me to sign her novel. I was surprised, but Victor acted as if it is something natural. We made the cake and celebrated for hours.
Several weeks passed, and the novel's success was increasing rapidly. I had begun writing my second novel and already had four chapters. Victor and I grew closer, and the wonderful kisses progressed to much more. We now spent almost every hour of every day together. I went into the office with him and wrote at a desk in the corner while he conducted his business. Everything seemed so perfect. I had never enjoyed life this much before.
The phone rang while Victor and I were in his office, something I had grown accustomed to. He received hundreds of calls, and this one seemed no different from the others at first.
"You would like for her to appear in two weeks on the Friday show?" Victor looked happy when I glanced over at him. "I'll ask her, if you'll wait a moment." He put his hand on the mouth piece and looked over at me.
"Is it about me?" I stood and stepped across the room to the desk.
"The talent coordinator from Late Night with Conan O'Brien would like to know if you are interested in appearing on the show two weeks from this Friday."
"Of course I am!" I had watched Late Night a lot in the past when I had insomnia and couldn't write. It was one of my favorite shows and always made me laugh regardless of how horrible a day had gone. For a long time I had wanted to go to a taping of the show, but time and my busy schedule had prevented me from doing it. For the past month, since Morning Glory was published, it had just slipped to the back of my mind.
Victor hung up the phone. "It's all set up. They're faxing us the times and everything. But I don't think I'll be able to come watch. I have to meet a client up in Albany that afternoon. I'll try to make it, though, if I can."
"I understand. We can watch it together when it airs on TV." I was disappointed, but tried not to show it. Victor knew me well enough to realize that I really wanted him to be there, though.
Two weeks passed quickly and soon it was the day I was to be on the show. I had prepared for my appearance the best I could. Even though it is against my usual motto that physical appearance doesn't matter, I had gone to several different beauty related businesses to make myself look beautiful. I took a cab down to Rockefeller Center and entered studio 6A to be greeted by none other than Conan O'Brien.