We're back at the house. I'm in my regular clothes, and Jacqueline has opted to leave her cowgirl costume on. Georgia is sat on the couch, looking embarrassed. Liam is leaning against the wall across the room, looking directly at our daughter. I'm pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
"Let me get this straight: You thought it would be cool to sneak out of your father's house and not say a word to anyone?" I ask incredulously. "A smart girl like you…I never would have guessed."
"Reminds me of someone," Jacqueline comments with a grin, referring to my habit of sneaking out of the house when I was around Georgia's age.
"Can it, Clint Eastwood" I snap. She puts a hand to her chest in mock offence.
"I just wanted to have some fun, alright?" Georgia defends. "There's nothing to do at Dad's."
"Doesn't surprise me," Jacqueline comments, and Liam glares at her. "Well, you're not exactly the fun parent."
"Kids don't need fun parents, they need parents who know where they are at all times," I say pointedly, looking at Liam.
"I'm pretty sure kids also need fun parents," Liam mutters.
"Fun parents who do their jobs," I retort. "And right now, I'm the only one out of THREE. That's one more than most kids have, y'all." I huff, frustrated, and turn back to Georgia. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Look, it's Halloween," Georgia tries to explain. "Dad wasn't letting me do anything, and so I called a friend to come pick me up. Instead of using the door to leave, I used the window. It's no big deal."
"No big deal? Are you kidding me right now? Los Angeles is too big for you to be out there by yourself. Who is this friend, anyway? Who picked you up?"
"Just my friend Brennan. He's 16, he's got his license. He's a junior," Georgia said, becoming a little bashful.
I gasp. Liam's eyes widen in shock. "You ran off with a sixteen year old?"
"Relax, he's just a friend," Georgia says, trying to calm us down.
"Georgia, you can't hang out with him anymore," Jacqueline steps in, since Liam and I are struggling to think of what to say. "That's not okay. Brennan should know better."
I look at her, surprised that she's actually being a parent instead of a friend.
"Why not?" Georgia protests. "Brennan is a nice guy. And he's responsible."
Liam sighs and crosses the room, sitting beside Georgia. "Listen, Georgia. There are guys who seem nice, but really aren't nice. And as much as you hate to hear it, a sixteen-year-old boy picking up a girl 3 years younger than him late at night is not responsible."
Georgia huffs but doesn't respond. She crosses her arms and leans back into her seat, clearly still upset but understanding our points of view.
"We're just trying to protect you," I assure her.
"But Brennan isn't dangerous," Georgia asserts.
"Still, do you think we want to chance something happening to you?" Liam asks, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.
"I get it," Georgia says after a pause. "I just don't see why y'all can't trust me."
"It's not that we don't trust you," I reassure her. "It's that we don't trust the world around you. People are unpredictable and can do things you wouldn't think they would. We're trying to keep you safe."
"Things aren't like they were when you guys were younger," Georgia says.
"Yeah, that's the point," Jacqueline counters. "They're worse. They're putting razor blades in your apples."
"Babe, I- That doesn't…whatever," I shrug. "Yeah, razors in your apples."
"We also grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone and could call around," Liam adds. "Not in a massive city like this."
Georgia nods, considering this. "Fine."
"Just promise us you won't go anywhere without talking to us first," Liam says, worried. "That was really scary, even without the added pressure of having to tell your mothers."
"Fine, I promise. I'm sorry."
"It's fine. We're just doing our job as your parents."
As we settle into a more relaxed atmosphere, I think about how challenging parenting in a city like Los Angeles is as opposed to how it was the first 11 years of Georgia's life in Medford. She's a naive small town teenager only two years into living in a big city. This has got to be tough on her - the pressure to impress, her small town parents who 'just don't understand'. I bet it's hard. I'm hoping that with enough open communication and positive reinforcement, I can help her navigate life in this territory that is unfamiliar to both of us.
…
I'm in my office when Christopher McManus, our Marketing Director, knocks on my open door. I look up. "Hey, Chris," I greet him. "What can I help you with?"
He sighs. "Again with that accent," he says. "Why can't you be single?"
"Why can't you be telling me what I can help you with instead of flirting with me?" I say politely, but with a slight bite to it. I gesture to one of the chairs in front of my desk.
Christopher nods. "Fine." He sits on the chair, taking a moment to look at me before continuing, "We're having a bit of an issue with the newest campaign. The artist says that our approach is an insult to his vision."
"Sounds a bit like the artist that Marina was having trouble getting on board in the first place," I remark. "What is this guy's name?"
"Skyler Desmond," he says. "Real piece of work, hard to get along with, and even harder to market." He sighs. "Maybe this is a lost cause."
"Excuse me, there are no lost causes in my office, sir," I say, playful yet determined. "Can you give me some examples of this campaign so that I may familiarise myself more with the situation?"
Christopher nods and pulls a laptop from his bag. He shows me examples. They seem to be going for some minimalistic, non-flashy approach. Nothing he shows me has personality.
I take a moment to let the visuals sink in before speaking. "Ah, I see. So you're telling me this man has a soul and you're not attempting to reflect that?" I raise an eyebrow, my eyes flickering from the screen to Christopher.
"Well," Christopher shifts uncomfortably. "He wants something that will make people think."
"Yes, but probably not something that will make people think 'powerpoint presentation', and believe me, I've seen my fair share of those," I say with a chuckle.
Christopher manages a small smile in response to my comment. "So, what do you think we should do?"
"I want to schedule a meeting with the artist, and perhaps we can reach a compromise with Skyler," I say.
"I admire your optimism," Christopher says, gathering his things. "I also admire those eyes of yours."
"They're blue, everyone likes them," I deadpan. "My girlfriend's are green. I like those better."
"Noted," Christopher says, exiting my office.
…
I walk into The Cheesecake Factory with Jacqueline. We're on a little date and have left Georgia with Liam again. Hopefully she doesn't run off and have a mandatory hangout with LAPD again.
Raj is talking quite loudly to a girl who doesn't seem to be enjoying the conversation very much. Wait, Raj is talking? That's new, I think. He does have a drink in his hand. Whatever works for him, I guess. He seems to be talking about how fat she used to be. She's better than me, if a man spoke to me like that I would deck him on the spot.
Penny is behind the bar, and Leonard and Howard are sat on barstools, observing Raj's failure as a person. As Jacqueline and I approach the bar, Sheldon shows up, apologising for being late and stating that he didn't want to come.
"Hey, Shelly," I say.
"Why must you be in places where I am?" he asks, seeming only a little irritated.
"That's not very nice," I frown.
"I am not talking about you, Callie, I don't mind you being around," he admits, to my pleasant surprise. "I was addressing your Galwegian lady friend," Sheldon explains, nodding toward Jacqueline.
"Ah, yes, a Tribesman," Howard says, attempting to add a bit of mysterious flair.
Jacqueline doesn't appreciate it, and turns to Howard. "Do ya like your nose?"
Howard frowns, but Jacqueline turns back to Sheldon. "Sheldon, you need to be used to me being around by now. I'm not going anywhere." She sits on a barstool. "How goes it, Penny?"
"It…goes?" Penny says, seeming a bit flummoxed by Jacqueline's vibe.
"What is the strongest drink you got?" Jacqueline asks.
"Uh… I'm training on mixed drinks right now, if you'd like one of those," Penny tries.
Jacqueline gives her a dismissive wave. "None of that girly stuff, okay?"
"Well, we do put vodka in some of our drinks," Penny admits.
"Cool, give me about 10 shots of that, then," Jacqueline demands.
"I'm not sure I-" she starts, but Jacqueline gives her the glare that means she better be sure real fast. "Fine."
"10 shots, are you insane?" I ask, worry crossing my features.
"Yes," Jacqueline says. As Penny is reluctantly pouring the shots, we turn to see Sheldon walking away with Raj's date.
"Oh, Lord, what just happened?" I ask in amazement.
"I think the Lord might have just happened," Jacqueline half-jokes. "I'm almost positive this wouldn't have happened without divine intervention."
"I mean, I'm sure he thinks nothing of it, but damn it looks like she thinks it's somethin'," I say, taking a seat beside my girlfriend, noticing how enamoured Raj's date looks with my brother.
Penny finishes pouring Jacqueline's shots and she starts to blow through them, looking Penny dead in the eye as she does so.
"That's so much alcohol, Jacqueline, what are you doing?" I say, mildly panicking. Before she gets the chance to take the 5th shot, I knock the rest off of the bar.
Penny looks shocked, and the boys have also turned their attention to me.
Jacqueline looks confused and surprised. "What did you do that for?" she asks.
"I did that for you, dumbass," I say, exasperated. "Come on," I say. I start to guide her to the door, calling over my shoulder, "Charge that to Jameson Records, yeah?"
Once we're out in the car, and Jacqueline's starting to feel her alcohol, I ask her about her decision. "Baby, what the hell was that?"
"What?" Jacqueline sulks, looking out the window.
"You're always a proponent of not overdrinking. What was that in there?"
"Nothing," she mumbles. "Maybe a little power move."
"Power move? Who are you trying to assert your dominance over, alpha female?" I ask sarcastically.
Jacqueline looks at me. "I just get afraid of losing you sometimes. I'm not the most perfect person," she whines a little. "And I'm afraid someone is going to come along suddenly and make you not love me anymore. I don't want you to leave me."
My brow furrows in confusion. "You're so confident. I've never considered you might become insecure over time."
"I've been insecure since the beginning," she admits, her words slurring a little. "But after almost 13 years I've started to wonder if you'll actually lose interest this time or…"
"Jacqueline," I say warmly, "you have nothing to worry about."
"Really?" Her voice is higher-pitched than usual.
"Really," I chuckle. "I just did property damage because I was worried about you."
She giggles. "Hot."
I roll my eyes. When we get home, I guide her inside the house. "Contrary to popular belief, you're such a lightweight."
"Come on," Jacqueline complains as we head to the bedroom. "It was four shots, it would do anyone in."
I lie her down gently on the bed. "Sure it would," I say. "Goodnight, baby."
"Goodnight, mo chroí."
…
After a morning of helping my hungover and grumpy partner, I head to work for my meeting with Skyler Desmond. I'm sure this isn't going to be an easy meeting - meetings with artists never are - but I'm ready to face it head on.
I enter the meeting room where the creative team + Skyler and his manager, are seated. I take my place at the head of the table. "I'm Charlotte Cooper. I want to start with some questions that you may think are off-topic, Skyler. Is that okay?"
"Sure, shoot," Skyler replies. I notice a particular drawl.
"Where are you from, Skyler?"
"I'm from Jasper, Texas," Skyler answers.
I smile a bit at the mention of Texas. "Jasper, huh? Well, I grew up about an hour north of there, in Medford."
"No kidding? Small world," Skyler says, lighting up a little.
"Yeah, you don't meet many Texans 'round these parts, do you?" I ask with a small grin.
"Sure don't," Skyler shakes his head. The other people in the room, mostly Californians, seem a little confused by our Texan pride. They stay attentive.
"So, Skyler, tell us a little bit about your vision and we'll see if we can reach a compromise," I prompt.
"I want something real, you know? None of that frilly, corporate bullcorn," Skyler says.
"And what is real to you?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I wanna speak to the audience, not at them. I want something that says, you know, you can feel at home here. Understood. No judgment. No concealing the mess, no hiding the scars, you know?" Skyler explains.
"Authenticity and vulnerability. That's a lot more rare in this industry than you might think," I remark.
"I think that people are tired of having the same, false narratives fed to them over and over," Skyler says. "I want to give them something real. Real people, real emotions. Nothing staged. I like real, and raw, and messy."
I nod. "I like that too. Is there anything you're willing to concede on in return for that? For example, the generous paycheck you demanded from this? I think we could take that down a notch, don't you?"
"Well, money ain't everything, but I gotta eat, Miss Cooper," Skyler half-smiles. "But if it means staying true to my vision, I guess I can take a cut."
We all spend the rest of the meeting working out the kinks and dealing with the specifics of the negotiation, and we come to a conclusion that works for us. As we exit the meeting room, I lean over to Christopher to chuckle, "And you said he was a piece of work." He sighs, seemingly frustrated that it was so easy for me to sway Skyler.
As I return to my office, I'm filled with a renewed sense of purpose. Everyone else here seems to hate working with artists, and I think it's because they don't really understand them. I do, and I think that a majority of conflict is rooted in misunderstanding among a desire to be understood.
If we all tried a little harder to understand each other, I think the world would be an easier place to live.