is all. Weâre talking the big leagues. The TV guys might not be ready for you.â
âWell, Iâm ready for them. And Iâm not new.â
âThatâs what every comic says. A few years in, and everyone thinks theyâre a seasoned vet,â Rodney says.
Listening to Rodney call him ânewâ after more than a decade of work and eight full years of nonstop touring makes Spence want to puke all over the desk. There is an old saying that it takes ten years to become an overnight success. Some comedians get discovered young while others troll around in the business for decades trying to scratch their way up. He thinks itâs quite possibly because the industry is run by people exactly like Rodney.
Spence glances down at the intern, who is cramming comediansâ headshots and demo tapes into large manila envelopes, putting together promo packages to send to comedy clubs. For a brief second, he swears that he sees the kid stuffing an envelope with the photo and résumé of a comedian who has been dead for three years. He thinks itâs likely that a corpse is getting more work from Rodney than he is. While heâs begging for a gig in Cleveland, the dead guy is probably booked in Key West that month.
âPlease, just get me a showcase,â he says to Rodney. âGet me in front of Lettermanâs guy or something.â
âMaybe,â Rodney says. âCan you work clean?â
âI can work clean for ten minutes, sure.â
â âCause I donât want to put you in front of them and have you saying âfuckâ and making me look like an asshole.â
âIâve been working on some clean stuff just for showcasing to TV people,â Spence says.
âHave you ever done TV before?â
Spence wonders for a brief moment if Rodney is able to tie his shoes or if thereâs an intern that does it for him. âYou are unbelievable,â he says as he rubs the back of his neck with his right hand. He can feel a migraine coming on, working its way up from the top of his shoulders.
âWhy? What are you talking about?â Rodney asks.
âI did The Late Late Show .â
âWith Ferguson?â
âWith Kilborn.â
âWhen did you do that?â
âAlmost nine years ago,â Spence says. âJesus.â
âHowâd you get that?â Rodney asks.
Spence says nothing and just stares at Rodney for at least ten seconds. âYou got me a showcase for them,â he says finally. He wonders how long it would take the police to find Rodneyâs body if he choked him as soon as the intern left the room. Then he wonders if the intern would help.
âI got you the audition?â Rodney asks.
âYep.â
âOh. Oh, yeah. Now I remember.â
Spence stands up and lets out a long, frustrated sigh. âIâve gotta go,â he says. âIf I stay here any longer, Iâm liable to kill all three of us.â
Itâs at that moment he feels a throbbing pain beginning behind his left eye. In the back of his mind, he knew it would be this way, and yet he came anyway. He decides that next time heâll come with a bottle of aspirin in his pocket. Or at least a flask full of whiskey. He raises a hand in salute as he starts climbing over the mess that leads to the door. Anyone who ever said that society would soon go paperless has never been in Rodneyâs office.
âHave fun in Canada.â Rodney waves and goes back to leaning on his phone.
âGet me Key West,â Spence says.
âIâll see what I can do,â Rodney says. âHow much are they paying you up in the Great White North?â
âA grand.â
âCanadian or American?â
âFrench.â
âReally?â
âIdiot,â Spence says. The intern on the floor laughs and tries to hide it from Rodney.
âJust make sure you send me my fifteen,â Rodney calls out just before
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