Read Online I'll Be Here All Week by Anderson Ward - Free Book Online Page A

is all. We’re talking the big leagues. The TV guys might not be ready for you.”
    â€œWell, I’m ready for them. And I’m not new.”
    â€œThat’s what every comic says. A few years in, and everyone thinks they’re a seasoned vet,” Rodney says.
    Listening to Rodney call him “new” 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 it’s quite possibly because the industry is run by people exactly like Rodney.
    Spence glances down at the intern, who is cramming comedians’ 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 it’s likely that a corpse is getting more work from Rodney than he is. While he’s begging for a gig in Cleveland, the dead guy is probably booked in Key West that month.
    â€œPlease, just get me a showcase,” he says to Rodney. “Get me in front of Letterman’s guy or something.”
    â€œMaybe,” Rodney says. “Can you work clean?”
    â€œI can work clean for ten minutes, sure.”
    â€œ ’Cause I don’t want to put you in front of them and have you saying ‘fuck’ and making me look like an asshole.”
    â€œI’ve been working on some clean stuff just for showcasing to TV people,” Spence says.
    â€œHave you ever done TV before?”
    Spence wonders for a brief moment if Rodney is able to tie his shoes or if there’s an intern that does it for him. “You are unbelievable,” 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.
    â€œWhy? What are you talking about?” Rodney asks.
    â€œI did The Late Late Show .”
    â€œWith Ferguson?”
    â€œWith Kilborn.”
    â€œWhen did you do that?”
    â€œAlmost nine years ago,” Spence says. “Jesus.”
    â€œHow’d you get that?” Rodney asks.
    Spence says nothing and just stares at Rodney for at least ten seconds. “You got me a showcase for them,” he says finally. He wonders how long it would take the police to find Rodney’s body if he choked him as soon as the intern left the room. Then he wonders if the intern would help.
    â€œI got you the audition?” Rodney asks.
    â€œYep.”
    â€œOh. Oh, yeah. Now I remember.”
    Spence stands up and lets out a long, frustrated sigh. “I’ve gotta go,” he says. “If I stay here any longer, I’m liable to kill all three of us.”
    It’s 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 he’ll 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 Rodney’s office.
    â€œHave fun in Canada.” Rodney waves and goes back to leaning on his phone.
    â€œGet me Key West,” Spence says.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do,” Rodney says. “How much are they paying you up in the Great White North?”
    â€œA grand.”
    â€œCanadian or American?”
    â€œFrench.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œIdiot,” Spence says. The intern on the floor laughs and tries to hide it from Rodney.
    â€œJust make sure you send me my fifteen,” Rodney calls out just before