Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙 ✦ The Everybody Loves Raymond set was calm that day.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
Actors, directors, assistants, and crew moved through their work as if the current underneath them did not exist.
But anyone watching the studio entrance could tell people knew.
Every time someone passed through, a glance drifted toward the young man sitting nearby.
Some looks were sneaky.
Some were open.
None of them were accidental.
Most of the extras were privately enjoying the show.
So he speaks Italian?
Fine.
Let him sit there and prove it.
They seemed to have forgotten how, only the day before, they had watched Reese choose that same young man with envy, resentment, and a very real sense of loss.
A smaller number of crew members felt sorry for him.
An extra finally got a rare chance, only to be shelved because two producers hated each other.
There were less public ways to be humiliated.
Most people, though, ignored it.
Things like this happened too often here.
“Damn bastards.
They planned this ahead of time.
But if they think this is enough to make me fold, they’re dreaming.” Eric Reese finally appeared late in the afternoon, close to wrap.
He carried a storm with him.
Whatever had happened had clearly not gone well.
“You come back tomorrow and keep waiting,” he told Adrian, who had already spent almost the entire day doing exactly that.
“Yes, Mr.
Reese.” Adrian nodded, calm and respectful, without adding a single unnecessary word.
That obedient, openly loyal attitude made Reese look guilty for a second.
His tone softened, and he patted Adrian on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry.
Tomorrow will be better.” “Whatever happens, I’m grateful to you, Mr.
Reese.” Adrian dipped his head.
For a moment, he badly wanted to tell Reese that Stevenson was not merely squeezing him.
Stevenson was trying to drive him off the show entirely.
But the moment he remembered Frederick’s instructions, he swallowed the words.
He had no proof.
He could not predict how Reese would react.
Frederick had told him not to talk too much.
After they parted the night before, Adrian had not called the agent again, even though he wanted badly to know how things were going.
If he had chosen to trust Frederick, then hesitation and worry would only get in the way.
Adrian would not claim his judgment was perfect, but he had seen enough to know that in that moment, Frederick had genuinely wanted to help him.
‘Don’t let me down, Fred.’ That was the thought in Adrian’s mind as he left the soundstage.
“I’ll have my assistant put it on the list, Miller.
Don’t worry, a small problem like that won’t stop us.” Philip Rosenthal walked out of the bar with a phone to his ear, looking flushed and pleased with himself.
As he reached the door, a man suddenly stepped in from the side, as if trying to get out ahead of him.
“Oh, sorry.
I’m in a hurry…
Phil?” The stranger apologized after bumping him, then looked surprised.
Rosenthal paused.
The man in front of him was familiar.
While putting away his phone, he searched his memory and finally placed the face.
“Fred?” “Of course it’s me.
Who else would it be?” Frederick laughed and shook his hand.
“Never thought I’d see you here.” Rosenthal half smiled.
“I remember you saying Max’s brandy was so awful you’d never come back.” “That’s true.
Unfortunately, I lost a bet recently, and the penalty was drinking my way through every bar in the neighborhood.” Frederick gave a helpless shrug.
Rosenthal laughed.
The two men walked out together, still joking, and the conversation soon found its way to Everybody Loves Raymond, the show Rosenthal had created and produced.
“Be honest,” Frederick said suddenly.
“If I’d pushed harder back then and convinced the production company, could I have gotten Endeavor into the package?” “You’re still thinking about that?” Rosenthal did not answer directly, but his surprise was obvious.
“Of course I am.
This is one of the few shows that can go toe-to-toe with NBC’s flagship comedy.” Frederick made a face.
“I only just recommended a very promising kid to your set yesterday, and now we’re waiting on the contract.
Honestly, if I hadn’t once chased the representation on Everybody Loves Raymond, and if that…
well…
Eric Reese hadn’t spotted him first, I would’ve tried to get him onto Friends.” “You like him that much?” Rosenthal sounded genuinely curious now.
“You know how I met him?” Frederick told him about the bank.
“It was something, Phil.
Wait and see.
That kid could give your ratings a bump.” He did not wait for Rosenthal to answer.
He checked the time and headed toward his car.
“All right, I have something else to handle.
Good seeing you.” “You too.” Rosenthal waved and walked toward his own car.
When he reached it, he stopped.
“A young actor?” he murmured to himself.
Then he got in.
Watching Rosenthal’s car pull away in the rearview mirror, Frederick let out a long breath, slowed down, and rubbed both hands over his face.
Philip Rosenthal, the show’s creator and executive producer.
Ray Romano, star, writer, and producer, whom Frederick had cornered at the reception the night before.
A few CBS people.
That should be enough, shouldn’t it?
No.
Not enough.
Frederick shook his head.
He had made sure they knew he had recommended a promising young actor to the set, but he could not make it look as if he were meddling in a fight between two producers.
He had been vague on purpose, which meant the result was hard to predict.
Who else?
Who else could he reach, nudge, flatter, or corner?
Driving with one hand, Frederick rubbed his chin with the other, then slapped the steering wheel.
“Damn it.
There’s not enough time.” If he had had two more days, the position would not be this ugly.
As an agent who lived on information, Frederick knew Stevenson had been planning to push Reese out for a while.
From what he had heard, Stevenson’s first idea had been to isolate Reese slowly until the man either quit on his own or exploded badly enough to get fired.
Reese’s temper was no secret.
At first, everything had gone according to plan.
Reese was being boxed in.
Decisions he made were overturned.
On the day in question, Stevenson had already pushed out the actor who had agreed to play the supporting role in Reese’s story.
Then Adrian got picked on the spot.
That forced Stevenson into a direct confrontation.
‘What a talent for making trouble,’ Frederick thought, unable to stop himself.
Still, it was not hopeless.
Once both sides were fighting openly, Reese could win if he fought with everything he had.
But the same problem remained.
Time.
Frederick was trying to increase Adrian’s value.
Stevenson would be trying just as hard to crush him and Reese.
And worse…
“Damn it.
There has to be another way.” Frederick tightened his grip on the wheel.
By the next day, half the day had passed and the set still had no answer.
Fortunately, Adrian knew how to sit still.
Someone else might already have been pacing holes into the floor.
Even so, anxiety had begun to press under his skin.
It had been almost two days.
Even if they had failed, there should have been news by now.
As if his thought had summoned it, Adrian was stopped at lunch just after picking up his tray.
“You’re Adrian, right?
Let’s talk.” The speaker was a white man somewhere between twenty-five and thirty.
Once Adrian saw him clearly, his brow moved slightly.
He knew the man: Lyman Versa, Stevenson’s assistant.
The same assistant who had tried to send him home early that first day.
It did not take a genius to guess why he had come now, especially when Versa approached with his chin lifted and his eyes angled downward.
Adrian disliked him on sight, but he did not refuse.
He found a table and sat.
“Talk.” Versa’s eyes narrowed, apparently irritated by the tone, but he sat anyway.
“I’ll be direct.
How much would it take for you to leave voluntarily?” Adrian raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
“Six thousand dollars,” Versa said, tapping the table.
“Your fee for the role is only three thousand.
Double should be more than enough.” He tried to look calm, but he sounded as though he were tossing Adrian a handout.
Adrian still said nothing.
“Right.
I forgot.
You’re an actor.” Versa’s mouth curled when he said the word.
“Then how about three thousand dollars and a recommendation?
You won’t stay on Everybody Loves Raymond, but Mr.
Stevenson has plenty of connections here.
Getting you considered somewhere else won’t be difficult.” Truthfully, it was a generous offer.
For half a second, Adrian was tempted.
Only half a second.
As he had told Frederick, a promise made under these circumstances was worth very little.
Suppose he left as requested and Stevenson recommended him to another production.
What happened if the casting people said he was wrong for the part?
Fine, suppose Stevenson was honorable and recommended him again.
What if the next production said no too?
How would Adrian know whether it was real or staged?
And if he accepted now, the label would stick: weather vane, opportunist, boy who changed sides the moment someone waved money.
For a newcomer with nothing behind him, that was poison.
So Adrian only gave a calm shrug.
“You don’t mind if I tell Mr.
Reese about this and let him decide, do you?” “Don’t get greedy, kid.” Versa’s lip twitched with contempt.
“For an extra who’s been in the business less than three months, this is already a very generous offer.” “I know,” Adrian said.
“It is generous.
I still think Mr.
Reese should decide.” Versa went quiet and stared at him as if he were looking at an idiot.
After a few minutes, he laughed.
“What did Reese give you to make you work this hard for him?
A free lunch?” Adrian’s hand tightened once under the table.
For two days, he had sat uselessly on the soundstage and eaten with the crew.
By the previous afternoon, people were already making ugly little comments.
“If the director needs me, I can return to background work at any time,” he said, still composed.
The smile vanished from Versa’s face.
With a heavy snort, he dropped the fake politeness.
His voice sharpened.
“It’s fine.
Every once in a while, we meet someone like you.
You latch onto a producer with a few connections and think you’ve found a clean road upward.
Then you forget who you are.
Do you really believe we can’t handle this without you?” He stood and smoothed his collar, looking down at Adrian.
“Since you’ve made your choice, go down with Reese.” ✦ ✦ ✦ Ready for more?
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheBacklot Thank you for reading.
I hope this chapter drew you further into the story.
Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.