Still, that doesn't mean I'm just going to roll over and do nothing. "Can we get on with it?" I ask gruffly, readjusting my stupid Speedo that keeps inching into my crack. I swear they've gotten smaller and smaller all season.
"Yeah," Seth pipes up. "We've been standing around for ages."
He and Gabe just got back from a meeting with Riff, Eddie, and Jack, and they're both in foul moods as well. Must be something in the air.
Not to make it all about me, but this is my last day, so itshouldbe all about me. Everyone is so in their heads and on edge, and I didn't sleep a wink last night, trawling through mountains of the world's most boring paperwork that Cyrus's uncle from the FBI sent through, that I honestly just want to film my remaining scenes just so we can all get the hell out of here.
The director yells "Action," and we pick up where we left off.
"This has been an amazing experience," I repeat for the fifth time, hoping I come across less agitated this time. Since we don't hear a "Cut!", I assume I succeeded.
We take turns reminiscing about some of our favorite moments, which I'm sure will be edited into a montage so viewers can see them as opposed to just hearing about them.
The time Blaine, Seth, and I tried to wrangle a rogue alpaca and got completely outsmarted.
The night Gabe and I spent six hours elbow-deep in colic surgery.
How Keegan and I would play good cop (him), bad cop (me) during the school visits we used to do in the early seasons of the show.
By the time Cabot mentions one of our first scenes together—the time he rescued the kitten that had snuck under the movie set trailer—I'm genuinely emotional. It's suddenly all very real. This will be the last time the six of us hang out together like this. On camera anyway.
It's the end of an era.
Which means it's also the start of a new chapter. One that doesn't have the certainty of a paycheck and schedules and commitments but does offer something I've been quietly craving for years now—the possibility of love.
There's just one last thing I need to do after the director yells cut and I say goodbye to all the crew after the impromptu wrap party they throw me at the end of the day.
I march toward Riff's office and barge in without knocking. He's on the phone. "I'll call you back in five." He hangs up, his beady eyes glaring at me from behind his oversized desk. "What do you want?"
"I want you to leave Cabot alone. For good."
He doesn't bother protesting or even denying he knows what I'm talking about. "Oh yeah? Make me."
"I was hoping you'd say that." I slam down a three-ring binder onto his desk.
"What's this?"
"Your financial records for the last six years. Specifically invoices, contracts, payment authorizations, bank statements, vendor lists, and budget revisions that show how you've been inflating production costs, creating fake vendors, and funneling network money through various shell companies to make yourself obscenely rich."
His face ghosts as he flicks the folder open and scans the documents. "How the hell did you get this?"
"Illegally, of course," I reply with a bright smile. "So here's the deal. You're going to deposit a million dollars into Cabot's bank account before you never speak to him again, and I'm not going to get my pal at the FBI to go after you. How does that sound? Do we have a deal?"
He lets out a haughty little huff. "I'm going to get you for this."
"No, you won't. Because unlike you, I don't defraud my employer and threaten people with revenge porn. It's called having a conscience. You might want to develop one."
I don't bother shaking his hand since a handshake means nothing to a man like Riff. Nor do I care that he technically hasn't agreed to the deal because his words mean even less.
Before I leave, I add, "I mean it. You stay the hell away from Cabot, or I willruin you."
EPILOGUE 1
One year later…
Cabot
"Let. Them. Sniff!" Scooter calls out then brings a hand to his ear, the other one waving to amp up the group of kids sitting on the floor of the Clovelly library’s community room.
