16
Tuesday, March 5th, 1985, 9:33 P.M.
For most adult Americans, weeknights are filled with mundane ablutions and tedious routine. The only saving grace being the glorious sight of your own bed and the inevitable act of hitting the pillow. It was certainly no different for Charlotte. Especially since she had been coming home so late these past few months. She knew that if she didn’t get up and call Jane, she would end up falling asleep in the chair, waking up sometime around two o’clock in the morning, and being unbelievably pissed that she allowed apathy and fatigue to get the best of her.
She liked to check in with Jane at nights on a fairly regular basis because Jane kept a running tally of the day’s events like a professional scorekeeper. She followed and studied the mood of the staff and knew every nuance of every song that was being worked on and recorded. That included the outside songwriters in addition to the songs that the Go-Go’s were writing. Her and Charlotte were doing the majority of their writing under the tandem of Caffey/Wiedlin and the pressure to come up with new stuff was enormous. Especially with all the other responsibilities they had. The task of accomplishing everything was extremely intimidating. Reviewing all of this bullshit was one of the main reasons why Charlotte and Jane conducted their nightly chin-wags.
But, it wasn’t all just serious business that they talked about. After they went back and forth with the daily minutia, they usually ended up either gossiping about everyone involved with the show, or going over the day’s screw-ups on the set.
The bloopers were far and away the best part of the day. It was pure, unrestrained laughter that could only come from the gut. Even the anticipation of someone screwing up their lines was hilarious. The people behind the cameras only liked it up to a certain degree, of course, but the actors loved it.
So, with that in mind, Charlotte got up out of her chair and dragged her weary, yet, super-fine butt into the kitchen and over to the telephone. She took the headset out of the cradle and stretched the extra long cord over to the table and sat down. She punched Jane’s number into the keypad and waited for her to answer. Jane picked up after four rings:
JANE
Hello?
CHARLOTTE
Hey, it’s me.
JANE
Oh, hey, Char, what’s up?
CHARLOTTE
Omigod, what’s up. Everything is up,
including me… And I shouldn’t be.
JANE
Charlotte, you don’t have to talk to me.
Why don’t you go to bed?
CHARLOTTE
No.. it’s okay. I needed to hear your voice.
JANE
Aww, that’s sweet. I love you, too.
CHARLOTTE
Jane, I’m so sick of this. What am I gonna do?
Did you know I just got home like an hour ago?
JANE
What?! Are you kidding? Why?
CHARLOTTE
Oh, I had to go over that fucking schedule again with Pasternak.
I don’t know why they need me around for that shit.
What the fuck are they doing all day while I’m down on the set?
They’re using me and I’m sick of it. I’m gonna say something about
it tomorrow…. and if that Forsberg fucker touches me one more time,
I swear I’m gonna kick him in the balls.
JANE
Eww, I don’t like him, either. He stares at me
sometimes. He’s kinda’ creepy.
CHARLOTTE
I just don’t know what to do.
JANE
Hey, I told you not to take that producers job.
We all did. Even Suffy foretold that you were
gonna regret it.
CHARLOTTE
(slightly irritated)
I don’t listen to Suffy.
JANE
Okay, but look at you now.
You’re gettin’ home at eight o’clock at night.
You’re all pissed off.
CHARLOTTE
I know, I know.. Oh, God, Jane,
what am I gonna do? Help me.
JANE
I wish I could help ya, buddy,
but I just write the songs.
Ever the comedienne,
Jane begins to sing…
JANE
I write the songs that make the
WHOOOOLE WORLD SING……
CHARLOTTE
Jane, Jane, please. It’s 9:30 at night.
I don’t need to be serenaded by Barry Manilow.
JANE
You don’t like my soothing voice?
CHARLOTTE
Your voice is fine. It’s lovely.
But that doesn’t solve my problem.
JANE
Would you rather hear my impression
of Clint Eastwood?
CHARLOTTE
You.. do an impression of Clint Eastwood?
Jane, if anybody should not be doing an
impression of Clint Eastwood, it’s you.
Minnie Mouse, I could see, but not
Clint Eastwood.
JANE
Hey, how many times have I told you,
only I can make fun of my voice.
CHARLOTTE
I just wish I had an answer.
JANE
Why don’t you take a shit
on one of their desks?