Funny Feelings (4)

“You know your set’s over, right?” Bob chuckles at me. “Besides, I’m only trying to keep up with Meyer here.”

But before I can come up with a snarky response and engage in our standard back-and-forth, Meyer’s hand grips my elbow, and I jolt. We spend a large percentage of our lives together, but I take care to avoid too much casual touching when it comes to him. Twice in one night might be a record.

“Farley.” I look up at him and then follow his eyes… Holy. Balls.

Kara Wu is here.

At my show.

The show that just killed.

She’s smiling in my direction.

My favorite comedienne, one of the most famous in the country—who has written for wildly successful shows and has hosted Saturday Night Live—is here and she is smiling in my direction.

So, naturally, I do the thing. The thing that no cool girl ever does.

I look around to see who she is smiling at.

I close my eyes and sigh through my nose when I realize what I’ve done, steel myself, and turn back to her with a shaky smile.

When she is in my immediate proximity, I double back my gaze up to Meyer and check that I’m not hallucinating. He just tilts a close-lipped grin down at me, a mildly entertained look in his eyes.

I tear my eyes away and turn back to Kara Wu, still smiling expectantly. I also vaguely register Bob in my peripheral, silently laughing and pulling up his phone to snap a photo.

“Farley?” Kara Wu says.

“Kara Wu?” I squeak. It comes out like an accusation.

She laughs. “Just Kara is fine. Fucking great show.” Ohmygod, I love her. A mom who is not afraid to pull the punches with the language in her set and obviously not in regular life, either. Gritty, real, raunchy, and naturally hilarious. I want her to be my friend. I would follow her around and slice grapes for her kids, I would talk on the phone to her, I would… I don’t know, the talking on the phone thing short-circuited my brain.

Meyer elbows me but speaks on our behalf while I continue my brain reboot. “Kara. It’s been a few years, but I met you awhile back.” He reaches out to shake her hand.

“Oh, I remember you, alright. Back from when I was touring with Marshall. I wouldn’t forget your face.” She looks up at him through her lashes with an appreciative grin. Can’t blame her, he is a sight worthy of the appreciation. Tall, muscular, perfectly weathered with that salty brown hair and beard. The boy-next-door turned into a devastating man. But, when she maintains her grip on his hand a little too long, a flare of possessiveness runs through me and forces me through my hard reset.

“Thank you. I cannot believe you’re here,” I say and punch out my own hand for her to take.

“Well, believe it. I’ve had you on my radar for a while now, which brings me to this.” She gestures for someone to come over. “This is my manager, Clay. Clay, Meyer, you guys talk. I’m going to have a chat with Farley over here.” Oh, God. Okay. It’s happening. This is happening.

We walk away a few paces before she turns to me. “I’m just going to lay my cards on the table, here. I want you to open for us on our tour.”

Don’t burst into violently happy tears, Fee. Don’t. Not yet, at least. “Open. For you. For you, and—”

“For me and for Shauna Cooper. We love you, and while there are a few others in the running, you’d be our first pick. I just wanted to feel some things out with you first.”

Steely determination crawls through me, my heart hammering in my ears. That’s my spot. “What do I need to do?”

“Well, to be frank, there’s nothing really that you can do in a work aspect. Your sets speak for themselves. You’re our first pick because we want the sharpest comedy from start to finish. Not to mention on paper, you’d be the perfect addition to round us out. We have good representation between us in terms of age, sexuality, and ethnicity, and we’re not afraid of being dirty. You bring the quirk, I bring the mom factor, Shauna brings the take on the political-social climate. But we’re still an all-female comedy tour, and this is still a primarily male lead faction of the entertainment industry. And I want it to blow this shit out of the water, Farley. I want all the hype for this. We need to have a killer PR run before this thing starts, which means we need to garner some media attention. Hence, this conversation.”

“Okay. I’m okay with that. I’m totally on board.” I love the sound of that. The number of Netflix specials featuring men versus female comedians is staggering. I am vibrating with excitement and motivation.

“It also means interviews, potentially, and unfortunately, people getting invested in your personal life— a definite. People tend to be more invested in female comedians when they feel like they know, or get, where the jokes are being developed.”

Okay… I don’t love the sound of that…

“I’m not proud of it, but if it gains a bigger following for this and gets us the exposure we deserve, I’m not above a little healthy exploitation.”

“I get it. I do,” I say, but don’t mask the wary tone to my voice.

“We have an idea. Well, I have an idea, at least.”

“Okay…”

“Well, you’re young, cute, and nothing garners attention quite like other people’s love lives.”