Funny Feelings (48)

“I will. For sure. I’ll keep it worked in.”

“Now what about you, Meyer Harrigan? What’s in store for you?” Kara asks, as we start to shift on our seats to the beat.

“In between projects right now,” he replies. “But, I plan to write a new screenplay soon.”

This is news to me. “About what?” I ask, smiling at this little mystery he’s managed to keep.

He shrugs as he stands, looking down at me in a downright flirtatious way, his eyes dipping. “Don’t exactly know, yet, but I’ve got a few ideas to play with. Another round of drinks for everyone?”

“Yes please!” we say in unison, heads turning to watch him walk away.

“I know his dick is big.” Shauna says.

“I bet he has no trouble finding it, either.” Kara follows with a sigh. I laugh even as I level them with a look. He found it through two layers of pants and underwear.

“I know y’all have hooked up already.” Shauna prods with a brow raise, waiting for me to confirm or deny.

“Ah—no, no, don’t tell me, just let me picture it.” Kara closes her eyes, gives a silent pump of her fist. “For female comics everywhere.”

“What do you mean?” I ask with another laugh.

“I mean that female comedians never get the hot, silent type— definitely not the ones who are funny, too. Male comics though— they can get whoever they want. They can be ugly and only moderately funny, and they’ll still score models, singers, reality stars. Any male fanboys of ours tend to be inherently creepy. Finding a man, let alone a very successful man, as a female comic, is a herculean task.”

“Valid point.”

“No, really, Farley. I dated a clown for six months when I was starting out.” Kara declares with a hard look.

“He wasn’t even a good clown, either!” Shauna yells and we all bust up. I’m tempted to ask for her to define what even determines a good one, but refrain as Kara pushes her face into her palms.

“Seriously, though. Just… be careful. Meyer seems like a good guy, and I know he’s been out of the stand-up game for a bit, anyway, so there’s no need for him to be threatened or anything. But there’s a reason they say all funny men are insecure, right? Don’t be too shocked if he starts distancing himself the more successful you become.” Kara says, putting her hand on mine.

I slip it away with a frown. “If anything, he’s the reason I’ve even gotten this far. And he’d never ice me out of his life. We’ve got too many other… ties.” I say confidently, “The only thing I could see him distancing himself from is the media attention, and he’s already throwing himself into that for me.”

“Well, that only tends to increase with this kind of success, babe. It’s not the same as being an actress or a singer or anything, but it’s there.” Shauna adds.

As if to highlight her point, a woman taps her shoulder and asks us all for a picture just as Meyer returns with the drinks.

“Will you take one of the four of us?” she then asks me, pushing her phone my direction. I look up in confusion, it clicking when I see the looks of sympathy on all three of their faces.

“Of course!” I shout brightly. I nail the smile to my face while I take it.

“You’re gonna want one with Farley Jones in it, too. Trust me,” Kara says, yanking a guy over to take one of all of us. I appreciate the vote of confidence, even if it’s embarrassing. Even if Meyer’s stroke on my arm feels like it’s trying to be reassuring.

Of course she knows their faces. I’m still more new— newer than all of them. It’s not shocking and it shouldn’t bother me. It shouldn’t. It doesn’t.



The remainder of the night is everything I could’ve hoped for. Tyson meets us at another bar, where he and Meyer hit it off, slipping into manly conversations as the three of us slide onto the dance floor.

It’s pushing three AM by the time we make it back to the hotel. I flop onto the cloud of the bed and rapidly kick my shoes off, exhausted and exhilarated.

When I prop myself onto my elbows, Meyer has his bag on his shoulder and a tired smirk on his face. “Wait— where are you going?” I ask, wishing I could sound less needy.

“I had to get a spot on the five AM flight. So, I gotta just head to the airport now. If I lay down, I’ll crash.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve come back way earlier.” I stand up and approach him, already forlorn.

“Because we were having a good night,” he brushes a strand of hair from my face with a sigh. “Your flight’s later today, yeah?”

“Not until four.” Too far away.

“Okay, good. Rest, then. Call me when you land?”

“Meyer—” I don’t know what I want to say, though, without sounding truly desperate or dumb. Thanks for forgoing sleep and a night with your daughter so that you could support me and my career and also give me an orgasm? Jesus, what the hell am I doing?

“Hey— what’s going on in your head?” he asks my expression, eyes flicking to my forehead and back like he can read the thoughts there.

“I’m just… sorry you stayed away an extra night and lost sleep,” is all I can bring myself to say.