Meg Cabot: Insatiable

Meena couldn’t bring herself to look at Shoshona, she was so furious. She kept her gaze on Sy as she sank into the other Aeron chair in front of his desk.

“I did,” she said. “And I was really hoping to have a word with you in private this morning, Sy.”

“Nothing you can’t say to me in front of Shoshona,” Sy said jovially, waving a hand. “Frankly, I think this is just fantastic. We’re going to have some real estrogen power going on here!”

Meena stared at him. Had Sy really just said the words estrogen power?

And could he actually not know that Meena had been the one doing all of Shoshona’s work for the past twelve months?

“Right,” Shoshona said. “So I think Meena should be one of the first to know about the new direction the network would like to see us start heading in.”

“The network?” Meena echoed bewilderedly.

“Well, our sponsor, really,” Shoshona said, correcting herself.

To Meena’s knowledge, Consumer Dynamics Inc.-Insatiable’s sponsor, a multinational technology and services conglomerate, which also happened to own Affiliated Broadcast Network-had never once lowered itself to bother with the show.

Until now, apparently.

“In a word,” Shoshona said, “they want us to go vampire. All vampire, all the time.”

Meena immediately felt the bagel and coffee she’d had for breakfast come back up.

“No,” she said after swallowing hard. “We can’t do that.”

Sy blinked confusedly at Meena. “Why the hell not?”

She ought to have known. Her day, which had already started off so badly, could only get worse. Lately her whole life had been headed in a steady downward trajectory.

“Well, for one thing, because there’s already a soap opera on a rival network with a vampire story line that’s killing us in the ratings,” Meena said. “A little show called Lust. Remember? I mean, we have to have some pride. We can’t just outright copy Lust.”

Shoshona pretended to be busy straightening her patterned hose as Meena spoke. Sy, peering over his desk, couldn’t take his eyes off her long, coltish legs.

Meena wished she had a mini-Butterfinger for sustenance. Or to smash into Shoshona’s flat-ironed hair.

Flat-ironing! Who even bothered anymore?

Certainly not Meena, who had hacked off most of her dark hair at Leisha’s command-Leisha’s “gift” was that she could look at anyone and immediately tell them exactly the most flattering way they ought to be wearing their hair-and who had enough problems making it to work on time without having to worry about flat-ironing, even when she wasn’t busy trying to save young girls on the subway from certain death by white slavery.

“We’ll look like total fools,” Meena said.

“I don’t think so,” Shoshona said coolly. “Lust is obviously doing something right. It’s one of the few soaps right now that hasn’t been canceled or been forced to move to L.A. to shoot to save money. It’s actually going up in the ratings. And like you said, if we’re going to survive, we need to pull in a younger demographic. Kids don’t care about soaps. It’s all about reality shows to them.”

“And what’s so real,” Meena demanded, “about vampires?”

“Oh, I assure you, they’re real,” Shoshona said with a catlike smile. “You’ve read about those girls they keep finding, drained of all their blood, in parks all over New York City, haven’t you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Meena said sourly. “They weren’t drained of all their blood. They were just strangled.”

“Um, excuse me,” Shoshona said. “But I have an inside source who says all three of those girls were bitten everywhere and drained of every drop of their blood. There’s a real-life vampire here in Manhattan, and he’s feeding on innocent girls.”

Meena rolled her eyes. Okay. It was true some girls had turned up dead lately in a few city parks.

But drained of their blood? Shoshona was taking vampire fever-which, yes, gripped the country, there was no denying that; it was obvious enough that even Consumer Dynamics Inc. was aware of it, and they were so oblivious to trends that they still thought having a MySpace page was cutting-edge-too far.

“So let’s give the show a pulled-from-the-headlines feel,” Shoshona went on, “and have a vampire feed on the girls in Insatiable. Tabby’s friends. And let him brainwash Tabby, and let Tabby be his vampire bride.”

Sy pointed at Shoshona. “Vampire bride,” he yelled. “I love it. Even better, CDI loves it!”

Meena contemplated getting up, walking over to Sy’s office window, opening it, and jumping.

“And you haven’t heard the pièce de résistance,” Shoshona said. “I can get Gregory Bane-”

Sy gasped and leaned forward. “Yes?”

Meena moaned and dropped her head into her hands. Gregory Bane played the vampire on Lust. There wasn’t a single person on earth who was sicker of Gregory Bane than Meena.

And she’d never even met him.

“-to get Stefan Dominic to read for the part of the vampire,” Shoshona went on.

Sy, looking disappointed, sank back into his chair. “Who the hell is Stefan Dominic?” he barked.

Shoshona smirked.

“Only Gregory Bane’s best friend,” she said. “I mean, they go clubbing together practically every weekend. I know you’ve seen his picture with Gregory in Us Weekly, Sy. The press we’ll get from hiring him will be huge. I can’t believe no one’s snatched him up already. And the best thing? He has his SAG card, and he can come in this Friday to read with Taylor.” Shoshona looked like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “I already talked to him about it. He goes to my gym.”

Suddenly, Meena knew exactly why Shoshona was spending so much time on that treadmill. And it didn’t have anything to do with fitting into those Crewcuts.

“There is no way,” Meena said, fighting for inner patience, “that Taylor”-Taylor Mackenzie was the actress who played Tabby-“is going to agree to play a vampire bride.”

Taylor had recently gone on a macrobiotic diet and hired a personal trainer, shrinking herself down to Shoshona’s size. Although Taylor was delighted about this-and the attention the tabloids were paying to her because of it-she needed to watch out if she too didn’t want to end up in a coffin…something Meena had been trying to warn her about by leaving large deli sandwiches in her dressing room. Not exactly subtle, but the best Meena could do.

“Tabby will like it if the network tells her to,” Shoshona said. “This is what ABN wants.”

Meena was trying very hard not to grit her teeth. Her dentist had already chastised her for doing this in her sleep and prescribed her a mouth guard. Meena dreaded wearing it, because it wasn’t exactly the most romantic thing to show up wearing to bed. She looked like a hockey goalie.

But it was that, the dentist said, or a new, less stressful job.

And there were none of those to be found. At least not in television writing.

And since Meena was currently sleeping alone, she guessed it didn’t matter what she looked like anyway.

“Cheryl isn’t going to like it,” Meena warned them. Cheryl was the veteran actress who’d played Victoria Worthington Stone for the past thirty years. “You know she’s been hoping this is the year she’ll finally get that Emmy.”

Thirty years, ten marriages, four miscarriages, one abortion, two murders, six kidnappings, and an evil twin later, and Cheryl Trent still had never won a single Daytime Emmy.

It was a crime, in Meena’s opinion. Not just because Meena was one of Cheryl’s biggest fans and getting to write for her was the thrill of a lifetime, but because Cheryl was one of the nicest ladies Meena had ever met.