Ingrid paced around his office troubled. Ratings for this show had dropped over the past three seasons. There was no thrill in watching a bunch of teenagers sing anymore but what else could he do? He leaned on the edge of his desk and lifted his fluffy white cat in his hands. Stroking it gave him some peace.
He had had so many successful seasons on WES that he couldn't imagine this one being a bust. The wall on his right was lined with awards he'd won for best reality TV Showrunner, five years running. But his winning streak had come to an end the previous year after season seven ended scandalously.
He ran a hand over his desk. The first thing he had received from a contestant in season 4. His mind wandered off for a second and he laughed to himself. He crossed the room and his eyes fell onto a picture he'd taken hiking in the Alps with the cast a few years ago.
"Maybe we should have something like the contestants singing from Everest. That would bring in more buzz, wouldn't it Snuffles?" he said and the cat in his arms purred softly leaning into his embrace.
The door opened a few moments later and a few of the junior producers walked in led by a fuming Pembroke.
"Lombardi, give me one reason why I shouldn't send you and your guinea pig packing!" he stormed.
"First of all, Snuffles is a pure breed Turkish Angora." he corrected.
Pembroke strode across the room and took him by the collar.
"Right, d...definitely not the point. I...I h...have a new angle for the show." he stuttered.
"What angle?"
"W...well, um...you're going to have to see the new cast for this season first b...but I assure you it'll knock your diamond encrusted socks off."
"I don't have time for this Lombardi. What is it?"
"If I told you...then it wouldn't really be as spectacular! Wouldn't it be better if...you were surprised instead? An air of mystery around here is precisely what we need to get ratings up. This season's going to be a real show stopper!"
His face folded into a deeper frown.
"O...Of course not literally, I mean it's going to put everyone on the edge of their seats."
He loosened his grip on him.
"...I better not regret this. If one week into the show I don't see the bars go up, I'm going to pull the plug and send you and Pink Panther over there packing. Goodbye to your gold plated chicken and hello to grocery store catnip." he stepped back. "And get that damn cat to the vet, it's scaring the shit out of me."
He tore his gaze away from the cat. Turning around and he left and slammed the door shut.
Snuffles looked up at him with wide blue eyes licking her pink fur. He hugged the cat close. Pembroke didn't understand his attachment to the cat. He'd nearly lost her when she chased a ball of pink yarn into the washing machine.
"You're lucky I didn't set it to tumble and dry Snuffles." he craddled the cat in his arms.
One of the junior producers who'd been hired recently had hung back. She was on the shorter side; blonde bobbed hair and brown skittish eyes. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and smiled sweetly at him. Samantha or something.
"And what do you want sweetheart? To chew me out like the big man too? So you can feel like a winner?"
"You insult me by insinuating that I need to tear down your confidence to build my own." she said crisply in a thick British accent. "I actually want to help you because even as far as I can tell, you have no plan whatsoever to salvage your career."
"And what exactly do you plan to do to help me? Unless you have some Britney Maddox look alike with Sia's vocals in your basement, I don't see how we can 'salvage my career,'" he retorted and turned around to sit at his desk.
"Actually, I have an idea. But it will require us to stop by a hospital in Florida." she said pushing the glasses up her nose.
"So you're going to make me fly to Florida for what exactly?"
"Sorry, quite past actually. A little town called Pepper Pot." she said with a smile. "You will not regret this."
"Sure, let me just clear out my non-existent schedule." he lifted his desk calendar pretending to skim through the dates. "Wouldn't you look at that? I'm actually busy trying to think of a concrete plan to save my ass here! Why should I board a plan with some Junior Producer who doesn't know shit? To who-knows-where? Let me guess, you'll have us go to Transylvania next?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"I'll have you know Mr. Lombardi that what you are is the face of the show. I'm the brains of this operation. I want to save this show almost as much as you want to save your image. I'm good at my job. There is a reason why Mr. Pembroke hired me. So leave the thinking to me and you can sit pretty and take the credit." she said. "But only if you allow me to do what I do best."
He groaned and his hands flew up defeated.
"What the hell, let's go to this mythical place then. While we're at it, we could probably look for Aladdin's lamp and find some hot genie willing to grant me three wishes huh?"
She fished out her phone and tapped something on it before looking up at him.
"Your sarcasm will not aid us in any way Mr. Lombardi. Powder your nose and pack a bag. Our flight leaves in an hour." she deftly stated and turned on her heel.
"How did you already book a flight?"
She stopped short at the door.
"I told you," she smirked. "I'm good at my job."