The Afterthought Slot

Lisa was sitting in her office feeling pretty pleased with herself.

The reviews for the first production at Potter's Theater under Lisa's watch were stellar.
The reviews for Trevor's show at the Minx were less than stellar.
Nicholas had been humiliated the other night at Lily's opening.

All was right with the world.

Knock, knock.

LISA: Entre!

Reginald walked into the office.

REGINALD: You know, anything other than 'come in' is a bit pretentious.
LISA: I'm on cloud nine, Trevor, don't bring me down.
REGINALD: Speaking of cloud nine, when are you planning on seeing it?
LISA: Seeing what?
REGINALD: Cloud Nine.
LISA: I'm confused.
REGINALD: Clearly. Lisa, Cloud Nine is the second show of the season.
LISA: Oh fuck! The Afterthought slot.

Since the inception of Potter's Theater, the second slot had always been thought of as the Afterthought slot.

All the work and time over the summer goes into the season opener, and the fact that another show follows a month later means that show usually gets little to no attention or fanfare.

LISA: Is it good?
REGINALD: No.
LISA: Whose directing it?
REGINALD: Me.
LISA: We let you direct now?
REGINALD: I've always directed.
LISA: But you're the resident playwright.
REGINALD: Yes, but around year five, when I hadn't produced so much as a one-act, your father decided he should put me to some use.
LISA: So what happened to Cloud Nine?
REGINALD: The acting is horrible.
LISA: What else is new? When does it open?
REGINALD: Next Tuesday.
LISA: Next Tuesday is in five days. You should have come to me sooner.
REGINALD: I did.

He motioned to her inbox, which was filled with memos about the bad shape the show was in--the last one simply reading "Help."

REGINALD: They're insolent and awful, Lisa. You have to talk to them.

Lisa agreed to attend Reginald's tech rehearsal that night, and see what was what.

What was what was what Reginald described--bad acting.

LISA: Okay, there's only one thing to do.
REGINALD: Fire everyone?
LISA: No. Overcomplicate it.
REGINALD: What?
LISA: We'll make it so confusing nobody will dare say anything bad about it for fear of looking stupid. Trevor does it all the time.
REGINALD: But I don't.
LISA: That's why I'm going to ask Trevor to come overhaul it tomorrow.
REGINALD: You're taking me off the project?
LISA: Not really. You'll still get directing credit--you'll just have to share a little bit of it with Trevor.
REGINALD: I refuse!
LISA: Reginald, the show cannot go up like this.
REGINALD: So talk to the actors.
LISA: Talking isn't going to do any good. They're awful! We need to pull focus from them and put it on something else. Like puppets or oddly shaped balloons.
REGINALD: Your father would have died rather than let Trevor back in here.
LISA: Luckily, he's already dead, and I'm here, so Trevor's in.

With that, she walked away from him.

Helen approached Reginald.

REGINALD: She's gotten out of control already.
HELEN: She's got too much of her father in her.
REGINALD: At least she's not digging into the murder.
HELEN: No, but once Trevor's hanging around.
REGINALD: Don't worry. There's a way to take care of Trevor.
HELEN: See you back at my place tonight?
REGINALD: Well, I really should write...something.
HELEN: Nine o'clock then?
REGINALD: I'll bring the wine.

Helen went back to learning her lines--she felt she still had plenty of time since the show opened in five days.

Reginald was busy determining how to get rid of Trevor.

The easy way or the hard way.