Sparks on Set

By Ada Stone

The co-owners of a burgeoning startup company called Automatoed, Chad and Marcella, are tirelessly scheming toward getting their veggie-burger-driverless-car delivery chain to turn a reliable profit. Then, one day, Chad presents a novel idea: to sell the rights to produce a queer reality TV show in their soon-to-open main office. Flash forward to sales manager Taylor watching as their boss introduces the idea to his group of five employees. While the documentary team schemes to create more drama by instigating romance between the coworkers, sparks fly in all of the unexpected places—including on opposite sides of the lens. The camera operator, Terry, tracks the surprising events with both her work camera and her personal tape recorder as tensions escalate toward the year-end company retreat. But when Chad lets the secret of the show’s transformed romantic premise slip, Terry must scramble to salvage the story for herself and her lover.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094432977

Ada Stone

Ada Stone is a queer and trans book-obsessed human from the Pacific Northwest, where they live now. They love spending quiet time among trees and mountains, listening to their favorite albums on repeat, and receiving “your holds are ready for pickup” alerts from the library.

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Prologue

Wait, there’s something else you want to tell me? Taylor’s crush asks as she trails a step behind them through the parking lot. Although the chilly late-October air doesn’t present the most inviting setting, Taylor is relieved for the chance to chat off the record, and without threat of anyone eavesdropping. At least continuing on to the bus shelter will protect them from the cutting wind. Because, well, they don’t anticipate this conversation ending anytime soon.

There is, Taylor says. We really need to get a bit of distance from the building for this, so hopefully a few minutes in forty-degree weather isn’t going to dissuade you from hearing the reveal.

Oh, no, I’m much hardier than that, she punctuates her sentence with an inappropriately-loud laugh.

When they reach the bus stop a few moments later, Taylor wonders how close they should sit to their crush, but they can only linger in front of the seat for so long. They settle for about a foot of distance: friendly, but not necessarily implying anything more. They don’t want to scare her away, before either of them can even speak, that is. They watch as their crush shifts her weight from side to side, maybe trying to get comfortable on the cold metal slats, maybe just nervous. Taylor certainly can relate to the latter.

Um, well— something catches in Taylor’s throat. They try to clear it away, but it won’t budge. They carry on anyway. So much has led up to this moment that they can’t let it slip away now. I guess for a while— they cut themself off and start again, rubbing their stiff and trembling fingers together. I’m really glad that we’ve been able to meet and become friends because of this shoot. Their crush smiles and nods, probably wondering when they will finally spit out their point. The thing is, I, um—I have romantic feelings for you. So much so that being platonic together is becoming… very difficult.

Before Taylor can continue rambling with who-knows-what explanation to replace the rehearsed one that’s disappeared inside their jumbled brain, their crush cuts in. Wow, she places a hand on Taylor’s knee, wow.

The touch is encouraging, but Taylor needs a clearer reaction. Wow, what? they prod.

Wow, I guess I’ve worried that I’ve been making up this whole thing in my head, she chuckles. I mean I thought you were dating… and all, and my contract says I’m not allowed to get involved with you anyway, and— she stops abruptly. There have just always been so many barriers between us. Not that that’s stopped me from having my eye on you since the day I arrived. But I always knew—or suspected—that as much as I wanted you, we would only ever be together in my fantasies. When we started becoming friendly, at first I was just excited to get closer to you! But, then it wasn’t—

Now it’s Taylor’s turn to cut the conversation off. They scoot across the bench until the pair’s knees are touching. As they’d hoped, their crush goes silent. Then, Taylor raises a hand, slowly, slowly bringing it toward her cheek. Their crush leans into the touch, which turns to a caress, fingers brushing down along that wonderful jawline. Realizing they haven’t been breathing, Taylor lets out a long exhale through their nose. And then, suddenly, their crush’s lips are on theirs. Her mouth tastes like slightly-stale mint, and her lips feel like a hot cup of tea drunk upon waking from a weighty slumber. Instead of letting their crush back away after the first peck, Taylor wraps both hands around her neck and pulls her in harder and deeper. No reason to end the fun when it’s just getting started.

A clearing of someone’s throat startles them apart. Then, a familiar voice: Well, isn’t this interesting!

1

SELECTIONS FROM THE JOURNALS OF CHAD THOMAS II, COPIES SUBMITTED TO OFFICE LOVE (REASON UNKNOWN), EDITED FOR CLARITY 6/18/23 - 7/25/23

11/12/21

This week, it feels like I’ve been doing nothing besides driving back and forth between our East and West Bay locations. If anything, I guess it makes me remember why I had the idea for automated delivery in the first place: driving around here sucks! I think I was stuck on the Bay Bridge for over a half-hour the other day: just on the bridge! I mean, at least I didn’t have to piss, (which, believe me, has happened before), and I had one of Marcella’s recommended management audiobooks playing through the speakers, so what I mean is that it could have been much worse.

Anyway, I digress. Both of our locations are doing unexpectedly well, exceeding even our most optimistic predictions for revenue and number of orders. I think word is getting around that, beyond the attraction of our futuristic cars, our plant-based menu is also delicious! Maybe we need better ways of making predictions… or maybe our food and service is just immeasurably good. At the same time, I still worry about the debt we are in for purchasing the automated cars. (Thinking of the cars, I just remembered we need to get our new Automatoed logo put on those bad boys!)

The VC [venture capital] funding we received was designed to last until next September, but we’ve already used it up on rent and car payments, and a bunch of other upfront stuff you’d have to ask Marcella to explain. Long story short, we need more big money rolling in! Our demand should keep ramping up, but we need to make sure we don’t get bogged down in all these startup costs. I’m set to meet with Marcella at the end of next week—she’s off on a trip, hopefully securing us more funding (??) so we’ll see!

11/18/21

Okay!!! Exciting things from our meeting today!!! It turned out that both Marcella and I had great news to share. I realized that since the inspiration for my grand plan struck on my commute to work the other day I hadn’t even recorded it outside of my phone notepad yet. But, regardless of if or where I put it down, once that idea took hold, there was certainly no way I was going to forget it.

After repeating our usual argument about where to go for lunch—we always must meet over food—Marcella won out and we went to a Turkish place. I’m never going to give up trying to get her to join me at my favorite Vietnamese place, which I swear somehow tastes better than my dad’s cooking, but she supposedly doesn’t like Viet food. I keep telling her that’s because she hasn’t tried this place, but anyway, we ended up at Firat’s.

Since I had seen her last, Marcella had changed her hairstyle from braids to cornrows. I wasn’t sure the latter looked as good on her, but it may have just been that I wasn’t used to the change yet. At any rate, I complimented her on the new style. She was dressed impeccably, as usual (it’s been her, after all, who has taught me everything I know about fashion), in a deep red dress that contrasted dramatically against her black skin.

I was planning to suggest we order a pide to share, you know, go for something simple so I could get right down to pitching my idea, but before I knew what was happening Marcella had ordered us both greyhounds and the place’s whole Meze spread, which, according to the menu was a full feast meant for four. As soon as the server left, I leaned forward and whispered, What the hell is happening, Marc?

I wanted to wait to give you the news in person, but… she looked ready to explode with excitement and bit her lip to build the tension a moment longer, our big fish bit! We got the money! Because she was yelling, everyone else in the small restaurant turned toward us, but I was too elated to care.

Oh my god! I screamed back, then stood up and rushed around the table to wrap Marcella in my arms before she could even rise from her chair. How much, Marc? How much? I whispered urgently in her ear.

Enough to pay off our cars and not worry about rent and consultant payments for the next year, she replied. The words hit like scratching an urgent itch. My months’ long worries vanished, and a new sense of possibility arrived.

Sweet Jesus, God is real, I hugged her tighter and she laughed. Then, our drinks arrived and we started celebrating for real. We made it well into the meal before I even remembered my idea. With the influx of money, I wondered if it was even worth mentioning, but, of course, success is no excuse for complacency.

You know, Marc, I began, sipping from my second greyhound, I’ve got a proposal for you.

Yes? she raised a brow.

For a moment, I hesitated. Self-doubt was hitting me hard. What if Marcella thought my idea was absolutely bananas, and thought less of me for even presenting it. But no, if I couldn’t trust my business partner who could I trust. I pushed on. Okay, so, I know our current two locations are doing well, and we have a certain stability there, but, especially now with this funding coming in, I think it’s time we think seriously about bigger growth. Which would mean actually hiring a full—or at least fuller—staff to help us run things. Gosh, Marc, wouldn’t you like some help? I sure as hell would. And we can think about opening maybe… two or three more locations. Expanding north and south in the region, then beyond. I know we’ve envisioned it before, and I think it’s time we start moving toward putting it into practice.

Marcella was nodding along. So, more funding asks? I can take that on, I have some ideas, she was leaning forward.

Good, good, I agreed, though more words were already pushing out of my mouth. "But if we really want to think long term, if we really want to grow grow, we have to get our name further out there. We have to strive for more brand awareness!"

Okay, so a branding manager, a bigger presence on the popular socials, mainstream media coverage, sponsoring community events, SEO, the works. I’m picking up what you’re putting down, Marcella munched and licked her fingers. I’ve been reading up, don’t worry.

I was impressed that Marc could name so many ideas right off the bat, yet she still wasn’t ready for where I was about to go. Yes, all that. But also, I raised a dramatic index finger, a reality TV show.

Marcella paused, probably trying to decide if she had heard me correctly. Come again? she asked.

Okay, I get it may sound a bit ‘out there,’ I shrugged, but I’ve already got it all planned out. We’re already a trans-owned business. We can make that a central part of our brand by only hiring other trans and genderqueer folks to work in our main office once that opens. So, we sneak something about consent to be filmed at work into everyone’s contract. We wait for a few months for everyone to get settled, then we announce that we’re bringing a film crew in. At this point Marcella tried to interrupt me, but I kept going. Can you see it now? The producers help us create the right storyline, the right amount of drama. Entertainment ensues. First, we reap a small benefit from selling the rights to exclusive access. Could probably pay our office rent for a few years. Then, once we get the show released, think of the following we can gain. The country—well, most of it—is ready to support gay people. Now, we’re going to help them realize they’re ready to throw their money and attention toward the rest of the queer community too.

By the time I next focused my eyes on Marcella, her glass was drained and she sat with her hand folded in her lap. Well, shit, she pondered aloud. I really thought I had heard it all when it came to brand promotion. But this—this is… interesting. I tapped my foot impatiently against the floor, wondering if she meant good or bad ‘interesting.’ It sounds high risk, but also high reward, she continued to think out loud. I think we should pursue our options and see what kind of interest we can get from networks or producers, she finally concluded.

I barely held back from pounding the table in a combination of relief and elation. Ah, you really think so, Marc? God, when this works out, we are going to be sooo big time! Trans people—Black and brown trans people—on reality TV, being shown as successful entrepreneurs and high level employees no less.

Agreed. Marcella smiled. I must say, I’m impressed with your idea, and your energy. I can’t wait to hear where this goes, she was digging into her purse for something.

You know you can always count on me for the energy, I reminded her.

Marcella laid a hundred-dollar bill on the table with a grin. You think that should cover it? I smirked along with her joke before remembering just how much food, and how many drinks, we had ordered. Without the tip, our meal would probably already run over one-hundred dollars. Just in time, the server delivered the bill, and our boxed-up leftovers. Ah, well, Marcella shrugged, instead handing her business credit card over as the server passed by again.

While she waited for her card to return, Marcella pulled something else out of her purse, just barely high enough for me to see. It was an extra-large joint. I have to work on some spreadsheets, but that can wait ‘til later, she mused. As for celebrating, there’s no time like the present.

So celebrate we will, I was already pushing my chair back and looking toward the door.

2

SELECTIONS FROM THE JOURNALS OF TAYLOR DENNISON, DONATED TO THE AUTHOR’S PERSONAL ARCHIVES. EDITED FOR CLARITY AND EXPANDED 6/3/23

6/28/22

WELL! I had just thought I was settling in at work when Chad went and announced something totally paradigm-shifting today. See, I was really starting to get into a groove with our CMO, Patrick, and I hope the new chaos that will surely be soon arriving in our office won’t disturb that. I mean, the last company I worked for, where I was the CMO, I had a terrible relationship with the SM, and that turned out to be one of the reasons I had to leave. Of course, no one could ever figure out how to gender me correctly there, so that might have had something to do with it. Anway, back to the paradigm shift.

I’ve been working at Automatoed for almost two months now, but I still can’t seem to remember that we have our team meetings with Chad every Tuesday morning. I had scheduled a phone call with a potential event sponsorship partner, which I had to very unprofessionally reschedule at the last minute. Shit! So, I scurried into the meeting, luckily just one minute late. Everyone was sitting around one end of our awkwardly-large boardroom table, waiting for my (slightly) tardy ass. I took a seat next to Patrick, and crossed my hands in front of me on the table, presenting myself like an attentive A-student.

Right, Chad began immediately after I had settled. He stood from the executive chair in which he had been sitting, which was supremely cushioned and complete with armrests, in contrast to the rest of the standard office seats in the room. Taking a dramatically deep breath, Chad pushed his hands into the pockets of his dark gray suit-pants and started pacing the room. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, and he had paired the suit with a light blue shirt and coffee-brown shoes. His black hair shone with gel and was coiffed in pompadour style. A flashy silver necklace hung from his neck, the final touch that marked him as a total bro. Though Chad has always made it clear that we are a business-casual office, whenever I’m in the same room as him, I can’t help but feel self-conscious that my slacks and blouses (no matter how neatly ironed) aren’t sharp enough.

After making us wait in anticipation for a couple of beats longer, Chad finally opened his