OMFG. The kids' party place is a primary-colored mini fun park run amuck. The parent to nanny ratio is almost one-to-one. Somebody has to look after the rug rats.
Riley, wearing a thin wool suit, and Paige in a silk floral print dress, stand in stark contrast to the parents whose experience with projectile bodily fluids dictates durable, washable khaki. Riley almost forgets he holds a birthday gift. When the valet speeds away in Riley's Maserati, their world goes into s-l-o-w motion.
Children with gnarled expressions chase each other non-stop, bobbing and weaving like tiny hockey players, body-checking every person and thing, spraying fluids in all directions.
Staffers with horrifying, exaggerated smiles struggle to wrangle the youngsters, enticing them with balloons and banjos and dancing and other noise-making activities.
A proud mom snaps a photo of her child having a photo moment with the nanny. Dad looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, especially banging his mistress.
A little boy writhes on the ground in a tantrum. His teeth- clenched father points his phone at the boy, shooting video.
"This will look very special on your permanent YouTube record," dad warns.
It takes only a moment's witness of the spectacle for Paige to kiss Riley on the mouth.
"What's that for?" Riley asks.
"For not making me pop one of these out," Paige says.
"I see Mary," Riley says, pointing to a tent. A river of pre-adolescent chaos rages between them and their destination. Riley grabs Paige's hand. "Let's go for it."
Guarding their dry-clean-only clothing, they brave the unpredictable waves of cherry-goo-covered children, somehow reaching their destination unsoiled.
"Mary!" Paige calls out. Hal's wife Mary spins around to face them, a distinct WTF on her face.
"Hey-y," Mary's pronunciation, if used in a text, would be an invitation to come over for sex. "Hal didn't mention you two were coming." She and Paige air-kiss. "Welcome to the madhouse." Paige is a little overwhelmed.
"You're a braver soul than I," she tells Mary.
One energetic urchin chases after another, wielding a water balloon. He hurls the balloon but totally misses his target. Instead, the H2O missile lands square on Riley's crotch, soaking his pants. Mary gasps and reprimands the youngsters. Kind of.
"Channing! Stockard! What you're doing is very special, but that's outside play. Thank you very much." She turns to Riley. "I'll get a towel." Riley keeps his cool.
"It's just a little water," he assures Mary. Paige knows better.
"Those slacks are one-hundred-percent wool."
Five minutes later, Riley's pants have shrunk, the cuffs up over his ankles, the crotch tight around his package. He trades Mary the gift he's been holding for the towel she's produced.
"For the birthday boy," he says.
"That is so sweet," Mary gushes. "I'm going to run this over to the gift salon. Hal's on the far side of the bouncy house, tending the adult bar." And off she goes.
The Japanese hipster photographer in flood-length pants, no socks, and docksiders Hal hired to document the party snaps a shot of Riley. "Bold choice," he says about Riley's look. "I'd never have thought to go with socks."
Riley and Paige head to the bouncy house, pressing on through the clusters of gabby parents and waving to familiar faces. Their advances to their former colleagues meet stares of disdain. Or it could be smug satisfaction that Riley and Paige, who had risen to greater heights than anyone else at this party, have fallen from grace into a pit of unemployment—payment for their sin of success.
"At least we know where everybody went," Riley says.
"From A.A. straight to parenthood," Paige replies.
"You two lost?" A voice comes from behind. Paige and Riley spin around to see their Indian friends Webster and Amala.
"Hey," Riley says. "What up?"
"Just the weekend usual," Webster says. "What about you?"
"On our way to the adult bar. Walk with us."
Amala regards Paige's dress.
"You look amazing, Paige. Where do you find the time to work out?"
"Everywhere these days," Paige answers. Amala sighs.
"I envy you. Don't get me wrong—I love my kids. But some days I need a break from being a parent." Webster is not one to mince the words he directs at Riley.
"I mean it—how did you get in here? I only get invited because I've got kids and once again, I'm the richest guy in the room, so... "
"We ran into Hal this morning."
"And shamed him into it."
"It's not like that," Riley defends Hal. Webster calls B.S.
"It's exactly like that. You're well- known child haters." Riley scoffs but Webster keeps going. "Come on. You schedule all your trips between spring break and summer vacation to avoid families."
"Airfares drop," Riley defends. Again Webster digs in.
"And Paige won't drive within a mile of a school at three o'clock." Now it's Paige's turn to defend her choices.
"It's mini-van gridlock. You can't get anywhere." Webster grows bored with the conversation and changes the subject.
"I just sold a series and my showrunner doesn't know that he's not working out," he says. "Might be good for you two." Paige isn't interested.
"We're still focusing on projects with real writing," she dismisses him. He's unfazed.
"'Real' is the first word in reality, Paige. And my shows, like 'Hot Dicks,' use a lot of real producers that I pay real money."
They've reached the bar Hal tends.
"Point taken, Web," Riley says, "but our Emmy has to be worth something, right?"
"Tried a pawn shop?" Webster says, adding, "If that statue translated into work, it would have by now. Just because somebody voted for you doesn't mean they're willing to hire you. It's a different world. You're in the kid business, and from the looks of things, not so much these days." He sees his son approaching. "We've got to get Dev to his drum lessons. But call me. Come to the office. Let me change your minds."
As Webster and Amala leave without a goodbye to Hal, Riley and Paige both consider the harsh reality of Webster's words. Hal breaks their introspective break.
"Webster," Hal says as if spitting. "I wouldn't invite him to his own funeral, but he's just so bloody rich. What can I get you two?"
"Whattaya got?" Paige asks. Hal checks the coolers.
"Let's see. Water, iced tea. Can you handle an O'Doul's?" Not exactly what they had in mind, but whatever. Hal opens two of the non-alcoholic beers. Paige and Riley clink a toast and take a disappointing sip.
"Bossman's in the house," Hal says and points with his eyes. Paige and Riley follow his gaze to find that Jerry and Laura have arrived with their eleven-year-old, Jona.
"You're working for Jerry?" Paige asks.
"And your old pal Lindsey Green. What a bitch," Hal says as he walks away.
"Where are you going?" Riley says.
"It's Jerry, dude."
"I was your best man, 'Dude.' I haven't seen you in months and you don't have time for one fake beer?"
"You know what it takes to get a show up and running. And aside from work, my life is filled with more soccer and karate and piano recitals and class plays than my assistant can fit in my schedule."
"We get it," Paige says. "You've got a kid."
"And if I'm lucky, I get one night out a month. Everyone here is in the same boat. Then someone says 'Hey, why don't we hire a sitter to watch all our kids, and go out for dinner like adults.' And it's awesome, but there goes my one night."
"So we can't be friends anymore?" Riley asks.
"Don't do that," Hal says and then points to Riley's crotch. "Those pants - is that a trend? Looks like it hurts your nuts. Come on, Let's have a good time and go kiss Jerry's ass."
He leads them across the party toward Jerry. Laura catches sight of Paige. Her expression sours and she leaves.
"Hey, boss," Hal says to Jerry, "look who I found."
Riley extends his hand and says, "Jerry."
"Riley," Jerry says then turns to Paige. "Hey, you." Paige hugs Jerry and becomes flirtatious, taking a deep whiff of his cologne.
"You smell great," she says, adding, "Congratulations on that promotion."
"Thank you. It's been a tough climb, but I feel good. Strong."
"You know," Riley says, "just this morning we said that we can't remember the last time we saw you at a meeting." Jerry grabs Jona's shoulders. "I found something better," Jerry says. "This kid is my rock." Riley shakes Jona's hand.
"I'm sure you don't remember us, Jona."
"Nice to see you again, mister Welphelt." Jerry beams and pats Jona's back. "Eleven years old - look how poised he is. Straight-A student, most popular kid in his class... "
"Dad..." Jona says. He's embarrassed but Jerry's not done heaping the praises.
"Did I mention humble? Jona, why don't you go show off some of your gymnastics moves in the bouncy house? I'll be right behind you." Jona is more than eager to do exactly that.
"He's become a good-looking boy," Paige offers.
"You don't know the half of it."
"There's more?" Riley asks, not expecting an answer.
"You can't overestimate the strength you get from family, Jerry says, adding, "And the benefits spill over into every aspect of your life."
"Oh?" Paige wonders.
"It's no secret my addiction made me less than a stellar husband. Had I not regained the trust of my family, I would never have become the person the network would trust with its programming." Jerry catches himself. "Listen to me going on about my journey. What about you two? Any kids in your future?"
Riley stammers for an answer but Paige jumps in. "We've discussed it at length."
"Trust me," Jerry says, "a child can enrich your life in ways you can't imagine. It's been great seeing you, but Jona will only be young once."
Paige, Riley, and Hal watch Jerry wander away to the bouncy house.
"He is seriously on Team Jona," Riley says. Hal shakes his head.
"There's a kid function in one form or another every week, and he's at each and every one. And where Jerry goes..." Paige finishes his sentence.
"The herd follows."Riley senses an opportunity and opens up to Hal. "Hal, we need work. Badly." Hal looks inward and steps up to help his friends.
"You did not hear this from me," he says in a low voice. "Jerry's closing on a one-hour crime- slash-mystery procedural. He has no one in place yet to run it." That excites Paige and Riley.
"Can you talk to him for us?" Riley asks. Hal is non-committal.
"Jerry's in this place where he doesn't want childless people around him. He thinks that lifestyle threatens his sobriety." It incenses Paige.
"What the fuck?" she says. Hal gets it.
"Your mouth to God's ear," he says. "But according to Jerry, a kid is the most important thing you can have on your resume."
Paige and Riley sip their fake beers. As he scans the party full of former colleagues and their children, Riley gets an idea.