DiapOut: Chapter 53
BANG! BANG BANG!
“Dis is some sewious buwwshit! Chu can’t jus lock us in hewe! We demand answers!” commanded Misa as her fist pounded against the green room’s door. Following the tense and messy conclusion of the Final Round, she and the other contestants, minus Ayaya, had been ushered to the green room by a couple of dimwitted PAs. Regrettably, those poor PAs didn’t have the same iron-clad nerve that Keelee possessed when dealing with the show’s aggressively outspoken players, leading them to put the cast on lockdown until further notice.
“Oh, will you give it a rest?” Mia chimed in, too exhausted and too annoyed with Misa’s boorish volume to put up with her theatrics. Her only desire at this point was to slink back to the hotel and crash out on the bed; an objective that would only drag on if Misa continued rambling to every DiapOut crew member in sight. “I’m sure Jackson or someone will be here to dismiss us soon.”
Stepping up to assist her friends with her trademark upbeat attitude, Lelaya quickly chimed in, “Mia’s right! All this angry talking over spilled milk won’t do us any good.”
Unsurprisingly, Mia’s complacent request conjoined with Lelaya’s peppy comment earned immediate scorn from Misa as she glared at her friends. “Spiwlled milk?! Wuh happened in dere was more dan spiwlled milk!” she said, pointing a harsh finger at Kyoko and her team sitting on the other side of the room. “We had dat game in da bag until dat bitch pushed us off!”
“Hey, fuck you too!” Kyoko shouted, ready to throw down with Misa at the drop of a hat. Thankfully, Zeke, Cade, and Rupert were on standby to hold her back, though that didn’t stop her from thrashing around for a few moments. “I was pushed, too! By your teammate, no less! Besides, I didn’t hear Cassi say anything about grabbing onto the spinner.”
“Yeah, and nothin’ in da rules says a dog can’t pway basketball, neither. Who gives a shit?! It’s stiww a scummy move!” Misa clamored, refusing to budge on what, from her perspective, was foul play.
RATTLE!
Misa and Kyoko’s heated argument was swiftly cut short by the sound of the green room doors being unlocked. All eyes turned toward the entryway with bated breath.
“Sorry for the wait, everyone,” Master said, pushing the double doors open with a pale-faced Jackson in tow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m DiapOut’s producer, Miss Caretaker. Yes, The Miss Caretaker.” She paused as if to expect a glowing response. Sadly, her audience of seven was far too concerned about the results of the Final Round to shower the famed CEO with praise. “Ahem…I’m sure it’s been a long day for all of you, so I’ll cut to the chase. Kyoko, congratulations. As the last player standing–er, well, clinging, you are the winner of DiapOut’s inaugural episode.”
An explosion of different emotions impacted Kyoko all at once, permitting her to finally revel in her big win. “YES! WE DID IT!” she screamed, jumping for joy alongside her comrades. The WET Diaper Lovers Club officially had sponsorship.
“Oh, thank fuck! I was going to feel so guilty if one of us didn’t win,” said Cade, letting out an alleviated sigh. Even if he was under the influence of Cassi and enough weed to knock out a horse, he still blamed himself for being so naive and vulnerable. As such, Kyoko’s ultimate victory was a lead weight off his chest.
“WUH?! Escuse me, Missh Cawetaker!” Misa asserted volubly, stomping toward the pink pantsuit-wearing woman with fire in her retinas. Dismally, that piercing flame cooled to a smolder in seconds as she squared up with the towering yet feminine figure. She gulped hard as she stared upward, unable to keep her eyes off her own reflection in the dark void of Master’s sunglasses. “D-Dis is sho unfair! I…WE demand a wematch.” She gestured backward at Mia, who quickly sidestepped to avoid getting involved.
“You do, do you? Master responded, stifling a laugh. “Hmmm, tell you what, DiapOut’s always on the lookout for new co-producers. If you’d like to foot the bill to redo the final challenge, I’d be more than happy to give you that rematch,” she said, her smirk devouring Misa’s aggression like a school bully stealing some poor kid’s lunch money. “Wanna guess how much it cost?”
Misa hesitated, but was too curious for her own good. “H-How mush?” she asked innocently.
Leaning toward Misa’s ear, Master whispered, “More than the grand prize.”
If smiles could kill, Misa would have dropped dead on the spot. Lowering her now petrified gaze, she quietly inched away. “W-Wuhever, evewyone knows first is da worst anyways,” she mumbled, finding herself suddenly content with second place.
“Okay then, with that matter of business out of the way, I cede the floor to Jackson. Take it away,” Master said, her words nudging the lifeless director forward; his hands clutched a small stack of papers.
One by one, Jackson skittishly maneuvered himself around the room, passing out papers to the seven contestants. “Before we can dismiss you, we need each of you to fill out these new Non-Disclosure Agreements,” he said, glaring down at the floor to avoid direct eye contact with any of the players. “For your compliance, each of you will be given an additional stipend.”
“Sorry, but I’m a little confused. Didn’t we sign NDAs this morning?” Zeke asked, thumbing through the pages of the freshly printed contract.
Jackson opened his mouth to answer but failed to utter a sound, unaware that Master was responsible for his momentarily muted state. “You did. However, recent developments required a few additional clauses. As far as each of you is concerned, you may speak freely about your experience on the show so long as you avoid mentioning production involvement, previous showrunners, etcetera, etcetera.
“Previous showrunners?” Lelaya said, puzzled by the technical jargon Master was using to skirt the truth.
“She means the host,” replied Mia, peering through the doorway to see if Ayaya was lingering anywhere. “You guys are really gonna replace Cassi with Ayaya?”
Shockingly, of all the answers Mia could’ve received, Master bursting into laughter was perhaps the most unexpected. “Oh, heavens, no!” she said, continuing to cackle as she struggled to catch her breath. “DiapOut’s going to be moving in a…different direction; one that doesn’t involve CassiRole or Ayaya-girl…”
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RIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIING!
“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. The number you are trying to reach–”
Thumping her thumb down on the end call button, Cassi's bratty impatience was rearing its ugly head as she attempted to call her Mommy to check if she was close. Stains of dried tears and runny eyeliner coated her cheeks, painting her face with a wealth of remorse and indignity. What should’ve been the best day of her life had evolved into a waking nightmare, and worst of all, she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for the fallout.
Leaning against the studio wall, Cassi sank until her padded butt was pressed to the curb before reaching into the duffle bag at her hip and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. Depressingly, the crumpled box was completely empty. “C’mon!” she bemoaned, chucking the barren carton onto the pavement and curling her head into her knees.
...CLICK…CLICK…CLICK…
Not long after her brief outburst, Cassi could hear a pair of high heels approaching her position. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to see her in such a pathetic state. She hugged her knees tighter, hoping whoever was near would pass her by without a second thought.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk! I didn’t take you for a litterbug.”
Cassi’s eyebrows furrowed inward as Ayaya’s snobbish cadence impacted her eardrums. “Go away,” she said, possessing no interest in holding a conversation with the girl who tried to steal her job. The only solace she took from this whole endeavor was that both she and Ayaya were canned by Master simultaneously, meaning that at least her on-set crashout during the Final Round wasn’t for nothing.
“You sure? You look like you could use the company,” Ayaya said with a teasing yet sincere tone, parking herself against the studio wall next to Cassi.
“I said go–” Cassi barked back, her aggravated expression softening as she lifted her head to see Ayaya offering a cigarette to her. “...I didn’t take you for a smoker.” Snatching the cigarette from Ayaya’s fingers, she quickly ignited it between her lips.
“Today I am,” Ayaya said cheekily. She watched as a line of white smoke curled upward from the burnt end of the cigarette, its smell no longer bothering her as much as it did before. “For what it’s worth, nothing about today was ever personal, and I am sorry you lost your job. Knowing you, though, I’m sure you’ll land on your feet in no time.”
Surprised by the amount of contrition in Ayaya’s voice, Cassi pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and offered it to her fellow, unemployed starlet. “I dunno. It’s not exactly like I had a bunch of other offers. I’ll probably just go back to streaming full-time. I’m sure my fans will be thrilled,” she said, lamenting that she was now back to square one as far as Hollywood was concerned. “How about you? Gonna try to steal any other hosting gigs? They film The Price is Right two lots down if you wanna shoot your shot.”
Ayaya chuckled before accepting the lit cigarette from Cassi and placing it in her mouth. A short breath was all it took, causing a chain reaction that forced her to expel all the air from her lungs in a single, rigid cough. It tasted awful, but the numb tingle on the tip of her tongue was somewhat pleasant. She tried again, this time only taking in the tiniest of puffs. “Ugh…nah, I think I’ve had enough of the Hollywood experience,” she said, holding the cigarette aloft in the air. “Here’s to internet fame, and all the BS that comes with it.”
“Hear, hear,” Cassi said, reaching up to pluck the cigarette from Ayaya’s fingers and taking a long, much-needed drag. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in her head as she allowed the hazy tobacco smoke to waft out of her mouth. “Ya know, it’s a shame we were pitted against each other. With our brains and our looks combined, we could’ve owned this city.”
Cassi may not have said the obvious out loud, but Ayaya was reading her loud and clear. “Yeah…too bad. Ayaya-girl and CassiRole, now that’d be a tough pairing to beat,” she said, locking eyes with her former rival.
“CassiRole and Ayaya-girl,” Cassi retorted playfully, offering the cigarette to Ayaya yet again.
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KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Jackson…Jackson, I know you’re in there. Your car is still in the lot,” said Keelee, her impatience steadily growing. “Look, I’m not here to yell at you. I just want my final paycheck, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Several seconds of silence passed until the faint click of a door unlocking gave her the green light to enter.
Immediately upon setting foot in Jackson’s office, the sour stench of alcohol hit Keelee like a sack of bricks. “Woof! Smells like the college bar I used to work at in here. Did Miss Caretaker really bust your balls that hard?” she said, watching as a drunken Jackson sulked back towards his desk and slumped down in his chair.
“Yes…as a matter of fact…she did,” Jackson sputtered, downing the rest of his glass of whiskey in a single gulp. “Not only was I blamed for…like everything…but now, I have until Monday morning to find a replacement host or I’m out. Yippee.” Without missing a beat, he began pouring himself another glass.
Shrugging her shoulders, Keelee sat down across from Jackson and kicked her feet up on his desk. The stink of Johnnie Walker Black Label may have been hot on her former director’s tongue, but nothing could overpower the reek of desperation. “Could be worse. Look on the bright side, you still have a job,” she said as she leaned forward to snatch the whiskey bottle from Jackson’s hands before taking a swig.
“Not for long!” Jackson said, downing half of his glass in the blink of an eye. “Where in the world am I going to find another major ABDL influencer with a large enough following, a wide-open schedule, and an unproblematic attitude by Monday? They don’t exactly grow on trees–and don’t you dare say CrissieBaby.”
Keelee snickered as she swallowed the rich-tasting alcohol. “Well…I may happen to know a girl,” she said as nonchalantly as possible, pretending not to notice Jackson’s intensified stare. “Although…that’s the kind of information that only a Production Manager–nay, an Assistant Director would ever consider giving out for free.”
“Done. You're rehired,” Jackson responded. He wasn’t even going to attempt to negotiate. While he’d never admit it, the entire production was on the verge of collapse without Keelee. “Now, who is it? Who’s this mystery friend of yours?”
Pulling her phone from her pocket, Keelee quickly tabbed over to Instagram. “Well, I dunno if I’d call her a friend. After all, I only met her this morning,” she said, flipping her phone around and displaying Lelaya’s profile to Jackson. “Energetic…unproblematic…and somehow, a larger following than Cassi and Ayaya combined.”
TO BE CONTINUED…