Episode · 1 year ago

Plus One Privileges


Back in NYC, Cleo preps for her first red carpet event -- too bad Brady has a little too good of a memory on his nanny's past promises.




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We need better markers. From his usual place at the counter amid the war zone of construction paper, Brady caps of red magic marker and lobs it across the room straight into the trash. Nice shot, Kobe, that these are the only markers left. With thanksgiving just a few short weeks away, I'm leaning heavily on Pinterest for seasonally appropriate entertainment. We completely dried out all the smellie markers on a pilgrim hat project earlier this week, so today we're making do with what we've got. WHO's Kolbe Sweet Summer Child? How do I put this in Brady language? MMM, he was like a movie star, but for basketball. I guess that cut it, because he doesn't ask any further questions. Instead, he directs his attention back to tracing his hand on a sheet of Brown construction paper, laying the groundwork for what will soon become a hand Turkey. The day this kid loses interest in crafts, Lord help me. Brady squint set his project with disapproval. These don't really look like feathers, they's look more like spikes. How about I read the craft closet for feathers? Then you can go them on. He gives me a double thumbs up. I II can make on joky up the Gom and another one at Indian, native American. I correct him over my shoulder as I head toward the craft closet. This kid is a lot of things, but I'm not letting racially and sensitive be one of them. Native Ammerican. He parrots the words back to me, then dramatically smacks the heel of his hand against his forehead the delay. I bite my cheek, barely holding back my laugh as I disappear into the walk in. What a little PEC diva. I...

...can't wait to tell Dean about that later. Yes, I'm still talking to dean. We've been texting on and off the last two months, mostly on, as in almost every day. What can I say? He started hitting me with those cute, good morning, gorgeous texts on his commute and I was totally stuckered in. Plus, it's nice to have someone other than Ingrid to share brady stories with. Last week, when the Little Goblin tied all of his spaghetti noodles together to create one giant super noodle as tall as him, I managed to snap a picture for Dean and clean up the Marinera off the tile just seconds before Helen got home. Anyway, he seems to enjoy the updates as much as I enjoy having someone to share them with, someone who genuinely cares about both me and my second grade best friend. I never had that before, but I guess there are a lot of things about dean that I've never had before, a lot of really appealing things that I've been trying not to think about too much. It takes a little splunking, but I managed to dig up half a bag of craft feathers and a bottle of Elmer's glue from the closet. With enough additional craft supplies, I might be able to stretch out this activity until Helen gets back. After dropping my findings in front of Brady, I had back into the living room to take a second pass at the craft closet. But before I can take another deep dive into the bins of sequins and scissors, something catches my eye. It's a picture over the Mantel I barely noticed in passing before, a picture of you guessed it, Dean. I halt, my heart squeezing in my chest as I lock eyes with a much younger version of a familiar face a young, handsome, early twenty something in full college graduation Regalia, standing next to his extremely pregnant mother, who's grinning with pride. My Lips curl into a smile at the hint of frosted tips peeking out from underneath his Grad Cap. God,...

...what an awful fad. He was Acutie then, no doubt, but definitely still shaking off his frat boy residue. I'm so glad I met him later rather than sooner. Freshly graduated Dean would have been a safe bet of a left swipe for me, even for my far less discerning twenty year old self, I would have written him off as Frat Trash, and he might have thought I was. I don't even want to go there. Glancing back toward the kitchen, I see Brady's pretty engrossed in applying glue to the ends of feathers, so I pulled the brush gold frame off the Mantel for a closer look. I wonder who took this. Maybe Helen's first husband, Aka Dean, and Brady's Dad. They would have still been together at this point. It wasn't until Brady was a toddler that they separated. A pretty normal side effect of your husband fucking the nanny. I guess my stomach twists remembering the look in Dean's eyes when we piece together the unfortunate connection between the two of us, the fear and frustration when he realized he slept with bradies and Anny the same way his dad did. But he's not like his dad. He's loyal. The man deleted tinder after he met me, for Christ's sake. How insane is that? Well, almost as insane as the fact that I did the exact same thing, but that's neither here nor there. That's my brother Brady, snaps me out of my days. I swivel around to find him staring at me with late suspicion. Oh Um, nice. I returned the picture to its place, aiming for ambivalence in my tone as I wander back to the kitchen. When's the last time you saw him? He scrunches his nose and thought, tapping one glue covered finger against his chin. Last Easter and the four that Chris. It's messine before that Easter twice a...

...year. I'm starting to get why dean loves the BRADY UPDATES so much. Are you guys friends? He looks at me like I'm absolutely insane. He's not my friend, he's my brother. Right, of course, but do you two get along? He thinks over it for a moment, then nods. Yeah, I like Dane's really funny and he makes really good chicken nuggets. There's no holding back my eye roll. Yeah, you've mentioned that before. Anyway. Look he grabs his construction paper, beaming with pride as he shows off his hand Turkey, complete with a rainbow of glued on feathers, although it looks like he got more glue on his hands then on the paper. Oh well, very nice. Now let's get you washed up before your mom comes home. All right, a familiar voice calls from the foyer. Helen God, it's like she knows the exact time to come home, just when things are at their messiest. Her still lettos click against the tile as she enters the kitchen, pulling her son into an awkwardly distant side hug. Not Too close, Love Bug, don't get glue on Mummy Shadow. She gives me a half a smile as if to say, kids, am I right? Because obviously I know all about keeping a child's grimy hands off my designer suits. While Brady shows off his creation. I pack up the craft supplies and return them to the hall closet before running a clorox wipe across the white marble countertop, anything to score a few extra browning points, before asking for time off yet again before I head out. Is it all right if I take the whole day off on Friday the eighteen? I have a premiere that night. Helen Arch is a perfectly manicured brow at me premier for your...

...naiaigres show. Yeah, Webflix is hosting a Premiere Party at the theater, and Chelsea Brady Lights Up, his Brown eyes nearly doubling in size. Is it gonna be a red carpet? Sure, sort of. He punches two gluey fists into the air. WHOA, I can't believe I'm gonna get to the go to a red carpet. WHOA, Whoa. So your roller be the only place you're going is straight to the sink to wash your hands. I nodd down the hall toward the bathroom. Happy Birthday two times and you soap big guy. Folding his arms over his chest, he shoots me a look that's downright offended. But You promised. What are you talking about sucking in a deep breath, the rascal unleashes the power of my own words on me at double speed. You promised, you let me come the red card with you. have by eat on my bas and I did it all my base. So polase, please, boase, you gotta let me go. Oh, Helen tilts her head at me, but I'm just as confused as she is. Okay, wait, it's coming back to me. The chicken nugget fight the peas shit. I did feed him some line about bringing him to a red carpet back when I was still waiting to hear from casting the first place. I should have known he would take that to heart. Brady, I H Sigh, tightening the shambre shirt nodded around my waist. How do I freeze this? I was only kidding. It'll be past your bedtime. And Brady juts his lower lip at me and hits me with a big old set of puppy dog eys. Why is it about these mcdaniel boys and their big brown eyes that always lets them get their way? Well, let's ask your mom. I nod toward my boss. I have no problem turning her into the bad guy here. Please, please, please, Mommy, please, can I go? He folds his glue covered hands together like he's...

...praying to his channel Clad God. Helen frowns, smoothing Brady's wild blonde hair with her hand. Honey, Cleo doesn't want to bring a little kid to her fancy event and she'll be too busy taking pictures to look after you anyway. Mommy, can't let you go on supervise like that. Then you can come too and watch me or or dad or or or his eyes Dart from me to the picture on the Mantel or dean. Helen Flinches, and I'm not exactly playing it cool myself. Dean. Her Eyes Follow Brady's to the picture above the fireplace. What makes you mention him? She pivots back towards me, ready for an explanation, but before I can get a word in, Brady beats me to it. CLEO was staring at his picture earlier and she wanted to know all this stuff about him. I love this kid, I swear I love this kid, but right now I could squash him like a bug. I had just never noticed that picture before. I saw it on my way to the craft closet, and you have a crush on my oldest son, Cleo. Maybe I'm not as good of an improviser as I think. The question is so matter of fact it nearly knocks me over. It's an old picture. Smooth, Cleo, real smooth, but I can say this I've never even met the guy. I just it caught my attention. I don't know much about your other son. She directs her attention more on her French manicure than me. I don't either anymore. He works in Sustainability for MC Daniel. Decent Guy, hard worker. Lady seems to like him, that's for sure. Her lips barely hint at a smile before falling back into their usual frown. Too Bad he got saddled with half his father's jeans. I not along as if this is all new information to me.

Then ask a question I already know the answer to. Does he live in the city, Brooklyn? I think wrong. Huh. Well, I'd love to meet him sometime, like at the red carpet. Brady busts out the puppy dog eyes once again. Fleece Mom, can I go? She turns to me as if to give me the last word on the matter. Shit, am I really about to show up to my first ever premiere with a second greater into. The only thing worse would be to let the little man down. I mean I did promise. Brady breaks into a full on happy dance, busting out some weird moves that he could have only gotten from tick tock. It earns him a generous I roll from his mom, who then turns my way and says just bring an extra set of hands to look after. I'm all right, I don't care who anyone responsible. As long as we're on the subject of my plus one and her first son, I guess there's no better time to go for it is. What's his name? Do you've damn responsible dean, more responsible than his dad, although that's not saying much. I can send you was contact if you really want, if that's not too weird. I don't mean to be setting you up again her anything if that's not what you want. Clearly I'm not half the actress I think I am, because Helen is reading me like a copy of cranes. I gulped on the nerves building up in my throat. I mean it's just to supervised. Brady, right, right, whatever you say, a suspicious gleam flickers in her eyes as she reaches for her phone. Her acrylics fly across the screen and moments later my pocket buzzes with one new message from Helen containing...

...a phone number I already have. He's your problem. Now. She pushes her hands together through the air, as if sliding an invisible burden my way. have at it. Okay, so maybe it's not a seal of approval, but at the very least it's a sign permission slip to see dean again, not just see him either, to have him by my side on one of the biggest nights of my career. And Hey, I already know he has a great suit to wear. The second I'm out the door, I open up my text thread with Dean, firing off the message I've been dying to send since they first announced the premiere. Hey, what you do in the eighteen? His response is almost immediate. I get the feeling you're about to tell me. That alone is enough to smack a big stupid smile on my face. I can just picture it. His arm looped through mine on the red carpet, or whatever makeshift version of it they have planned. Me Basking in my own performance and wearing. Well, I don't know what I'm wearing yet. Something red, something lazy, something hot, for sure. And it won't just be me in my element, it'll be us together. Oh and Brady. Can't forget Brady. Hook Up. State of mind is written by Becca Morgan and Amelia J rose. Produced by consensual creating steamy feminist first romance for riot girls. Special thanks to baby money and the down payments for the use of our theme song, Oh boy. streamable on spotify. Head Sound Engineer John McNeil Studio. Recording by John McNeil and Sam Silver, mood lighting engineer, mixing by spiral like creative and mastering by aiding of Aura. This episode was performed by Nadia Pelletier, Bianca Shaw, Stephanie Lewis and...

Daniel Jordan. Tune in next Monday for a special bonus episode where Ingrid says you can use his name, Cleo. You've only mentioned dean the last four times we've talked.

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