We Interrupt this Transition

CHAPTER EIGHT: Liability

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. A cool breeze was blowing, the sun was shining, and birds chirped their morning mating songs in nature’s organic symphony. 

Which is to say, it was too bright and too loud, and it forced Sam to finally wake up, miserable, dehydrated, and groggy. Her eyes opened slowly, with what she could swear was the creaking sound of old gates. 

“Ugh.” Sam looked down at herself in the old clothes she was wearing from the night before, with the exception of having the wherewithal of having kicked off her shoes.

It was a fun night, but she lamented that it would not be too long before she hit her forties, and her idea of a fun night at that age would be to curl up with a heated blanket and some chamomile tea, watching Jeopardy. 

She looked at her alarm clock. It was already ten. 

Sam went through the motions of getting cleaned and dressed, not even bothering to deal with her daily routine before grabbing a t-shirt and some leggings. She opened the sliding door to the guest house to find that someone - almost certainly Jimmy, had left a bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of sports drink on the welcome mat.

She squinted her eyes to shield them from the sun’s invasive rays, and saw Jimmy through his patio doors, cooking up some eggs in the kitchen. Jimmy looked back and waved, mouthing something to her through the glass, while pointing at his pan. Eggs. He was asking if she wanted some eggs. 

God, Sam could really go for an egg right now. 

Sam nodded, and fished some sunglasses out of her purse, put them on, popped out two of the ibuprofen, and washed it down with the sports drink. 

Jimmy opened up the back patio door to let Sam in. 

“Morning, Sam,” whispered Jimmy, so as not to trigger Sam’s hangover. 

“Morning, Jimmy,” said Sam. “Thank you.” She shook the empty sports drink bottle. “That was a really sweet thing to do.”

“Beans on toast with your egg?” Jimmy said, almost exactly as the four-slice toaster popped up. 

“Beans on toast? Jimmy, you’re American,” joked Sam, as she sat at the small kitchen table. “Do you even know how to make beans on toast?”

“The recipe seems simple enough. The question you should be asking is, as an American, do I know how to make beans on toast without adding a hamburger to it?”

Sam looked up at Jimmy. He was just so sweet. 

“I’m curious to see the results,” said Sam. “Thank you, by the way. For breakfast, and the painkillers, and the electrolytes.”

“Well, if I’m going to be honest, I was kinda feeling a little guilty about this whole thing I’ve gotten you into,” said Jimmy. “Maybe we should just… pull the plug.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Jimmy? You want to pull the plug now? Aren’t we a little far into pre-production to gracefully bow out?” 

Jimmy poured himself a cup of coffee, and leaned against the counter while waiting for some beans to heat up. 

They weren’t proper British beans of course, the kind in the tomato sauce. They were the American kind, where they put it in barbeque sauce, sometimes with little chunks of ham for flavor. But it was still beans on toast and Sam thought it was still a very lovely gesture. 

“Pranav and I went to get a couple of drinks, and we ran into Daryl at Rocco’s Tavern,” Jimmy explained. “And he made a very good point that… when we do this – if we do this, well, there are a lot of yahoos out there. Hell, we may have a contestant yahoo. It’s happened before where a reality TV contestant got violent. And even if they don’t start that way, we’d be putting the contestants under terrible psychological and physical stress.”

“Yes,” said Sam, “But that was kind of a known factor, no?” 

“I get that,” said Jimmy. “But Daryl and Pranav made me realize that of all the people involved in this, I’m the most privileged. I’m the one in the least amount of danger, with the least to lose. And is it fair for me to be pushing you on this when I have less to risk?”

Sam frowned. She still wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to do this crazy project. But she knew that she couldn’t do it without Jimmy. Besides, if ‘Woman Up!’ was terminated, well, what was left? She - they -  had pitched the area dry. Sam would either have to change careers, or change venues. She didn’t have to go back to England. She could maybe try New York. But Jimmy’s whole life was here in L.A. 

“You can’t think of it that way,” said Sam. “Am I thrilled about it? No. But… as crazy as this idea is, Daria’s made a believer out of me. We can do this, and this is one of the very rare cases that we might actually do some good with what we do. You’re not pushing me to do this. I mean, yeah, you were at first, but I mean, I’m a grown woman. And I think a big part of why I’m okay with taking these risks is that I feel safer knowing that so long as we’re both doing this, you’ve got my back.”

Jimmy scooped up the fried egg, placed it on the toast, and scooped a healthy portion of beans on top of it, putting a little shredded cheddar cheese on top. He slid the first plate over to Sam, then started working on his own.

“I just sometimes forget that I’ve got white guy privilege. Like… okay, yesterday, you and the girls all had a girls night. And that’s great. Judging from your hangover, you had fun.”

“I did,” said Sam. “Got blitzed then headed to the beach to unwind.” 

“Yeah,” said Jimmy, “and I totally get it. The world needs girls’ nights. I mean, I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman, but I do know that most women would choose the bear.”

“What?”

“Choose the bear. It’s a hypothetical… if you were lost in the woods, would you rather run into a strange man you didn’t know, or would you rather run into a bear?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Sam. “Bear all the way.” 

“So, bear with me…” Jimmy started.

Sam groaned at the pun, and took a bite out of her breakfast. It was good, even without proper beans, and was so what she needed to get back to one hundred percent. 

“...I think that girls’ night, as a social structure and tribal ritual, is super important,” he continued. 

“Tribal ritual?” Sam said, cocking an eyebrow - not that Jimmy could see behind the sunglasses.

“It doesn’t just build camaraderie, it keeps you safe. One girl drinking alone is potential prey, girls drinking together? You look out for each other. Watch each other’s backs. And you don’t want any guys there, because… well, even men you trust, we can be awful.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this Jimmy, but–” Sam sighed, “--not every man is an awful predator. Some of them are real gentlemen. Some of them make sure their friends are hydrated and have a good hangover breakfast. And this is good, by the way.”

“Heh,” said Jimmy. “Well, I won’t argue with you while you’re complimenting my breakfast skills. It is a concern though. We’re going to have to come up with a plan for security, or hire someone who does, and that’s going to eat into our per-episode budget.”

“Well, it can’t be helped,” said Sam. 

“What if we did Thailand instead of Mexico? Yeah, it’s a longer commute - much longer, but I can’t help but think that it might be safer and it is cheaper,” Jimmy suggested.

“If the team decides that Mexico is too risky, we’ll change our plan. If the team decides. Jimmy, you’re worrying yourself over something that you should worry about on Monday. This is Saturday,” Sam pointed out. “Saturday is for hangover recovery.” 

Jimmy took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out slowly, to release some of the tension he was storing up. 

“I mean,” said Jimmy, “you’re right. It can wait until Monday.”

***

---

CONGRATULATIONS

You’ve been selected for the next step to become a contestant on
Garden Alpha’s new Reality Television program.

You can take the next steps by going to https://wu.garden.alpha/brfkdisc

Or scan the QR Code Below:

Here are the next steps:

Step 1: Please confirm your availability for filming. Dates and times will be provided. 

Step 2: Please confirm your ability to travel internationally. You will require an up to date passport. (If you do not have a passport, there is still time to apply for one.)

Step 3: To preserve the suspense of the outcome of the reality program, we require all participants sign and agree to the provided Non Disclosure Agreement. 

Step 4: Use our Calendar App to schedule a 15 minute video call on Garden Telecom with our production team.  This video call may be recorded for broadcast as part of the program. For the interview, please dress as you would like to present yourself, though we ask that you not wear the following:

• Bright White or Very Dark Black clothing
• Small Patterns (such as checks, houndstooth, or pinstripe)
• Shiny or Reflective Fabrics (such as satin or sequins)
• Excessive jewelry or chains
• Anything with a logo on it (unless the logo is covered up)

If you have questions about any of the above, you can send any questions via email to [email protected]
We will do our best to answer them. 

Those who pass the live interview will be invited to our studios in Burbank, California, and become part of the first episode of the show.

We anticipate that roughly 100 contestants will be chosen for participation, and the vast majority of them will be eliminated in the first round. All contestants chosen for the first round but do not choose to continue will receive a $100 Garden Gift Card.

Good luck!

Untitled Reality TV Project
Culver-Horowitz Productions

For Garden Alpha

---

***

“Culver-Horowitz productions?” said Sheri, who was carpooling with Sam and Jimmy to the office. 

“Yeah, Sam’s showrunner, I’m directing… and somewhat producing, we needed a production company name, so it’s Culver-Horowitz,” said Jimmy. 

“Who’s Horowitz?” asked Sheri.

“I am,” said Jimmy. “Jimmy Howard’s a stage name. My real name is Jamie Horowitz. Changed it because, well, Jimmy Howard sounds, I don’t know...”

“More game-show-hosty,” said Sam, from the passenger seat.

“Thank you, Sam. More game-show-hosty,” Jimmy agreed. “Only time it matters is when I’m writing a check or voting, people just call me Jimmy now.”

“So,” said Sheri. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, what do you think of this: We split up into two teams, you and Pranav back Erin up, who’ll take the lead on your interviews, and Daria and I will back up Jimmy who’ll take the lead for our set,” explained Sam. “Then in the afternoon, Daryl - Daria’s boss - wants to have a meeting regarding security logistics - the three of us can take that while you continue with the live interviews.” 

“What could go wrong?” said Sheri. 

***

“Hello, is this–” Erin looked down at her sheet of paper “--Chase Castle?”

On the screen in front of him, a rather large and intimidating man wearing a dark black ‘45 Caliber Coffee’ tank top, a camouflage baseball cap with the Caterpillar logo, and several silver necklaces, was sitting at a computer, in front of what looked like some sort of glass box.

Sheri noticed that Chase didn’t look like he had read the clothing instructions provided to him, and made a note of it in the notebook. She had already decided that Chase would not be a contestant. She looked over to Pranav, sitting next to her, who just shook his head disapprovingly. It seemed he came to the same conclusion. 

Chase Castle blew his live interview in less than a second, before saying a single word.

The reasons for the summary judgment might have seemed pedantic - yes, as Sam had explained to her, they had to worry about advertisers not wanting logos, and moiré patterns showing up in the video - but in this early stage, the instructions regarding clothing mainly functioned as a  “brown M&M” test. 

Back in the 1980s, the band Van Halen had, as a demand in their tour rider, that A) they would be provided a bowl full of M&Ms in their backstage dressing room, and B) that no brown-colored M&Ms would be allowed backstage at their concerts. 

It was a classic case of rock-star excess, except that if Van Halen had discovered that there were brown M&Ms in the bowl (or no bowl), they immediately knew that they had to double-check all the safety measures before that night’s show, as it was clear the venue had not thoroughly read or followed the tour rider and it’s important, necessarily specific, safety guidelines.

Similarly, a contestant that couldn’t follow simple directions about what to wear? Especially when those directions were up front in the email, and not buried deep in the legalese? How would you then trust that that contestant would follow the rules of the game? That they’d comply with safety and security instructions? 

Still, the interview continued. It was good practice for Erin to talk to applicants, even if the conclusion was foregone.

“So, Chase, I’m Erin Cochran, I’m going to be the host of this show. With me in the background are Dr. Pranav Vadekar, our medical lead, and Ms. Sheri Winston, our lead psychologist. 

The two waved. 

“I was just reviewing your video and I have to say you’ve made a hell of an impression,” said Erin. “I have to ask, do you do exotic animal handling professionally?”

“Sort of. I mean, I don’t have a license or anything, but I have a podcast,” said Chase.

“A podcast?” asked Erin.

“Yeah, mostly I talk about bro culture, a bit of entertainment stuff, some news and politics, but the big draw is the critters,” said Chase.

“I saw that. You have a pet alligator? Is that even legal?”

“Pshh, legal. Like that matters, right? Like, what are they going to do, take away my alligator? Fido’s an alligator, man. Plus, I’m training him to be an attack alligator to guard my stuff.” 

Chase picked up Fido to show it off to the camera, roughly handling it. 

“Naturally the trick to raising an alligator, like with any animal, is to always remember that you’re the alpha,” said Chase, as he forced Fido’s mouth open. “Aw man, would you look at that! Look at those teeth. They could bite a man’s hand clean off.”

Fido naturally didn’t like this, and strained against the uncomfortable grip that Chase had him in. 

“Fido,” chastened Chase, “Calm down. Down, Fido. Down! Down Fido!” 

Fido paid no heed to his ‘alpha’ and continued to thrash. His tail knocked over a small terrarium in the background, which fell to the floor with a crash. 

“Chase, you okay?” called Erin through the video. 

“One second. I gotta deal with this. My rattlesnake’s loose.”

“Your rattlesnake?” said Erin, incredulously, even as the distinctive sound of a rattlesnake’s rattle could be heard over the speakers. “Shouldn’t you get a…”

Chase bent over just out of frame, and made a quick lunge towards something on the floor. Whatever he made a lunge for was quicker, though, as the next thing that Sheri and the rest of the team could hear was a loud: “FUCK!”

A moment later, Chase appeared in front of the camera again, a clearly venomous snake with teeth embedded very deeply in his forearm. 

“Jesus Christ,” said Pranav, and he leapt out of his seat and headed closer to the camera. “Chase. Listen to me. You need to stay calm. Try to keep the bite below your heart. Do you have antivenom?”

“What? Nah, man, antivenom’s for pussies,” said Chase reflexively. 

It took Chase a moment to register the severity of his situation. 

“Oh, shit! I don’t have any antivenom!” 

“Okay,” said Pranav, “The most important thing is to stay calm.”

Chase was currently doing anything but, whimpering to himself. “Shit! I’m gonna die, man. I’m gonna go out like a pussy!”

“CHASE!” yelled Pranav. “Listen to me. Tie a tourniquet around your arm? You need to tie it tight. Tight as possible, and then tighter. Cut off the blood flow. That will stop the venom from reaching your heart.”

Pranav turned to Sheri.

“Sheri, call 911, give them the address, it should be on his form. He needs medical attention, now.”

Sheri nodded, took out her phone and dialed 911. 

“Hello, this is 911, what is the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher said.

“We were interviewing a candidate remotely, and during the interview he was bitten by a venomous snake. He doesn’t have antivenom.” 

Sheri quickly looked up Chase’s address from his contestant form and told it to the dispatcher.

“Alright, we’ll send an ambulance and animal control immediately. Are you able to check for breathing or a pulse?”

“No, we’re teleconferencing. I think he’s alone,” said Sheri. “Pranav - he’s a doctor - Doctor Vadekar is trying to talk to him now, trying to keep him calm.”

Sheri called out. “Pranav, have you gotten him to calm down?” 

She looked over to the monitor, where Chase was slumped in his chair, unconscious.

“Oh, I think if anything, he’s too calm right now,” said Pranav. 

***

The team stayed on the line for ten minutes, after which they heard through the video conference of the ambulance driving up, and the sound of rescue personnel kicking down the door. 

Then they heard the sound of rescue personnel screaming. 

“Is that a fucking alligator?” one cried out. “Oh shit, it’s attacking! Close the door, close the fucking door!” said another. 

Two minutes later, there was the sound of a shotgun going off twice. 

The Animal Control Officer showed up on camera first, with a baited cage and a hook, and guided the rattlesnake into the cage. With the animals safely contained (or riddled with buckshot, poor Fido…) the emergency response team quickly dragged Chase off.

Erin, Sheri, and Pranav all looked at each other. At this point, Sam, Daria, and Jimmy entered the room, smiling. 

“Hey, just checking in,” said Jimmy. “How are things going over here?”

Sheri, Pranav, and Erin shot Jimmy a dirty look, and Sheri, finally having enough, reached over to the computer and disconnected the conversation.

The rest of the interviews for that day were postponed.

***

“Doctor Vadekar,” said Daryl. “I want to commend you on your quick thinking and clearheadedness. Ms. Winston, thank you for acting quickly and calmly in a crisis. Now, that said… we’re bringing in a lawyer from corporate who is going to ask each of you exactly what happened. They’ve already looked at the footage, and I’ve been told they’ll be here in a few minutes. Then we’ll figure out what we’re going to do next.”

“Are we… is there going to be a lawsuit?” asked Sam. 

“I don’t know,” said Daryl, exasperated. 

“Is the project canceled?” asked Daria. 

“I don’t know,” said Daryl. 

“Is the guy okay?” asked Jimmy. 

“I don’t kn–” Daryl was interrupted by a text, and he checked his phone.

“That was the hospital. Castle’s condition is stable.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and sat in silence for a good minute. 

Then Pranav spoke up. “So, uh, I’m going to recommend that we not continue with Mr. Castle as a contestant. Officially.”

“Well, obviously,” said Daria. 

“This is what I was worried about,” said Daryl. 

“You were worried about a contestant being bitten by his own illegal venomous snake?” said Jimmy. 

“No, of course not. No one could have foreseen that,” said Daryl. 

“Because if they had foreseen that and gone on to the live interview,” said a voice from the doorway, “then it might be considered negligence.” 

Everyone turned and looked to find a gray haired man in his sixties, wearing a gray suit and black horned rimmed glasses. 

“Hello everyone. I’m Christopher Roen, I’m from Garden’s legal team. I’m here because… well, you know why I’m here,” said the suited man. 

“I assume that none of you have been previously involved in a case where–” Christopher flipped through his legal pad “--an applicant to a reality TV show was bitten by his own snake while interviewing.”

The lawyer adjusted his tie, and sat down at the conference table. 

“So,” said Christopher. “I know you’ve gotten the go-ahead from legal as an institution, but I’m not in the loop. I suppose the first question to ask is, what is this reality television show about?” 

Nobody wanted to answer him. Eventually, Daria jumped on the grenade. 

“Put plainly? We’re going to take people who identify as men, and see which of them would outlast the others if they were asked to take steps to transition to women. Participants get cash prizes, and the one who stays in the longest gets the lion’s share,” said Daria. 

Christopher Roen simply took these notes in his legal pad, matter of factly. 

“And this transitioning to women you talk about, what does this involve?” 

Daria sighed. “Changing names. Changing pronouns. Changing gender expression through dress and mannerisms. Suppression of testosterone. Introduction of estrogen. If they go further, even surgical intervention.”

Christopher wrote that down dutifully on his legal pad, then, took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to need a moment,” he said. 

***

One by one, the team underwent a grilling. Sam, Daria, and Jimmy got the lightest questioning, as they weren’t even there during the incident. 

Pranav got the brunt of it, being the medical professional on site, but at the end of it, Christopher was satisfied they had all done what they could, and even commended Pranav’s reactions in the situation. Given the… compelling video evidence, Christopher Roen was certain that should Castle (or his next of kin) wish to launch a suit, that it would be summarily dismissed.

Of course, there was just that little matter that needed to be cleared up, and for that, Mr. Roen brought everyone back into the conference room. 

“So,” said Christopher. “The good news. There is no way given the video evidence and Dr. Vadekar’s quick thinking that either Garden as a company, or any of you as individuals could be seen as negligent in this manner.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. 

“The bad news. If you continue with your project, you are going to be causing these contestants severe psychological and physical suffering. You were able to get this approved by legal and S&P before, so I’m sure there are some pretty iron-clad liability waivers in place, but I’m going to go back to the legal team and I’m personally going to go over them, again, with a fine-toothed comb. Pick apart anything, and I mean anything, that isn’t 100% bulletproof.”

“Anything we can do to help?” said Sam.

Christopher looked directly at her. 

“Well, my legal advice is that this is inherently a risky, foolhardy project and that it might be better to cancel it altogether. If you did that, it would certainly make my job a lot easier.” 

Sam frowned. 

“There is another matter,” said Christopher. “The insurance companies on your project need to be notified of this incident. You can expect the premiums to go up if you continue.”

“How much will they go up?” Daria inquired. 

“That’s up to the insurance company. But Garden will insist on 100% full coverage. That’s all from me,” said Christopher. 

“Good. I’ll walk you out,” said Daryl, and the two of them headed towards the entrance. 

“Well,” said Erin. “He was just a bundle of joy, wasn’t he?”

***

Daryl took a moment to talk to the lawyer while walking him out. 

“Did you really mean all that stuff about canceling the project, or was that just frustration?” 

Christopher stopped in his tracks and looked straight at Daryl. 

“Mr. Marsters,” said Christopher. “This isn’t 2002. People aren’t going to put up with sensationalist reality TV trash anymore. They just won’t. They’ll get up in arms, they’ll get the wacko politicians involved, they’ll get on the internet and won’t stop screaming. It doesn’t matter to them what type of lessons you want to impart to them, nor will it matter what type of precautions you are going to take. They will find a reason to make you and your team’s life - and my life - miserable, simply because you’re… you’re talking about a show about transitioning? People might watch it, but they sure as hell won’t stand for other people watching it. They sure as hell don’t want their kids watching it. They don’t want them to get ideas.”

“Ideas like what? Trans people have it difficult? That what they do can’t be done by just anyone?” said Daryl.

“Ideas like ‘this is normal,’” said Christopher, bluntly. “Yes, Ms. Bryant explained to me the point - that people who transition have to, and that others don’t… but the point is that you’re talking about explaining step by step what transitioning entails. And then some little boy somewhere is going to think: ‘I can be a girl if I just get some hormones!’ It’s normal, I saw it on TV!”

Daryl’s mood immediately soured.

“It is normal.”

“You know that,” said Christopher. “I know that. Anyone with half a goddamn brain knows that. But the vast majority of the people in this country - the vast majority of Garden’s customer base - don’t even have half a brain.”

“You honestly think so?”

“Mr. Marsters, one of your applicants just nearly got himself killed teleconferencing with you, he was so stupid. In both my professional experience as a lawyer, and my life experience generally, Mr. Castle’s intelligence and common sense is not the exception, he is the norm, and what you’re trying to do requires in your audience and the American general public a type of intelligence and critical thinking that went out of style in this country around the time Charlie Sheen had a mental breakdown and told 20/20 that he was a high priest vatican assassin warlock.”

“That seems a bit cynical,” said Daryl.

“It’s realistic. It’s the world that’s cynical,” said the attorney. “Look, why not just do a macho-man show like you were leading these applicants on about? Or get a bunch of horny twenty somethings to fuck on an island somewhere. People will watch it. People will watch anything you shove in front of their faces.”

Christopher loosened his tie, and continued. “In the meantime, as a legal representative of Garden’s interest, I will do my utmost to keep your asses covered, no matter how… ill-advised I believe this venture to be.”

They had reached the end of the hallway. 

“Mr. Roen,” said Daryl. “I’ll take what you say under serious advisement. Have a good rest of the afternoon.” 

Christopher Roen nodded, then headed to his car. Daryl headed back inside. 

When he got back to the conference room, everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to say something. 

“Well?” said Daryl. “You didn’t expect this to be easy, did you?”

***

That night, Sam laid down on her bed, watching Colbert. Well, “watching” would be generous. She was as much in her own head as anything else. Daryl was right. This wasn’t easy. What would have been easy would have been a game show, like the one she was planning on making. 

The worst part of all of this was of course, that now they were in too deep to stop. They had too much to lose. She barely knew Chandra, but it was clear that she really needed a hit to boost her career. Daria needed to share what being trans was like to the world. Pranav needed to atone for his past sins in surgery TV. Erin needed her big break, and this was it. Sheri? Well the one thing she got from Sheri was that she was a bit lonely. Isolated. This was something she needed psychologically - to be part of the group, to work towards something. 

She wondered if a lot of trans women ended up isolated like that.

And Sam herself knew that Jimmy was right - this wasn’t just a chance for her to break into L.A.’s market. It was the chance. And there very well may not be another one. 

The only one who didn’t need something out of this was Jimmy, she thought. If it failed - or even if he left - his career would be fine - if he ever wanted to work again, which he didn’t have to.

The only thing that Sam could see was that Jimmy knew how many other people’s hopes and dreams rode on this project. And Jimmy… Jimmy really was a good man. 

***

Jimmy, over in the main house, tried to get to sleep early. It wasn’t working. He punched his pillow to fluff it up a number of times, and it refused to enfluff to satisfactory levels. It was frustrating. 

He had to make “Woman Up!” work. He just had to. 

Maybe Pranav was right and he did need therapy. Certainly there was something self destructive about renting out your guest house to your unrequited crush. 

Because as unrequited as it was, as irrational and stupid and mind-crushingly idiotic it was, Jimmy worried that Sam might finally move away if this didn’t work. And - even as just a friend - even if there could never be anything more - he really didn’t want to lose Sam.