Joyce on the Bedrossian Gig

I saw Cody and Noah on Wednesday as usual, then I went over to Joyce’s. Keaton was right: I didn’t want to tell her all about Sandy, but I still wanted to tell her about all the exciting stuff that was happening to me thanks to the Bedrossian gig. Still, I remembered how jealous Joyce got over Dani a couple years ago, and I didn’t want to see that play again. Joyce hasn’t acted all jealousass like that since, and you’d think she’d feel a little more secure after we’ve been going out for two years, but I reckon Keaton’s right and I need to be careful.

Joyce already knew about the legal papers, since I dropped them off on Tuesday morning for her to show to her lawyer. So I had to tell her something about Sandy. I left out things like Sandy’s being a 10 who has some of the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a chick. And Joyce doesn’t need to know exactly how much Sandy bought for me on our shopping spree. So I just told her that I was getting a bunch of free shit from Nike and that they’d ordered me some Dodger gear to make me look more basebally for when the camera came around.

“That’s good. Your collection of basketball shorts is pretty ratty,” Joyce said. “And don’t start whining that they’re comfortable.”

“Well…they are,” I said, with a laugh. “I just didn’t realize that I had to worry about how I looked on TV to work with Jacob and Matteo.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Joyce said. “I certainly saw it coming. The show’s called At Home with Maya…and the kids are part of home…and you’re now a big part of the kids’ lives. It could turn out really great for you. You might get some more clients as a result of being on TV.”

“Really?” I’m realizing that I didn’t think this through at all. Speaking of thinking it through: “what about your lawyer? Did you talk to him?”

“Yes,” Joyce said. I scanned the paperwork and emailed it to him yesterday. He gave it a quick once-over and said it as all pretty standard. The only thing he wanted me to tell you was that there’s a non-competition clause.”

“A what?”

“It means you can’t work for another reality show within a year of leaving Maya’s show.”

“Oh.” I had to process that for a few seconds. “But I can still have other pupils, right?”

“That seems to be the language, yes. But Michael said you should have that put in writing. He said you should have asked about that in the first place.”

“What can I say, I’m an illiterate redneck…”

Then we had a pizza for dinner. (Joyce: “I’m running out of ideas for what to serve my starving boyfriend.”) We did that in the den and watched the new episode of At Home with Maya, even if I wasn’t in it yet. If you ask me, it was pretty lameass. Maya looks great, especially for a woman her age (Joyce: “anyone would look great if they had the kind of money she spends on botox at Daphne’s clinic and got those kind of free clothes because she’s on TV”), and it was kinda cool to recognize the parts of the house I’ve seen. There was a brief segment with Dr. Peterson and the boys in their school clothes – I think he had them reciting state capitals and Matteo was doing a lot better than Jacob – but mostly it was Maya and her new fitness regimen, working out in Nike shit we know she got for free, and showing us what kind of healthy meals she made for the family. Joyce asked me if Maya really cooked…but all I know is that Maya’s never volunteered to fix me a sandwich. (Of course I haven’t met Maya, so maybe she would make me a sandwich if she knew who I was lol.)

“It’s tasteful…for a reality show,” Joyce said when it was over. “It’ll look better with you in it.”

“We have to wait until next week for that,” I said. “And don’t expect to see too much of me. They didn’t film for very long.”

“Why not? I’d rather watch you than Dr. Peterson…”

We watched a movie on TCM after that, but I didn’t spend the night. Like I told you, I was spending a lot of time over at Joyce’s, but there’s kind of a rule that I can’t stay over more than 2 or 3 times a week. It’s not that Joyce doesn’t want to have me…it’s MooMoo and NumNums. Yeah, they still hate me. Joyce tried getting us together a couple months ago, and it didn’t go well. I tried to pet NumNums, and, I’m not kidding, he took a swipe at me with his claws and left this big bleeding scratch on my arm. So the only solution when I’m there is for the cats to be in the second bedroom…and it’s not fair to them to make them stay locked up all the time. So Joyce splits her time between her boyfriend and her cats lol. Let me confess something though: I hate those freakin cats just as much as they hate me.

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