Thursday, October 6, 2022

Wedding Blank - A Match Game Short Story

Rated: PG (Language, discussions of divorce) 

Set: Directly after the end of episode 1325, taped September 10th, 1978

~*~*~*~*~*~

“And that’s a wrap!”

Brett Somers swept the napkin off her head the moment the cameras shut off. “What was that all about?”

“I think most people call it a wedding.” Her ex-husband Jack Klugman tried in vain to open the bottle of champagne fellow Match Game panelist Charles Nelson Reilly brought out with him. “So why don’t you enjoy it?”

She glared at him. “No matter what those jokers say, we’re not married.”

“Who says?” He made a face, shaking the bottle. “Damn it. I think it’s empty, or low. Charlie probably found a prop bottle somewhere.” 

“The state of California, last time I checked.” Brett grabbed the napkin before it hit the floor. “Why the hell did you grab me like that earlier? We were on the air!”

Jack smirked. “Since when did that stop us? It went along with the gag!”

His ex-wife blew out the candle nearest to her. “Some gag! You nearly knocked me off my chair!”

“You weren’t complainin’ about it at the time.” He blew out the other candle. “They were just tryin’ to have a little fun.”

“You’re one to talk. All you’ve done all this week is complain!” She gathered the ice bucket to drop it in the prop room. “Why did you start in on me with the ‘Hall of Fame’ Audience Match on the Monday show? There is a Hallmark Hall of Fame! You’ve watched them with Adam.”

“Ok, so I didn’t recognize it then! Sounded boring to me. I can’t tell one of those kiddie shows from another anyway.”

“Like ‘Football Hall of Fame’ is more interesting?” The second candle must have rolled under the desk after she put it out. “You just wanted to argue over something. You’re not happy unless you’re fighting.” 

His gravely voice rumbled as her fingers fumbled around the shag carpeting. “At least they do somethin’ out there on the field besides kissin’ an’ cryin’!” 

‘She finally retrieved the candle and climbed off her seat. “Here it is! Come on.” Her legs were already heading for the hall. “I’m gonna go get a drink before they start filming the nighttime show. Want to come with me?”

“What about Reilly n’ all them?”

“Charles went to talk to Gene about next week’s panelists. The others are likely in the green room already.” 

He made a face. “Ain’t you had enough?"

“You’re one to talk!” She grumbled as she handed the candle over to one of the stagehands. “I saw everything you drank at dinner. You had more than I did!”

“I was nervous!” He jutted a finger at the small TV they passed in the men’s dressing room. “I was watchin’ the game between the Rams and the Falcons. I got good money ridin’ on the Rams. Glad they won.” 

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Oh good gravy Marie! Can’t you just watch a game without betting on it?”

“See,” he started, “I got this angle…”

“You always have an angle!” 

“What about you?” He grumbled as they made their way down the hall. “You spend any time you ain’t takin’ care of the boys drinkin’ an’ partyin’. At least I’m workin’.”

Her hands waved at the hallway around them as two camera women pushed their equipment past them. “What do you call that, sitting around? This is my job, Jack! And I love it! I love helping people win money. I love joking with Charles and Gene and Betty. I may not be making the money you are on Quincy, but I am bringing something home!”

“Yeah, and then you drink it all with Reilly in West Hollywood.”

“You’re just jealous.” She smirked. “I got propositioned by three actresses the last time Charles and I were over there who didn’t know I was straight.”

He glared at her. “You’re way too old for that.”

“And you’re not too old for some of those ingeunes you flirt with at the studio? I’ve seen you, Jack! I saw you when we were married!”

They stopped in front of the entrance. “So I helped a few girls. Gave them directions. Said nice things. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if that’s all you were doing.” Two actors in plaid leisure suits pushed past them. “Jack, we’re blocking traffic. I need to call Adam and tell him I’ll be home soon as we tape the nighttime show.”

He turned on that little grin she found so charming twenty years ago in New York. “Darlin’...since we got married again today…well, sorta…I’d like to take you and Adam out to a late dinner. We won’t talk about nothin’ but him an’ little stuff. No work, no gamblin’, no drinkin’.”

His lips turned down when she shook her head. “No, Jack. I’m busy tonight. In fact, I’m busy a lot.” She touched his hand. “Let me get used to all this, Jack. To being alone again. To us not being…well, us. Then we’ll see how things are.”

“And then, we’ll…see?” 

She sighed. “Maybe. Jack, I need to eat something.” 

He watched as she took off for the lounge, probably to talk to Reilly. “Jack,” he muttered to himself, “boy, were you dumb. Let go of somethin’ good. Someday,” he said under his breath, “someday, maybe things will be different. Maybe we’ll be friends. Or, even, well…” he chuckled, “or even somethin’ more.” 

That was when he remembered the Rams game. “Need to find out if those jerks won,” he muttered. He finally went to call his bookie in the men's dressing room…but his eyes followed his slender ex-wife as she strolled down the hall. 

The End

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