Just Business
Title: Just Business
Fandom: Studio 60
Characters: Jack
Disclaimer: Don't own em.
Rating: G
A/N: Just a bit of angst with Jack.
It was just another contract. That's all it was. It wasn't anything more than greenlighting a show, signing a new castmember, negotiating ad offers. That's all this was, this was business. It wasn't at all personal. This was a decision being made because the alternative would create a very large problem for all interested parties. The problem was that this time the interested parties weren't stockholders. They weren't the people who had given NBS their entire savings accounts. This time, it was the people that made the stockholders money. And if he screwed this up, not only would his personal life be in shambles, but he would be thrown out of his job.
And he wasn't going to allow that to happen. He sipped his scotch as he thumbed through the small packet of papers. The glare off the shiny yellow “Sign here” tags was starting to give him a headache. He knew what each page said, he'd sat there and read them from to back multiple times. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. He'd been a lawyer, once. He knew the legalese associated with the papers.
As he opened his desk drawer to grab a pen, he saw a life flash before his eyes. What could be. All the halloweens and cute little Dorothy costumes (Although he secretly wanted to dress her up as Ilsa from Casablanca, trenchcoat and all. In this town, he could get away with it.). All the Christmases and the look of wonder as she'd come bounding down the stairs to see a sack of presents, the entire living room decorated. (He hasn't even entered that room in his house.)
He saw ballet lessons and gymnastics. He saw cheerleading, and a valedictorian. He saw everything that he wanted out of his life and never got. He saw himself doing everything in his power to ensure that he was raising the best child possible-he saw himself in PTA meetings, getting involved. Which was why he was signing the papers.
He couldn't get involved. He had his job. He had the network. The network came first. It held up everything that he had. It was how he could afford his life, and the way he enjoyed living. It gave him something to do. But most importantly, it gave him validity as a person. It made him feel as though he was actually someone, just because he was someone.
He had thousands of people that relied on him. And he didn't want to lose them because his mind was on other things. Besides, he couldn't just leave the kid in daycare all day, and the chairman's office at a television network would be no place for a two month old, two year old, or ten year old. And he wasn't going to step down willingly. Not this time. Not because of this. It would generate bad press.
He'd offered, before, to give up his job for kids. He still had enough power and influence to practice law out of his house. He'd told Marilyn that, multiple times, and each time he was met only with a “We'll see”. And after seven years of marriage, he was sick of listening to the we'll sees. He was sick of listening to his wife not letting him get any say in his own life.
But he still loved her. Which is why his hand was currently uncapping the pen. It was for the better. It was something that was needed. This was a business decision, plain and simple. This was them doing something for the good of the network. It was just business.
He looked at the dotted line, and with a shaky hand a mark that looked vaugely like “Jack Rudolph” appeared next to the first marked page. The signature simply grew more and more crisp as it went on, continuing through all the papers. After all, it was just business wasn't it? He took a long gulp of scotch, claiming that the haze in his eyes was just from the liquor burning his throat. This was for everyone's good. Just another contract.
Fandom: Studio 60
Characters: Jack
Disclaimer: Don't own em.
Rating: G
A/N: Just a bit of angst with Jack.
It was just another contract. That's all it was. It wasn't anything more than greenlighting a show, signing a new castmember, negotiating ad offers. That's all this was, this was business. It wasn't at all personal. This was a decision being made because the alternative would create a very large problem for all interested parties. The problem was that this time the interested parties weren't stockholders. They weren't the people who had given NBS their entire savings accounts. This time, it was the people that made the stockholders money. And if he screwed this up, not only would his personal life be in shambles, but he would be thrown out of his job.
And he wasn't going to allow that to happen. He sipped his scotch as he thumbed through the small packet of papers. The glare off the shiny yellow “Sign here” tags was starting to give him a headache. He knew what each page said, he'd sat there and read them from to back multiple times. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. He'd been a lawyer, once. He knew the legalese associated with the papers.
As he opened his desk drawer to grab a pen, he saw a life flash before his eyes. What could be. All the halloweens and cute little Dorothy costumes (Although he secretly wanted to dress her up as Ilsa from Casablanca, trenchcoat and all. In this town, he could get away with it.). All the Christmases and the look of wonder as she'd come bounding down the stairs to see a sack of presents, the entire living room decorated. (He hasn't even entered that room in his house.)
He saw ballet lessons and gymnastics. He saw cheerleading, and a valedictorian. He saw everything that he wanted out of his life and never got. He saw himself doing everything in his power to ensure that he was raising the best child possible-he saw himself in PTA meetings, getting involved. Which was why he was signing the papers.
He couldn't get involved. He had his job. He had the network. The network came first. It held up everything that he had. It was how he could afford his life, and the way he enjoyed living. It gave him something to do. But most importantly, it gave him validity as a person. It made him feel as though he was actually someone, just because he was someone.
He had thousands of people that relied on him. And he didn't want to lose them because his mind was on other things. Besides, he couldn't just leave the kid in daycare all day, and the chairman's office at a television network would be no place for a two month old, two year old, or ten year old. And he wasn't going to step down willingly. Not this time. Not because of this. It would generate bad press.
He'd offered, before, to give up his job for kids. He still had enough power and influence to practice law out of his house. He'd told Marilyn that, multiple times, and each time he was met only with a “We'll see”. And after seven years of marriage, he was sick of listening to the we'll sees. He was sick of listening to his wife not letting him get any say in his own life.
But he still loved her. Which is why his hand was currently uncapping the pen. It was for the better. It was something that was needed. This was a business decision, plain and simple. This was them doing something for the good of the network. It was just business.
He looked at the dotted line, and with a shaky hand a mark that looked vaugely like “Jack Rudolph” appeared next to the first marked page. The signature simply grew more and more crisp as it went on, continuing through all the papers. After all, it was just business wasn't it? He took a long gulp of scotch, claiming that the haze in his eyes was just from the liquor burning his throat. This was for everyone's good. Just another contract.