Chapter Text
*PLEASE BE AWARE. FILMING IS TAKING PLACE INSIDE THIS BUILDING*
Cameramen are set up everywhere, and all the office workers are mic'd up—even the janitor… (he is kinda funny).
At first sight, it’s not an interesting place to work at all.
The stereotypical American office. A building with fluorescent lights in the middle of the not-so-busy coastal town of Cousins, Massachusetts.
Beck Designs. The dream of the town's most talked-about housewife, turned interior designer, Susannah Beck Fisher.
The flowers decorate every corner. The corporation consists of ten employees, a family business, as the owner calls it.
— Her husband, noted Boston broker, Adam Fisher, has refused to comment on the documentary. —
"He doesn't get it." It's what Susannah tells them when they're setting up for the first time. She's a presence, with short blonde hair, a summer dress over delicate high heels. She wears silver jewelry and has an easy smile for everyone.
The office changes around her. It becomes warmer, more. Filled with life. Her sons worship the path she walks on. The perfect subject to study the decline of modern corporations, to understand how this little office on the Cape has managed to be around for at least 10 years.
Fascinating stories are lying on the surface.
Beck Designs.
Cameras Set — Office Interior
Conrad Fisher leans over Isabel Conklin's desk, looking at some inconsequential grocery store list. The crew has learned that this happens fourteen times a day. Purely professional, according to his file. (There's a betting pool.)
The camera pans to Conrad's hand, hovering over Belly's chair.
“I so do not like the blueberry yogurt!” The mic picks up her high-pitched voice. Bert, the sound guy, doesn't really love it.
"Belly, I've seen you eat it at least two dozen times!"
(Bert wants to laugh out loud, but it's against the rules to meddle with the subjects, but a smile tugs at his face.)
"Conrad, I swear, I always eat the strawberry with…"
"… a spoon of the disgustingly sweet so-called granola." Conrad is smiling. Shoulders relaxed, tie a little undone. He looks younger, happy even. "You should buy the sugar-free brand I recommended, the nutritional value is greater when mixed with the right—"
Belly's laugh interrupts the now usual health talk crusade.
— Set prepared with one office chair. Two cameramen and the sound crew stand behind the equipment —
Conference Room B — Confessionals:
Conrad B. Fisher - Lead Landscape Architect.
Conrad: There's not much to do on a Wednesday, and that granola is atrocious. (He's smirking while playing with the wristband of his watch.) I don't know, man. It's a boring day and…
Liam (Camera Crew): It's your fifth stop on the receptionist desk. (Conrad interrupts instantly, the camera catching the death stare.)
Conrad: Isabel, her name is Isabel.
Bert smirks, holding the mic up.
Liam: Isabel. How long have you known her?
Conrad seems surprised by the change of subject.
(His file clearly states that he hates the whole idea of the doc, but he's indulging his mom and his brother.)
Conrad: Hm… We met five years ago.
They know this. They want more.
Liam: Weren't you in college?
Conrad: Yes… but was interning here for the summer. (Conrad slouches over the chair, sighting.) Belly was standing over my mom's desk, wearing those white Keds. You know, the bright white that could blind you. Her hair was up, and she was… well, she seemed happy to be here. (It's rare, but it happens, him getting lost in the memories. Actually giving them more than they could've hoped for… an idea. An angle) I remember the only things she ate were the Sour Patch Kids and the ice lattes from the coffee shop downstairs, which are just dreadful. So I… I got her an egg white burrito.
Bert laughs out loud, shaking the moment. The memory. Liam throws him the dirtiest look over his shoulder, as Conrad realizes, and adjusts himself into a more serious demeanor.
Liam: You bring her coffee almost every morning. How does your brother feel about that?
If anyone could describe his stare right at this second, they would say that he wants to kill Liam. In fact, the cameramen recoil.
Conrad: Jere is good with our friendship. (They know this is final. He won't give an insight into the intricate brotherly rivalry that both of the Fisher boys nurse.) Are we done here? I need to go back…
It's a lie, he finished the drawing ages ago. Doesn't have to be on site until tomorrow. But he also doesn't want to talk anymore.
Beck Designs — Interior.
The camera pans to Belly's face. Her eyes are bright, and her cheeks flushed. There's something unguarded in the way she looks at Conrad.
Around them, the office stays the same, with Annika getting the coffee order, Red Bird screaming at Steven over some virus in his new computer, and Gemma's chatter about the recent episode of some show. The copy machine beeps — it's ancient, while Taylor curses under her breath. Cam from accounting clicks on his keyboard. No one notices that Conrad's hand lingered too close to Belly's over her desk. The secret smile that he reserves just for her is unguarded, and the cameras have caught it more than once.
Conference Room B — Confessionals:
Isabel "Belly" Conklin (Receptionist): What do we do here? (she laughs nervously, still unused to being followed and recorded) I don't know, we just… make people's dreams come true. Mm, Susannah, our director… she has this amazing summer house, and had this vision of transforming the town! (her smile is genuine; she shows deep admiration for Susannah)
Bert: But what do you do?
Belly stays quiet, smile dropping. But then, recomposes herself, playing with the hem of her skirt.
Belly: I am the receptionist. Lots of coffee runs… and looking over Susannah's calendars. I get to go to the City Hall (She sighs then, looking at a blank spot on the wall), which is… fine. I also make copies and arrange client meetings for the design team. (Belly beams at the mention of designing.)
Bert: Would you want to be more than just a receptionist?
Silence. Belly looks flustered, fiddling with her hands.
Belly: I guess… I love to sketch. But I couldn't finish my degree on time. So… (Her smile is tentative).
Bert: Conrad Fisher seems to take your input quite often.
Belly stops talking, then focuses on her shoes like she's lost in her thoughts.
Beck Designs - INT. A few weeks earlier.
It's late. The cameras are still on. Conrad is sitting on his drawing table, looking over at a landscaping plan… that his mother rejected. He's visibly frustrated, in that quiet way the crew has come to understand.
Isabel Conklin stayed. Even when her boyfriend — fiance? They still can't see the ring clearly — invited her out for drinks with Red Bird, and other frat bros that were in town.
Confessional - Jeremiah Fisher & Belly Conklin.
It's 11 am, and the couple always has lunch around that time. It's the perfect moment to ask about their plans for the night.
Liam knows that there are rumblings of drinks after work with the office manager. And it's stupidly easy to make Jeremiah A. Fisher talk.
Jeremiah Fisher (Office Manager): Belly-Button loves to go bar hopping. (he smiles brightly. Happy with the attention.)
Jeremiah has an arm around Belly's shoulder, and she looks uncomfortable and mildly annoyed. Bert has gathered that she doesn't love the nickname, or going to drink every Thursday night at the Irish pub. She doesn't say it out loud, just smiles politely, and plays with her ring.
(They've been engaged for 3 years, but seriously, the crew couldn't tell for the first two weeks.)
Belly: I can't tonight… Need to finish up some things. Susannah has that fundraiser, and there are some issues with the printer… the fax machine is broken. (Her smile is coy. There is something hidden in her eyes.)
This is news to her fiancé; he hasn't been around all day.
Jeremiah: Do we still use the fax machine? (The smirk is teasing. He should know about the fax machine.)
Belly: Hm, yes. You know your mom still has these whimsical clients that refuse to email or call… they redecorate every winter. (He definitely should know. Belly complains about it like twenty times a week.)
Jeremiah: Oh, yeah, Connie has complained about them so much. (Jeremiah chuckles, like it's not that serious.) You still could come, though. I could talk to my mom.
Belly tenses at the mention of Susannah, at the obvious conflict of interest.
(Notes: this is a point of contention in their relationship. Jeremiah loves to use his connections, while Belly feels burdened by them. )
Belly: No, you are not going to do that. (It's stern. It makes the editor chuckle.) Besides, Con can take me home. It's no biggie.
Jeremiah's smile drops. He doesn't like it when his brother gets to be some kind of savior.
Jeremiah: I can leave the jeep. Or Steven could take you.
Belly: I don't like to drive your jeep. I can't drive stick. (The sigh is tired, like they had this fight a million times.) Steve will go with you, remember?
Jeremiah: I said I would teach you. You never want to.
Belly: (She huffs, crossing her arms) I don't want to learn how to drive your truck. I want to have my own car.
Jeremiah: I offered to buy the jaguar!
Belly: Your dad wanted to buy you the Jaguar.
He looks at the camera. Baffled.
Jeremiah: Could we get five minutes? (His eyes are pleading.)
Belly: No, actually, you can continue. I need to run something by Susannah.
Jeremiah: Bells…
She's standing up, clearly upset. Moving fast, while the camera zooms in on Jeremiah's clenched fists. It's only a second, but then he recomposes himself.
Jeremiah: She's just stressed.
Liam: I think we got what we needed. Thank you, Jere!
He doesn't like to be dismissed. But he doesn't have a choice.
— The cameras follow Belly until she enters one of the vacant offices. Closing the door. But they still record her through the shutters —
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The mic picks up her shaking voice. No one is inside with her. She hugs her frame, breathing heavily.
Maybe she's crying? They don't know for sure. But the lenses catch the way she folds over herself, how she paces, how her cheeks flush with contained rage. It doesn't happen often, the outburst. Normally, she's surrounded by friends.
The day moves on as usual. The couple doesn't talk much after. Belly goes to eat with Taylor and Gemma, and Conrad is too focused on his lines to even look up. Jeremiah leaves early with Red Bird, while the office quiets down. Susannah went home after a client meeting, not before complimenting Belly's choice of the catered menu. The interaction was brief, outside of the camera's reach, but they embraced in the parking lot.
They go for a little break after that.
Beck Holdings — Int. 7:34 pm.
Belly is trying to fix the fax machine, which is behind her desk, so she has to be on her knees. It was an old model, from the early 2000's (Susannah refused to throw anything away), and it got stuck from time to time. She huffs. The office is quiet around here; the lights are mostly off, the only sign of life comes from Conrad's desk, who is mostly still fixing the lines, trying to find the perfect balance between his clinical design and the warmth of his mother.
But he smiles, as Belly curses under her breath.
"It's not funny, Conrad!" she screams. The camera focuses on her back; her hair is a mess.
"I told you, I could get a new one," Conrad turned in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He has his glasses on, and his button-down is crumpled from a day's work. "Mom wouldn't mind, you know."
"But she would! I think she bought this when you were like five."
"Possibly six, but I think it was my father's first."
He's walking to her now, crossing the hardwood floor. Bert follows closely, but it seems that they've forgotten that there are cameras.
"Of course it has to be Adam's, this thing is POSSESSED!" The laugh that breaks out of Conrad it's the loudest they've heard, the most open. Full teeth showing. Belly sits on her heels, the white Keds shining through the darkness. Her desk is a mess of coffee cups and chocolate wrappers. Conrad cleans it easily, and then he kneels beside her. "Have you finished?"
"Nope," He's now working on the machine, and after a few tweaks, the thing comes to life. "My mom wants this extravagant outdoor, too many flowers… and the client is now convinced that they need the most expensive species of hydrangeas, when clearly they need clean-cut bushes—"
"Not the clean-cut bushes! Not for the Johnsons. They love to show off, and their daughter is supposed to have her sweet sixteen during the summer." Conrad looks over at her in awe. The camera pans to her blushing cheeks. "Weren't you at the meeting? Susannah was very specific…"
"Yeah, yeah… I just—you know how I feel about this." Conrad's eyes catch the lens directly for the first time. He won't share more, not now. Not here. Belly nods. "Would you take a look?"
It's an earnest request. Belly nods almost instantly. He helps her up, while the machine hums. The crew notices that Belly's fingers linger for a second longer than necessary on Conrad's, but they are bickering.
Conrad lets her use his chair, but it's too high.
"You are a giant, Con." it's an absentminded comment, while she gets lost in the intricate details of his design. (Conrad is in fact 6"3, the tallest out of all the guys in the office.) He stands on her right side.
Belly breathes the plan in. Her fingers trace the lines — this could be a simple 3D model on a computer. But Conrad loves to do things the old way, much like his mother. He is focused on the movement of her hand. They are delicate as they move through the page.
"You can add some peonies over here," she boldly takes his technical pencil and sketches over his carefully laid out trees. "They would give a nice pop if you combine it with hydrengeas."
"Peonies die way too fast," he retorts. "By July, they'll be gone, so what would they put there, soil?"
Belly laughs and looks up at him. His hand is resting over the back of the chair, and her eyes are sparkling. There's tension, a moment they can't quite read.
"What if you do a mix of them both? Also, I think white roses would look good by the outdoor kitchen. Very chic."
"But they're a nightmare, Belly, they need constant attention…"
"You would like the blue-flag irises, likely for the structure, but this is about their vision." He scoffs, but then smirks. Camera zooms in. Belly draws her vision with the combination of delicate, lush flowers. "Besides, what is the problem if they need a little more love? I would love to have a rose garden someday."
"I will build you a greenhouse," It comes out absentmindedly, like he would do anything for her —Bert is pretty sure he would— and Belly blushes at the notion.
"Don't think they fit in the one-bedroom apartment."
There's silence after that. Conrad's jaw tightens, and Belly bites her nails as she finishes the drawing.
He corrects her, here and there. The minutes transform in an hour; he goes to the break room, and makes tea. He offers some for the crew — he might not like them, but he was always polite. — everyone declines. So he takes the pink mug for Belly and his travel mug for himself.
Belly is stretching herself, while Conrad sits on an abandoned office chair.
"I think it's done, Mr. Fisher." Is Conrad blushing? The cameras get a little bit of the redness on the tip of his ears.
"You are quicker than I am," he mutters, standing up. The plan sheet looks colorful now, more to Belly's style, and he smiles down at it, as if it's the most beautiful thing he's seen in a while. "I love it, Iz."
Belly is smiling too. He's the only one who calls her Iz. It happens so rarely, there's barely any footage.
"Susannah is going to love it."
"Hm, you were right. As always"
Her laugh ricochets through the ceiling.
"You owe me a Coke." Suddenly, Belly looks at her watch. "Shit, it's almost ten!"
Conrad doesn't seem fazed by the time, though.
"Do you want to grab a burger?"
Belly looks at him then. She's still on his chair, her feet don't touch the ground, and he's smiling at her. (The air is charged. They all feel it, even in the editing room.) She thinks for a few seconds, bites her lower lip… and jumps at the chance to not arrive home.
"Let's go, but you have to get a cheeseburger too! None of those chicken atrocities you love to eat."
"What is wrong with chicken?" He asks while they walk together to the door. He helps her with her coat, and they turn off the rest of the lights.
"Oh, give me a break. Live a little, Fisher!"
"Fine, but I'm not getting a shake."
Belly smiles as she takes off the mic pack, leaving it at the entrance, he does the same, and for a moment, her eyes dart to the way his hands work on his shirt, fixate on his skin. The lenses follow, they notice.
(What they don't know is that the doc crew is not only getting the inside footage of the office. They are studying them. Squeezing their stories. And there's something so charming about forbidden love.)
VO — Belly's confessional. Present.
BELLY: He is just my friend, and… I don't know, I can talk to him about anything. Conrad has a hard time opening up to people, and I guess he just needs a little push to… let in the color. Let go of all the rules. (Her smile bleeds through the audio.) I learn a lot from him every day. Gives me hope—sorry, this is so cheesy, but it gives me hope that someday I might be brave enough.
(The camera follows the gray Range Rover. Conrad and Belly are probably still bickering while they listen to The Strokes. They don't catch their conversation, but they stay either way.
Belly laughs so hard she spills her drink.
Conrad does get the cheeseburger. And of course, drinks a little bit of the milkshake.
"It's too sugary." The receptor catches that by happenstance or destiny.)
LIAM: Brave enough for what?
BELLY: (High-pitched laugh.) I don't know! To take a risk without being afraid of losing everything.
(When Conrad leaves her at her apartment, the one she shares with his brother, he stays outside for 20 minutes. Gripping the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip. Then drives away.)
And the whole idea of the documentary changes before their very eyes.