i need a moment in hacks season three where ava goes to hook up with ruby and in the middle of it only thinks about deborah the entire time like i need to breathe
After the success of her special and all the renewed interest in her work that follows, Deborah gets invited to be a roast honoree at The Friars Club. It’s a place that has always represented some kind of gilded, old boys’ club to her and a group that she would’ve probably been able to count herself a member of sooner had her original fall from grace never happened.
Unbeknownst to her, Ava gets invited onto the dais next to Deborah as one of the lesser-known (but more intimate closer) roasters of the evening, an honor usually bestowed onto a funny family member or best friend who is also in the business.
In typical roast fashion, a lot of the jokes are obvious low blows from comedians and stand-ups that Deborah hasn’t had much personal interaction with— but she has to admit they’re damn good. There are the more jocky, male comedians there to make fun of her plastic surgeries and passion for sequins, yet who thank her for being an inspiration with their closing lines. There’s the token, young female comic there to remind her of her age and make some obvious, weathered crevice jokes. They aren’t that smart, but they’re funny. The way the young woman, all primped and polished, falsied and fake tanned, as if she were filming a Real Housewives episode, has to lean in and really sell whatever she’s saying reminds her a lot of her younger self. It makes her smile in between gasps of laughter.
And of course, there are the mini-sets from old friends she hadn’t seen since her college road days. People she had all but forgotten about, yet who she silently kept up with all these years, whether through passing glances in seedy comedy club promoter offices or seeing familiar names in TV guide schedules for late night game shows. One or two of them had also become incredibly successful in their own right, their names completely inescapable to anyone in their line of work. She’s comfortable, but something keeps poking at her insides.
She tells herself it could be pride, or maybe nerves. Her heart feels like it’s going to bound out of her chest. Perhaps it’s the rush of emotion that comes along with finally getting to be in this space. She tries to play it cool, but Ava’s laughter is the only sound ringing in her ears through the entire night. It’s the first time Deborah sees her since that night, since before dropping the lawsuit, but she can hardly bear looking to the younger woman who sits beside her. She doesn’t realize that her loud cackle of a laugh is the only thing Ava can hear throughout the night as well.
When it’s Ava’s turn to stand at the podium and roast her old boss, she absolutely kills. They both knew she would. She’s wearing the dress she wore on the roof all those months ago, along with those $800 unisex Lurch Addams clompers that Deborah has to admit deep down that she loves. Still, the sight of her in that same tweed dress makes her forget how to breathe for just a moment as Ava stands up next to her, phone in hand (not paper like everyone else on the dais, damn Millennials), to read her material.
She talks about Deborah’s Cheesecake Factory mansion and wondering if there was an HR line for comics she could call after Deborah inquired about her sexuality. She somehow weaves that into Deborah’s gay ass obsession with her hands, despite the fact that the older woman’s are actually larger than her’s, a fact that is now something she’s gayly obsessed with. Parlays that into a joke about Deb’s tits getting them a larger dressing room at a Comedy Cellar rip-off in Idaho. She’s playing to the back of the room and it’s working. She’s a natural.
Her set has a clear theme: everything is larger with Deborah. She can’t just buy a bottle of Black Pashmina, she has to clear out every department store. She can’t just fade into obscurity, she has to fade into obscurity at the Palmetto. She can’t just tell people she loves them. She has to blow up their whole lives.
She ends her roast of Deborah with affection, as is customary. After all, roasting is a love language among comics and everyone is there because they love her. “See?” Ava says and gestures to the audience, then to herself.
Deborah can’t allow herself to cry in front of everyone, especially as she herself is up next. But she knows exactly what that feeling in her chest is now.
I love y’alls fic. Adore it, actually. A lot of you are talented as all get out.
But… as a femme (in the traditional sense of that identity), I just need y’all to include a scene or mention of Deborah clipping her nails or something before certain scenes/chapters because sometimes, we jump straight into ahem, hand-based activities, like Deb/Jean’s nails don’t look like this:
