Showbiz, A Novel

by Preston, Ruby

  He could see Reilly processing it. Margolies had never articulated his reasons quite so clearly, because it had been a secret for so long. Saying it out loud merely confirmed his resolution. I’m not a corrupt producer, he thought; I’m a goddamned saint. Ahead of my time is what they’ll say someday.

  “I see your point,” Reilly said quietly. “But the way you’re getting around this is dishonest. It’s not fair.”

  “You are so naive!” Margolies said, slamming his fist on the table. Had the kid heard nothing he had just said? “I’m offering you the chance to do something big. Really make a difference. You should thank me.”

  Reilly wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore.

  Margolies wondered why he wasted his breath on people like that. He continued. “But if you don’t want the job, get out.” He pointed toward the door.

  “I do want the job,” Reilly said, his eyes darting to Candace and then quickly glancing to Margolies’ outstretched arm pointing toward the door.

  Margolies lowered his arm and leaned back in his chair. “In fact, you could say you need this job,” he said with a devilish grin. “Did I hear you’ve recently become unemployed?” He saw Reilly flinch before collecting himself. It was almost too easy. “You have a lot on the line right now. Let’s think about this. You could become the New York Banner chief critic, or—” He paused for effect—“The has-been gossip columnist who was fired from his job, couldn’t land the Banner spot, and offended so many people with his column that he’ll be covering community theater in his hometown of nowheres-ville for the next fifty years.”

  Reilly just stared at him.

  “Did I get that right?” Margolies said with an ill-concealed smirk.

  Reilly snapped to attention. “Don’t forget, if I don’t get this job, I’m going to expose you and I’m going to expose her.” He pointed to Candace, mid-swig on her third bottle. Margolies swept his hand across the table and sent the bottles flying.

  “And you think anyone will believe you?” Margolies snarled.

  “I have proof,” Reilly said, sitting up straighter.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Margolies said quietly and was rewarded with an uncertain look that flashed across Reilly’s face for a split second.

  As they were meeting, Margolies had his “shadow” paying a visit to Reilly’s apartment. It hadn’t been hard to find where Reilly lived. His man had simply followed Scarlett there one night and asked a few questions of the accommodating and apparently underpaid doorman. Any proof Reilly had in his apartment would be found and destroyed. For as much trouble as his new business associates might be, they certainly had their advantages. Margolies could get used to doing business their way.

  “So, back to the deal at hand.” Margolies leaned forward. “We are prepared to offer you the job right here, right now, and all we ask is one little thing. Just to prove to us that you’re for real. That you are capable of the job. It will be easy. Nothing, really…or I should say nothing, Reilly.”

  Reilly held his breath.

  “It’s your turn next week for your Banner review audition. We have and extra special assignment for you. Have you heard of a little downtown show called Swan Song?”

  Scene 37

  Scarlett rolled over and looked at the clock. 10:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, and she had no place to be. She had spent a miserable weekend trying to sort out her thoughts on what she’d do next, wallowing in her shame at being fired. Fired! The only bright spot in an otherwise depressing weekend had been the sublime first few previews of Swan Song. She had allowed herself to forget the prior week’s drama, her lack of income, and scary unknown future, for two hours each night, to enjoy the beautiful show that she had helped to bring to life.

  It was made easier by the fact that she hadn’t told anyone at Swan Song that she’d been fired. She didn’t want to take away from the amazing momentum and excitement around the show.

  She sat up in bed and dug around the sheets to find her phone. Two missed calls from her parents. They must have tried to reach her before they’d left for work that morning. They’d been so concerned about her that they had offered to come to New York or fly her home to Oakland. Of course, she couldn’t leave with her show in previews and opening the next week. Plus, she didn’t want to. Margolies might have brought her down, but she just couldn’t see herself giving up yet.

  A text buzzed. She smiled as she read what her brother had to say, a show tune, of course: The sun’ll come out tomorrow!

  She dragged herself out of bed, humming the Annie showstopper and starting a pot of coffee and a to-do list. She needed a plan for getting back on track. She’d been unemployed in New York before, she thought—although then it had been because she’d just arrived.

  She thought about going back to the producing offices where she had unsuccessfully interviewed four years earlier. She had a ton of experience now, but the thought of going from the Margolies office to more of the same just made her head hurt. Plus, Margolies was chummy with all those guys, and he’d probably make sure she didn’t get hired, anyway.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Scarlett, it’s Jeremy.”

  “And Jeremy!”

  She held the phone away from her ear. They were practically squealing into the phone.

  “Hi, guys.”

  “Sorry to bother you at work,” Jersey Jeremy said. She felt bad for not having told them yet. They’d be upset with her later.

  “What’s up?” she asked, walking into the bathroom and looking at her disheveled self in the mirror. Her hair looked like someone had taken an electric mixer to it.

  “Have you seen broadwayworld.com or All That Chat today?” Buff Jeremy said.

  “Or the bloggers roundup?” Jersey Jeremy said. They were speaking over each other in their excitement.

  “Um...not yet,” Scarlett said. Without a computer she felt like she was missing an appendage.

  “Well, then, you are just going to die!”

  “Read her some of them!”

  “Which one?”

  “Just pick one!”

  “Okay, Scarlett, listen to this...‘Swan Song is the best new musical to hit New York.’ Do you hear that? Not off-Broadway or whatever, but New York! Here’s another: ‘Swan Song is the best new musical to hit New York this year.’”

  “Wow, that’s great, guys,” she said, trying to muster real enthusiasm. It was always a coup to get some compliments on the usually snarky online chat room boards, but those were just random people.

  “Shall I read her more?”

  “Scarlett, there are hundreds of them. Each better than the next.”

  “Really? I mean, of course they’re great, but wow!” She couldn’t remember the last time a show had gotten such an overwhelming response from the online community. One or two compliments was to be expected, but hundreds—that was a big deal.

  “Read her another one.”

  “Okay, listen to this one: ‘This show could be a dark horse for the Tony Award if its producers do the right thing and bring it to Broadway right away.’”

  “Don’t you love that, Scar?”

  “I love their confidence in us,” Scarlett said.

  “Oooh, read her that one!”

  “Not if she’s at work.”

  “Just read it!”

  “Okay, you’ll like this: ‘Swan Song is what theater should be. Not an overblown, bloated spectacle like this season’s upcoming Olympus. Swan Song could be the David to overtake the Olympus Goliath.”’ They positively giggled with glee at that one.

  “They love us, they love us, they love us!” the Jeremys chanted in unison.

  Scarlett’s mood was quickly turning around. Her phone beeped with another call coming in.

  “Hold on, guy
s, I have another call. Just a sec.”

  She clicked over. “Hello?” It was the executive director of the Manhattan Theatre Workshop.

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “Sure,” Scarlett said. She did sit down. So much was happening all at once.

  “Our box office just opened.” He paused for dramatic effect. “You are not going to believe how many ticket orders came in for Swan Song overnight!”

  Scarlett took a deep breath. Maybe my job search will have to wait, thought Scarlett happily. She even let herself cautiously dare to hope that her new job could actually be as a real Broadway producer in her own right. Can my lifelong dream really be within my reach?

  Scene 38

  Reilly fidgeted in his seat at the Manhattan Theatre Workshop. Scarlett put her hand on his thigh to stop the constant bouncing of his knee. He looked over at her face, illuminated by the lights from the stage, and his heart lurched. Despite losing her job a week before, she seemed so happy just then, at that moment, in the theater. Swan Song makes her so happy, thought Reilly.

  He had been avoiding Scarlett all week since his meeting with Margolies and Candace. He had finally run out of excuses not to see a preview of her show. He knew he was hurting her feelings by putting her off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

  He tried to focus on the stage. They were in Act Two, and the actors were giving stellar performances. The audience members around them were rapt. He felt sick to his stomach. What was he going to do about the mess he’d gotten himself into? The only options on the table were to kill her show or kill his own career. The quandary was tearing him up. He squeezed Scarlett's hand, and she smiled at him. He'd just have to get through it. He’d need to talk to Scarlett that night. It was mortifying to admit that he’d gotten himself into the situation in the first place, but Scarlett knew Margolies better than anyone. Maybe she could help him find a way out of it.

  The crowd leapt to their feet during the curtain call, and Reilly was right there with them. Scarlett looked so incredibly proud. On their way to the lobby, he congratulated the Jeremys, whom Scarlett said had finally started to relax after spending the first week of previews tearing out their hair at the back of the theater. They were finally willing to believe that their show was a hit.

  “Can we grab a drink?” Reilly asked.

  “Good idea. Let me see if the guys want to join us.”

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm before she could flag down the Jeremys and Lawrence. “I'd rather it be just us.”

  “Oooh, okay!” she said with a wink. “It's been a while since we've had a date night.”

  “Why don't I grab us a table at the pub across the street, and you can join me when you’re done here?” Reilly suggested, eager to get away. Seeing all the proud, hopeful faces of everyone involved in Swan Song made him feel like the lowest of the low. He held their fate in his hands. That must have been how the late critic Kanter felt, every time he went to the theater. No wonder he had killed himself.

  Reilly had thought of himself as having thick skin after years of flack for his gossip column. It was a whole different league.

  “Sure. I'll just be a few minutes,” Scarlett said, turning away to greet someone whom Lawrence wanted her to meet.

  Half an hour later, Reilly looked up to see Scarlett making her way to the back corner booth he’d snagged. She looked radiant and confident.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said as she pulled off her coat and slid into the booth across from him.

  “No worries.” He leaned over to give her a kiss across the table, and they both almost knocked their heads on the low-hanging lamp providing a warm, intimate circle of light on the table. It would be romantic if it weren’t for the inevitable subject matter, thought Reilly. “I ordered you a glass of wine.”

  “Perfect,” she said as the waiter dropped off two glasses of wine. “Did you see that guy with Lawrence? He’s really interested in investing in the show, if we transfer to Broadway. It’s pretty exciting! Wow, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you all week!”

  “I know. Sorry about that. Things have been...crazy.”

  “So...” She paused, her eyes glittering.

  “So...” he echoed. He didn’t pick up the hint.

  “What did you think of the show? I’ve been dying to hear your thoughts!”

  “Of course! Sorry, I don’t know where my mind’s been.” He reached across the table and took her hands in his. “I loved it. I absolutely loved it.”

  “You mean it?”

  He looked into her eyes. “Absolutely. You should be so proud. It’s exactly what a great musical should be. It has heart, great songs, a compelling story, and a knock-out cast.”

  She smiled widely. “You sound like you’re writing a review! Hey, soon you will be writing reviews. Too bad you can’t do ours. Wouldn’t that have been too perfect?”

  Reilly’s eyes darted around the small bar. He had purposely chosen a seat facing the door so he could make sure no one from the theater could interrupt or overhear what he was about to say.

  He let go of her hands and took a sip of his wine. “Scarlett. We need to talk about something.”

  Her face fell. “Are you breaking up with me? I wondered, when I hadn’t seen you all week, I—”

  “No! Not at all. Never.”

  “Phew.” She sat back. “I’m so relieved. I really wasn’t sure what has been going on with you this week—you were MIA all of sudden. You know, I even thought that maybe it was because I had lost my job and couldn’t give you any more dirt on Margolies for your articles. I feel bad for even letting that thought cross my mind.”

  He hadn’t thought he could feel any worse. Apparently, he could.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked with a concerned look. “You look pale.”

  “Scarlett. I’m not breaking up with you. I think you know how I feel about you. But there’s something serious that I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

  “Okay,” she said, her face suddenly serious.

  “It’s about my review for the Banner.”

  “Your turn is next week, right?”

  “Right. But I need to tell you a secret. For all our sakes, you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. I shouldn’t even be telling you. But I needed you to know.”

  “The suspense is killing me, Reilly. Just tell me.” Her cheeks were flushed.

  He took a deep breath. “Well, I guess you could say I’ve been offered the critic job.”

  She gave him a confused look. “Go on.”

  His eyes kept darting around to ensure they weren’t being overheard. “It’s complicated. Margolies and Candace offered me the job if I review Swan Song next week...” This is the hard part. “And give it a terrible review.”

  Scarlett stared at him. Speechless.

  “What are you talking about? And what does Margolies have to do with any of this?” she asked, baffled.

  “I guess you could say we were right about Margolies rigging reviews,” he said in an attempt to turn the conversation around.

  “What exactly did Margolies say to you?” she asked, her voice ice cold.

  “Well, they said if I proved myself by panning Swan Song, they’d rig the public vote so that I’d get the gig,” he explained.

  “So you’d be working for Margolies?”

  “No, it wouldn’t be like that. Once I got the gig, I could write honest reviews.”

  “I guess you’ve thought all this through,” Scarlett said, her voice shaking with anger. “You get your dream job, and all you have to do is kill the dreams of your girlfriend and all her friends. We’re just collateral damage in your path to the top. Is that it?”

  “No, you’re missing the point. And anyway, I would never kill your show.”

&nb
sp; “But didn’t you just tell Margolies you would?” Scarlett asked.

  “I didn’t exactly say that I would.”

  She cut him off. “But you didn’t say you wouldn’t?”

  “Of course, I won’t. But he put me on the spot, Scarlett. I didn’t know what to say in the moment. I really want the job.”

  “So, what’s your plan? To just tell him, ‘Never mind, I think I’ll give Swan Song the good review it deserves after all,’ and he’ll just leave you alone and give you the job anyway? Let you off the hook? You’re a fool if you think you won’t become a pawn, just like Kanter was!”

  “He said he was testing me. Just making sure I had what it takes to be a tough critic,” he said. He was getting flustered. She wasn’t taking this well. “I’m telling you this because I need your help figuring out what to do.”

  “Oh, give me a break! You want my permission to royally screw me?” Scarlett exclaimed. “And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that he picked my show for you to kill? Wasn’t your whole point in getting this job not to be a tough critic but to be an honest one?”

  “I am honest. I told you, I will find a way out.” He needed to fix this. But he was feeling monumentally stuck. It was either get that job or disappear into obscurity. At thirty-five, he couldn’t accept that as his fate.

  “I don’t believe you. You’re just as bad as the rest of them!” she fumed.

  Suddenly he was angry, too. “Wake up, Scarlett. This is how the world works these days. Look at Margolies. Look at the rest of them. They didn’t get to where they are by playing nice. I thought you wanted this for me and for yourself.”

  “What I wanted was to get to the top without having to be corrupt and mean and petty. And I thought that’s what you wanted, too!” Her voice was rising.

  “I do! But maybe we were both being unrealistic. If I don’t get this job, they’ll just put someone else in that they can manipulate. Better the devil you know, right?”