Showbiz, A Novel

by Preston, Ruby

  He took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Wait!” He put his hand over hers before she could open the Arts section. “I know it’s probably too soon, but is there a chance we can give our relationship another try? I’ve been miserable without you.”

  “You betrayed me, Reilly,” she said.

  His heart sank.

  “I trusted you.” He could see the raw hurt that he had caused her.

  “Just say that you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you.” He flashed her his signature charming smile that she had loved just the week before. He could see in her eyes that she was considering his request.

  Without answering, however, she took her hand out of his and opened the Arts section.

  “Oh my god!” she exclaimed, reading the headline. Her coffee cup hit the tiled floor and smashed to pieces.

  Scene 45

  Candace woke up in her own bed with a feeling of pure bliss. She had all but given up on waking up ever again with the wonderful feeling of a man’s arms around her. Careful not to wake him, she slowly turned her head to take in Margolies’ body next to hers. He was older than the last time they had been like that, twenty years before, but he was still the man she had loved more than anything, before he had irreparably broken her heart.

  Having him here, in their bed again, she felt the pieces starting to click back into place. Candace’s mind wandered back to the events of the night before:

  Reilly’s review had come in just before the print deadline. She was just beginning her final edits, but it was in good shape. Reilly was an excellent writer and would make a solid reviewer.

  Margolies had appeared unexpectedly in her doorway.

  “What are you doing here?” She felt her face flushing guiltily. She had minimized the document in front of her, hoping he couldn’t see the deception that was written all over her face. She got up and pulled the door closed behind him.

  “I found myself in the area and thought I’d get a sneak peek of Reilly’s review,” he’d said casually, though she knew it was not a casual visit. He had been checking up on her. It stung that he thought he needed to do it, and yet he was right to. After all, she had been attempting to double cross him.

  “You shouldn’t be here. This is risky.”

  “One visit in twenty years isn’t going to raise any red flags,” he’d said, helping himself to the chair across from her desk.

  “So, what did our boy Reilly have to say about Swan Song? Was he suitably nasty?”

  Candace had squirmed in her chair. That was not part of the plan, and she had never been good about lying to him face to face. “Yep, all good. I mean, not good. A good bad review was what I meant.” She was babbling.

  “Candace…” He’d stood up and come around behind her desk. “What are you not telling me?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Can I see the review?” He was already bending over her desk to look at her computer.

  “It’s not ready yet...” she’d said lamely as he brought up Reilly’s review. She spun out of her chair and stood facing the window. There had been no point in trying to stop him. She couldn’t watch. Even with her back to Margolies, she felt the anger radiating through the room.

  Minutes had passed. He had to have finished reading, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around. She couldn’t guess what he’d do. She’d never betrayed him quite so directly before.

  She’d flinched when she felt his hands on her shoulder.

  “Oh, Candy,” he’d said softly in her ear.

  That certainly wasn’t what she had expected. Her body craved his touch while her mind shouted, Warning, warning!

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. As the sun went down she could see his reflection in the glass of the window. His faced looked grim, but his hands were gentle. He turned her around to face him.

  “It must be hard to be in your position,” he purred. “I should never have left this to you alone.” It was a backhanded compliment at best, but his benevolent tone had been soothing.

  She could feel her anxiety ebbing away. “Reilly came to see me.”

  “Of course he did. It’s okay. It will be okay.” He stroked her cheek. “I’m just glad I got here in time to fix this before you made a mess of everything.”

  “Fix this?”

  “Candy, Candy.” Still the soothing tone. “You know you can’t print this review. You know better. We had a plan.” He’d brushed his lips on her neck. She wanted the moment to last forever… If only the nagging sirens hadn’t been going off in the back of her mind.

  She shivered in pleasure. She had trouble focusing on what he was saying. Reilly. The plan.

  She turned away from him. “I hate you,” she said, though her voice lacked any trace of conviction.

  “I know,” he said. His voice became suddenly hard. “But you need me.” Then he’d sat in her office chair and spun back around to the document on her computer screen. Candace had stood rooted to her spot in front of the window, her body still quivering from his touch. She knew she had lost the battle. A mix of emotions washed over her.

  She’d heard Margolies typing. He paused briefly. She could hear him going through her desk drawers, then the unmistakable sound of bourbon being poured into her coffee cup. She recognized that sound anywhere.

  “Drink up, Candy,” he said, holding the mug out to her. She’d taken it grudgingly but gratefully as he went back to clicking away on her computer. He was rewriting the review. She couldn’t stop him. But that didn’t mean she had to watch.

  Margolies hadn’t glanced her way again as she downed her first glass of bourbon in one long gulp and poured herself a refill. It hadn’t taken him long to do his work. She knew that changing the Swan Song rave to a pan wouldn’t be too hard, just a matter of changing a few key compliments into criticisms.

  “Done!” Margolies had said with a flourish. “That was kind of fun.”

  She allowed herself to look at him again. She marveled that she could hate him so much in that moment and yet want him desperately. He had looked so smug. Pleased with himself. “Now, Candy”—He reached over and took her hand—“send this off and let’s go home.”

  “We’ve nearly missed the print deadline... Wait. What did you say? Home?” She had no idea what he was talking about. Had she even heard him correctly?

  “Of course, home. We’ll get take-out. Catch up. Make a night of it,” he said as he stood up and stretched.

  She’d felt like she had missed something, like some seismic shift happened and she hadn’t noticed. She looked at her half-empty mug. She hadn’t had that much to drink. Last she checked, she had betrayed Margolies. Yet, magically, he was inviting himself over for take-out and a chat. As if they were a happy couple again. Was it a trick?

  Candace took a deep breath. It might well be a trick, but she knew she was helpless to resist. She wanted it. She wanted him. She wouldn’t pass it up…

  Her reverie was interrupted by Margolies stirring and waking up by her side.

  “Good morning,” she said. She wished she had brushed her teeth and cleaned up a little. Mornings weren’t her best look.

  She saw a cold look cross his face when he opened his eyes. Was it just her imagination? It was quickly replaced by a tight smile.

  He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Has your paper arrived yet?” He got out of bed and pulled on his pants without a backward glance her way. It stung, but she felt grateful for a chance to brush her hair and fix her face. She hadn’t had a chance to take off her makeup, as one thing had led to another the night before. At the moment she was sporting an unattractive raccoon look. Despite all that, she felt better than she had in years.

  Fifteen minutes later, she joined Margolies in her living room. Or their living room
, she thought wistfully. She was looking forward to coffee and reading the paper with Margolies. It would be like old times—if they had ever actually done that when they were married. Maybe it wasn’t too late. People remarry their exes all the time, she thought. Funny how one night can change everything. She really thought she had hated him, but her current feelings were quite the opposite.

  He held up the Banner proudly. It was open to the Swan Song review. “Maybe I should have been a critic!”

  She took the paper out of his hands and kissed him gently on the lips. His kiss back was distracted.

  “You better call Reilly and let him know.”

  “Can’t we talk about this later?” She batted her eyes. “I think we have other things to talk about this morning.” For once she was happy that it was a weekend. It would be much less lonely with Margolies back in the picture.

  “What else would we talk about?” His question seemed genuine. He picked her cell phone off the table and held it out to her. “Call Reilly right now. Tell him he’s got the job.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But he... We...”

  “He hasn’t beat me,” said Margolies, rising from the couch and putting the cell phone into her hand. “His life is about to get a whole lot less pleasant. But at this point, he’s my best option. Where am I going to find another critic, with the contest next week? He’s nothing I can’t handle. Apparently, he’ll just need a little more persuading.”

  The tone of his voice was starting to make Candace uncomfortable.

  “Give him a call and then let’s get to work. You and I have a contest to rig.”

  Her blood ran cold. Had the entire evening all been just a ruse to get his way? Had the last night’s intimacy been his way of pulling the wool over her eyes? He’d gotten the Swan Song review he had wanted after all. But his words, his touch…it had all seemed so real, so sincere.

  She watched him go to the kitchen to make coffee, as if nothing had changed in twenty years. She dialed Reilly’s number on her cell phone and got his voicemail.

  “Welcome to the Banner, Reilly Mitchell,” she said. “We look forward to having you onboard as our new chief theater critic.”

  Scene 46

  It had been a very strange few days for Scarlett since the review came out. She had been in and out of meetings with the various Swan Song artists and funders who, until that day, had been so hopeful about a Broadway transfer. It had been a challenge to sympathize with them, knowing that all hope was not lost. Their dreams might have a second chance. Of course, it was far from a sure thing.

  That night, she and Reilly and the Jeremys were pow-wowing in Lawrence's living room for yet another strategy session, as events continued unfolding throughout the week.

  As Lawrence poured wine all around to complement the pizza they’d ordered in, the Jeremys raised their glasses in a toast: “To Reilly. As of this week, the Banner’s chief, not to mention already-most-hated, theater critic.”

  “What’s this crazy world coming to?” Reilly said, raising his glass.

  “To this crazy world!” Scarlett said, as they clinked glasses.

  “But seriously, Reilly, how are you holding up?” Buff Jeremy asked.

  “Well, as long as I avoid the internet, the other newspapers, the late-night talk shows, and talking to anyone I know—present company excluded—I’m doing just fine.”

  The bad review of Swan Song had elicited a firestorm of criticism from people who had seen the show during previews and were outraged that the review could be so hateful, especially given all the positive buzz from other paper’s reviewers and audiences.

  “You’re infamous, that’s for sure,” Scarlett said, knowing that despite the drama, a part of Reilly loved the publicity. His gossip column had prepared him to take flack, though this was extreme.

  “No such thing as bad publicity. Isn’t that what they say?”

  “I don’t know if the Banner would agree,” Lawrence said.

  The announcement had been made a few days after the Swan Song review that the votes were in and Reilly had won the contest for chief critic, and outrage erupted all over again.

  “Do you think you really won the contest?” Jersey Jeremy asked.

  Reilly couldn’t help laughing. “Fat chance.”

  “Well, I voted for you,” Buff Jeremy said.

  “No, you didn’t!” Jersey Jeremy said.

  “He’s right. I didn’t,” Buff Jeremy said with a rueful expression. “I just didn’t want you to think you didn’t get any votes.”

  “That’s thoughtful, Jeremy, thanks,” Reilly said, throwing a wadded up napkin at him. “Let’s not forget that it’s not my article they hated. You all saw what I really wrote about your amazing show—”

  “Which brings us to the matter at hand,” Lawrence interrupted. “Let us now call this meeting to order.” He pounded the all purpose remote on the coffee table in place of a gavel.

  “Scarlett and the Jeremys and I already have Project Olympus underway. We’ll get to that in a minute.”

  “Aye, Aye, captain.” The three of them saluted Lawrence. Scarlett winked at Reilly. She hadn’t filled him in on all the details quite yet. He was only just beginning to regain their trust. Didn’t he prove himself beyond a doubt by throwing himself under the bus for her? she reminded herself.

  “So, Reilly, that leaves you to deal with Candace and the Banner,” Lawrence continued.

  “I should probably go to Candace’s boss,” Reilly said.

  “Do you have any idea if he’s in on it?” Lawrence asked.

  “He was never at any of the meetings, so I’m guessing not. Though how she rigged the voting we’ll probably never know,” Reilly said.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Jersey Jeremy said. “If Reilly could get his good review in front of Candace’s boss and prove that it was a set up, maybe they’d run a correction or something.” The Jeremys’ first priority was setting the record straight on Swan Song.

  “But, honey,” Buff Jeremy said to the Jersey Jeremy, “Reilly would lose the critic job if he did that.”

  Reilly jumped in. “You’re all assuming I still want the job.”

  “Don’t you?” That was news to Scarlett. While things had gotten unimaginably complicated for Reilly, she knew he still needed a job somewhere.

  “Let’s just say I’d like to sort this out; and whatever happens to me happens. Would you really want to start a job the way I have? I had already given up on it when I wrote my review.” Scarlett reached over and squeezed Reilly’s hand as he continued. “Who knew that Candace was a double agent! It’s certainly given me a lot to think about. I know I did the right thing.” He took a deep sip of his wine. “Anyway, I like this idea. I’ll see if I can track down her editor tomorrow… unless we want to wait until after opening night of Olympus this week. Just think of what I could say about that with the pen of the chief critic!”

  “Ooh, you’re playing with fire. From what I’ve heard from friends who have seen it, it will warrant a bad review all by itself,” Jersey Jeremy said.

  “That does raise a good question,” Scarlett interjected. “Who will review Olympus on Friday, if Reilly comes clean?”

  They all looked at each other in silence.

  “That’s not our problem,” Lawrence said, clicking away on one of his laptops.

  “Finally! Something that’s not our problem,” Jersey Jeremy said.

  Lawrence scribbled a phone number onto a napkin seconds later. “Reilly, here’s the editor’s direct line. Now let’s go over to project Olympus. We’re T-minus four days until opening night.” Lawrence loved his action-game lingo. Their plans did feel a little like a video game, since their “Olympus Termination” plans were high tech—and yet so simple all at the same time. Their plans involved interrupting the wireles
s flying contraptions at a key moment in the show.

  “I should have the technology ready to go by tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t illegal?” Reilly asked.

  “It’s a gray area. And anyway, it’s worth it to give Broadway a wake-up call. Pretty soon everyone will have one these little gizmos,” he said, waving an iPad.

  “It looks like a regular iPad to me. You’re saying it’s some kind of supercomputer?”

  “It is a regular iPad. Or, it was. I’ve simply souped it up to draw a lot more power and more bandwidth. Devices like these are going to be widely available any day now, and it’s going to be bad news for any place that relies on unlicensed bandwidth.” Lawrence’s eyes lit up when anyone gave him a chance to talk geek-speak.

  “Like Broadway theaters!” Scarlett said. She’d heard inklings about the whole “white space” issue and had done some research a while back for some initiative that Margolies was working on with the Broadway League. But the practical ramifications hadn’t hit home for her before.

  “Bingo,” Lawrence said. “It’s actually a wonder that something like what we’re doing hasn’t inadvertently happened already, just from someone walking by a theater.”

  “That could really happen? Someone could knock out a theater’s wireless from the street?” Reilly asked in disbelief.

  “It can and it will happen, unless the government does something about it. The problem is, the wireless companies are the ones who can afford to buy up all the unlicensed space for their devices. Theaters aren’t their problem.” Lawrence gestured again to the iPad. “I know you’ve heard about it on the news; it’s called white space.”

  “Sure,” Reilly said. “I wrote a column for Journal when they pulled the Phantom stunt for the FCC, but I didn’t realize an iPad could knock out the wireless. I thought it had to be some bigger device.”