Showbiz, A Novel (23 page)

             
“Oh, really?” Margolies
said
, raising his eyebrows. “I thought I just heard you say you
wanted
the job.”

             
Margolies knew he was pushing it, but it didn’t really matter. I can bring Reilly around once he has the job, he thought. Anyone who would resort to blackmail to get a job had the kind of flexible ethics that Margolies could work with. It was all part of the script.

             
“I do,” Reilly
said
again, a hint of defiance appearing in his eyes. “But I think the public deserves unbiased theater reviews.”

             
“Oh, you do, do you? Because you think
you
, a gossip columnist...” He paused, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. “
You
would be able to be completely objective?” Margolies realized that Reilly truly didn’t get it. “
No one
is unbiased.” Margolies sighed. “I’m going to explain something to you.”

             
Margolies leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Broadway is big business. We’re not talking about drama club, here. I’ll create a show that costs, say, $10 million. I’ll employ hundreds of people and bring in thousands of tourists to the city who will go out to dinner, keep theaters operating, stay in hotels. But only
if
I have a hit. Of which I’ve had many.” He glanced at Candace, who seemed to be paying attention. She needed to hear that, too. He wasn’t the villain everyone made him out to be. “Tell me this: Why should the petty opinion of one person, a person like
you
, who’s never created anything, never employed anyone, tear down my shows, put people out work, and take money from the hotels, restaurants, taxi drivers? If I left myself open to that kind of risk, that would simply be bad business. I owe it to my investors, casts, crew workers, designers, audiences, and the rest of the Broadway driven economy to curb the risk in every way possible. That includes controlling the critic.”

             
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, guys, 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.