Showbiz, A Novel (30 page)

             
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 wireless 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?”