Showbiz, A Novel (34 page)

             
“Okay, but only as a last resort.”

             
“Well, the clock is ticking, and I’m not getting a signal. He’s eating up some crazy bandwidth in there. I have a whole new respect for the sound and tech guys on the show,” Lawrence said, in awe. “Well, at least they won’t have to worry about someone’s cell phone ringing during the show.”

             
“Really, they’re using up that much signal?”

             
“Not quite, but pretty darn close. Which, let me remind you, is the good news for us—present crisis notwithstanding. Are you ready for your close up?”

             
“Please, please, please don’t make me do this.” Scarlett begged. “What if Margolies sees me? What if someone recognizes me?”

             
“Margolies won’t see you. You know he always stays rooted in his box. He’ll be easy to avoid. And if anyone else sees you, so what? You look great.”

             
“So what’s the plan? I just stick all this equipment down the front of my dress and wander inside?” Scarlett said, gesturing to the laptops.

             
“The equipment can stay here. Once I reset the frequency, all you’ll need is this.” Lawrence was in the process of wrapping the iPad in her shawl, trying to make it look like a bag of some sort.

             
“That’s hideous.”

             
“You have a better idea?”

             
She looked down at her tight little red number.

             
“Well...” She grabbed the iPad and slid it up the bottom of her short dress securing it against her stomach.

             
“That was so hot!” Lawrence said.

             
“Oh, please!” She turned awkwardly in her seat, giving him different angles to make sure the flat device wasn’t detectable. “Can you tell?”

             
“I’m not sure. Can you wiggle a little more?”

             
“You’re terrible,” she said, blushing. “Please tell me I don’t have to do this.”

             
“This isn’t just about us, Scarlett. You know that. And you are going to pull this off,” he said, serious all of sudden. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

             
She took a deep breath, feeling the cold iPad against her stomach as he handed her wrap to her.

             
“Here goes nothing,” she said as she opened the door and swung her feet out onto the sidewalk, flashing the security guards with her sexiest smile.

Scene 51

             
Getting past security had been a breeze. But now, standing in the shadows at the back of the theater, she felt her heart pounding wildly.

             
Psyche was midway through her Act One ballad. It was one of the more emotional moments in the show that Scarlett had always thought would have been more effective with just Psyche, on stage alone, and some top-notch lighting. Instead, the pensive melody was lost within an overly intricate number involving a bevy of maidens singing backup around Psyche’s feet, attempting choreography in what was basically an insanely expensive on-stage wading pool.

             
Despite her feelings about the show, Scarlett couldn’t help but get a thrill standing at the back of the audience and gazing over their heads at the shimmering stage. Even given the unthinkable circumstances, she still felt her best inside a Broadway theater.

             
The iPad had started sliding down her stomach. Her nervous sweat dislodged it—a thought that grossed her out. She looked around. The only other people at the back were the ushers, whose attention was turned to the sexy Aphrodite scene now occurring on stage. She sidled behind the narrow lobby bar and ungracefully birthed the iPad from under her dress.

             
Scarlett scanned the audience. She couldn’t see Margolies’ box from her vantage point. She crossed her fingers that he was still in his usual seat and not lurking in the dark somewhere where he could spot her. No sign of Reilly. But from the back of the theater, it was hard to pick out any individual from the sea of men in more or less matching tuxes. Candace should be easier to spot, but for all Scarlett knew, she was slumped over in her seat somewhere.

             
By Scarlett’s calculations, she had about ten minutes to go before the first-act finale. Her cue. If she timed it right, their revenge would be truly spectacular.

             
While the back wall provided the most concealed spot, she wasn’t able to see the flying space, since the balcony overhang obstructed her view. Their best laid plans, wiring up the Jeremys, had all been for naught. She’d have to do it the old-fashioned way—with her own two eyes.

             
During the next applause break, she reluctantly snuck up the grand stairs to see if she could get a better viewpoint from the first balcony. As she cautiously turned the corner into the upper lobby, she caught sight of two of Margolies’ goons chatting in the lobby. Not theater fans, apparently. She snuck back into the stairwell.

             
She made her way back down the grand stairway, the plush carpet softening her footsteps. She was running out of time. She inched around to the right side of the audience, doing her best to avoid the notice of the ushers, who would probably wonder where she belonged. She didn’t see a single empty seat in the house. Every single coveted seat in the theater was taken. The night was, for a number of reasons, the theatrical event of the season.

             
Cupid’s finale was just beginning. Scarlett’s hands were sweaty as she held the iPad in a vice grip. She slid the “unlock” button, just as they’d practiced the night before, and held the dimmed screen against her body to shield the light. She wished with all her might that she was back in the Escalade as they had originally intended, playing her role at a safer distance.

             
She slid her back along the side wall of the theater, just far enough to see out above the balcony if she craned her neck but still mostly in the shadows. She had covered as much of her red dress with her dark shawl as possible.

             
Cupid was taking extra time with his song tonight. Milking the crowd. Scarlett knew how maddening it must be for the conductor, but it didn’t surprise her in the least. The audience was eating out of Cupid’s hands. He hadn’t achieved rock-star status for nothing, after all.

             
He looked better than usual. His Zeus costume, a flowing white toga, hid the flying harness well. Without his usual visible tattoos, he looked like he could almost pull off a convincing “Greek god” look, thought Scarlett, grudgingly.

             
Just then, to spectacular effect, the pyrotechnic cues started. Scarlett had the sequence memorized, and it didn’t appear to have changed in the time since she’d been fired. Cued to a series of Cupid’s high notes and grand gestures, fiery lightning bolts streaked across the stage.

             
Next up would be rain, as the chorus of gods behind Cupid built the intensity of the number. There it was—sparkling sheets of water, cascading onto the stage, right on cue. Scarlett could see jaws dropping throughout the audience.

             
In a moment, the high-speed flying sequence that had necessitated so many hours of rehearsal and negotiations with the safety board would launch Cupid over the audience in a dramatic crescendo that was guaranteed to send everyone out into the intermission buzzing.

             
Scarlett glanced up to make sure she could see what she was doing.

             
Margolies spotted her from his box seat on house left.

             
Their eyes locked. Scarlett froze where she stood, her fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. And yet the hatred in his eyes gave her the last bit of resolve she needed to do what she had come to do.

             
Their death stare was broken as Cupid whizzed through the air in a flash of toga and vocal key changes. He was in great voice that night. The chorus of gods was chanting at full volume from the stage, and the audience was already whooping and cheering.

             
Scarlett slid a few inches to the left, so as to be just out of Margolies’ hawk-like view. She gently tilted the iPad screen enough to see the button that Lawrence had programmed. She allowed herself one more peek at Margolies, who was momentarily distracted by the perfectly executed flight sequence that was reaching its climax. On stage the other gods were also rising in the air on nearly invisible wires of their own.

             
She closed her eyes and pressed the button on the iPad.

             
Nothing happened. Maybe Lawrence wasn’t able to get the system back up in the Escalade, she thought, beginning to panic. A million more thoughts passed through her mind in a split second. Maybe this whole plan has been too far-fetched, after all.

             
The fact that one patron could stop an entire show was certainly hard to believe.

             
But sure enough, she did.

             
The first thing the audience noticed was a change in the sound. The orchestra was illogically quieter and louder all at the same time, as the actor’s wireless body mics went abruptly silent. The unenhanced voices of even the strongest singers were completely drowned out as the orchestra played on, not yet realizing what was happening.

             
In the next second, the audience looked up to where Cupid swung from his harness, stranded helplessly above the heads of the patrons in the orchestra section. The wireless remote signal that operated his flying wires had been effectively blocked.

             
It was all happening exactly as Scarlett and Lawrence had intended.

             
It all happened in a matter of seconds.

             
The orchestra petered out as the conductor realized he was no longer getting a microphone feed. Cupid began flailing and cursing as he realized he was stuck. Hushed murmurs passed through the crowd as they wondered if it was all part of the show.

             
A series of clicks and flashes broke the silence, coming from the cameras and phones of the audience members directly below Cupid. Those were followed by a few giggles from the audience, which quickly escalated into a roar. Cupid’s swinging had stopped, and everyone watched as his face went through shades of red to purple in extreme mortification.

             
Scarlett watched as Cupid desperately tried to adjust his toga. It immediately became all too clear that Cupid, dangling limply from the ceiling, was giving the celebrity audience a prime view of his decision not to wear underwear under his toga for opening night. From her vantage point on the side, Scarlett couldn’t entirely see what those directly below him were seeing. Thank god! she thought to herself. The shocking news passed up and down the aisles like wild fire.

             
Scarlett couldn’t quite stifle a small laugh herself, though her glee was quickly tempered by a quick glance up at Margolies. He was leaning over the rail of his box, shouting orders to Cupid, the conductor, the stage manager—but his imperious commands were hopelessly drowned out by the audience members, who were in complete hysterics.

             
Scarlett inched her way back to the door as the stage manager come out on to the stage, ripping his now-useless headphones off his ears. No longer able to communicate with the rest of the crew through their wireless headsets, he had to resort to waving and screaming to the various technicians to figure out how to bring Cupid down to the stage and lower the rest of the cast. Of course, Scarlett knew all too well that the revolutionary wireless flying remote wouldn’t work, either. Until the wireless system was back up and running, Cupid and the rest of the cast would be stuck.

             
Less than a minute had passed.

             
She was nearly to the door, desperate to make a fast escape. She heard the microphones come back on suddenly–exactly according to plan. They had needed less than a minute of wireless interference to make their point. It was a horrifying thought for Broadway theaters everywhere, but a brilliant revenge strategy, thanks to Lawrence.

             
The first thing to be heard was Cupid swearing up a storm, followed by the unmistakable “
I quit
!
I’m never setting foot on a Broadway stage again.”

             
Ironic choice of words, thought Scarlett as she pushed through the doors into the lobby, where the waiting paparazzi were just starting to catch wind of the drama inside.

             
Through the now-open door, they could hear the stage manager speaking into a backstage mic, asking everyone to remain calm as they rebooted the system.