Authors: Ruby Preston
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. He had all but forgotten that he had originally asked her out to get information on her boss. Since getting to know her, that hadn’t seemed nearly as important as figuring out how to keep her right there, by his side, for as long as possible. He hadn’t been looking for it, and yet it felt like what he’d always wanted.
Scene 16
Candace spun her chair away from her desk and gazed out the window, rubbing her temples with her fingers. Interviews could be exhausting, and she'd had a full day of them. Even weeding out all but the best resumes, there had still been a long list of candidates. Her editor had taken on several of the interviews, since they needed to move quickly, but she had handled the bulk of them.
There was a tap on the door, and she reluctantly turned back to her desk.
“Any keepers today?” her boss
asked
. “This woman seemed like finalist material.” He tossed one resume onto her desk and dropped a larger stack on the floor along the wall with other similar stacks of resumes.
“What’s her story?”
“Fashion critic. She’s been bureau chief in Paris for the past few years. Sounds like she could bring a unique voice. We’ve never had a major female critic here.”
“I remember reading her resume. Let’s add her to the mix.”
“Where does that put us as far as finalists?”
“Well, we have our junior critic, that’s one. This woman, two. That blogger we liked could be three, and the guy from Chicago. That leaves one last spot.” The thought that the interviews would be coming to an end was cheering her up.
“Let’s hope we find our last finalist in next week’s group,” said her editor, looping his thumbs through his suspenders. “I can’t tell you how excited the higher ups are. This should buy us at least two months of bonus publicity as we roll out the candidate reviews. The readers are going crazy for the idea.”
“So are the producers, I’m afraid,” she said sarcastically. “And not in a good way.”
“Well, despite what they seem to think, we don’t write for producers, we write for readers,” he said, quoting their office mantra.
If only that were true, thought Candace. At least it would be from now on. Despite Margolies’ best efforts, she hadn’t fallen for his tricks that time around. She didn’t need anything from him, and he’d get nothing, much less another corrupt critic, from her this time.
Scene 17
Scarlett decided to walk home from the office. She needed to clear her head. To think. The crisp, dry air was refreshing, and New Yorkers were clearly beginning to come out of their winter hibernation.
Her week had been going so well. She’d had another amazing date with Reilly. The investor reception was ready to go. Margolies was in a better mood than usual. But what she’d found - or rather, hadn’t found - in her Google search at the end of the day had left her spooked.
She had forgotten until that afternoon, when she saw Margolies leaving the office with that same unmarked file, that she had meant to look up the M____ Corporation, to find out just who it was that was coming in as their major investor. The company hadn’t come up in her reception invites, and she had a hunch that asking Margolies directly might not be the best first step.
What she’d discovered on Google made her wonder what Margolies had gotten himself into. She thought about calling Reilly as she made her way on foot past the sparkling Time Warner center, but she knew she couldn't. Though she trusted Reilly, she was careful to keep the proprietary details of her work life separate from their relationship. Her suspicions were exactly the kind of thing that Reilly would want to run with in his column.
She found herself on the steps of Lincoln Center, looking toward Lawrence's penthouse. She hadn’t seen him since their fun evening a few weeks back, yet she suddenly realized that he was exactly who she could talk to that night.
She sent a quick text:
Can I come up?
It wouldn't be the first time she'd made an impromptu visit to his place for a chat or a bite on her way home.
An immediate reply. He always had the latest and greatest gadgets:
Course! Just finishing a mtg.
She crossed the busy intersection, weaving through the crowds that were making their way to the opera and ballet at the Met. Lawrence’s white-gloved doorman waved her through the lavish, chandelier-lit lobby as she trod the familiar path to his elevator—which was practically the same size as her entire apartment. Oh, to be that rich, thought Scarlett.
Lawrence greeted her at the door with a kiss on the cheek and his customary “Hello, Gorgeous!” He flashed her his great smile. She could only imagine how hard it must have been to get where he was, yet he always seemed so upbeat and care free. He had the enviable air of someone who had nothing to prove to anyone. She loved that about him. He took her coat from her and offered her a drink.
“To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“I was in the neighborhood and haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Is this a social call? Or are you here on business?” he asked with a wink. “It seems to be Lawrence Day in the Margolies office.”
Scarlett wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Mostly social, though I do actually have something I wanted to ask you about. What do you know about the
Olympus
investor pool?”
Lawrence, as one of their largest investors, liked to keep tabs on who else was financially involved in any given show. He claimed it was so that he would know if the investor parties would be any good, but she knew it was also so he could keep an eye on whom he would be doing business with. He made big business look so effortless.
“Aren’t you the keeper of the investment pool? I know how we can get some answers to whatever questions you have,” Lawrence
said
.
Scarlett heard the bathroom door open down the hall. To her disappointment, out walked Margolies.
“Well, well, well, I didn't know you made house calls, Scarlett.”
While her relationship with Lawrence, such as it was, wasn’t a secret, she hadn’t gone out of her way to tell Margolies. It wasn’t like they sat around discussing their personal lives. She’d always gotten the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased, and it looked like she was right. Margolies was glaring at her. Lawrence jumped in, rescuing her from Margolies’ unwavering gaze.
“Margolies and I were just finishing up.”
That’s right, she thought, he did say he was in a meeting. He could have told her it was with her boss. It occurred to her that maybe Lawrence was showing off just a little. Lawrence was well aware of Margolies’ advances on Scarlett and her constant refusal. Guys could be so territorial—and she didn’t appreciate that it was at her expense this time.
Lawrence continued. “Pleasure doing business with you, good sir!
Olympus
will be your greatest achievement yet!”
“I appreciate your help with the funding. It’s been a tricky one, but we got there, thanks to your
creativity
,”
Margolies
said
with emphasis on the last word.
Suddenly Scarlett felt uneasy. She had been planning to tell Lawrence about her suspicions that a big portion of the funding was coming from some shady sources. She’d seen enough TV crime-drama episodes where dubious financial firms and outside-the-law investment entities figured in to sense when things weren’t adding up. Large checks. Unlabeled files. A company that didn’t seem to do anything and had absolutely zero web presence. She had been so hoping that Lawrence could help her get some answers.
“Glad I could help. I’ll bring a check to the reception.”
Scarlett began to wonder if Lawrence might actually be involved. Was that what Margolies meant by ‘creativity?’
“Good night, Lawrence,” Margolies
said
, picking up the unmarked file folder from the table in the entry hall. With a disapproving nod in her direction, he added, “Scarlett.” And with that he was gone.
“So.” Lawrence turned his attention to Scarlett. “Shall we make a night of it? A friend of mine’s having a little soiree at his new loft in Tribeca tonight. Should be a good time.”
“Not tonight. I should go.”
“But you just got here!” He put his arm around her and tried to usher her further into his grand living room.
“What did Margolies mean by your ‘creativity’ in getting the extra funding?”
“Is that what you came here to find out? I roped in a few friends for this one. First-time investors, but it’s about time they ponied up. They owe me.”
Scarlett’s mind was spinning. What could those people owe Lawrence? The pieces were falling into place, and Scarlett was beginning to feel like she didn’t know Lawrence anymore.
“I really have to go.”
“But, Gorgeous, what’s the matter? Stay!”
“I can’t. I’m seeing someone now, anyway.”
She could see that stung him, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get away. It was way too much for her to compute. The only person she had thought she could tell was most likely in on it.
“What? Just because you have a boyfriend doesn't mean you can’t come to a party with me!” he said, practically chasing after her as she walked back through the foyer to the door.
She kept walking the last few blocks to her apartment in the dark and didn’t turn back. She felt very alone.
Scene 18
The unease Scarlett felt didn’t dissipate over the next two days. When she woke up Thursday morning, she felt grateful that she had asked Margolies for the next two days off. She had originally felt guilty about taking time off to work on her own musical, when things were so busy at the office. Bad timing that
Swan Song
got its big break just as
Olympus
was throwing the Margolies office into overdrive. When it rains it pours, she thought. Though, unlike
Olympus
, her show would forego the real rain on stage.
She had been honest with Margolies the week before, when she’d told him that she’d need a couple of personal days to spend some key time on her own project. He hadn’t seemed to care. She hadn’t felt the need to lie to him about it, and he’d be hard pressed to find fault with the work she’d been doing during her particularly long hours at the office.
He had been so distracted lately. Recently she’d found herself playing back their conversations, trying to figure out if there really were shady dealings going on that she should be worried about, or if she was simply being paranoid. She had certainly been under a lot of stress during the past week.
Olympus
,
Swan Song
, her new relationship with Reilly. Maybe she was imagining things.
She forced herself to push all thoughts of Margolies out of her head and focus on the day at hand. She got dressed and made her way to Pearl Studios, where callbacks were underway for
Swan Song
.
The Jeremys smiled as she took a seat behind the table in the rehearsal studio they were using for auditions. The company’s artistic director, casting director, and the show’s director were huddled around a table, discussing which scenes they’d have the actors read for the audition in addition to their prepared songs.
“Have you seen the updated callback list?” Jersey Jeremy
asked
with excitement. “It’s a musical theater nerd’s wet dream.”
“Don’t be crude,” Buff Jeremy
said
, but he was smiling. “Though he’s not wrong.”