Authors: Ruby Preston
The night was a perfect example. She was pleased that the
Olympus
investor reception that she’d been working so hard on had such a good turnout. After wracking her brain, she’d found just the right venue—opulent enough for the upscale guests, yet creatively Broadway. As she took in the view of the Greek and Roman galleries of the hallowed Upper East Side institution, she felt gratified to see the perfectly coifed and sculpted investors drinking and laughing animatedly under the unblinking gaze of the gallery’s ancient marble inhabitants.
Between her huge effort to forego another run-in with Margolies and her attempts at avoiding Lawrence, she also had to make sure the event went off without a hitch.
“So glad you could be here,” she greeted a member of the press who had just arrived. “Have you met our director?”
She wound her way through the imposing Roman columns. The soft art museum lighting set off the bejeweled silver-haired men and woman who were financing the Margolies machine. Scarlett greeted various investors and members of the media, making introductions to the creative team where she could. These extravagant events were one of Margolies’ key strategies for getting and keeping investors. On so risky a show, the funders really needed to be onboard. Regardless of her frustration with Margolies, it was to her benefit that she appear professional in the crowd. Someday she’d need them for her own productions.
Lawrence caught her arm. “Scarlett, you look stunning.”
His eyes swept over her dress—a playful, white, one-shoulder dress draping over her slight frame, hinting at a Greek-goddess—and strappy heels. She had bought the wardrobe combo during a holiday shopping spree with her brother, Colin, who served as her unofficial stylist. She was pleased with her evening attire, but was in no mood for compliments from Lawrence.
“Thanks.” She gave him an obligatory smile and attempted to continue toward the entrance.
“Are you mad at me? You haven’t answered any of my calls.”
“No, just busy,” she said, too brightly, and made a quick escape.
“I need to talk to you!” she heard him say to her back.
The truth was, she
had
been avoiding him. She still didn’t entirely know what was going on but she wanted to stay out of it as much as possible, despite feeling thrust into the middle of it by the very nature of her job.
She touched base with the check-in table. The last few guests were trickling in, which meant she could give the cue to start the brief presentation. Margolies would be speaking, followed by Cupid and Psyche performing a duet from the show and backed by their own band. They were off in a closed side gallery, waiting to make their grand entrance.
Scarlett glanced at the list that the intern was keeping at the door. It was a good sign that there were surprisingly few no-shows, a rarity in New York, where people were perpetually overbooked.
At the bottom of the list were a few handwritten names. That was not unusual, as people sometimes arrived with extra guests or unexpected members of the media dropped in. One name caught her eye:
Candace Gold
. Scarlett glanced over her shoulder, looking for the woman who she had seen only at the bar one night but never actually met. Scarlett spotted her over by the bar and couldn’t resist the impulse to talk to the woman who had been married to her boss and was also part of Reilly’s alleged scandal.
“Excuse me,” she said as she held her hand out to Candace, “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Scarlett, Mr. Margolies’ associate producer.”
Candace looked her up and down before extending her hand, none too warmly. “Scarlett? That’s quite a name. Candace Gold.
New York Banner
. ”
“My mom watched
Gone with the Wind
four times while she was in labor with me.” Scarlett recited her standard explanation. People asked about her striking name upon almost every introduction. “Thank you for being here!” She was curious to get a sense of the woman.
Candace seemed to be ignoring her entirely, downing her drink in one long gulp.
Scarlett tried again to start a conversation. “Are you familiar with our project,
Olympus
?”
“Very,” Candace
responded
tersely before turning back to the bar to order another drink.
“Right, of course,” Scarlett
said
to Candace’s back. “There have been several articles about it in the
Banner
...” She trailed off.
Candace was apparently done with the conversation, and it was time for the presentation, anyway. Scarlett scanned the crowd for Margolies. Lawrence had pulled him aside and was talking to him intently. Scarlett caught Margolies’ eye and signaled to him that it was time. She saw Margolies excuse himself. Lawrence tried to wave Scarlett over. She ignored him and started weaving her way to the side gallery to give Cupid and Psyche a heads-up that they were on in five minutes.
The crowd hushed as Margolies stepped onto the small platform they were using as a stage. At times like those, he reminded Scarlett of a circus ringmaster. In his impeccably tailored black pinstriped suit, he expertly commanded his own three-ring circus: the investors, the press, and the stars.
“Welcome, brave and fearless gods and goddesses of New York,” he began. He was the consummate showman when he needed to be. “We are in this room tonight among the celestial beings of the past making our very own theatrical history. Each and every one of you is joining us for something unprecedented that will change the face of Broadway!” That statement was greeted with enthusiastic applause from the guests. Margolies continued, but Scarlett couldn’t hear him as she poked her head into the room where Cupid and Psyche were supposedly warming up. She encountered a chilly scene.
Cupid was in one corner, Psyche in the other and their band members looked bored with it all. The band wasn’t exactly thrilled that their leaders were going to be tied up on Broadway, leaving them unable to tour or record albums for the unforeseeable future. They had all been offered jobs in the show’s orchestra, but it wasn’t exactly the rock-and-roll lifestyle to which they had grown accustomed. But the pay was good.
“You’re on in five,” Scarlett
said
. No one acknowledged her. “See you out there,” she said as she closed the door behind her.
Margolies was mid-speech. “A show of this magnitude has never been attempted on Broadway. With a budget of over $50 million, we are creating an epic of unimaginable proportions. I am standing here tonight to say that, thanks to all of you and our incredible creative team, we are going to give Broadway something it’s never seen before. It is my promise to all of you here tonight that you will be rewarded for joining us in this endeavor.”
Scarlett noticed Candace Gold standing a few feet away with a grim look on her face. It suddenly occurred to Scarlett that if Margolies and his ex-wife really had been bribing the critic, then Margolies would be at the mercy of a real critic for the first time. No wonder he’s been in such a state recently. It isn't just
Olympus
that has him on edge--it’s losing his ace in the hole. Scarlett didn’t have time to think it through just then. She needed to get through the evening.
Margolies started wrapping up his presentation. “Audiences and critics alike will have no choice but to adore what they see. Storms of Zeus’s wrath!” The crowd
oohhed
. “Fire!” The crowd
aahhed
. “The gods will literally take flight, like you’ve never seen before in live theater!” Another round of applause. The investors were helpless to resist the intoxicating combination of champagne and Margolies’ words.
“And now, without further ado, it is my pleasure to introduce the real stars of the evening.” Despite his modest words, not a single person in the room was fooled by Margolies’ feigned humility. “Our very own divine royalty, straight from
Olympus
. The love birds of legend, both in our time and in the storybooks. Dare I say the most talented artists of our day, as proven by their worldwide acclaim, will reach new heights, literally, as the stars of our show. I give you Cupid and Psyche!”
The crowd went crazy as Cupid and Psyche bounded up onto the stage. Cupid pulled Psyche into a deep kiss. The genteel, well-bred crowd was eating it up.
Oh, please, thought Scarlett. She could see why so many veterans of Broadway ended up jaded and burned out after spending time with the Cupids and Margolies of the world. Ultimately, she craved the
real
people she had been working with on
Swan Song
. Would they all turn out like that, too? Would they too eventually create public personas as a facade to disguise miserable, unhappy personal lives? Scarlett fervently hoped not.
Lawrence was by her side again. He whispered urgently in here ear. “Please, I really need to talk to you.” He was more serious than Scarlett had ever seen him. But the band started, making all conversation impossible.
“I can’t hear you,” she mouthed to him, gesturing to her ears and the band. “Sorry.”
Scene 25
Margolies stepped off the platform, relieved to see Cupid and Psyche taking the stage. The “lovebirds’” relationship was so tense these days that Margolies half-expected them to strangle each other before opening night arrived. The project was turning into a total nightmare, but it was too late to turn back now.
He still didn’t know how it could have happened. He had made sure that everything had been in place for his crowning Broadway achievement. A fool-proof show. The money. The critic.
His pep-talk minutes before might have gotten the crowd fired up, but it had left him feeling worse. Everything single thing was going wrong.
The critic. His critic was dead, and Candace wasn’t cooperating. And to think she had the nerve to show up. He had always known Kanter was weak; that’s what had made him such a malleable pawn for Margolies. But he hadn’t thought the pressure of the critic’s job would push Kanter to the brink. He gritted his teeth in anger before remembering that he was at a party. He regained his mask of composure, a major effort under the circumstances.
A fool-proof show. Sure, it had been a good idea, but with impossible stars and technical effects that pushed the creative team to its limits, he was beginning to have doubts. OSHA and the safety inspectors were breathing down his neck, and the theater owners weren’t helping much with the structural renovations to the space. Where had everyone’s artistic vision gone? Couldn’t they see that he was making Broadway history? They needed to stop breaking his balls over this or that wireless remote flying track or pyrotechnic.
The money. He had always had a cordial relationship with certain “money people” but hadn’t needed to resort to working with them, despite their increasing attention as he proved that he could turn a Broadway gamble into a financial win. He’d never wanted to mix with that contingent, having seen what happened to people who get on the wrong side of that crowd. Now, not only had he been forced to go to them by
Olympus
’ Olympian budgets, but it was costing him legitimate investors. Lawrence had somehow found out and pulled out his own investment just that evening. It was a lot of money that Margolies couldn’t afford to lose. But how could Lawrence have known about the source of the other money...?
Scarlett. That bitch must have told Lawrence. He already knew that he needed to fire her. Unfortunately, he needed her too much at the office to throw her out right away. The perfectly executed event that evening was just another example of how good she was at her job. But he should have known better than to let her get so deeply entrenched in his work, despite the fact that she made his life easier. He couldn’t trust her. As soon as
Olympus
opened, he could focus on getting rid of her and finding a replacement. He just needed to make sure she didn’t do something stupid and get herself mixed up in all that. If his new business associates knew that she knew, getting fired would be the least of her worries. And he needed her in one piece right now.
Cupid and Psyche were finishing their second and final song. Margolies steeled himself to put on a smile for a room full of people who were depending on him. He smoothed the lapels of his expensive suit. He might not feel like the “king of Broadway” at that moment, but he’d defy anyone to say he didn’t look the part. Through the cheering crowd, he saw Candace making a beeline in his direction—or as much of a beeline as she could make, being unsteady on her high heels. Before she got to him, however, he was enveloped by a crowd of electrified investors.