Showbiz, A Novel (12 page)

             
A husband, thought Reilly. She wasn’t wearing a ring, and he hadn’t come across a husband in any of his research.

             
Candace’s tone became professional, “So, let’s get right down to it. Why are you interested in the position of chief critic?”

             
The interview commenced in earnest. Half an hour in, Reilly knew he had nailed it. After the initial interview questions, they had fallen into a discussion of the future of theatrical criticism in light of social media’s threat to its existence.

             
“It’s been a pleasure. Nice to talk shop with a kindred spirit,” he said, hoping he sounded like a colleague and not like he was sucking up to the woman who he hoped would be his future boss. She lapped up his every word. He was grateful he’d spent so much time preparing for it.

             
He couldn’t help himself from fishing just a little for fodder for his exposé, though it occurred to him that he probably wouldn’t publish it if he did in fact become a finalist. Oh, well, he thought, my year of research will be a small price to pay.

             
“It’s nice to meet someone who values journalistic integrity as much as I do,” he said.

             
He saw something flash in her eyes at his words, only for a brief second. A hint of confirmation of his theories, perhaps? He paused to see if she’d say anything, but there was only awkward silence. He jumped in. “So, can you tell me when I might hear something?”

             
“We’ll be notifying the five finalists in the next day or two,” she said, all business. Then she softened and met his eyes. “I don’t want to speak out of turn, but you should stay by your phone.”

             
Reilly tried to look nonchalant, but inside he was beaming. “Great. What’s the process going to look like, if I might ask?”

             
“The finalists will be introduced to the public in a spread in the Sunday Arts section this weekend. Then each finalist will get one shot to review an upcoming show. An audition, as it were, with the
Banner’s
readers as the judges.” Reilly nodded as she continued, “Can you hold on a minute? I’d like you to meet our managing editor who’s working with me on the finalist selection.”

             
Reilly was thrilled. He couldn’t remember ever having had a better interview in his life—and for this, of all jobs. Candace got up and walked down the hall. Reilly glanced at the neatly stacked papers on her tidy desk, trying to glean any hint as to who the other finalists might be—or any clue that could work to his advantage.

             
He quickly looked back down at his own notebook as Candace’s assistant walked in and laid out a couple of phone message slips on the desk.

             
As Candace came back to the office, he caught a brief look at the first message. He wasn’t sure. He only got a quick look before Candace swept the messages into her top drawer, but he could have sworn he saw the name
Margolies
.

Scene 21

             
Scarlett was on cloud nine after two fantastic days of auditions for
Swan Song
and another perfect date with Reilly to celebrate his selection as a finalist at the
Banner
. She wasn’t looking forward to how behind she’d be at work, but it would be worth it.

             
She walked into the office to hear Margolies screaming into his phone. Despite the closed door, she could hear him clearly.

             
“I’m warning you... You don’t know who you’re messing with this time... I promised I would take care of you, but I could ruin you just as fast... I’d like to see you try!... This is not the end of this conversation... Don’t you dare hang up on me. Don’t you dare—”

             
Scarlett heard his fist slam into the desk. “Damn it,” he said, presumably to himself, since it sounded like whoever he was talking to had hung up on him. She could think of any number of people he might have been talking to, though his tone had been particularly intense. She couldn’t remember him ever resorting to explicit threats in the past. The stress of
Olympus
must be getting to him, she thought.

             
Just then his door flew open. He seemed surprised to see her there.

             
“Well, look who decided to show up to work today.”

             
“You gave me the time off.”

             
“Well, I take it back. No more days off, no more weekends, no nothing until
Olympus
opens.”

             
So much for my good mood, she thought. “I’m sorry, but that’s unacceptable,” she said in  frustration, trying to stay professional. Her own show was starting rehearsals that week, and she needed to be there. She was already disappointed that she would be on site for so little of the process, but to miss the weekends would be devastating.

             
“Your personal life is unimportant, Scarlett. We are making history here.” He pounded his fist on her desk. “In this office.” He pounded his fist down again. “With
Olympus
! Do you want to be a real producer or not?”

             
She didn’t respond. There was no sense trying to reason with him when he was in such a rage. She wished he wasn’t taking it out on her. Given the fact that he hadn’t taken the time to so much as read
Swan Song
or ask about the latest developments, his words cut her to the bone.

             
Don’t cry, she thought to herself, gritting her teeth. She took a deep breath. He continued to stand over her desk.

             
“I’m here now,” she said, keeping her voice level. “What do you need?”

             
“I need you to know that your job is on the line.”

             
“With all due respect,” she said as she forced herself to hold back tears, “I’ve never missed a deadline, the production schedules are running on time, and the investor event is ready to go.” A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

             
“Are you crying, Scarlett?” he said with a sneer. “Maybe this business is too tough for you.” She stared down at her boots, biting the insides of her cheeks so hard she could taste blood. He continued, “Believe me, I didn’t get where I am by crying. You better get a thicker skin, little girl.”

             
She turned around abruptly, grabbed her coat and her computer bag, which she hadn’t unpacked yet, and ran out the door. As the elevator opened, she could already feel hot tears streaming down her face. It was too much. It was just too much. At that moment, she didn’t care if he fired her. She just needed to get away from him.

             
Coming out of the elevator as she went in was the same well-dressed but vaguely menacing man she had seen Margolies talking with at the production meeting the week before. She didn’t know why, but just looking at him made her skin crawl.

             
As the elevator let her out, she already had her phone to her ear.

             
“Reilly? Are you home right now? …I need to see you.”

Scene 22

             
“Oh, my god!” Reilly said when he opened his apartment door to Scarlett’s tear-stained face and wild eyes. “What happened?” He grabbed her hands and pulled her into the apartment.

             
“I can’t tell you. But I need to know something.”

             
“Okay,” he said uncertainly. He took her bag off her shoulder and slipped off her coat. “Can I get you some water or something? Some tea? I was just making some for myself.” It was a writing day for him, so he was still in his sweat pants and hadn’t been planning to leave the house all day. He had just been finishing his latest juicy column for the week when she’d appeared on his doorstep.

             
She ignored his attempts to make her comfortable. “Do you really think there was something going on with rigged reviews at the
Banner
?”

             
“Why do you ask now?” he said, hedging for time. He felt torn. On one hand, he wanted to come clean, to tell her what he’d found and enlist her to help him. Yet he worried she’d think he had only been interested in her because of her job all along. And while that may have been partly true in the beginning, their relationship had since become very real to him. He put his arm around her slender shoulders and gently steered her over to the couch. He pulled her down on the couch next to him.

             
“Please,” she said, turning her teary eyes to him, “just tell me if you really think the reviews are being rigged. I need to know.”

             
“Well, it’s complicated.”

             
Now that he was a finalist for the critic job, he had put his exposé on the back burner. His editor was mad at him, anyway, since the article about the five finalists had disclosed to the world the fact that he was looking for another job. He had to admit to himself that he hadn’t fully thought through the short-term ramifications when he’d applied for the job at the
Banner
. He had been so focused on nailing the interview. Now he was likely to lose his old job before he even found out about the
Banner
. He needed to get the
Banner
job that much more.

             
“Do you have something or don’t you?” she said impatiently.

             
What got into her? wondered Reilly. Has she found some proof? If she has, it could really change things for him. For them. But he needed her to trust him. And though they had an unmistakable attraction, he needed to be able to trust her.

             
He got up and walked over to the window and gazed out on midtown, not sure where to start. “What do you know about Margolies’ marriage?” He turned to look at Scarlett.

             
“As far as I know, he was married and divorced years ago. What does that have to do with anything?”

             
“Potentially a lot. Do you know who the former Mrs. Margolies was?”

             
“Not a clue. Frankly I can’t imagine any woman being willing to tie the knot with him.”

             
He sat back down next to Scarlett and pushed a stray lock of dark hair off her face. He decided to risk disclosing what he’d found out that very morning in his research. “Well, what if I told you it was Candace Gold?”

             
“The Arts and Culture editor at the
Banner
?
That
Candace Gold? It can’t be.”

             
“It can be and it is. Or I should say,
was
. They were married very briefly and got divorced years ago. And no one seems to remember that they were ever together.”

             
“Well, that’s certainly good gossip,” Scarlett
said
.

             
Reilly realized she hadn’t yet connected the dots. “It’s more than good gossip,” he said. “I’ve been looking into the circumstances surrounding Kanter’s hiring. It was way before my time, and yours, but I’ve been doing research, and he basically appeared on the scene out of nowhere. There was some throw-away article about his journalistic history, but he was just sort of there one day, reviewing shows. A nobody, as far as I could tell.”

             
“And you think Margolies and Candace had something to do with all that?” she asked, cocking her head. He could see that she was starting to understand.

             
“Well, he was hired right after Candace was promoted to Arts and Culture editor. In fact, he was her first hire. Margolies had done a few shows at that point, but he hadn’t really hit his stride. That’s when his reviews started to get better. Not every single one. But I did some quick statistics, and since Candace’s hiring, Margolies’ shows have gotten
significantly
more good and great reviews than any other producer on Broadway.”

             
“He also produces more shows than any other producer on Broadway,” she countered.

             
“True, but wouldn’t you, if you knew you would get a stamp of approval 90 percent of the time from the
Banner
?”

             
Reilly had actually expected Scarlett to be shocked, considering how she reacted when the subject came up at their first dinner. Maybe it wasn’t news to her after all.

             
“Do you have proof?” she asked.

             
“I’m working on it.” He paused and then decided to just go for it. “Do you?”