Read Online Showbiz, A Novel by Ruby Preston - Free Book Online Page A

know what I mean,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone this, but I actually threw my hat in the ring for the position.”
                  “Really?” she said, raising her eyebrows.
                  “Hey, don’t sound so surprised. I’ve been around the block.”
                  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure you’re more than qualified. It’s just that it seems like such a lonely job.” She thought about it. “But I guess in your world, it’s probably the top spot.”
                  “I’d just love to see some things change. I think it’s time Broadway had a less…How shall I put it?... biased reviewer. Let the shows stand on their own merits.”
                  She shot him a puzzled look.
                  He paused, seeming to consider how he’d frame what he was about to say. “Does it ever feel like it’s not entirely logical why some shows get panned and others get raves?”
                  “That’s showbiz, I guess,” she said. She took a sip of her champagne as he continued to look at her intently. “Wait...are you saying you think it’s rigged? That’s not possible! Margolies, for one, would have put an end to that.”
                  “Or would he?” Reilly said cryptically.
                  “What are you implying?” She was getting agitated. She pushed her champagne away.
                  “Hold on. I’m not implying anything—it’s just something I’m looking into.”
                  “The article you mentioned last week...”
                  “Look, just forget it. It doesn’t matter.” He seemed suddenly in a hurry to change the subject.
                  “But the implications…! Reviews can make or break careers and fortunes, put hundreds of people out of work or make people stars. Kanter closed our last musical with his review—”
                  “I’m sorry I mentioned it. I’m sure it’s just me looking for a story where there isn’t one.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Now, don’t tell me you showed up tonight, looking like that, to talk about work.”
                 

Scene 13
     
                  Candace walked in the door to her Greenwich Village brownstone where she had lived alone since the divorce. She poured herself a bourbon on the rocks before even taking off her coat. There was a knock on the door. She rarely had company and wasn’t expecting anyone that night. She tossed back half her drink before answering the door.
                  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said, leaving the door hanging open and walking back into the small living room to retrieve her drink.
                  Margolies didn’t need an invitation to enter the house he had once called home. He had lived there with Candace a lifetime ago. It had been nearly twenty years since he’d been back, but not much had changed. Candace’s drinking certainly hadn’t changed, either, he thought, eyeing the drink in her hand. But she had a hardness about her now that was new to him.
                  “How many have you had?” Margolies asked , holding up the bottle of bourbon to gauge how lucid she’d be that evening. He wondered for the millionth time why he’d ever actually married the pathetic woman.
                  “Grab a glass for yourself. Oh, that’s right. Never touch the stuff. You really should try it sometime.”
                  “Because you make it look like such a good idea.” He regretted the insult. He hadn’t come there to fight.
                  Candace sat down heavily on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here? Just wanted to come by and insult me? Thanks, but I’m not in the mood.”
                  She had never been “in the mood”