“De rien. God, go away for one summer and I’m replaced with an entire cast of freaks. I am never leaving again.”
The phone started ringing again. Each ring pierced Scarlett. Mrs. Amberson didn’t have a special ringtone, but Scarlett could just tell when she was calling. The calls had a keening, urgent quality.
“Please,” Scarlett said. “She won’t stop until I talk to her.”
Ring.
“You can have your phone back if you tell her that you are staying here today with us. And we will all take turns patting your head and helping you heal your broken heart. That is what is going to happen.”
Ring.
“Fine!” Scarlett said, her anxiety peaking.
The phone stopped ringing as soon as it was back in Scarlett’s hand. She stared at it for a moment, wondering if she could just let it go, ignore the call.
“Don’t,” Dakota said. “Don’t call her back.”
“You don’t understand,” Scarlett said again. “She won’t stop.”
The phone started ringing again, proving her point. Scarlett answered it instantly, preparing herself to tell her boss that she was not available, but she had no chance.
“Where are you?” Mrs. Amberson snapped. “I am getting in a cab right now and coming to get you.”
“What?”
“I’m aware that it’s your day off, but it’s an emergency. Address, O’Hara!”
“I’m in the park,” Scarlett said, moving away and lowering her voice. Dakota was squinting suspiciously.
“What’s the closest street?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlett said. “Sixty-seventh or something? On the west side?”
“I will be there in five minutes.”
Scarlett snapped the phone closed and faced her friends. Dakota was staring intently and seemed to have taken a very dim view of the situation.
“She didn’t really give me a choice,” Scarlett explained, getting up. “She’s on her way.”
“I didn’t really hear you fighting her off,” Dakota said.
“It’s her boss,” Josh said. “You can’t fight off your boss.”
“Her boss isn’t normal!” Dakota shot back. “People are allowed to have days off. School starts in two days. This is all the time we get!”
It was useless for Scarlett to try to explain that this was her fate. Outrageous fortune. Hamlet had made some good points after all.
Demo version limitation
A PLAGUE OF ACTORS
“Isn’t she a gem?” Mrs. Amberson asked on the cab ride back.
“Yeah,” Scarlett said under her breath. “She’s the Hope Diamond. Isn’t that the one that kills you?”
“I heard that, O’Hara. It was quite funny, actually.”
“Did you see that look she gave me?” Scarlett asked. “When you said that thing about me going to the show with her brother?”
“No, I must have missed that,” Mrs. Amberson replied. She was futzing around in her massive purse for the tea tree oil sticks she had to chew after eating in place of her cigarette. “It’s not Chelsea that concerns me. It’s her mother. What a piece of work that woman is. She’s exactly the kind of stage parent I can’t stand. I think it’s hilarious how the most deluded ones always say, ‘Oh, we’d leave this all behind tomorrow if little Chelsea here didn’t want to dance! She loves to wake up at the crack of dawn and work all day long until she drops! It’s all her idea, I just ride along with it!’ Of course it is. The constant, hammering pressure has nothing to do with it. If Chelsea tried to walk away from her show, there’d be bloodshed and psychological warfare in that house, mark my words.”
“So why do you want her?” Scarlett asked.
“Because…” Mrs. Amberson dug harder for the sticks as her need increased. “There’s a lot of very good buzz about Chelsea, and I have no doubt that she could end up being quite a big deal if she’s managed correctly. Think about that, Scarlett. Her success is your success. And a good agent could be a useful buffer between her and mommy dearest. I’d love a chance to give that bloodsucking harpy Miranda a run for her money. I’ll eat her for breakfast.”
The tea tree oil sticks were recovered, and Mrs. Amberson hastily opened the box and shoved one in her mouth.
“Oral fixations are so cumbersome,” she said, easing back into the seat and chewing contentedly.
“If she signs with us,” Scarlett said. “Her mom didn’t seem that into the idea until you said…”
And then, Scarlett realized that something had just happened. That she had been moved like a pawn in a chess game. She didn’t know the overall strategy or what her fate was to be—but she felt it as clearly as if an enormous pair of fingers had picked her up by the head and moved her a square or two.
“Why am I going to this show?” she asked.
“It’s a free ticket!”
“You said it’s horrible.”
“Yes, but it’s barely two hours.”
“Why?” Scarlett asked again.
“What’s the first rule of this agency?” Mrs. Amberson asked. “Our first rule is…and make a note of this, O’Hara…you must always do a little spying.”