“Look, if you can do it, I’ll make sure you get an extra…fifty bucks each.”
This seemed to change the situation entirely. Suddenly, they were moving.
“What about this champagne?” the other one asked. “That lady bought it all.”
“Uh…right. Fourth floor, Empire Suite. Door’s open. And can you take these flowers up there, too?”
There was no time to be delicate. Scarlett threw herself at anything she could possibly move. She dragged the mats from the floor and threw them down the basement steps. When the final round of applause rang out and the cast had left the stage and made their way into the kitchen, she grabbed Mrs. Amberson while she was still in her seat, pulling her away from whatever conversation she had started.
“O’Hara,” she hissed. “What are you…?”
“You need to get these people out of here, now,” Scarlett said. “They’re on their way home.”
Mrs. Amberson clicked her teeth together once.
“Everyone!” she said, standing on a chair. “Due to the usual constraints of this performance space, I have to ask you to make your way out now. However, may I suggest that we reconvene at The St. Regis bar?”
These words had little effect. The group was busy chatting amongst one another. Scarlett had to resort to pulling up all the unoccupied chairs and stacking them, just to give them the idea that they really did have to go. It took fifteen minutes for the two of them to get everyone out of that room, but some still lingered in the lobby. Scarlett closed the dining room doors and looked at the scene in front of her. A stage, curtains and blankets and candles, ramps…There was no way it could all be hidden.
Some of the cast members began to creep out, not knowing that anything was amiss. Scarlett ran to the kitchen to find Spencer. He was sitting on the table, talking to Stephanie in a very flirty manner. He had wiped half his makeup off, roughly.
“I need you,” Scarlett said, physically yanking him down.
“What?” he said, when Scarlett got him into a corner of the dining room. “What’s wrong?”
“They’re coming.”
“They aren’t supposed to be here for two hours!”
“It’s raining,” Scarlett said. “They are on their way.”
“Like, now?”
“We may have ten minutes.”
Spencer wheeled around and looked at the stage, the ramps, the piles of props.
“We can’t move any of this in ten minutes,” he said.
“I know. Just…get everyone in here and tell them what’s going on. Don’t let them go upstairs.”
Mrs. Amberson had done a fairly good job of expediting the evacuation of the last of the guests. She had not resorted to physical violence, but she was pressing the last three lingerers out with a decided firmness. Scarlett was left alone in the lobby for a moment, her head swirling. There was a small trail of water where the melting ice book had been dragged away. There were obvious skid marks on the floor from where the unicycles had gone off the mats. She grabbed a champagne glass that was hiding under one of the chairs and a champagne bottle that must have just been set down. What else was lurking around? There was evidence everywhere.
“I have them all,” Spencer said, coming in from the dining room. “Now what?”
“Now we…get them out?”
“And hope Mom and Dad just ignore the set?” he asked.
“First things first! First we get the cast away from here, and we…”
Scarlett had no idea what came after that. She spun around, as if the answer was hiding behind the front desk. There was no answer there, but there was another champagne glass. She shoved it into the file cabinet.
“I don’t think we have to worry,” Spencer said, while she was doing this.
“What? Why?”
“Because Chip’s Mercedes just pulled up. And everyone is getting out. I believe the phrase ‘game over’ applies.”
Scarlett wasn’t giving up just yet, though. She flung herself at the dining room door.
“Everybody!” she screamed. “Turn off the lights, keep quiet, and don’t move!”
She slammed the doors shut and threw herself against them just as her parents came into the lobby.
“Hi,” she said, brushing the curls back from her eyes. “Nice ride?”
THE GREATEST SHOW THAT NEVER WAS
Lola was much paler than usual, and Scarlett got the impression that she had thrown up more than once during her day. She looked around at the deserted lobby warily.
“It was fine until it started to rain,” her dad said.
Spencer came over and joined Scarlett in her door-leaning.
“You came home in your costume,” her mom said, taking in the sight of his baggy, shortened suit. “And half your makeup.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Long day, so I thought…thought I’d just come home. You get a better seat on the subway this way.”