She had come prepared to leave her own dignity at the door, to schmooze and network and be horribly fake if she had to. After a few minutes of conversation with Steinman, she decided to just be honest. Accepting his invitation, she sat down on a comfortable chair and she told him about their abbreviated dinner party with Westfield the night before. The way the other man had acted toward her, his parting sally to Richard, and the apparent ruination of Richard’s chances at succeeding Steinman.
“I’m aware it’s not very pretty behaviour on my part either,” she said bluntly, nervously crossing her feet at the ankles. “Coming here to tell tales. But it’s unfair if this is the reason Richard loses his nomination. I don’t know if he’s the lead contender.” She paused, but Steinman’s face remained imperturbable. “But he should have his chance. He’s ambitious and...well, atrociously rude at times, but he gets things done and he has integrity.”
She didn’t think it necessary to add the unspoken: “Unlike some people.”
Her decision to accost Steinman felt disastrously impulsive as he regarded her in silence. At last, he smiled ruefully and said, “Troy’s a lucky man.” He sobered. “First of all, I sincerely apologise to you, Miss Graham, on behalf of the Society, for last night’s disgraceful behaviour. It will not be swept under the rug. And I’m not at liberty to comment on the pending decision regarding my successor, but I assure you that Troy will not be blackballed through the prejudice of one member. Regardless of the position that person currently occupies on the committee.”
She got the impression that Steinman wasn’t the biggest fan of his veep either. Perhaps that was why he was stepping down.
Lainie didn’t particularly want a cup of coffee, but she accepted Steinman’s pleasant offer and stayed for almost an hour, chatting about a number of current plays and art exhibitions. It seemed less melodramatic than marching into his house, pointing an accusing finger and storming out again a few minutes later.
Halfway home on the bus, she changed her mind and switched to the route for the theatre district. She felt too antsy to lie around the flat. She would rather go early to work and rope someone into reading lines with her. Might as well earn a few goodwill points with Bennett while she was at a loose end.
She was relieved to find only a few tourists outside the side door of the Metronome. She paused for autographs and selfies, produced a Mona Lisa smile and noncommittal answer in response to questions about Richard, and headed straight for her dressing room. A team of builders were doing spot repairs on the upper floors, and she was grateful to get away from the noise. Her mood was precarious enough without constant hammering and drilling.
Sitting down at her vanity, Lainie checked her watch. Too early for Meghan to arrive yet. She wondered if Margaret was around.
She had been sitting there for less than thirty seconds when the door opened again without warning. “Before you chuck that at my head,” Will said, nodding at the powder compact she held in her hand, “hear me out.”
Lainie’s fingers tightened until her knuckles bleached white. “Get out.”
“No.” Will’s face was pale. He leaned back against the door as if anticipating her next move. “Listen.”
“You listen.” Lainie rose to her feet, so angry with him she was shaking. “I don’t know what you thought you were doing.” She let out a half laugh, half sigh. “And I mean that literally. I don’t know what you thought were going to achieve.”
“I don’t know either!” Will burst out. He shoved a hand through his usually impeccable hair, and the gesture was so reminiscent of Richard that Lainie caught her breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated more quietly. He grimaced. “I was pissed. In every meaning of the word. The paps were there, and it just...”
“Slipped out?” Lainie suggested with biting irony.
“Would it help if I said again I was sorry?”
“I’m hardly the one who needs an apology.”
“Well, I’m not apologising to bloody Troy!”
Lainie suddenly felt very tired. “No, I didn’t expect you would.”
Will reached out and touched her arm. “Lainie...”
She pushed his hand aside. “No. It wouldn’t help if you said you were sorry, because you aren’t. Not really. I can only assume this is exactly what you wanted to happen. I just hope you didn’t think I would turn to you for comfort after Richard performed on cue and dropped me like a hot brick.”
“I told you,” he muttered, flushing. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”
“That, at least, sounds plausible.”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “So he’s ended it?”
Lainie didn’t reply, and he shrugged. “It’s for the best.”
“Thank you for that unbiased take on the situation,” she said sarcastically. “I don’t recall asking for a quote from you.”
“Lainie, would you just—”
She cut off his exasperated rejoinder. “For the rest of this contract, I will love you and die for you on that stage. But when the curtain comes down, that’s it. We have nothing left to say to each other.”