came back to her. Sometime last year, a series of articles about her misbehavior on sets swarmed the gossip rags, and as a result, she’d been MIA onscreen. Lauren looked to Wilks, incredulous. “Who’s directing Starry Nights?” The real question was who the hell had cast a party girl to come and headline at a show at the esteemed McAllister Theater, of all places?
“Ethan Moore, who I’ve been trying to get on our season for years. I finally managed it. He’s a fabulous director who knows what he’s doing. He’ll do great things here, but he wants Daniel. Insisted.”
Lauren could understand, to an extent, why. She was a good actress, layered, and watchable as hell with how pretty she was. Lauren couldn’t argue that fact. Lauren wished she had half of Carly’s talent—maybe things would have gone differently for her. As far as Ethan Moore, of course she’d heard of him, too. He’d directed multiple times on Broadway in the past five years but would be new to The McAllister space. “Okay, so Carly Daniel, problem child, is starring in our next one. Sounds like a done deal. Keep her from dancing on top of tables and you’ll be fine. Why do you want me?”
“You can handle her, and I want more than anything for Ethan to have a good experience here. I’d love to foster this relationship with him for future projects, and if Carly Daniel comes in and makes this production unsavory for him, he’ll always remember his time here as…undesirable. Ultimately, we’ll pay the price for it.”
She closed her eyes. “And Matty can’t make that happen for you? I’m hours from a beach and a piña colada, Wilks. Hours,” she practically squeaked. Anything to not have to lose her vacation. She needed this vacation. She’d planned for it for over a year now. She had a bundle of little brochures all in a folder.
“Not the way you can, Lauren. No one has your cool head and skill with people. I was nervous about not having you with Ethan already, but now that Carly Daniel has been attached to the project?” He shifted and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I really need you and will buy you eighteen piña coladas when this is said and done.”
She glanced at the clock apologetically. “I need to get this performance going.”
“Of course. I’ll scoot-scat out of your way.” He did a little dance to lighten things up, which Lauren appreciated. Wilks, who had to be in his late sixties, could be cute despite his otherwise distinguished persona. She wanted to pat him on his head while still carrying great respect for him. “Think about it? You’d be the hero of this place.” He backed away. More scoot-scatting. “And you’ll be compensated appropriately.”
“You should have led with that.”
He pointed at her. “I will next time. And Lauren?”
“Sir?”
“You’re the best goddamned stage manager in the business.”
“I will remind you of that someday when you forget.” He nodded and snuck away so she could do her job for the next three hours and give this show a proper closing. The compensation part of his offer didn’t sound half bad. As a stage manager, she was a member of Actors’ Equity, and there was a minimum pay scale in place. Hearing Wilks say he’d go above and beyond did carry some weight. Maybe if she put off her vacation a bit, she could take a few extra perks for herself. Fly first class. Upgrade her reservation to one of those upscale all-inclusive places with private cabanas and butlers that brought the fruity drinks. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in a bikini, the sun caressing her skin. God, could she really give that up?
“Lauren, we’re at fifteen,” Trip informed her.
“Right, right, right. My fault entirely.” She made the fifteen-minute call to everyone backstage and checked in via headset with her house manager, who reported everything out front was on schedule for an on-time curtain.
Twenty minutes later, they were wandering their way through a Sondheim journey, the audience on the edge of their seats. From the booth that overlooked the house, where she called each and every show, Lauren could occasionally catch a glimpse of an audience member’s face as they went along for the ride, gasping and glancing at their seatmate for each plot twist or turn. She loved that about theater. Back when she used to be an actress herself, she’d taken great pride in affecting those who took in her shows.