Chapter Thirty #2
Kris went on, emphasizing how special she was, how she was the only one with the experience, the chutzpah, the grit to make this work. “I know this must be incredibly disorientating,” he added, “but everyone believes in you, especially me.”
“That’s—” Lola scrambled for purchase, the ground underneath her shifting. “Thank you?”
“So, whaddya say?” Kris gave her an easy smile. “Ready to come onboard Hood and be our new Maid Marian?”
Lola blinked fast, utterly speechless.
A text from Kevin slid onto her screen. SABINA IS OUT. YOU’RE IN.
Everyone began talking at once, layering compliments over assurances over next steps: Fast-track the contract—Need your measurements—Throwing you in the deep end, but we know you can handle it.
“Lollie!”
Lola jumped at the whisper-yell.
Annie stared at her quizzically from the other end of the row. She pointed to the stage below where the cast was waiting, mouthing, “We need you.”
Lola nodded back, trying to force a smile, mouthing, “One sec.”
Annie frowned, unsure, but she backed off, heading for the stairs.
Lola refocused on her phone, trying not to pant with the adrenaline.
“So,” Fran was saying, “your handler, Jess, will be arriving to take you to the airport in—let’s see—about an hour. We’ll send your belongings on if you don’t have time to pack.”
“An hour?” Lola shook her head, everything sharpening into focus. “No, I have a show tomorrow.”
There was an awkward pause. No one spoke.
“And I haven’t actually said yes yet,” Lola pointed out.
Fran’s face screwed into disbelief, as if Lola had just passed on the secret to eternal youth.
“I don’t think we can move Haejun…” someone murmured, to which someone else said, much more firmly, “We cannot.”
Haejun? Who or what was Haejun?
Garrett’s voice called from below. “Lola Wilson to the stage!”
Then, Jazz. “C’mon, kid, break’s over!”
“Lola,” Kevin said. “You and I will chat. Team, I’m very confident we can make this work. Wheels up in a few hours. London calling, pip pip!”
A flurry of farewells, then the Zoom ended.
Lola’s hand cramped from holding her phone so tightly. She rose unsteadily to her feet, still trying to process. She hadn’t made it two steps before her phone lit up again. Kevin (agent) calling. She tapped to accept, pressing the phone to her ear. “I can’t talk right now—”
“Production’s a mess,” Kevin began, breathless. “Sabina broke her ankle doing a sword spin and now they’re panicking. They need someone to pull the whole thing together and Russo told them you have vision.”
“Vision?” Lola’s interest poked its head up like a gopher. “What—like, I could help with directing?”
Kevin blew out his cheeks. “They didn’t say that explicitly. But, yeah, sure. Maybe!”
That just made things more confusing. “But right now, the film’s a disaster?”
“A high-profile disaster that’ll open on three thousand screens. And that’s still better than obscurity.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it is!” Kevin’s voice jumped an octave. “Of course it fucking is!”
“Kevin, my god.” Lola stumbled down the carpeted stairs to the second-floor landing. “Calm down.”
“I won’t calm down. My client has just been offered the biggest deal of not just her career but also mine. Wilson, they are quadrupling their initial offer. Quadrupling.”
Lola pulled up short. She hadn’t thought about money. The initial offer flashed in her mind. Times that by four and…Reality teetered. “That’s a lot of money,” she mumbled.
“That’s a fuckton of money, Wilson,” Kevin cried. “It’s, like, double the GDP of most countries!”
Lola did not want anyone else hearing this insane conversation. She hurried toward a supply closet, switching on the single fluorescent bulb inside and pulling the door closed.
“So, Sabina’s out and they want me,” she clarified.
“They don’t just want you, they need you.” Kevin sounded equally gleeful and crazed. “They agreed to everything. Your points on the backend are unprecedented. They’re giving you top billing. Above Russo, above anyone. Congratu-fucking-lations, A-lister.”
The supply closet had no AC. Sweat slid down Lola’s back. “I don’t have much time, but send me the script. But, Kev, I cannot miss my show tomorrow.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.” Lola switched her phone to the other ear, the glass slick with sweat. “It’s the first thing I’ve done in forever that feels like mine. If they want me that badly, they can wait thirty-six hours.”
“No, they can’t. They’ve landed a cameo with that massive K-pop star, Haejun, that a bunch of the funding is tied up with. He’s on tour and the only time he can do it is tomorrow. Ergo, you fly to London right now.”
Anxiety crushed Lola’s ribs. She couldn’t get a good breath. “But I really care about this play. The cast, my friends, the town. Jazz.” Annie, she added in silent anguish. “We’ve spent the whole month rehearsing—”
“For community fucking theater!” Kevin shrieked.
“Wilson! This isn’t just an offer. This is a seat at the table.
Yes, you’ll miss the show, but you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs and this is the chance to make an omelet fit for a queen!
” His voice took on more urgent insistence, rising in volume.
“You cannot say no to this. This isn’t just a paycheck and it isn’t just a role.
This is what every sacrifice has been for. Lola! This is the start of everything.”
The supply closet door opened. “Lollie?”
Lola whirled around so fast she lost her balance.
Annie stood in the doorway, looking baffled. She took in Lola’s appearance with alarm—no doubt her stage makeup was smeared, her eyes wild and frantic. “What are you doing?”
“I’m—coming,” Lola choked.
“One hour!” Kevin shouted, his voice tinny through Lola’s phone. “Be ready in—”
Lola stabbed the screen to hang up. Sweat stains circled under both armpits. Her muscles shook with adrenaline.
“Who was that?” Annie stared at her in concern. “Are you okay?”
Lola stared back, her mind galloping in five different directions like spooked wild horses running for their lives.
She should tell Annie about the offer. Annie would then ask what she was going to do. Lola had to pass, obviously. Right? Was there any other option? Would Annie agree with that? What would Jazz say?
What the fuck should she do?
“I’m fine.” Lola blew out a shaky breath, stepping out of the closet. “Just—work stuff.”
She absolutely could not cancel the show. But she also couldn’t pass on this once-in-a-lifetime offer.
Lola gestured limply in the direction of the stage. “The show must, y’know…go on?”
But it was no longer a statement. Now it was a question.