Dirk leaned forward, and by the look on his face, I could tell he was ready to put in his two cents. “A fresh face is nice, but we can’t afford for this shit to go sideways.”
I laughed, not trying to disguise my amusement one bit. “Shit’s already gone sideways, Dick. Or have you forgotten why we had to close our doors in the first place?”
Dirk threw me a glare, telling me, in zero words, to shut the hell up. Then he turned back to the panel. “Who’s to say the show won’t be a hit and we can’t add it to more locations? We could make Kai an understudy now, give her the training, and then put her onboard another ship to take over the lead when that time came.”
All the air between my fingers vanished the instant I balled them up, trying to hold back my retort to everything Dirk was spewing. The dick still thought this was his show, his rules. Well, screw that. Time to regain some control.
“Wait a sec,” I said. “Our deal was one last run. We end Angst and Grace, and then we move on. The end.”
“I know that’s what you want, Bash, but open your eyes. This show still has life in it, and it deserves to be seen.”
I shook my head, refusing to entertain anything Dirk was suggesting. “Not happening. I’m not interested in capitalizing on a story I don’t believe in anymore. You got me to agree to one last run, and that’s what I’m giving you.”
Dirk dropped the stack of headshots onto the table and slammed his fists down. “Do you realize how much I’ve invested in this show over the last four years? How much time it’s taken to get Angst and Grace picked back up after our end on Broadway?” He slammed his fist again and raised his voice. “You have no idea what it takes to make this shit work. No fucking idea. You just sit there behind your grand piano, singing into the empty void that is your life, and you expect to be the one to call the shots? You do not own this musical. We’re partners, like it or not. And as much as you don’t want Angst and Grace to live on, it will. This show is gold, Bash. Gold.”
I swiped at a spray of Dirk’s spittle that had fallen onto my arm. “Correction, Dick. The music is gold. The show is shit.”
Everyone gasped, and Dirk leaned in again with fire in his eyes. “Thank your lucky stars that Margaret isn’t here to listen to your narcissistic ass speak. She put just as much time into that choreography as you did into your music. But if you feel that strongly about how weak this show is, then feel free to leave. I’ll even pay for your way back to New York. Just sign on the dotted line, Bash.”
Okay, I knew I’d crossed a line there. I hadn’t been the only one to put in work to bring Angst and Grace to life. And I didn’t hate the production at all. I hated Dirk, which was exactly why the show had to end—I couldn’t work with him anymore.
But his investment had barely started profiting by the time the show tanked on Broadway. In my defense, the show would have never gone under if not for Dirk. In my mind, he was getting exactly what he deserved.
“This show could be the next Movin’ Out, just like we’d always planned,” he said.
I snorted. “And see how well that ended for them.”
Dirk stood. “It’s still a best-selling international tour, you small-minded prick. Have some respect.”
I stood, too, and leaned in so that I was only inches away from my old friend, with only a flimsy foldout table separating us. “Watch your mouth, Dick, or you’ll be sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you’ve already made me.” He practically spat through clenched teeth while his face grew shades darker by the second. “After everything I did for this show. After everything I’m still doing. I think I deserve a little respect.”
Rage swirled through my chest. “You’re already taking fifty percent of the profits on the final run. Isn’t that enough? You’ll make your stupid investment back and even profit well.”
“After four years, I should be—”
“Jesus,” Deb, the casting director, cut in. “Can you two focus on why we’re here today? We need a lead, so let’s pick one. I cast my vote.”
I bent my brows inward. “Who did you choose?”
Deb shrugged. “Kai. She checks off all my boxes, minus the theater experience bit, but that’s what the next two months are for. She’ll pick it up in no time.”
Dirk ran a hand through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck. For some reason, he wasn’t convinced that Kai was the right choice. His investment was on the line, and Kai could make or break this thing. “What about that Madeline girl?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t think so, Dirk. Madeline has the experience, but she doesn’t have the spark we’re looking for. We need another Claudette.”
At the mention of her name, dread filled me like wet cement seconds from settling. I could kill Jimmy for even bringing her up. But it was too late. Dirk’s eyes lit up at the idea, and I knew the light at the end of the tunnel was miles farther than I’d hoped.
“There’s a thought,” he said.
“No, Dirk,” I said, my voice low, my tone warning.
“Hold up,” he said, darting a glance to me. “I know this is a sore subject, but what about bringing Claudette in for this? She’s loo—”
“No!” I roared.
Dirk shot me a glare. “She’s looking for work. She’s the original Grace. It could actually be a hit with the tabloi—”
“No,” I said again, slamming my fist on the table. “Out of the question.”
A frustrated growl came from the panel, this time from Jimmy. “Will you two please cut this out? We have a show to put together and less than one week to get our cast squared away. Can you two settle this damn feud before you sink the ship we haven’t even boarded yet? The last thing we need is another story to hit the Broadway rumor-mill. We’d all be out of jobs.”
Jimmy was right. As much as everyone else, I didn’t want to bring drama into this production. Unfortunately, the damage was done. I was just there to shut the door on it, once and for all.
“What happens to this show once this series kicks off is moot at this point,” Jimmy said, looking between Dirk and me. Then he clapped a hand on my back. “We’re here today to choose a female lead, and I agree with the majority that Kai is our best option. Does anyone oppose?”
I bit my tongue. As much as Pink Tights had gotten under my skin today, I also wasn’t blind. She was the best one in the room by a mile.
“Okay, it’s done then.” Deb stood, looking relieved to be calling it a day. “I’ll reach out to her agent and make an offer. And I’ll offer Margaret the understudy role.”
“And if Kai doesn’t accept?” Dirk asked Jimmy, leaving his eyes on me. “Madeline isn’t fit for the lead. Not yet, anyway. We need a solid principal cast for this first run.”
Jimmy waved his hands in the air. “One issue at a time. But no one is calling Claudette until we hear back from Kai.” He stabbed a glare at Dirk then started collecting his things. “See you all tomorrow.”
Dirk’s eyes remained on mine in a stare down that spoke the only language we both knew: Claudette. He wasn’t just trying to rile me up by mentioning her. He was dead serious about bringing her onboard. I wouldn’t let that happen.