watch—“an hour ago.”
“An hour ago?” Philip repeated. “An hour—”
“Who?” screamed Emily. “Who who who who?”
Daphne looked at them, dumbfounded. “Marlena!” she said. “Marlena Ortiz!”
14
“I BELIEVE IN YOU”
How to Succeed in Business
Without Really Trying
1961. Music and lyrics by Frank Loesser,
book by Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert
Philip and Emily gaped at each other. An hour ago—that would have been right about the time Emily was faking a puke attack in Mr. Henderson’s class, the same time that Philip, who hadn’t bothered to show up at his social studies class at all, was sitting in the IHOP across the street from Eleanor Roosevelt High School, waiting for Emily and drinking watery coffee and staring at the train schedule even though he knew it by heart.
Why, Philip thought bitterly, why couldn’t they have wireless Internet access on the Long Island Rail Road, would that be so frickin’ hard?
Daphne looked at them with pity. “Oh my God! You mean you didn’t know?”
Emily’s stomach gave a little twist. “Of course we knew,” she heard herself say. Truthfully, until that minute some secret part of her had clung to the possibility that it was all just noxious gossip, spread, perhaps, by the cast of some competing show, or a publicist for Wicked like Ian had said. The stomach pain was spreading upward, into her chest.
Philip looked at Emily, who was wheezing in an asthma-attack kind of way, though he knew she didn’t have asthma. He put his hand on her shoulder, to steady both of them.
Data, numbers, facts, figures. That’s what Philip needed. Then he would know what to do. “What did Marlena’s post say?” he asked Daphne. “Did she say why the show was closing? Did she say when?”
“She was pissed! She was filled with righteousness!” Daphne cried. “She said the producers made the decision to close and didn’t even tell Marlena or anyone! They were trying to keep it secret—they thought if Marlena knew, she would walk! As if Marlena Ortiz would ever walk out on Aurora ! As if !” Daphne yelled it to the skies.
The line moved forward an infinitesimal amount. Philip looked at his watch. It was three o’clock. The box office had just opened.
“But Marlena found out somehow—you know Marlena!—and she was like, no way José!” Daphne continued, wagging her finger the way Marlena always did in the first-act finale, in a song titled “You Gotta Show the Love.” “ ‘The fans need to know so they can come show the love,’ that’s what Marlena said! So she posted it on the blog right away. I guess word got around fast. I ran right outta my office when I saw it. I’m gonna lose my job over this one.” Daphne closed her eyes and began to sing.
“Show it show it show it show it,
Show the love,
You gotta show it show it show it show it,
Show the love,
You gotta show the love!”
Daphne started to sway as she sang.
Though she loved every syllable and every note of every song from Aurora, hearing Daphne sing “Show the Love” under these circumstances made Emily want to smack her. “Did she say when the final show is?” Emily yelled, rather close to Daphne’s face. Five hundred (or more) people standing in a mob were making a fearsome background noise.
Daphne opened her eyes. “Two weeks from Saturday,” she said. “You better get on the back of the line, girl, there is no way we’re all gonna get tickets!” Daphne draped her scarf across her face like a veil and started dancing. “I heard they’re only letting each person buy two.”
“Philip!” Emily said, her voice rising with panic. “Did you hear that?”
Of course he had. His mind was already calculating—two weeks, sixteen performances. It was reasonable to assume the roughly 1,500-seat theatre was presold for say, seventy percent of the tickets, leaving approximately 450 seats unsold for each performance, for a
“An hour ago?” Philip repeated. “An hour—”
“Who?” screamed Emily. “Who who who who?”
Daphne looked at them, dumbfounded. “Marlena!” she said. “Marlena Ortiz!”
14
“I BELIEVE IN YOU”
How to Succeed in Business
Without Really Trying
1961. Music and lyrics by Frank Loesser,
book by Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert
Philip and Emily gaped at each other. An hour ago—that would have been right about the time Emily was faking a puke attack in Mr. Henderson’s class, the same time that Philip, who hadn’t bothered to show up at his social studies class at all, was sitting in the IHOP across the street from Eleanor Roosevelt High School, waiting for Emily and drinking watery coffee and staring at the train schedule even though he knew it by heart.
Why, Philip thought bitterly, why couldn’t they have wireless Internet access on the Long Island Rail Road, would that be so frickin’ hard?
Daphne looked at them with pity. “Oh my God! You mean you didn’t know?”
Emily’s stomach gave a little twist. “Of course we knew,” she heard herself say. Truthfully, until that minute some secret part of her had clung to the possibility that it was all just noxious gossip, spread, perhaps, by the cast of some competing show, or a publicist for Wicked like Ian had said. The stomach pain was spreading upward, into her chest.
Philip looked at Emily, who was wheezing in an asthma-attack kind of way, though he knew she didn’t have asthma. He put his hand on her shoulder, to steady both of them.
Data, numbers, facts, figures. That’s what Philip needed. Then he would know what to do. “What did Marlena’s post say?” he asked Daphne. “Did she say why the show was closing? Did she say when?”
“She was pissed! She was filled with righteousness!” Daphne cried. “She said the producers made the decision to close and didn’t even tell Marlena or anyone! They were trying to keep it secret—they thought if Marlena knew, she would walk! As if Marlena Ortiz would ever walk out on Aurora ! As if !” Daphne yelled it to the skies.
The line moved forward an infinitesimal amount. Philip looked at his watch. It was three o’clock. The box office had just opened.
“But Marlena found out somehow—you know Marlena!—and she was like, no way José!” Daphne continued, wagging her finger the way Marlena always did in the first-act finale, in a song titled “You Gotta Show the Love.” “ ‘The fans need to know so they can come show the love,’ that’s what Marlena said! So she posted it on the blog right away. I guess word got around fast. I ran right outta my office when I saw it. I’m gonna lose my job over this one.” Daphne closed her eyes and began to sing.
“Show it show it show it show it,
Show the love,
You gotta show it show it show it show it,
Show the love,
You gotta show the love!”
Daphne started to sway as she sang.
Though she loved every syllable and every note of every song from Aurora, hearing Daphne sing “Show the Love” under these circumstances made Emily want to smack her. “Did she say when the final show is?” Emily yelled, rather close to Daphne’s face. Five hundred (or more) people standing in a mob were making a fearsome background noise.
Daphne opened her eyes. “Two weeks from Saturday,” she said. “You better get on the back of the line, girl, there is no way we’re all gonna get tickets!” Daphne draped her scarf across her face like a veil and started dancing. “I heard they’re only letting each person buy two.”
“Philip!” Emily said, her voice rising with panic. “Did you hear that?”
Of course he had. His mind was already calculating—two weeks, sixteen performances. It was reasonable to assume the roughly 1,500-seat theatre was presold for say, seventy percent of the tickets, leaving approximately 450 seats unsold for each performance, for a
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