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She had to think quickly. “He came for my debut performance.”
“Of course. I didn’t think about that.”
“How are the bookings after last night? I haven’t had time to check, yet.”
“We’re having one cancellation after the other.”
She flopped down in a chair. “How many?”
“More than half of our total sales.”
She wiped a hand over her face. “Let me think about this for a while.”
“If we can’t turn this around, we’re buggered.”
“I know.”
“You have to think of something, Alice. You’re the media expert.”
“All right. I’ll call you back.”
She hung up and dialed Henry’s number, but it rang busy. Giving up after trying several times, she switched on the small television in the kitchen and called Kate.
“Alice, oh, my God,” the older woman exclaimed. “I was just about to call you. What a mess. I just got off the phone with Donald.”
“Is he all right?”
“He’s been released. Are you watching the news?”
On the screen, a news anchor spoke in the front of the central police station.
“I’m watching as we speak.”
“I don’t know what’s going on. Ben called the cops this morning after resigning. He’s in custody, too. This is the biggest celeb scandal, ever.”
“We’re losing sales. I have to tell the press something. It’s better that we agree on what to say, but we shouldn’t talk on the phone.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Are you at your hotel?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Alice went upstairs and knocked on the door where Maya and Sean were working.
Maya opened it, holding a small tablet in her hand. “What’s up?”
“I have to meet Ivan’s agent, and then I need to go to The Times and my office.”
Maya threw the pad at Sean and pulled on her jacket. “We don’t have wheels but we can get some.”
Forty minutes later, Maya parked the SUV in front of Kate’s hotel. Instead of meeting in the lounge, they went up to Kate’s room. Sean and Maya kept watch by the window while Kate mixed a generous amount of vodka with a Red Bull from the minibar and offered it to Alice.
She shook her head. “No, thanks. About our statement, we have to be consistent in what we say.”
Kate lit a cigarette. “Same as always. No comment.”
“That’s what I thought.” Alice chewed her lip, thinking. “I have to find a way of getting people back into the theater. Over fifty percent have already demanded a refund, and the cancellations are rising.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“The dust isn’t going to settle on the shooting. We may as well use it to our advantage by speculating about why a fan would want to kill Ivan. We can turn him into a martyr.”
“We already did that. It’s not enough. People are too frightened to come to his show.”
“We can get special police surveillance and put extra security measures in place. We’ll run an article about that alongside.”
Kate took a deep drag from her cigarette. “Not enough. What else do you have?”
She thought for a while. “Me,” she finally said. “I’m going to sing with Ivan.”
“Yep, Clara Jones’s daughter singing with him was a big scoop, but we’ve already announced that.”
“Not why I’m doing it.”
Maya and Sean turned simultaneously to look at her.
“Why are you doing it?” Kate asked.
“I didn’t win the London Art Academy Scholarship. Ivan did.”
For a moment, no one moved. Seeming to come to her senses, Kate walked to the table and tapped the ash from her cigarette. “I can only presume he stepped down for you to take his place.”
“Yes.”
“You knew him from before.” Kate flicked her fingers. “I knew there was something between the two of you.”
“We went to the same school.”
“Ivan kept it a secret to protect you.” Kate’s eyes brightened with insight. “He cares for you.”
“He used to.” Alice studied her hands to escape Maya and Sean’s scrutinizing stares.
Kate took a seat. “This is going to make Ivan look like a hero and you a public spectacle if you don’t live up to the part. You know how the media is. You work with them every day. They’re going to crucify you and make a laughing stock out of you. I can already see where this will go.” She swiped her palm through the air, highlighting an imaginary headline. “Alice Jones steals first place from Ivan Kray.”
“I know.”
“You’d go that far to save the show? Ivan doesn’t need the money. His image survived many things before, including being labeled as a nutcase. He’ll survive this, too.”
“It’s not for him. The theater means everything to me. If we don’t sell out those tickets,” she glanced at Maya and Sean and lowered her voice, “we’re dead.”
Kate stumped out the cigarette and wiped her hands on her thighs. “As Ivan’s agent, I can only tell you to go ahead, because it’ll be great publicity for him. If I were your agent, I’d definitely advise you against it.”
