“Right…” Lola said, still faking her way along. “Yeah…I don’t know…”

“There are almost a hundred people here, Lola. There’s an ice sculpture on the front desk, which is now a bar.”

Dead air on Lola’s end for a moment.

“I see what you mean,” she said. She was still doing the happy voice, but there was a clear strain to it now. “I’ll see what I can do. Okay! See you soon! Clean up that big party you’ve been having!”

There was a pained fake laugh, and she hung up.

“Okay,” she said, glancing around quickly and settling on the caterers, who were slouched on some chairs in the corner. “I kind of need you guys to go. Now. As quick as you can.”

“I’ll take us fifteen minutes to bring the van around and find a place to park,” one of them said.

“Fifteen. Whatever. Just fast.”

They stared at her, a little slack-jawed. Scarlett wondered if she should just ask the caterers to beat her to death with the big, melting ice book. What did Mrs. Amberson do at times like this? Offer to pay people. Seem confident.

“Look, if you can do it, I’ll make sure you get an extra…fifty bucks each.”

This seemed to change the situation entirely. Suddenly, they were moving.

“What about this champagne?” the other one asked. “That lady bought it all.”

“Uh…right. Fourth floor, Empire Suite. Door’s open. And can you take these flowers up there, too?”

There was no time to be delicate. Scarlett threw herself at anything she could possibly move. She dragged the mats from the floor and threw them down the basement steps. When the final round of applause rang out and the cast had left the stage and made their way into the kitchen, she grabbed Mrs. Amberson while she was still in her seat, pulling her away from whatever conversation she had started.

“O’Hara,” she hissed. “What are you…?”

“You need to get these people out of here, now,” Scarlett said. “They’re on their way home.”

Mrs. Amberson clicked her teeth together once.

“Everyone!” she said, standing on a chair. “Due to the usual constraints of this performance space, I have to ask you to make your way out now. However, may I suggest that we reconvene at The St. Regis bar?”

These words had little effect. The group was busy chatting amongst one another. Scarlett had to resort to pulling up all the unoccupied chairs and stacking them, just to give them the idea that they really did have to go. It took fifteen minutes for the two of them to get everyone out of that room, but some still lingered in the lobby. Scarlett closed the dining room doors and looked at the scene in front of her. A stage, curtains and blankets and candles, ramps…There was no way it could all be hidden.

Some of the cast members began to creep out, not knowing that anything was amiss. Scarlett ran to the kitchen to find Spencer. He was sitting on the table, talking to Stephanie in a very flirty manner. He had wiped half his makeup off, roughly.