“We can definitely do anEncantosong. But there will probably be a Disney week at some point, so I’d be tempted to keep it for then?”
“How certain are we talking here?” Jack interjected before I could answer.
She didn’t suppress her laugh. “Well, we’ve had a Disney week three out of my four years here.”
“Hmm. Feels risky.”
“It’s fine.” I pushed his shoulder. “He’s not the one choosing, anyway.”
“I’m your agent, in case you forgot. I’m here to help you make the best choices.”
“Yes, with new opportunities and PR issues. Not whether we can risk potentially missing the opportunity to skate toEncanto,dickface. We’ll save it for Disney week.”
She scribbled on her papers. “Got it.Encantofor Disney week. Any other ideas for Musicals week?”
Silence fell over the room as we thought.
“How aboutGrease?” She tapped the pen against her lips.
“You know what,” Jack started, “I could totally seeGreaseworking for you both.”
“It could work,” I agreed, knowing people loved the musical.
“You’ve got that whole brooding dickhead vibe about you.” He gestured toward my vicinity. “And Matilda’s obviously got the sweet girl-next-door down to a T. It would actually match you both well.”
“You know I pay you, right?” I deadpanned.
“I do. I see my paycheck reference of ‘I’m an uptight bastard’ every month.”
“Then stop insulting me, maybe?”
“It’s not an insult if it’s true! You do give off ‘don’t fucking look at me’ vibes, and you know it.” I thought I’d rolled my eyes at Jack, in this dressing room alone, more times than I’d heard the word “cut” in my entire career.
“Maybe it’s because I spend ninety percent of my time around you.”
“You only have yourself to blame there, buddy. As we just established, you pay me to hang around.”
“Has anyone done aGreasemash-up before? That might be a good way to get a lot in, right?”
“They haven’t, no. But that’s probably because we won’t have time. We only get ninety to one hundred and ten seconds per skate, so I think it would be squeezing too much in,” she provided an answer.
I nodded and crossed that one off my mental list.
“I am pretty sure ‘Greased Lightnin’’ has been done before, so it would be good to choose a different song.”
“I’ll look at the soundtrack.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, googledGrease,and read through the song list.
Jack shuffled toward me, our thighs touching on the sofa and his breath in myear.
“For fuck’s sake, man, can you back up?” I pushed him, unable to contain the small curve of my lips. “What’s your problem?”
“I want to look at the list!” he moaned like a petulant child.
“Then look at your own goddamned phone. I just had your warm, stinky breath in my ear.” I rubbed it, trying to erase the feeling.
“My breath is not stinky!” His head swiveled to Matilda. “I promise, it’s not. I take dental hygiene very seriously.”
“I believe you.” A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes.
