Alice stared at the data thoughtfully, jotting brief notes as the ideas came. The problem wasn’t that Vivienne was a terrible agent—or any of the others there at Grayson Wells—but more the simple facts of their industry as a whole. Clients had a limited time to be the new, fresh face on the scene, but once that glow of novelty faded and other, brighter prospects came along, it was easy to be shuffled to the bottom of the priority list and overlooked for easier, larger commissions. Alice had little doubt that with the full force of Vivienne’s talents now behind him, Nick Savage would quickly ascend the ranks, but it was what happened next, after those few early breaks had been forgotten, that really determined an actor’s career—or hers.
Alice felt a sense of possibility grow the longer she considered their files. If she knew Vivienne, then neither Kieran nor Julia had received more than an emailed list of appointments for months now. Surely they would leap at the chance for some personalized attention, particularly if it came under the Grayson Wells brand name? The only real challenge, then, as far as she could see, was the small matter of how to become their new agent without the knowledge or support of their old one.
“Alice?” After an hour of strategic planning, her intercom buzzed to life. “Alice, it’s Tyrell. We need you down here—Vivienne’s out, and Saskia hasn’t showed up yet.”
Of course she hadn’t. “Fine, I’ll be right down.”
She pushed her notebook aside with regret. The moment she descended those stairs, her whole day would be gone—she knew that from experience. There would be phones to answer, and deliveries to sort, and clients requiring coffee and small talk—and her own work would still be there, waiting, when she returned. It wasn’t until Alice was halfway to the door that it struck her. Tyrell hadn’t even bothered to climb two flights of stairs and ask in person; he’d just buzzed and expected her to come running. Like she always did.
She stopped.
“Hi, Tyrell?” Alice returned to her desk with a new sense of determination. “Yes, I’m afraid I can’t do it. I’m buried up here.”
“But the phones are going crazy.” Tyrell sounded confused.
“Then call a temp in,” she replied, strangely unmoved. “The agency number is on a blue Post-it, by the copier.”
Alice hung up before he could object. Whoever it was who had talked about the power of no was clearly on the right track, she decided, wondering for the first time why she hadn’t simply refused their appeals before. It had always just been easier to keep things running herself, but now, it struck Alice as a rather self-defeating strategy. The more she did, the less any of them expected to do, until the sight of a missing receptionist sent them into a panicked frenzy. Well, no more. Alice set her intercom to silent and swiveled back to those restricted internal files. She had some future clients to woo.
***
“Once more everybody, and this time, really hit it!”
Alice stifled a groan as the thumping R&B track cued up to the intro. There were still ten minutes until the end of her Wednesday class, but already her workout vest was sticking to her body in damp patches, and her neck ached from attempting to mimic the diva’s head-tossing moves. Alice wasn’t sure quite what elastic limbs enabled half the class to swing their hips so, but whatever it was, she was still sorely lacking.
“If I die, can you tell my family I went doing Pilates and not a Beyoncé routine?” The murmur came from just behind her, where Nadia, the freckled woman from her other classes, was breathing heavily, clearly worn out.
Alice smiled with what little energy she had left. “Come on, it’s a worthy cause. Who wouldn’t want to die trying to get that circular hip-thrust thing just right?”
Nadia grinned back. “Right. Keep your eye on the prize.”
“Quiet ladies!” Their petite instructor barked, terrifying in her lurid pink vest and Lycra hot pants. “Less chat, more dance. And five, six, seven, eight!”
With a last burst of energy, Alice lurched into the routine. Well, less lurched than lunged—her weeks of training were providing some improvement, at least. Alice found herself relishing the more aggressive style of the movement, feeling a now-familiar rush of endorphins as she threw herself into the steps. She hit the last pose with considerably more precision than she’d ever mustered before.
“See, I told you it gets better,” Nadia managed to enthuse, once they’d stretched to warm down and were gulping from bottles of water en route to the changing rooms.
“I don’t know about better…” Alice felt the ache still pull in her muscles. “But marginally less terrifying, sure.” She found her locker and sank down on the bench for a moment, too exhausted even to peel off her trainers. But it was a satisfied sort of exhaustion, the kind that kept her coming back here, long after it became apparent nobody had any information about Ella.
“Ella? Ella?”
Alice finally glanced up to find Nadia looking at her expectantly. “Oh, sorry—I was spaced out there,” she hurriedly covered, beginning to hunt through her gym bag for her towel.
“No problem, I get like that too after class.” Nadia reached to scoop her hair up into a messy bun and began to undress. “Sometimes I just kind of drift home, without even paying attention to the bus route or anything.”
“And then you wake up and wonder why you’re not in Walthamstow,” Alice agreed. “It’s muscle memory, I suppose. Like with the steps.”
“Speak for yourself.” Nadia took off her thin glasses and propped them on her locker shelf. “My muscles aren’t remembering anything at the moment.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh well, if I wanted life to be easy, I’d be doing beginner’s yoga.”
Alice smiled, remembering her own ill-advised brush with the yogic arts. “Good luck with that. Anyway, see you next week!”
“Yup!” Nadia paused by the shower area, arms full of shampoo and gel bottles. “Hey, I’m getting together with some friends for a drink when I’m done here. Do you want to come along?”
Alice looked over in surprise. “Um, I have plans, actually. But maybe another time?”
“Sure.” Nadia grinned. “Have fun.”
***
Alice thought that she would, but when she arrived at the busy Soho pub to find Yasmin tight-lipped at a corner table, she couldn’t help but wish she’d taken Nadia up on her offer instead.