Page 2 of For My Finale
One more look at the horrified, delighted, astonished faces that she knew so well, and she swept off the stage, leaving a stunned silence behind her.
BACKSTAGE, CHAOS HAD already erupted. Producers were scrambling, assistants were whispering frantically into earpieces, and more than one reporter was clawing for a phone. Lilah sighed and stopped walking, freezing in one spot so that the chaos had to spin around her.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck.”
She grinned and tossed her red hair over her shoulder. It was about time.
“What the actual fuck was that, Li?” Margot said, marching over and planting herself in front of Lilah with her hands on her hips. “Are you having a stroke?” she demanded. “Did someone drug you? Blink twice if you need help.”
Lilah gave her a lazy smile, the one that had got her on the cover of People magazine. “Sorry, Mags.”
“Sorry?” Margot said. “Sorry? That… what… no, just no.”
“I meant it,” shrugged Lilah.
“Meant it? Meant what?”
“What I said.”
Margot pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb and took a patient breath. “Lilah. You just announced your retirement during your Oscar speech.” A vein was starting to visibly throb in Margot’s temple.
“Yep,” said Lilah.
“Retirement.”
“That is correct.”
Margot flung her arms in the air. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
“Ended my suffering,” Lilah said. “Have you got any snacks?”
“Suffering?” asked Margot, rooting around in her enormous purse and producing a gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan, non-cereal-containing cereal bar. “You’re at the top of your game. People would kill for your career. You’ve quite literally just won an Oscar. A fucking Oscar, Lilah.”
“I want to make toast,” Lilah cut in serenely. “And a sandwich. Oh, and I want to try one of those croissants that are wrapped around a cookie. What are they called?” She looked at the cereal bar. “No, not that. Something that’s actually food.”
“So this is all about food?” Margot said, reaching back into her back and pulling out a Three Musketeers chocolate bar.
“No,” said Lilah, grabbing the chocolate and ripping it open.
“Then what—”
“I quit,” said Lilah gently. “That’s it, Mags. I quit. I’m done. No more of all this,” she gestured around her and took a bite of the chocolate bar. It tasted like heaven and cardboard. Not quitewhat she’d expected, but she’d go with it.
The press were already in a frenzy, social media would be exploding with theories. Was she pregnant? Joining a cult? Having a Britney 2007 moment? Was it all a PR stunt?
Only Lilah knew that it was none of those things. It was an ending. Time to stop. Time to do something other than this. What, she had no idea. She just knew that she couldn’t do this anymore. She patted Margot on the shoulder. “I’ll send you a postcard,” she said, handing the rest of the chocolate bar back to her before walking off to walk the press gauntlet.
“Oh. My. God. Quitting is so brave,” said a second-rate actress that Lilah knew but couldn’t name. “Does this mean that the Tarantino role is up for grabs again?”
“Have at it,” said Lilah, still walking.
“What about one last film?” said a director she definitely knew, reaching out an arm to stop her. “A passion project. A swan song. Full nudity, non-simulated sex on screen, a real piece of art. What do you say, Li? Huh?”
Lilah sniffed. “Who’s the co-star?”
He only blushed slightly. “Well, me.”
She snorted a laugh. “Tempting. But no, thanks.”
