Madison Blake's Arc

Chapter 3 of 7

Four days out, Madison sat at the bar with Harper's ledger open between them and a fresh problem stacked on top of the old one. The bank would only release money against invoices. No vendor would send an invoice without a signed contract. The lighting company had been the clearest about it that morning, a bored voice on the phone telling her paper first, bulbs later. "So draft the contract," Harper said. "I don't have one." "Then you don't have lights." Madison pulled her laptop close and stared at a blank document. Every template she found online was for weddings or warehouses. Nothing said stage. Nothing said burlesque. She typed a line, deleted it, typed it again. Victoria came in near noon, yellow suit crisp, a folder tucked under one arm. She dropped the folder on the bar without breaking stride. "I had my lawyer mark one up last night," Victoria said. "Scope, equipment, rehearsal calls, payment terms, cancellation. Fill in the blanks." Madison opened the folder. The page inside was heavy stock, fine print in neat blocks under a decorated border. Scope of Lighting Services. Equipment Provided. Show Schedule and Rehearsals. Payment Terms. Cancellation Policy. A blank line at the bottom waited for her name. "Why do you have this?" Madison asked. "Because you don't." Victoria tapped the page. "Sign it. Send it. Get your invoice." Madison read every line twice. She wrote in the rig list from the lighting company's quote. She wrote in the load-in date, the rehearsal call, the cancellation window. Harper leaned over her shoulder and corrected two numbers. Madison signed the bottom line. Her hand shook once and then held. She scanned the page and sent it. She called the vendor and read them the reference number. The bored voice on the other end warmed a degree. "Invoice in an hour," the voice said. It came in forty minutes. A clean PDF with a total that matched the quote. Madison forwarded it to Harper, who forwarded it to the bank, who forwarded back a release form that needed Madison's signature again. She signed. Harper signed under her. The money moved. Somewhere in a warehouse, a crate of stage bulbs got tagged with the club's address. Harper closed the ledger. "Lights on the truck by Thursday." Madison exhaled for what felt like the first time in a week. Then Victoria's phone buzzed on the bar between them. Victoria read the screen and her mouth went flat. "Scarlett's asking about her dressing room," Victoria said. "She wants to see it tomorrow. She says if it's not what we promised in her contract, she walks." Madison looked at the folder still open on the bar, at the neat little clause about equipment provided, and thought about the back room upstairs, the room she had promised without ever measuring.