The Greatest Showman#633 - move after

The night at Pioneer Village was far from over. Even though the performance had officially ended at 9:30, the crowd showed no signs of dispersing. The festive atmosphere carried on until nearly 11:00, and for some, the night was just beginning. Most of Renly's supporters gradually left, but a handful stayed behind, enjoying their drinks and conversation. Soon enough, a group of partygoers, drawn by the lively commotion, arrived with the intent of making it an all-nighter.

Stepping away from the bustling crowd, Renly made his way to the bar, tapping the counter lightly. "Neil, give me a soda."

He needed to soothe his throat—tonight's performance had been as demanding as a full-length show on the West End. And it wasn't just his voice; his wrists ached as well. He flexed them slightly, trying to relieve the tension. It had been years since he last experienced this kind of strain—probably not since those childhood days when he spent hours practicing the piano. He had long since lost track of how many autographs he had signed. Two hundred? Three hundred? At some point, the number ceased to matter.

Andy, seated nearby, chuckled as he observed Renly's state. "You know, you don't have to be so diligent."

Renly looked up, puzzled. Andy elaborated, "Even professional singers usually cap their signing sessions—one hundred, maybe one-fifty at most. Then they call it a night."

Renly took the soda from Neil and grinned. "That's fair. But I'm not a professional singer." He took a long sip, then exhaled in satisfaction. Placing the glass down, he turned to Neil. "I'm heading out. Say hi to George and Stanley for me."

Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the door.

"Renly, Renly!" Neil called after him, but by then, he was already gone. Neil shook his head with a wry smile. "I just wanted to say thanks..."

Andy watched Renly's retreating figure, a knowing smile playing at his lips. Despite his talent and fame, Renly remained refreshingly sincere. He didn't play by industry rules—he treated people with genuine warmth.

Turning to Roy, Andy noticed his companion lost in thought, staring into the dimly lit bar. "Let's go," Andy said, clapping Roy on the shoulder. "I need to drop by Renly's place anyway."

Roy hesitated briefly before downing the rest of his beer. He looked over at Neil and said, "Tell Nathan he's got the night off. He can come back to work tomorrow."

With that, he got up and followed Andy out the door. By the time they reached the street, Renly and Andy were already in a taxi. Roy climbed into the back seat, the door clicked shut, and the car sped off into the night.

Back at the bar, Nathan blinked in confusion. "Wait... where did they go?"

Renly leaned back against the taxi seat, closing his eyes for a brief rest. He hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until now. After all, the past twenty-four hours had been relentless: a long flight back, a visit to Mount Sinai Hospital, and then tonight's performance. His body was still adjusting from the leisurely pace of his vacation.

In the span of ten minutes, the taxi arrived at his apartment. Roy nudged Renly awake, and the three of them headed upstairs. The door slid open with a quiet clatter, and the cool night air followed them inside. Roy hung back to close the door while Renly made a beeline for the sofa, sinking into its comforting embrace. His eyelids drooped once more, but the buzzing in his pocket kept him from drifting off.

He retrieved his phone and saw a message from Heather: "Being observed."

The words jolted him awake. He read the message twice, then adjusted his position and quickly typed a reply: "A friend. Don't you have to be up early to practice guitar? I think someone's trying to slack off."

After hitting send, he chuckled to himself, picturing Heather's reaction. Placing the phone on the table, he looked up at Andy and Roy, who had settled into their seats.

"I'm grabbing a beer. Either of you want one?" he asked, his voice light despite the fatigue.

Andy and Roy exchanged glances, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in mood.

Andy, ever the agent, couldn't resist asking, his gaze flicking to Renly's phone. "Are you dating someone?" It was a logical assumption—Renly had just returned from vacation, and exotic destinations often came with whirlwind romances.

Renly, now in the kitchen, laughed. "I expected a bit more imagination from you." He didn't confirm or deny, but his playful tone made his stance clear. "If I start dating, trust me—you'll know before the paparazzi."

Andy chuckled, satisfied with the response, but Roy was more curious. "So, what's the deal? Something good happen?"

"Yeah, something good," Renly replied as he set down a few bottles of beer. "I've been volunteering at Mount Sinai, and today a little boy got a heart transplant. I just got word that the surgery went well, and he's stable for now. I plan to visit him before heading to Toronto."

Andy nodded, already familiar with Renly's work at the hospital, but Roy was hearing about it for the first time. He exchanged a look with Andy before refocusing on the matter at hand.

"The reason we came over so late is because this is urgent," Andy said, shifting the conversation. "Universal is turning up the pressure. They're using the media to spin the narrative, implying that you're asking for an unreasonable salary..."

"How much did you ask for?" Renly interrupted.

"Seven million." Andy leaned back, gauging Renly's reaction. Negotiations had been ongoing, but he had firmly held his ground. Universal was pushing back hard, but Andy wasn't one to back down easily. He knew Renly's worth.

Renly nodded slightly. "I suppose that does sound ambitious."

Andy smirked. "And I haven't even started negotiating the box office percentage yet. If they're already balking, maybe it's better to walk away now."

Renly didn't respond immediately. He wasn't particularly attached to the idea of a high salary, but he also understood the broader implications. Compensation wasn't just about money—it was about recognition and leverage in future projects. And if Universal wasn't willing to show respect now, it wasn't a good sign for their long-term relationship.

Andy continued, "On top of that, Michael Fordridge isn't giving up. He's applying pressure in other ways, too."

Renly's expression didn't change, but the room grew noticeably heavier. The negotiation wasn't just about numbers—it was about power plays.

Andy took a sip of his beer and leaned forward. "So, how do you want to play this?"

Renly met his gaze, his mind already working through the next steps.