Стюарт Вудс - Shakeup

“Who doesn’t?”

“She and Donald Clark have been part of a threesome in the past.”

“Wow again. So you think he’s being framed?”

“Maybe, or maybe they’re just rattling his cage, to show him who’s in charge. They transferred him to New York, to get him out of the way, but he was still talking — to Dino and me. I’m sure there’ll be photographers waiting at the police helipad in D.C.”

“Okay, I’ll get a guy over there right now to deal with bail, and I’ll be in D.C. first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got a thing I have to deal with here today.”

“Good enough. Let Joan know if Art needs bail money.” Stone hung up.

Lara was upstairs unpacking in the women’s dressing room in the master suite. She gave him a big kiss. “How was your lunch?”

“Fine. You know who Leo Goldman Jr. is?”

“Head of the studio? He wasn’t at our meeting.”

“He died while we were having lunch. He had been in a hospice for a couple of days.”

“I never met him, but I saw his name in the trades a lot.”

“Leo, like his father, liked to get his name in print.”

“What does that mean for Peter and Ben? I liked them. I hope Goldman’s death is not a problem for them.”

“It’s more of an opportunity, really. We’ll probably get Ben elected CEO at the next board meeting.”

“Do you have something to do with that?”

“I’m on the board, and I’m sure we can muster enough shareholders’ votes to get the board to appoint Ben. He’s pretty much been doing the job while Leo has been sick.”

“Good for Ben. What about Peter?”

“What’s good for Ben is good for Peter. They’ve been partners since they were kids. I don’t think Peter wants more executive work to do. He just wants to direct, and Ben still produces his pictures.”

Lara stripped down to nothing. “What should I wear this evening?”

“I like that outfit,” Stone said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“But for dinner, I guess something casually elegant.”

“I’ll aim for that.”

“There are some good shops in the hotel. Have a look over there, and charge whatever you like to me.”

“Wonderful.” She took his hand and led him to the bed, then started undressing him. “I need a new agent. You know anybody?”

“Probably. Who’s representing you now?”

“A guy named Guy Baxter is telling everybody he is, except he’s not.”

“Explain.”

“Somebody sent me to see him a couple of weeks ago, and he tried to get me to sign a contract, but I wouldn’t. I found him creepy. And if I think that, the studios probably do, too.” She curled up next to him and put her head on his shoulder.

“Did he arrange the appointment with Peter?”

“No, he didn’t even know about it. Jeff Tatum, my new leading man, told Peter about me, and they called. Jeff’s represented by a guy at CAA.”

“Who sent you to see this Guy Baxter?”

“A bartender at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I was having a drink with a girlfriend, and he waved Guy over and said, ‘This girl needs an agent.’”

“That was it?”

“All of it. Guy actually called Peter and asked to introduce me to him, but Peter smelled a rat, I think. I already had the appointment by that time, anyway.”

“Well, you want to get that out before your casting hits the trades,” Stone said. “When you’re done doing what you’re doing, write down his name and address, and I’ll dictate a letter to him, warning him off.”

“I think I’ll be finished very, very soon,” she said.

“I think you will, too,” Stone said.

Stone called Joan. “Take a letter, to one Guy Baxter:

Dear Mr. Baxter,

I am the attorney for Lara Parks, who has heard that you’ve been telling people that you represent her as an agent.

You do not represent her, nor has she authorized you to tell anyone that you do.

I am directed by Ms. Parks to tell you that, unless you cease and desist, forthwith, she will bring a legal action against you and send a copy of the writ to the various trade publications.

“Et cetera, et cetera. Then forge my signature, which you’re good at, and fax it to” — he held out his hand, and Lara gave him the agent’s card — “Guy Baxter.” He gave her the number.

“Got it. Anybody I know?”

“No, but you will. She’s the star of Peter’s new film.”

“I’ll have the fax out of here in ten minutes.”

“Bye.” Stone hung up.

“That sounded good,” Lara said.

“He may not give up. If he calls, don’t argue with him. Just tell him he does not represent you, then hang up.”

“Right.” She started dressing. By the time she had finished, her phone was ringing. “Hello? Listen to me very carefully, Mr. Baxter. You do not now nor have you ever represented me in any fashion.” She hung up. “You were right,” she said to Stone.

Immediately, Stone’s phone started to ring. He looked at his phone. “It’s Baxter. My secretary must have used a letterhead with this number on it. “Hello.”

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Guy Baxter, Lara Parks’s agent.”

“I said in my letter all that I have to say to you.”

“Did she tell you she signed a contract with me?”

“She did not, because she has not done so.”

“I’ll send you a copy,” he said. “You’re at the Arrington, right?”

“Goodbye, Mr. Baxter.” He hung up and turned to Lara. “Did you sign anything when you were in Baxter’s office?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Good.”

“Oh, he asked me for my autograph; I gave him that.”

“What kind of paper?”

“A blank sheet.” Her face fell. “Oh, God.”

“This complicates things. He’s going to send me a contract — a very unfavorable one, I suspect — and it will have your signature on it.”

“No, it won’t,” she said.

“You didn’t sign your name?”

“I gave him my autograph,” she said. “Not my signature. They’re different.”

“How so?”

“My autograph is sort of swirling, and carefully written, to be legible. My signature, as on the checks I write, is smaller, faster, and pretty much illegible.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” Stone said. They got into an Arrington Bentley and were approaching the gate when a guard flagged them down. He rapped on Stone’s window.

“Yes?” Stone asked, rolling it down.

“Delivery for you, Mr. Barrington,” he said.

“Thank you.” Stone ripped open the envelope and switched on the reading lamp. “It’s the contract,” he said, leafing through it. “He says he’s not only your agent, but your personal manager, and that you’re paying him fifteen percent for agenting and twenty-five percent for managing, which includes signing your checks and paying your bills.” He showed her the contract. “Is that your signature or your autograph?”

“It’s my autograph,” Lara replied. “I can show you other examples of it on my head shots that I send out with replies to fan mail.”

“You get fan mail?”

“I’m on TV. I don’t get a lot of mail, but enough to have the pictures printed with my autograph on them. The network sends them out; it saves me a lot of time.”

“What are you on, on TV?”

“A series called Trust Me , which is in the last of its four seasons. We shot the final two episodes last month, and they haven’t run yet.”

Stone called Joan. “Follow up to the fax,” he said.

Dear Mr. Baxter,

Your so-called contract bears Ms. Parks’s autograph, which is sent out to thousands of fans of her TV show by the network. This is not her legal signature and, as you know, her autograph is on a blank sheet of paper, which you have used to compose a fraudulent contract. This will be the first exhibit in her lawsuit against you, and I will see that the ethical standards committee of the bar association receives a copy of the contract, along with an autographed photograph.