Стюарт Вудс - Shakeup

“Thanks, Joan. Please get it out right away.”

“Will do.”

Stone hung up. “Lara, do you have an agent presently?”

“I did, but he retired a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t had time to look for a new one, and at the end of a series and before you get cast in something else is not the best time to look.”

They arrived at Peter’s house and were greeted by Peter, his wife, Ben, and Ben’s wife.

“Let me show you something,” Stone said, after they had sat down with a drink. He handed Baxter’s contract to Peter.

Peter scanned it. “This is awful,” he said. “I’m surprised any actor would sign such a thing.” He handed it to Ben.

“Lara didn’t sign it. She gave him her autograph — on a blank sheet of paper — and he hung the contract on it.”

“Terrible,” Ben agreed.

“I have a question for you both,” Stone said. “If you were an actress with an offer in hand for a film, who would you want as an agent?”

They looked at each other and, simultaneously, said, “Arlene Summers.”

“She’s a partner in a medium-sized agency called the Talent Stable.”

“I’d love to be with Arlene Summers,” Lara said.

“I’ll call her in the morning,” Peter said. “I think you two would get along.” He handed her the Baxter contract. “Show her this, and tell her how it came to be.”

“I’ll do that,” Lara said, tucking the contract into her handbag.

“I don’t see a lot of this sort of thing,” Ben said, “but I know it happens. Baxter is going to be looking for a payoff to let her out of this.”

“He won’t get it,” Stone said. “I’ve already told him we’re suing and reporting him to the bar association.”

“I’ll bet they already have a thick file on him,” Ben said. “I’ll look into that tomorrow.”

They were called to dinner, and the conversation changed.

The phone woke Stone at 6:30 AM. “What?”

“Stone, it’s Herb, good morning.”

“It’s three hours earlier out here.”

“Oh, dammit, I forgot. Anyway, Art Jacoby is out on bail — five hundred grand’s worth, courtesy of Joan.”

Stone groaned. “Don’t let him flee,” he said.

“I’ve read him the riot act on that possibility. He knows the score. And he knows he won’t be convicted, given his alibi, so he has no reason to flee.”

“Did they arrest his girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Then you might move her somewhere, in case they get ideas. I don’t want to have to shell out any more bail money. Are they any closer to a real arrest in the murder?”

“They wouldn’t say so if they were. It would be too embarrassing, after arresting Jacoby.”

“Right. Does Dino know he’s out?”

“I don’t know, but Dino always knows everything.”

“Call him anyway.”

“Okay.”

“And thanks, Herb, for taking this on. I’m tied down out here for a few more days.” He looked at the bed, where what was tying him down was still asleep.

“Don’t let her tie you up,” Herbie said, then hung up.

Stone’s phone rang again. “Hello?”

“It’s Eggers. Our meeting is at ten AM, in the bridal suite.”

“Is anybody getting married?”

“Actually, it’s the Sierra Suite. I keep forgetting.”

“I’ll be there at nine-thirty. There’s something I need to talk to you about before the meeting.”

“Okay.”

Stone hung up and got back into bed with Lara. She snuggled. Stone dozed off. Then the phone was waking him up again: eight o’clock. “Yes?”

“I have Arlene Summers for Lara Parks,” a young man’s voice said.

“Ah, she’s in the pool, I think; can I have her call you back in ten minutes?”

He gave Stone the number. “Don’t be late,” he said. “Arlene has a meeting.”

Stone hung up and gave Lara a shake. No sign of consciousness. He bent close to her ear. “Arlene Summers is on the phone.”

Lara sat bolt upright, her eyes wide open.

Stone handed her the phone. “Call her right now. I told her you were in the pool.” He handed her the pad with the number.

Lara stood up, dialed the number, and paced. “It’s Lara Parks for Arlene Summers,” she said into the phone. “And good morning to you. Yes, I was in the pool. Very refreshing. Ten o’clock is perfect. Yes, I know the building. See you then.” She hung up. “That was Arlene Summers,” she said. “I actually spoke to her.”

“I know. Maybe you should get a shower while I order breakfast.” He ordered, then took the Baxter contract from her handbag, went down to the study and copied it, then went back upstairs and returned it to her purse. He could hear the hair dryer in the bathroom.

She came out of the bathroom naked. “I have an appointment with Arlene Summers at ten,” she said.

“You told me when you were still asleep,” Stone said. “Now, put on a robe for the butler. Breakfast is on the way.”

At nine-fifteen, Stone was in a business suit; so was Lara. “You look perfect,” he said to her. “I’ve got a meeting next door, but there’s a car downstairs waiting for you. Be on time.”

“I will, I will.” She went back to applying her makeup. “I’m wearing the Ralph Lauren suit you bought me yesterday.”

“Break a leg,” Stone said and left the house. He walked over to the hotel and rode up in the elevator to the Sierra Suite.

Eggers was having coffee in a comfortable chair. “Have a seat, Stone. Coffee?”

“I just had mine,” Stone said. He sat down and handed the Baxter contract to Bill, who read it quickly.

“This is awful,” he said.

“Don’t worry, that’s not her signature on it. It’s her autograph.” He explained the difference.

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I want our L.A. office to scare the living shit out of him, and I want this to get the attention of the bar association’s ethics committee.”

“I’ll fax this to our office. We’ll file against him; no warning. And I’ll get our ethics department on it right away.” He picked up the phone and got started. By the time the meeting began, he was done.

Remembering why he was at this meeting, Stone concentrated on staring at their opponent, Edgar Wheelis, without blinking. Soon Wheelis was mopping his face with a handkerchief.

Eggers showed everybody out.

An attorney from the Woodman & Weld L.A. office arrived with a letter to the bar association from Eggers, who signed it and gave Stone a copy of Lara’s lawsuit. “Get her to sign this, and we’ll file it this morning.”

“She’s seeing a new agent right now, but I’ll have her signature before the day is out.”

Stone was back at his house at eleven-thirty, and his phone was ringing again. “Hello?”

“Listen, Barrington, this is Guy Baxter. I’m—”

“Ah, Mr. Baxter, what a coincidence! I was just signing my letter to the bar association about you and reading our lawsuit against you, which will be filed before the day is out.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You clearly haven’t read either of my two letters faxed to you yesterday,” Stone said. “This might be a good time to peruse them.” He hung up.

Baxter called again. “Now, listen, I’m sure we can work this out amicably,” he said. “Just make me a decent offer.”

“You want money for drawing up a fraudulent contract? You want to add extortion to your sins? We have no interest in settling this — how did you put it? ‘Amicably’? It would be so much more fun to sue you and get you tossed off the bar. And when word gets around about the lawsuit, half of Hollywood will be in court to watch the fun, not a few of them witnesses against you, I expect.”