My Soul to Keep by Davis Bunn

Author:Davis Bunn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2010-10-29T04:00:00+00:00

Shari was still steaming as she entered the television studio’s lobby. The place was jammed with casting agents and starlets applying for a job on a hospital soap opera, the company’s latest hit. Shari rammed her way through, exuding such force the crowd parted ten feet in advance of her passage. Harv, the junior agent, blanched at whatever he found in her face.

Shari demanded, “Where is our guy?”

“He’s in makeup.”

“Don’t tell me, Harv. Move.”

“Sure. Right.” He gave her the same sort of look she had just garnered from Zubin. As in, who is this woman? At any other time, she might have actually enjoyed it.

Harv knocked on the makeup room door. Shari, however, did not wait. She pushed in. The makeup guy said, “You mind?”

“I need a minute.”

“We’re on in three and I’m still—”

“I need a minute now.” She stepped forward, then turned around and gave a viper’s smile. “Help us out and guard that door, Harv. From the outside.”

Shari turned back. Maybe in time she’d learn to compartmentalize. Right then, however, she did not see a distinguished expert on film trends, impeccably dressed and groomed. Instead, she saw just another man who stood between her and her goals. “I need to go over a couple of items with you.”

He had recently become famous introducing cinematic hits from the fifties on the Menzes archive-film channel, and doing occasional spots on entertainment shows about by-gone celebrities. He was a man on the rise, and he knew it. He probably did not mean to come across as patronizing as he patted his silvergray hair and said, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine just leaving that to me. I’ve got several great ideas about what I’ll—”

He stopped because Shari had taken hold of the napkin tucked into his shirt collar. She had to do something, and it was either crumple the napkin or take hold of his neck and squeeze. But the tone of her voice never changed. A soft, melodic rush. “Listen very carefully. I want you to go out there and hammer two points.” She rolled the napkin into a tighter and tighter ball, the effort straining the muscles from her wrist to her jaw. “One, that their take on Daniel Boone is the same line of heroic rubbish that we’ve been spoon-fed by romantic historical junkies for decades. But America has moved beyond that. We’re after a new history. The one that talks about Indians as a noble race that was decimated and left to rot. Now do you have that or do I need to go over it again?”

“I had rather thought—”

Shari got in very close.

So close, in fact, she could hear the rise and fall of his swallow. “And here is the other point you must make. This other production company is so raw they don’t even have a name. Variety recently ran an article suggesting this upstart runs on a shoestring budget. That’s by far the most important thing you can say right now. They’re a nothing group and they’re working on a shoestring.

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