Free Impossible Glamour by Maggie Marr

fingers toward the bartender who got out six shot glassed and filled each with bourbon.
    “I’ve read those books,” Steve said. “Or the coverage. Didn’t they come out a while ago?” He handed me a shot.
    “The first three, yes. But”—I leaned in to convey secrecy—“his agent just approached me and they only want you to play the lead. Said the deal at Worldwide was never good because Worldwide couldn’t get one of your slots. Now the books are available, and they want us to pick up the first three. Steve, it’s a steal. A gold mine. We could even fold the books into the Legend Series of films. I don’t know how we say no.”
    Steve clinked his shot glass to mine and lifted it, and we tossed the bourbon back together.
    My eyes watered. “Goddamn, Steve, it’s like lighter fluid going down.” I slammed my shot glass onto the bar.
    Steve guffawed again and slapped my back.
    “Get the books. Call Business Affairs and have Summit pick them up.”
    Ruh ro. Business affairs would take weeks, maybe even months.
    “Too slow,” I said.
    Steve handed me another shot. Seriously? The shit I did for my career. We were doing all three, that was obvious, and knowing Steve we wouldn’t stop there. Oh no no no, once the Legend was on a roll? He rolled. We could end up in Vegas, or Tahiti, or Mozambique. The man had a private jet and he wasn’t afraid to use it.
    “We have to move fast. We need to at least extend the offer by the end of next week.”
    Steve clinked shot glasses with me again. And together we threw back shot number two.
    “Damn! Hurts worse the second time.”
    Steve laughed and slammed his shot glass onto the bar. He picked up the third set of shot glasses, handed one to me, and took one for himself. He lifted the shot and smiled.
    “I was thinking you could use your discretionary fund,” I said.
    Steve’s smile slid from his face. “The production company’s discretionary fund?”
    I nodded. “Right. That’s why it’s there. So you can move faster than Business Affairs. I’m pretty certain we can get Summit to buy out the option once it’s approved. We just need to front the money from the fund.”
    Steve’s forehead tightened and he lifted one brow. “Why the rush? If they want me so badly, then why can’t they wait for the studio that has my deal to make them an offer? I don’t get it. Are they shopping it somewhere else?”
    Heat coiled in my belly. Damn, damn, damn. Steve might be drunk, but he’d been in this business since before I was a sperm and an egg. I’d misplayed my hand. I should have fronted the whole damn deal to him. The partnership track, how me being a partner would help us, how he was helping me… But my ego, my damn ego, hadn’t wanted to go that route. What if Steve decided that I was too junior an agent? That he needed a more senior agent with partnership stripes to be his guy?
    “No, Steve.” I set the shot glass onto the bar. Time to get honest and humble. “So here’s the thing—”
    “Daddy, come dance with us!” While Sophia was Ellen’s twin, Big Boy could tell them apart. They were both beautiful, but there was a keen sharpness in Ellen’s eyes that Sophia didn’t have. Ellen smelled of magnolias. Magnolias and mint. She smelled like…what the fuck…she smelled good, and it was my kind of heaven. I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and took another whiff. I…how many shots?
    Ellen grasped her father’s shot of whiskey that still rested on the bar and tossed it back. Amanda and Sophia each grabbed one of Steve’s arms and pulled him toward the dance floor.
    “I didn’t know you drank.” I upended my shot and shivered.
    “I do. When I’m not doctoring or studying or imitating a bag lady.”
    Heat crept into my face. Ellen waved to the bartender. “Can we get four more?”
    He nodded and grabbed the shot glasses.
    “Sometimes my mouth runs on a different speed than my brain.”
    “Sometimes?” Ellen’s smile was huge, giddy. She