Angel's Verdict by Mary Stanton Page A

calling me Millie.” But she said it with a smile. She dug the cell out of her briefcase and flipped it in the air. Tyra caught it with an easy, deerlike grace and turned to go back into the bar.
    “Catch you around later, Tee?” White said.
    She waved her hand without looking back. The guests whispered as she passed by, and the piano fell silent. Tyra disappeared into the depths of the bar. The piano started up again and gradually, the room filled with the subdued rumble of conversation.
    “Amazing, isn’t she?” White sat down in the chair Tyra had just vacated and wriggled obscenely. He grinned at her. “It’s still warm from that cute little butt.”
    Bree felt a surge of intense dislike. White looked at her face and scowled. Then, with an aggressive air, he challenged her: “You’re representing Justine Coville, is that right?”
    Bree nodded once.
    “It’s in her best interest to let us buy out her contract. You’d be wise to consider it.”
    Bree didn’t say anything.
    “She’s past it, Br . . . Ms. Beaufort. Way past it. She wasn’t much of an actress when she was younger . . .”
    “Actually, that’s not true, Mr. White.” Mila, who seemed unaccountably nervous, glanced from Bree to White and back again. “She won a Tony for A Little Night Music . And she was nominated for a Golden Globe for her Streetcar .”
    “Christ! That was when, back in the ’80s? Times are different now. There’s no money in the stage, anyhow.” He crossed one trousered leg over the other and balanced his drink on his knee. “I’ll let you in on something you’ll appreciate, Ms. Beaufort.”
    Bree didn’t like this fake camaraderie any more than his hostility. Her dislike for this guy was growing.
    “Money,” he said. “Art is all about money. If we had a bankable actress in the role of Consuelo, we’d be looking at maybe digging ourselves out of quite a hole. Someone like Allison Buckley, say. Fact is, this production’s in trouble. Not because of Tyra. The only reason we have a hope in hell of success is because she’s such a draw. She could be big. Really big, bigger than Angelina. All she needs is the right vehicle.” He dropped his voice to a confiding whisper. “I’m in on a production right now that could put her over the top.”
    Bree looked at her watch. Her face felt frozen.
    White looked at her and glanced hastily away.
    She relaxed her hands and said as calmly as she could manage, “You’ll excuse us, Mr. White. Mila was good enough to give me a half hour of her time, and I haven’t finished my business with her. I don’t want to waste it.”
    He set his drink on an end table. “Yeah,” he said uncertainly. “Sure. See you around.” His gaze fell on Mila, and he said with abrupt viciousness, “I’m going to get Tee a drink. Call me if Phil shows up. I’m pretty pissed off about those cost overruns. You tell him from me that you’re all in a world of hurt.” He left without looking in Bree’s direction again. Bree waited a long moment until her irritation was under control. She wanted to go back to the office, sit down, and try to put all of this stuff in order.
    “You wouldn’t be available to work on the shoot, by any chance?” Mila said.
    “I’m sorry, what?”
    “The way you routed White.” Mila sighed. “We work with a lot of jerks in this business, as I’m sure you’ve heard. He’s not the worst. Not by far.”
    “He’s a predator,” Bree said. “You’re watching out for Tyra, I hope. She can’t even stand to look at him.”
    “Tyra’s no rocket scientist, Bree. But she hasn’t gotten this far without being able to handle herself around men.”
    “She’s going to handle herself better around Justine, I hope?”
    “I think so. Tyra’s a little idiot. She’s halfway convinced herself that she is possessed by spirits. It started as a joke. But I have to admit she’s taken it a little far.”
    “I don’t want to see Justine hurt.” Bree couldn’t