Someday they may be scarce.—Claude Rains as Captain Louis Renault CasablancaJake Hudson, as it turned out, was the president of Motion Pictures at a studio. And not simply any studio. A major motion-picture studio with the highest-performing box office of the year. Six number-one movies. With more Academy Award nominations than you can shake a stick at. He had also dated every single (and married) actress who’d ever graced the pages of GQ and rarely went out with a woman whose legs were shorter than forty-four inches. I ought to have been flattered to have kissed his lips, which it now seemed were statistically proven to be the most desirable in Hollywood. Instead I merely felt nauseous.“Now, let’s see,” Talitha said thoughtfully as she pulled out a copy of The Agency’s client list—a top secret cluster of pastel pink pages stapled together and in alphabetical order that detailed all our female clients. She ran her finger down the page and stopped every so often by the names of almost every major star in town to exclaim, “Oh, yes, he slept with her before she got her trout pout.
