But if it was so easy for her to get it, will my dad seeit?
My stomach twists as she goes on. “I assume you’re Annie Jamieson, daughter of Jax Jamieson. I wanted to talk to you about your options forrepresentation.”
“You’re an agent.” My heartthuds.
Elle’s and Rae’s gazes snap tome.
“Are you calling Tyler Adams too?” Ipress.
I don’t miss the pause before she answers. “Annie, we have to be selective about ourclients.”
Indignation rises up. “You need to talk to Tyler.” I take a breath. “Whatever you think I can do for you, he can do more. Come to the show. You won’t bedisappointed.”
I hangup.
“Why would you pass on an agent?” Elledemands.
“I didn’t pass,” I reply before realizing I sort of did. “She should’ve been interested inTyler.”
“She could’ve been interested inbothofyou.”
I frown. “Maybe. But it didn’t sound like it.” I spot a familiar person heading into the dining hall andwave.
Beck flips a chair around and sits astride it, grinning. “Morning,ladies.”
“Tyler’s not with you, is he?” I cut a look toward thedoors.
“Nope.”
“Good.” Determination sets in. “I need you to send an email to Zeke’s studio with the schedule for the showcase. Tell him Kelly Fox called asking about Tyler and you wanted to do him the courtesy of letting him know people are sniffingaround.”
His gaze narrows as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m up to. “My boy know aboutthis?”
“No. And you’re not going to tellhim.”
“I’m not in the habit of keeping secrets from my roomie,” hewarns.
“This is for him,” Ipromise.
After breakfast we go to Entertainment Management, where I take notes through our guest lecturer’spresentation.
Next it’s Talbot’sclass.
She checks in on the status of our term project: a monologue that blends a piece of cinema with our owninspiration.
I’ve jotted down some ideas, but I’ve been so focused on the showcase I haven’t progressed further. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that of all my professors, she’s the only one who seems to go out of her way to cut medown.
Elle leans over while Talbot discusses the assignment with one of our classmates. “I heard she’s writing a musical,” my friendmurmurs.
I nearly drop my pen. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. You know she acted on Broadway on and off for like twodecades.”
“I remember reading that. But I had no idea she wrote,too.”
I can’t reconcile our tough professor with the type of person I always imagined penning for the stage, but I can’t let itgo.
After class, I approach her. “Miss Talbot? I heard you’re writing a musical. Can you tell me aboutit?”