Impossibly Tongue-Tied Read Online Free PDF

sensitivity that had rocketed Sam out of the mailroom of one of the oldest, most revered agencies in Hollywood, and into a partnership at one of the young Turkagency boutiques, and why he enjoyed a client roster that read like a “Hollywood’s Hottest” special issue of Vanity Fair .
    Not all his clients were comfortable about spilling their guts to him—at least, not at first . But once they got used to the idea that they deserved a keeper for their naughty realms, actually they were relieved to share all those embarrassing little incidents—or as Sam put it to them, “life-shaping experiences”—with someone who didn’t pass judgment. He encouraged them to think of him as their very own father confessor, but with none of the hassles that come with converting to some repressive dogma, like $200 red-string bracelets or other sentimental silliness. Whenever his clients found themselves perched on some emotional way-out-in-left-field limb, he was the guy who talked them down.
    Afterward, they actually believed that they’d come through it okay. Best yet, without their adoring public any the wiser.
    And that was all that mattered, he told them.
    Of course, out of sheer desperation, they chose to believe him, because he was their agent, and it went without saying that he had only their best interests at heart.
    Right?
    This was why, at six-forty-five that morning, Sam was cooling his heels in a discreetly placed banquette within the Beverly Hills Hotel’s renowned Polo Lounge, waiting to meet with Lucinda Hardaway, the wife and producing partner of his dearest friend and oldest client, the renowned director Hugo Schmitt. Lucinda was also the only child of and heir to the billions accumulated by the multimedia scion Archibald “Archie” Hardaway. In fact, it was Archie’s millions that financed the small, edgy, intelligent films made by Hugo’s production company, Flagrant Films, which were revered by edgy and intelligent cinephiles and lauded by reviewers the world over…
    â€¦yet rarely made back its investors’ money, no less a decent profit.
    In other words, Archie never saw even a dime back from his investment in Hugo’s films. Did that bother him? Of course! But Archie had learned years ago to suck it up because he’d do anything to make his only child happy. And as long as Hugo made her happy, too, he’d keep writing off Hugo’s losses.
    Which was why Hugo was the envy of every DGA member.
    Now, according to Lucinda, it seemed that Hugo had a secret, too—one that even Sam knew nothing about.
    This he had to hear.
    Lucinda’s arrival was as surreptitious as possible, considering that she swept into the Polo Lounge swathed in floor-length psychedelic Pucci and three-inch-heeled sandals with a runway stride that would have done Kate Moss proud. Now in her mid-thirties, Lucinda used her humongous bank balance to help offset the inevitable Malibu matron’s mid-life depression, the result of living in a town that feared aging almost as badly as the alternative. Then again, considering how it deified those who die young, maybe Hollywood felt that the alternative was better.
    Sam rose to give her the requisite peck on the cheek, but she wore her D&G shades until after the waiter had taken their order. When she took them off, Sam saw the reason: Her eyes were so swollen from crying that one would have thought she’d just had plastic surgery.
    Not good.
    Before he could ask what was wrong, she opened her Her-mès bag and pulled out an unlabeled CD. He couldn’t help but notice that her hand was trembling as she handed it to him.
    â€œHugo is— he’s in love with another woman .” She sighed tearfully.
    Sam blinked once, slowly, before he shook his head in disbelief. “Look, Lucinda, if that were the case, I would know about it.”
    â€œYes, I realize that.” She stared at him, as if determining