“We’ll handle it,” he assured her. Visas had always been Lucy’s bailiwick, but he could shunt this off on Cheryl Fitts, his labor and employment go-to. “Graziella, while I have you.” His voice took on a wheedling tone. “Any cancellations come in?” Melanie was desperate to attend the runway show, preferably in a front-row seat. He couldn’t make her understand that the shows were put on for buyers and the fashion press, not the wives of corporate executives. Or that the design team spent months coaxing big-name celebrities to occupy those front-row seats.

“Certainly not.” Graziella sniffed and hung up.

He sighed out a cloud of smoke. “Marcia,” he called above the roar of the wind. “Any idea what Mr. Hollywood’s calling about?”

His assistant’s prim voice floated through the speaker. “Oh, dear, yes. It was in the paper this morning. Mr. Rafferty was arrested in New Jersey yesterday and charged with”—she hesitated—“soliciting prostitution.”

Barrett groaned. Luke Rafferty was the face of Martineau pour Homme, the company’s premier fragrance line for men. “Part of that Operation Super Bowl sweep?”

“Hmm. It seems he was caught on video with a young woman.”

Barrett flicked the stub of his cigarette into the snow, where it hissed and died. Rafferty could have any woman he wanted, and apparently what he wanted was a blow job from a twenty-dollar hooker. Barrett closed the door and, back at his desk, punched Line 4. “Sid.”

“Barry! Thank God! We need you to put out a statement. Something about supporting Luke and asking people to respect his privacy. You know the drill.”

“Hmm. I was thinking of something a little different. Like: In view of the fact that Mr. Rafferty has engaged in conduct tending to shock, insult, or offend the community or outrage public morals or decency, his services are no longer required.” He was quoting from the morality clause in Rafferty’s contract.

“Barry, come on! You don’t want to do that.”

“I recall we had a liquidated damages provision in there, too. Disgorgement of all monies received during the preceding year, is that right?”

“No, come on. Let’s be reasonable here. Luke sells a lot of cologne for you guys.”

“He’s giving off a different stench now.”

“It was entrapment!”

“Tell it to the tabloids, Sid.”

“No, come on. This’ll all blow over in no time. It’ll be yesterday’s news, and Luke’ll still be a big action star.”

Barrett reflected. The agent was probably right about that much. Still, Rafferty was in a tough spot today, and that was always the best time to strike a better deal. “I could try pleading your case with the board,” he said finally. “But I can’t go to them empty-handed. If Luke agrees to cut his fee—let’s say by fifty percent—I might be able to persuade them to stick by him through this sordid affair.”

“Twenty.” The agent’s tone was sullen.

“Forty. Final offer. And no statement to the press.”

The deal was struck, and Barrett finally returned Culligan’s call. “Jack. What is it?”