Read Online Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi - Free Book Online

to take a lullaby that he had written decades earlier to amuse his daughter, and publish it as a children’s
book. The book, The Dreamers and the Sleepers, sold millions, much to Krzysztof’s horror and my father’s delight.
    During the publicity tour for the book, Krzysztof’s Holocaust story was splashed across the features pages of every large and midsized daily in the country. From that, my father was able to wrangle a made-for-television movie on Krzysztof’s story out of TNT. It was the most widely watched television show that month on cable. Krzysztof was embarrassed (he was played by Tom Selleck) but also both rich and famous.
    â€œThere,” my dad said. “ Now we can sell your book of poems.” And he did.
    I needed a Trojan Horse. There had to be some back door way to slip the Yherajk through, like my dad did with Krzysztof. But I had no idea what it was. It’s one thing to sell a book of poems. It’s another thing entirely to introduce a planet to the thing they’ve hoped for and feared for the last century.
    The doorbell rang. Ralph looked at me sadly. His owners had come for him. I patted his flank gently, and then we went to answer the door.

CHAPTER Six
    I glanced through the window into my office. “Tell me that’s not Tea Reader I see in there,” I said.
    â€œAll right,” Miranda said. “That’s not Tea Reader you see in there.”
    â€œThank you for conforming to my reality,” I said.
    â€œNot at all,” Miranda said. “It’s an honor and a privilege.”
    I grabbed my doorknob, took a deep breath, and went into my office.
    If nothing else, Tea Reader was heart-stoppingly beautiful; half Hawaiian, half Hungarian, five feet ten inches, and naturally possessed of the sort of proportions that most women insist exist only on foot-high plastic dolls. Her record company publicist once drunkenly confided in me that his company estimated at least forty-five percent of Tea’s record sales were to
boys aged thirteen through fifteen, who bought them for the CD insert that featured Tea rising from the waters of the Pacific, clad in a thin T-shirt and a thong bikini bottom, both a particularly transparent shade of tan.
    I drunkenly confided to him that, when I had inherited her from my former podmate, I held the poorly masked hope that she might be one of those actresses who occasionally slept with their agents. Then I got to know her. I learned to be glad that she was not.
    â€œHello, Tea,” I said.
    â€œHello, Tom, you miserable fuckhead,” Tea said.
    â€œAlways a pleasure to see you, too, Tea,” I said. I walked to my desk and set down. “Now,” I said. “How can I help you?”
    â€œYou can explain to me why I suddenly seem to be represented by Little Miss Hysterical over here.” Tea motioned to the far chair in the corner, where Amanda Hewson sat, crying. At the mention of her existence, Amanda let out an audible sob and lifted her feet, in an attempt to curl into a fetal position while still sitting. The chair was getting in the way.
    â€œAmanda is a full agent here at the company,” I said. “And she’s quite good.”
    â€œBullshit,” Tea said. Amanda gave another sob. Tea rolled her eyes dramatically and shouted over her shoulder at Amanda, “Could you please shut the fuck up? I’m trying to talk to my real agent over here, and it’s hard enough without you crying a fucking river.”
    Amanda exploded from her seat like a flock of birds flushed out of the underbrush, and attempted to flee the room. She grabbed at the door, pulled it, and whacked herself on the side of the face. I winced; that was going to leave a mark. Amanda wailed and sprinted towards her pod. Tea watched the scene
and then turned back to me. She had the expression of the cat who ate the canary and then threw it up in her owner’s favorite shoes.
    â€œWhere were