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distribute it.
    But they couldn’t change it. Not without permission.
    “How could you want to change the ending?” she asked. “I love the ending.”
    “The bad guy—you know, the plantation owner, Reginald Brooks—comes out ahead in the end. Laramie ends up trading him the land he promised his father he’d never sell. What kind of ending is that? Laramie loses. Where’s the justice?”
    Kate was practically sputtering. “Laramie doesn’t lose—he wins! Jane was ready to give up her future and marry Brooks in return for Moses’ freedom. Instead Laramie trades Brooks his family land and saves both Jane and Moses. Laramie wins because his act of humanity helps restore his own life—it helps him come alive again, and you’re not listening to a single thing I’m saying, are you?”
    “Jericho Beaumont, Susie McCoy, and Jamaal Hawkes.” Victor sat up, unable to contain his energy and excitement. “With those names, we could have our pick of distributors, Katie. We could negotiate some control over the promotion—demand a substantial advertising budget. This movie could be huge.”
    “Provided the movie gets made.”
    Victor made a face. “What does that mean? Of course the movie will get made.”
    Kate leaned forward, too. “If you cast Jericho Beaumont, you might be dooming this picture. At the very least, you’d be dooming
me
to nearly three months of intense anxiety.”
    Victor was unmoved. “You’re the producer. Get used to it. Anxiety comes with the territory.”
    “Somewhere between doom and fear of doom is everything this man could do wrong.” She ticked each item off on her fingers. “Late arrivals, slurred speech, inability to remember lines and blocking, erratic behavior, no shows … And God help us if your precious Jericho should do something really irresponsible like die. He could start drinking again, Victor. Or using drugs. What substance abuser can ever guarantee that he won’t? He could start again, overdose, and die. If it happened any later than the first few weeks of the shoot, this movie will die with him.”
    “Look, I’ve talked to some of the directors Jericho has worked with in the past. The key is to control what he uses. Apparently he never used street drugs, only prescription medications—you know, pick-me-ups during the day, sleeping pills at night. We could provide him with small amounts of—”
    “Oh!” Kate wanted to close her eyes and plug her ears. “Oh, oh! I can’t believe even
you
would have the indecency to stoop that low. Not only is that despicably illegal, but God, Victor! What if Jericho
is
clean? Think about what that might do to him!”
    Victor wasn’t fazed. He shrugged. “If Jericho’s clean, then we don’t have a problem.”
    “But the stress of having to carry a movie might be too much for him to handle. A starring role like Laramie would put pressure on someone who’s completely healthy, let alone—” Kate took a deep breath. It was important to keep breathing. Without air, she would just keel over. “Victor, I know you see only the possibility of greatness. You see Jericho’s talent. He shines, I’m not arguing about that. It’s all over that audition tape. But I’m not convinced that he’s going to be able to carry this movie—both physically and mentally. I don’t want to gamble all the millions of dollars I’ve busted my ass finding for this project. I’m not willing to bet all that on someone like Jericho. I can’t take that risk—and I can guarantee that the other financial backers won’t want to take that risk, either. There’s got to be someone else who can play this part.”
    Victor stood up. “Katie. I hear everything you’re saying. And I know what I should do is agree with you and find someone else.” He shook his head. “But I can’t do it. I can’t make this movie knowing that I could have had my number one, absolute, perfect cast. I can’t do it knowing that I’ve got to settle across the board.