Famous Read Online Free PDF

want you to meet a dear, dear
friend of mine. I brought him to the show tonight. This is James
Jansen. I think you’ve probably seen his work.”
    Right off, I don’t like this kid. He’s
impressed to meet me, it’s obvious, because for three seconds his
mouth hangs open and he doesn’t, or can’t, speak. I mean, James
Jansen is standing in his house, you know? But then he catches
himself and gets this cool, smug look on his face that I’d like to
peel right off. He’s not honest, and I don’t respect that. It’s
okay to be blown away that I’m standing here. That I took time out
of my important, maniacally busy life to come to your weird fucking
play.
    I thrust my hand forward. “Jim,” I say, real
understated-like.
    “Matt.” He shakes my hand, then looks at
Wittig and breaks. “You brought James fucking Jansen to my show?”
He releases my hand and hugs Wittig. Okay, now he’s coming around.
Kid might be all right. But if I were a lesser Star, you can tell
he’d try to come off like it was no big deal.
    “Guys want a drink?” Matt offers.
    “I’d like one of those with Tanqueray.”
Wittig points to the martini in Matthew’s hand, “and Jim would
like, I know this, hold on…a double Absolut with one cube of ice,
no lime.”
    Matthew threads his way to the open bar. A
spinning disco ball dangles from the ceiling, its radials of light
causing the liquor bottles to flicker intermittently.
    He returns with our drinks, and I really wish
Jansen liked cranberry juice or something, because I can’t stomach
downing another glass of vodka.
    “It’s too fucking loud in here!” Matthew
shouts over the music, like he’s annoyed he has enough friends to
fill an apartment. “Let’s step outside!”
    I barely sip the vodka, but by the time we
push through the horde of dancers and reach the glass doors, I can
feel the alcohol behind my eyes.
    When we step outside, I try not to act too
enthralled, but man the city is stunning tonight. We’re thirty-nine
floors up and the breeze is gentle and mild. The three of us find a
place on the railing, and we stand there just gazing out over the
sweep of light and motion and sound far below. I’m damn near in
tears, but like I said, I don’t show it. You’ve got to figure
Jansen’s experienced far more beauty than some off-off Broadway
director’s balcony.
    Wittig’s standing between us and he puts his
arms around the both of us.
    “Gentlemen,” he says, “what a night,
huh?”
    Matt and I don’t say anything, because what
are you going to say? I think he’s being rhetorical.
    “Matt, it came off even better than I thought
it would,” Wittig continues.
    “Even the scenes with the therapist? You
know, I’ve had concerns they’re too chauvinistic.”
    “Especially those. They’re the make-or-break
scenes of your play, and they make it. You really pulled it off.”
Wittig takes a big sip of his martini, really pounding down the
gin.
    “I appreciate you saying that, Paul.”
    “I mean you really, really pulled it off.
Really.”
    Wittig’s sloshed. He’s getting ready to say
something else, but then notices his martini glass is empty.
    “Gentlemen, I’m going for a refill. I shall
return.”
    Wittig walks back into the party and Matt
watches him go, shaking his head.
    “He was my advisor at Columbia.”
    “He was bragging on you tonight before the
show.”
    “Was he now.”
    “He a playwright, too?”
    “He wrote a masterpiece when he was
twenty-four called In the Can . I don’t know if you’ve heard
of it. He doesn’t write much now. But he’s brilliant. Look, I
really appreciate you coming. It’s not typical theatre.”
    “You made me think, and not much does these
days.”
    God, I hope he doesn’t ask me anything else
about the play. I really feel bad for hating it.
    Matt leans over the railing and spits. On the
other end of the balcony, I notice these two women stealing glances
at me. They’re both wearing highly glittery dresses,