Star Maker Read Online Free PDF Page B

does
come out of your earnings directly. It’s a requisition fee.”
    He
looked worried as he stared into her eyes. “A what? Is it a good payout? If
it isn’t, I’ll give you another cut under the table when I start getting paid
or if you need it immediately, I’ll pull it out of my trust.”
    She
shook her head. “No, you won’t. It’s great. I’m totally happy with it. Do
this, Joe. If you don’t, you’re stupid. Opportunity like this only knocks
once and I’m telling ya to open the door and run through.”
    He
finally smiled wide and nodded his head. “Ok. Shit! This is wild isn’t it?”
His caramel brown eyes were alive with intrigue. “My whole life is gonna
change tomorrow. Can you come to Oakland with me? Come see my first show with
them.” He chuckled. “I promise it won’t be like our last time in Vegas. I’ll
get you your own room or you can take the bed in my room. I’ll sleep on the
floor if I have to.”
    She
laughed. “Ok, if you’re promising me that, I’ll definitely go. I’d love to be
there to support you. You’ve earned this, Joe. You’ve been waiting on it
since you were ten years old.”
    He grinned and nodded, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the
cheek. “Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you, Kitty-Kat.” He took a
deep breath. “So, where do I sign?”
    * * *
    The
frazzled server ran back into the kitchen. “Where is the order for twenty-two?
Twenty-two, not twenty-four, idiot!” His eyes stared like a laser beam of
blame.
    Sully
frowned and felt his anger bubbling up. “That is twenty-two. Look at your ticket!” His South Side Chicago
accent came barreling through like an out of control freight train. He shook
his head, annoyed.
    The
fumbling newbie server stared at the ticket. “Oh. Oh yeah. Oops.” Without
apologizing, he seized the plate and slipped off like a thief in the night.
    Sully
returned to the grill and flipped over an order of steaming hash browns, wiped
his brow with his sleeve, and thought there had to be some other way. He
started daydreaming, thinking about one day when he’d be up on a stage—an
enormous stage in one of the largest arenas in the world. A grin started to
spread across his face and remained there until his boss’s angry, yelling voice
yanked him out of his self-imposed fantasyland.
    “O’Sullivan!
What are you doing? That’s it. You keep burning the food you stupid dreamer!
This is the last time. You’re outta here. You’re fired!”
    Sully
sighed, rolled his eyes, freed his long, brown locks from the hairnet, and took
off his apron. His steel blue eyes narrowed at his boss as he threw the apron
onto the grill. He strutted out and didn’t miss a beat as the apron erupted
into flames behind him. Job number fourteen down. He wondered how many more
to go.
    He
walked out to his beat up, rusted, yellow 1971 Ford Pinto and got in. He
turned the key to start the engine and its normal routine of running and
running without turning over commenced. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and
rested his forehead on the steering wheel, hoping to will the car into
submission and resorting to silent prayers from his Catholic school days.
“C’mon, please.”
    Finally
the engine turned over. He put the car into gear and got onto the road. He
sighed. His gas gauge had a needle that always seemed to be weighted on empty
and today was no different. He managed to make it over the hill from the
Valley back to Hollywood to his drummer’s girlfriend’s house, where she was
kind enough to let him crash on the sofa. He walked through the door and
noticed his drummer, Remo, sprawled out on the sofa playing Atari Space
Invaders with Bryan, his keyboardist, sitting on the floor. They were laughing
and yelling colorful expletives at each other. He called out to get their
attention. “Hey!”
    Bryan
looked over and frowned. “What are you doing back so soon?”
    He
stared at him blankly. “I got fired.”
    Bryan
made a gun with his