The Last Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

filthy rich. He had only taken up acting for the hell of it, and he could say "to hell with you" and split whenever he wished.
    Ironically, he was talented, more so perhaps than even he realized. His arrogance was all superficial, I believed. He struck me as being insecure inside.

    We got into it beside the pool. Henry was barbecuing chicken and hamburgers to feed the hungry actors, and, as usual, Bob was stuffing his face. That didn't bother me—I can eat like a pig when I want.

    But he was drinking beer as well, belching loudly, and throwing the empties onto the lawn. Slobs piss me off; I don't know what it is.

    "Hey," I said, pointing to the can he had just let fly onto the grass. "This isn't your house.
    Pick that up and put it in the garbage."

    He gave me one of his dangerous looks. It would probably work well on the screen, but not on me.

    "Are you the new director?" he asked.

    I stood up. "You don't need a director. You need a nanny. What zoo did you grow up in anyway?"

    "You're great with those one-liners, aren't you?"

    As he got up, I noticed he was a little drunk. "I don't need your abuse."

    I tried to be patient. "I just want you to learn some manners. We're going to be working together every day for the next six weeks."

    "You're going to be here all the time, huh? What for? To beautify the set?"

    My patience ran out. "You idiot! Don't you realize you're getting the break of a lifetime being in my movie!"

    Bob laughed. "Your movie! It isn't your movie.

    It's the director's movie. Besides, it's going to flop.

    The story sucks."

    That really got me. I mean, I knew First to Die wasn't a masterpiece. I had told Jo as much on the way over. It was all right for me to criticize my story, but it wasn't OK for a guy who might get famous off my name to criticize it. If I'd wandered back to Earth in a male body, I would have smacked him right then. Instead, I did what I thought was the next best thing. I threw the Cherry Coke in my hand in his face. Bob's face turned cherry red, and I thought he was going to belt me.

    But he did the next best thing, from his perspective.

    He shoved me, his executive producer, in the pool.

    Actors.

    I landed with a big splash. The slap of water hurt my already sensitive head and my right leg, which had once taken a bullet fired by a friend who couldn't remember who he was. Bursting to the surface, I heard the laughter of the others and stabbed my arm in Bob's direction.

    "You're fired!" I yelled. "Get the hell out of here!"

    Henry ran to the side of the pool. Even in his vast experience, I'm sure, he had never fired his two

    lead actors in the space of thirty minutes. He stretched out an arm to fish me out. Bob remained where he was, a smug look on his face.

    "Shari," Henry said. "You should be an actor, not a producer."

    "Get me out of here," I grumbled.

    Henry pulled me onto the deck. Even standing soaking wet, I was still burning.

    "I'm serious," I said. "I want him out of here." I pointed a finger at Bob. "Now!"

    Bob was unimpressed. "Am I fired, Mr. Weathers?"

    he asked.

    Henry hesitated. "No."

    "Yes!" I screamed. "He pushed me in the pool.

    No one pushes me into a pool."

    "I pushed you in the pool once," Jo remarked.

    "Shut up!" I said. "I refuse to work with a pig who doesn't know an outhouse from a barn."

    "Huh?" Jo said.

    "Please," Henry said. "Let's talk this out. We start shooting in two days."

    "Excuse me," Roger Teller said, stepping between us. "I think Shari's right. I think your callous act deserves retribution."

    Bob was annoyed. "What are you talking about?

    Say it in English."

    "All right," Roger said calmly. He turned and slugged Bob in the face. Roger was stronger than he looked. He just about took Bob's head off. Bob didn't fall in the pool but on the beer can that had started the whole mess. He flattened that piece of aluminum bad. He sat up dizzily, blood dripping

    from his nose, his eyes unfocused. Roger went and stood over him.