Read Online The Last Story by Christopher Pike - Free Book Online Page A

script you wrote. That reminds me. We won't be shooting here tomorrow. We'll be on the waterproof set at Warner's. We're doing the below deck flood scene first."

    "That's a big change. When did that happen?"

    "This morning. It's movie biz. You have to be flexible. We can't get the Warner's set next week.

    We have to take it tomorrow and we can't have any screwups. We have only two days to shoot, unless we want to pay an additional thirty thousand and wait until next month. Anyway, that's not the problem. It's Lucille, who plays Mary."

    "I know who Lucille is. What's wrong with her?"

    "She can't swim."

    "What?" I asked.

    "You heard me."

    "So? She doesn't have a swimming scene."

    "Andy told her that. But she's nervous about tomorrow. The water will be up to her chest.

    Andy's afraid she's going to freak. They both want you to rewrite it so that Mary doesn't have to be below deck while the others are trying to plug the holes in the ship."

    "That's out of the question. The whole point of the scene is that they're eying one another to see who will make a break for the remaining lifeboat.

    How are we going to explain their faith in Mary?"

    "I don't know," Henry said. "You're the writer."

    "It can't be done. Lucille will just have to set aside her fears if she wants to be in this movie."

    "We can't fire her," Henry said. "We fired two people yesterday."

    "One. That's another thing that annoys me. Why did you stick up for Bob?"

    "I didn't 'stick up' for him. He's impossible to replace at the last minute. I was simply trying to mediate the crisis. And then, in the end, you asked him to stay."

    "I was afraid Roger was going to hit him again."

    Henry's face darkened. "Did you see the way he hit Bob? Like he wouldn't have minded killing him?"

    I waved my hand. "Roger's all right. I think he grew up in a tough part of Chicago. He actually likes Bob. I talked to him after we left your house."

    "Can he swim?"

    "I don't know. We didn't go swimming." I paused. "But it's an important question. He has a big swim scene. You know, now that I think about it, we didn't ask anybody if they could swim."

    Henry laughed. "You didn't. I was only joking a second ago. It was the first thing I asked Roger.

    Let's worry about this Mary/Lucille thing tomor

    row. I'm sure Andy can shoot it so that Lucille doesn't feel like she's going to die." He paused.

    "You look tired. Preproduction jitters? Trouble sleeping?"

    I rubbed my bloodshot eyes. "I was up late writing."

    "A new story? What's it about?"

    I had to smile. "I don't know. I have to write more. Maybe one of the characters will eventually tell me."

    "I'm sure it'll sell millions."

    I shrugged. "It's a difFerent kind of story. It may not sell at all."

    Just then Roger drove up in his sleek black Corvette with the top down. Dressed entirely in black, and wearing black shades, he looked like the star I hoped my movie would make him.
    As I walked toward his car, leaving Henry to deal with the bulldozer men, I realized I hadn't asked him about his acting background. Not that it mattered.

    When someone had it, they had it. And Roger definitely had it.

    But what is it? Sex? Huh, Shari?

    "Hi," I said. "How did you find this place?"

    "The director told me where it was."

    "Andy? Isn't he conducting rehearsals?"

    "Yes."

    "Aren't you supposed to be there?"

    Roger laughed. "The boss is back."

    I softened. "I'm sorry. I was just wondering."

    "Andy told us we could take a ninety-minute

    break. We've been going at it since eight this morning." Roger glanced at his watch. "I thought maybe you and I could have lunch together."

    "I'd love to, but I already have plans." I was supposed to pick up Peter and have lunch with him.

    He was coaching the future Cy Young award winner that afternoon, the blind one. But...
    Roger had such a beautiful jawline, and his body looked as if it had been programmed into a computer—to my specifications—before being stamped out. I added,

    "Maybe