First Stop, New York by Jordan Cooke Read Free Book Online

alive.
    “Nope,” said JB, holding his stomach. “No, siree. You eat that big piece of dead cow and I’ll just start in with my lovely starch dish.”
    JB looked down at his plate. On it sat an enormous baked potato, stuffed with sour cream and sprinkled with chives.
    “Thank you,” said Rocco, stuffing the beef in his mouth. “I require a lot of lean protein to maintain my muscle mass. It’s extremely important to me, JB. To be sound in mind, one must also be sound in body.”
    JB took note of Rocco’s arms, which somehow managed to bulge even when they weren’t moving. “Ya look pretty sound to me, Hulk. It’s like both my arms could fit into one of your arms. Both my arms folded over. Twice. Which makes me wonder why you want to hang out.”
    “What are you getting at?”
    “Well, don’t you only run with other protein-pumped muscle dudes? I mean, you’re like a giant sequoia! I’m more like one of those potted plants you buy at Trader Joe’s.”
    Rocco laughed. “Frankly, I find a lot of body-conscious guys to be completely brainless. You, on the other hand, have a vibrant perspective. You say whatever is on your mind—however wack it is.”
    “Er, thanks.”
    “That’s rare in this business. But there’s also something else about you I noticed that intrigues me.”
    “My eczema?”
    Rocco laughed again. “No. It’s something we
do
have in common. You’ve got a mysterious side.”
    “Me? Mysterious? I’m about as mysterious as the six o’clock news!”
    “Then where were you during those fifteen minutes you kept us waiting after break today? You told Max you were checking your e-mail, but you had a strange look on your face…”
    JB blushed and hung his head. He felt completely revealed. “Wow, you’re good.”
    “So what is it?” said Rocco, leaning over the table.
    JB sighed and knew he had to come up with an explanation. “Okay—I’m addicted to YouTube! Which I’m officially renaming YouTouchYourselfTube.” JB giggled sheepishly. “But I’ve got it under control, Scout’s honor.”
    “Aha,” said Rocco. “YouTube, huh…great way to keep your finger on the cultural pulse. I knew there was something else going on under that geeky exterior.”
    “Geeky?” said JB, pretending to be offended. “What a strange word to describe me.”
    Rocco thought JB was a riot. A waiter approached the table, bearing aloft a silver platter. On it was a thick yellowenvelope. “Gentlemen, this package arrived via messenger.” He lowered the plate to the table.
    “Mail at dinner! Who knew?”
    “Thank you,” said Rocco, slipping the waiter a twenty. He opened the envelope to find two scripts. On the cover page it said:
THE ’BU
PILOT REWRITE. “Guess the new script has arrived.”
    “Wow,” said JB. “Abracadabra.”
    JB tore into his script. Rocco let his copy sit on the table.
    “Aren’t you interested in the changes?”
    “Not particularly.”
    “Why not?”
    “The process doesn’t engage me.”
    “But Rocs, this show could be our big ticket! Fame, fortune—naked Twister with Scarlett Johansson.”
    “I’m not interested in fame and fortune.”
    “But I got you on the naked Twister, right?”
    Rocco shrugged. “I have fairly lofty goals, JB.”
    JB was now completely confused. “Explain-ay-voo see voo play. That’s French for
talk to me
.”
    “Don’t get me wrong. I’m interested in learning about the process—but not from an actor’s point of view.”
    “Then from whose?”
    Rocco leaned in. “From the
director’s
.” Rocco leaned in even closer. “See, I want to direct movies.”
    “Wowzer! Really?”
    “Really. Of course, with the family I come from, full of illustrious directors, I have to go about it in a kind of covert way—otherwise I’d be accused of nepotism.”
    “ Dictionary.com , please.”
    “It means riding on my family’s coattails.”
    “Wait, halt, cease—who’s your illustrious family? I live under a very large