The Extra by Kenneth Rosenberg Read Free Book Online

worry, I’ll win my money back,” said Bridget, as Charles re-dealt the cards.
    “I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Charles.  “This guy seems to have all the luck.”
    “If everyone were so lucky,” said Warren as the tension drained from his face.  Perhaps Charles was right.  After three years of struggle, maybe his luck finally was coming around.  He tried to relax and simply enjoy the ride.

Chapter Nine
     
    Smiley, Slim and Duke sat on the sidewalk outside the homeless shelter, watching the comings and goings of their downtrodden colleagues.  None said a word as another man dressed in rags pushed a shopping cart past them.  Neither did they comment when a police cruiser drove slowly by.  But their faces lit up as their friend Warren August came walking down the street and stopped before them.  “What’s up, boys?” Warren asked.
    “Warren, my man!” said Slim, a short, heavy-set black man with a deep, throaty voice, and close-cropped hair on his round head.  “You missed dinner, where you been?”
    “It’s Ok, I got some money.  Who needs a drink?” said Warren.
    “You buyin’?” said Smiley.  “’Cause you know I could use a drink.”
    “Come on, then, let’s go,” said Warren.
    “Where’d you come up with this cash?” asked Duke suspiciously.  “You holdin’ out on us?”
    “I got a job.  I’m a movie star,” Warren answered flatly.
    “Sure boss,” said Smiley.  “Long as you’re buyin’ I won’t ask no questions.”
    “All right, I won it playing poker,” said Warren.
    “That’s more like it,” said Duke, his blind-man get-up nowhere in sight.
    “Poker with who?” said Slim.
    “Does it matter?” said Warren.
    “Hell no, let’s go!” said Smiley, hopping to his feet.  The other two stood more slowly, stretching their creaking joints before they followed Warren up the street.
    “Where we goin’ boss?” asked Slim.
    “Someplace nice,” said Warren, full of the wonder and the promise of life.  It wasn’t just the money in his pocket, or the movie, or the warmth he felt inside whenever he saw Bridget.  It was all of it put together.  It was living in the present, with no concern for the future and no thoughts of the past.  Warren was taking things one day at a time, and that strategy seemed to be working quite well.  He walked with his friends for a few blocks until they were just shy of Hollywood Boulevard. 
    “How far we gonna go, man?” Smiley complained.
    “How about this place?” said Warren.  They stood in front of a trendy-looking restaurant, with large tinted windows set back in a distressed steel exterior.
    “Are you kidding?  We can’t go in there!” said Smiley.
    “Why not?” said Warren. 
    “’Cause they’ll kick us out,” countered Slim.
    “I thought we were goin’ to the liquor store, not some chichi place like this,” Duke complained.
    “Besides, I know you ain’t got that kind of money,” said Slim.
    Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of $20 bills.  He fanned them out and waved them back and forth in the air.  “My money’s as good as anyone’s,” he said.
    “Holy, cow!” said Smiley.
    “Damn, where’d you get that?!” said Slim.
    “I already told you,” said Warren with a laugh.  “Come on.”  The truth was, he’d hardly believed it himself when the payroll department handed over those crisp, clean bills.  Now he pulled open the door to the restaurant, hoping to ride this newfound sense of optimism as far as he could.  The others hesitated for a moment but then followed him through. 
    Warren entered the establishment like a long lost monarch returning to his kingdom, with his head held high and the air of a man who deserved to be treated with respect and admiration.  The restaurant patrons didn’t seem to see it quite that way.  All over the room, jaws dropped.  Conversations stopped.  All eyes stared at this dirty homeless man, and at his buddies who crept in timidly