The Extra by Kenneth Rosenberg Read Free Book Online Page B

outta this!” said Smiley.
    By now the restaurant incident was behind them as Warren opened the door to the liquor store for his fellow less-fortunate souls.  He walked in behind them and inhaled the smell of the place, so familiar it was oddly comforting; a strange mix of cleaning solutions, processed foods, newsprint and tobacco.
    “How ‘bout some wine?” said Smiley.  “Bottle ‘a Mad Dog’s got my name on it.”
    “Wonderful choice, Monsignor.  Mad dogs all around,” said Warren.
    “Whatever you’re buyin’ man,” said Slim.  “Whatever you’re buyin’.”
    “Wouldn’t mind a bottle of Jack myself.  If you’re still good for it and all,” said Duke.
    “Three Mad Dogs and a fifth of Jack Roberts,” said Warren.
    “What about this?” said Slim, holding up a candy bar.
    “You bet,” said Warren.
    “I want one’a them, too!” said Smiley, grabbing his own.  He eyed the cashier, a buxom blonde in a pink and white dress.  “How you doin’, sugar?” he said, leering hungrily with his one good eye.
    “Is that all?” asked the cashier, with an oddly guttural voice.
    “Yeah, that’s all,” said Warren.
    The cashier wrapped the bottles in brown paper bags and rang everything up.  Warren paid and each man picked up his own bottle and candy.  Smiley kept his gaze on the cashier as the rest of the men walked out the door. 
    “You take care of yourself, little lady,” said Smiley.
    “Come on, let’s go,” said Warren.
     Smiley smiled and bowed.  “You are one fine piece’a woman, you certainly are.  Good evening to you.”  He swung one arm in a flourish before he followed his friends out into the night.

Chapter Ten
     
    Bridget walked down the sidewalk, trying to ignore the vacuous stares from a pack of teenage runaways loitering in a doorway.  She never felt comfortable in these surroundings, and she knew that she never would.  Not even if she’d made it.  Not even if she lived in a big fancy mansion in the hills.  On some level Bridget was determined to make a life for herself here, if for no other reason than to prove that she could, though she knew she was out of her element in this city whose values she could never really understand.  She was also somewhat of a rarity.  While hundreds of hopefuls arrived in this town every day with stars in their eyes, she was here not so much for the fame, but because she truly loved to act.  It was her passion, though she asked herself daily how long she would last.  Home called out to her, pulling her back to the familiarity of life in Missouri.  On nights like this, she longed for just a little respite from the cold reality that was her lonely life in Los Angeles.
    “Hey baby!  Hey baby!  You got something for me?  ‘Cause I got something for you!” the voice of a man called out to her from the darkened cab of a beat up Chevrolet as it rumbled along beside her.  Bridget cringed and quickly ducked into a liquor store to escape as the car continued down the block, looking for action on the dirty boulevard.  Inside the store, Bridget moved to a magazine rack near the front.  On the cover of a woman’s magazine she saw the seductive smile of Jessica Turnbull staring back at her.  The starlet was hanging out of a shiny blue dress that was two-sizes too small.  “Jessica on Men, Movies and Money,” read the headline.  Bridget picked up the magazine and opened it to the article.
    “What a no-talent bimbo,” she said to herself as she read Jessica’s top ten tips for scoring the man of your dreams.
    “Hey, no reading the magazines!” came a voice from the front of the store.  “You want it, you buy it.”
    A startled Bridget looked toward the cashier; a buxom blonde with bright red lipstick, wearing a pink and white dress.  Only there was something peculiar about her.  Bridget looked at the woman more carefully.  The creases in the heavy makeup on her face.  The hairy forearms.  This was no woman.  It was