The Extra by Kenneth Rosenberg Page A

trying to apologize.”
    “For what, exactly?”
    “I was a little short with you last night.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”
    “I’m the one who followed you home.  I don’t blame you.”
    “You caught me by surprise.”
    “Apparently.”
    “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”
    “So… what are you saying?”
    “Maybe we could try again.”
    Bridget was somewhat taken aback.  “All I wanted to do was give you some advice; to explain the business side of things a little bit.”
    “Ok, I’m ready to listen.”
    Bridget nodded slowly.  “Are you available for dinner tonight?” she asked.
    Warren’s expression brightened a bit.  “Sure, I suppose.  I mean, yes.  I am.” 
    “We’ll go grab a bite somewhere and talk things over.  Maybe I can give you some pointers,” Bridget added.
    Warren nodded.  That wasn’t as hard as he’d expected it to be.  “I’d better be getting back.  They’re probably waiting for me,” he said. 
    “Ok.  Just meet me out here when you’re done.”
    “See you later, then.”
    Neither Charles nor Bridget said a word as they watched Warren walk back into the soundstage.  Once he was gone, however, Charles turned to face her.  “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asked.
    “Just can it, smart guy,” Bridget replied.

Chapter Fifteen
     
    Warren wore a baggy brown suit that he’d borrowed from the wardrobe trailer as he and Bridget walked down the boulevard together, but instead of his trademark fedora he wore a funky wide-brimmed hat.  On a street where the unusual was usual, he still got a few funny looks.  Bridget couldn’t help but chuckle.  “If my friends back home could only see me,” she said.  “Walking down Hollywood Boulevard with a bum in a Zoot suit!”
    “Don’t tell me I’m not the finest-looking bum you ever saw!” Warren replied.
    “Ok, I won’t tell you,” laughed Bridget, who wore a pair of jeans and a tight grey sweater that had the effect of making Warren feel just a little light-headed.  He tried to shake it off.  As they continued down the street Warren saw a scrawny-looking black man in ragged clothing leaning against a wall.  One eye was eye clouded over, as if to match the gray in his hair.  He held a bottle of wine in a brown paper bag in one hand and an empty cup in the other.  “Spare some change?” the man said as they approached.
    “What are you talking about, Smiley?” replied Warren in astonishment.
    Smiley examined them more closely, with shock and confusion on his face.  He jumped up and took a quick step back.  “Holy cow!  Warren?  What they done to you, man?!” he shouted.
    “Easy, Smiley.  I told you I was a movie star!” said Warren with a wry smile.
    “Come on, man!  You ain’t no movie star!  Where’d you get them fancy threads?  You been stealin’, I know it!”
    “Don’t worry, Smiley, it’s legit.”
    “It don’t look right, you bein’ all fancy an’ such,” said Smiley, shaking his head before he took a good long swig of wine.  “You done scared me, man.”  He rubbed his mouth with a sleeve and squinted in Bridget’s direction.  “Who’s the pretty lady?” he asked.
    “This is Bridget,” Warren answered.
    Smiley moved forward and bowed slightly.  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
    “The pleasure is all mine,” Bridget answered.
    “See you around, Smiley,” said Warren.  He reached in his pocket to pull out a few bills and dropped them in Smiley’s cup before they moved on down the sidewalk.
    “You’ve got friends all over, don’t you?” said Bridget.
    “Sometimes that’s the only thing that keeps you sane on the street.  Your friends are your family.”
    “What about your real family?” Bridget asked.  “Do you ever talk to them?”
    Warren cringed slightly.  Bridget had obviously hit on a soft spot.  She watched his expression, searching for clues as he