First Stop, New York Read Online Free

’Bu.
”
    “I’m excited to hear you feel that way, Corliss,” Max said as he jotted the phrase “interested in psychology” in his BlackBerry.
    “I do! Utterly and completely. People from Indiana may not have a lot going for them, but they do have enthusiasm.” Her face went pink again. JB gave her the thumbs-up.
    “Very good,” whispered Max. “It’s obvious to me your utter lack of regard for outward appearances suggests you have a brilliant mind, Corliss.”
    Corliss looked down at her red Le Tigre polo streaked with beet juice and her faded Wet Seal jeans.
    “This makes you my smartest assistant
by far.
I have only two rules: First, whenever you approach me, you need to stand one to two feet away, no more, no less, and at all times be ready for, you know, whatever.”
    “
Whatever,”
Corliss echoed, matching Max’s gravity.
    “The second rule is to always be poised to jump whenever I say.”
    “Jump. Gotcha. And by all means, tell me if I don’t jump fast enough. While I’m pretty bright upstairs, my gym teacher said my physical reflexes are a little on the slow side.”
    “I’m not looking for a circus performer, Corliss, I’m looking for
someone with smarts.
And I already have a crushingly crucial, time-sensitive activity that demands that level of smarts.”
    Corliss’s eyes opened wide and she moved within the prescribed one- to two-feet radius.
    “I need you to run to Trader Joe’s. Pick up some cases of Poland Spring. As many as you can carry. And they’ve got some low-fat rosemary crackers that I like, get a few boxes. Then head to the Kabbalah Center on Robertson. I need four bottles of their Kabbalah water.”
    Corliss blinked. Max could see she was confused.
    “I have a crucial meeting this afternoon with a network executive whose wife is up to her implants in Kabbalah, and I don’t want to offend her,” he explained.
    “Kabbalah…?” Corliss asked.
    “It’s a Jewish thing. And the Poland Spring is for any gentiles I have to meet with. The network bills me for water—blessed by God or not. And I refuse to subsidize everyone’s water intake based on their religious beliefs.”
    “Makes sense. I was raised Presbyterian myself and—”
    “Another thing,” Max continued. “And this is very important, Corliss.”
    “Yes, Max. I’m ready.”
    “My stepbrother, Legend, has the day off from school. His nanny came down with the stomach flu and, obviously, I can’t look after him right now,” Max continued. “Would you mind if he went with you?”
    Before Corliss could respond, Max led her to a door that opened into a small dressing room. Inside, plunked down on a black leather sofa, frantically Game-Boying away, was a pudgy five-year-old with a nose that looked like the object of some serious picking.
    “Say hi to Corliss, Legend,” Max said, as if speaking to a two-year-old.
    “Hi, Corlith,” Legend lisped without looking up.
    “Hi, Legend,” Corliss said hopefully. “Is that like King Arthur’s legend?”
    “No. My motherth family are all living legendth.”
    “Legend and I come from a family of world-famous zoologists, Corliss. Our great-uncle Thaddeus attempted to mate a chicken with a hummingbird. It didn’t work, but hecertainly made a name for himself. Legend can explain it all to you in the car.” Max peeled Legend from the couch and pushed him toward Corliss.
    “Sure, Max,” Corliss said. “It would be a pleasure to hang out with Legend.” It was obvious, however, that Corliss dreaded this assignment and was only trying to be helpful.
    “Here’s my American Express,” Max said, handing over a jet black American Express card. “Save the receipts.”
    “Will do,” said Corliss.
    Max watched Corliss take Legend’s hand and lead him from the soundstage.
    “Excellent,” whispered Max. “I can now begin to realize
The Awesomeness of
The ’Bu.”
    Corliss’s Rental Car, Somewhere in Brentwood—11:42 A.M.
    Legend kept taking off his seat belt