The Extra Read Online Free Page A

looking over his shoulder for the guards that he expected to pounce on him at any moment.  At least he was in the midst of a crowd where he could blend in a little.  He had to admit, he was enjoying this little charade.  It was the most fun he’d had in ages.  When he neared the front of the line, Warren picked up a paper plate and some utensils.  A line of caterers stood across the table, waiting to scoop food onto his plate.
    “What would you like?” said one of the caterers in a bored monotone.
    “Everything,” answered Warren, surprised that the question even had to be asked.
    The caterer looked at Warren carefully and then took a serving spoon and dipped it into a large pan filled with red sauce.  He scooped out a chicken breast and dropped it onto Warren’s plate, then used a spatula to give him a piece of fish from another pan.  Warren worked his way down the line, piling his plate with carrots and potatoes, rice, salad and Jell-O.  At the end, he took another small plate with a piece of apple pie a-la-mode and then filled a cup with some pink lemonade.  He juggled his food and headed toward some nearby tables where he spotted the girl from beside the trashcan sitting all alone.  When he sat down beside her, the girl gave Warren a polite smile, though he thought detected a cringe.  It was a common reaction; just another reminder of what a social outcast he’d become.  Still, he wasn’t about to pass up a free meal.  He’d eat first and then he’d go.
    “Damn, man, where’d you come from?” said a voice from behind him.
    Warren turned around to see a clean-cut black man in a police uniform.  “What?” Warren said, nearly choking on a bite of chicken.
    “I been workin’ this gig three days and then some dude I never seen before comes along and gets the best spot right off.  You got friends around here or something?”
    “Friends?” said Warren confusedly.  “Here?”
    “Yeah, man.  Mind if I sit down?” continued the man.
    Warren’s eyes opened wide but before he could answer the man plopped down beside him, setting his own plate of food and glass of lemonade on the table.  He was not a policeman at all, Warren realized; just another actor in an old-time uniform.
    “It’s all just dumb luck, Charles,” said Bridget.  “You know that.”  She pulled the black beanie off of her head and took a sip from a cup of iced tea.  Justin sat down beside her and shot Warren a distrustful glance.  Warren eyed him back curiously.  This kid was probably 19-years-old, Warren guessed, with an unfocused anxiety in his eyes.  Warren recognized that look from the streets.  It was the look of ripening insanity.
    “I sure as hell could use some,” said Charles.
    “Use some what?” asked Justin.
    “Luck,” said Charles.  “Dumb or otherwise.”
    Bridget picked away at a salad quietly.    
    “This is your first time as an extra, isn’t it?” Charles asked.
    “What’s an extra?” Warren answered.
    “You’re kidding, right?” said Charles in disbelief.
    “I don’t think he’s kidding,” said Bridget, eyeing Warren.
    Warren glanced from one of them to the other.  He took another bite of chicken and chewed it slowly before he swallowed.  “I just came for the food,” he said.
    “You must be one hard-up dude,” Charles replied.
    Bridget laughed to herself in amazement.  “I thought so,” she said.
    “You better get out of here!” said Justin, trying to protect what he somehow perceived as his turf.
    “Shut up, Justin,” said Charles.  “Let the man eat.”
    A look of shock and dismay crossed Justin’s face, then anger and finally shame.  He leaned into his food and ate without looking back up.
    “How’d you get on the lot?” Charles asked Warren.
    “How’d you end up in the shoot?” asked Bridget.
    “I don’t know,” said Warren.  “It’s all a bit surreal.”
    Bridget examined Warren more closely.  She watched as he used his fork to shovel some