The Last Story Read Online Free Page A

Jo.

    She almost drove off the road.

    "You will never make that book into a movie," Jo said. "It's too esoteric. It has a sad ending. You die."

    "I die at the beginning."

    "Yeah. But you're still dead at the end. And you couldn't put in that part about how you came back.

    No one would believe it."

    I laughed. "You believed it. You believe I'm here."

    "Only because you are here," Jo said. "And because I'm crazy. Look, Shari, don't rock the boat on First to Die—no pun intended. Make the movie and make tons of money. Sell out—it's the American way. Then save the world. You'll have plenty of time—and cash—to do it."

    "I guess you're right," I muttered.

    "How are you and Peter getting along?" Jo asked.

    "All right."

    "Just all right? The two soulmates are not in constant ecstasy?"

    "We're close. We're just not soulmates. Actually,

    I don't believe there are such things. The Rishi said it was a distorted concept. It comes from searching outside yourself for completeness." I paused.

    "How are you and Jimmy getting along?"

    Jo smiled slyly. "Jim and I are fine."

    "You never hold hands in public."

    "We make up for it in private."

    "Are you really screwing my brother?" I asked.

    Jo acted shocked. "We are getting personal, aren't we?"

    "You openly brag about the great sex you two have."

    "Then you have no need to ask. Just believe."

    "I don't believe you," I growled.

    Jo saw it was time to change the subject. "How's Carol doing?"

    Carol Dazmin, Jean Rodrigues's best friend and now my buddy as well—was not doing well.

    For the last two years she had fought heroin addiction.

    She would clean up her act, but then meet some crazy guy or girl and start shooting up again.

    Recently she had gotten off the junk only to end up in the hospital with hepatitis—the serious kind.

    Her liver was inflamed and she was the color of a spoiled lemon. The doctors thought she could live but would die for sure if she went back on drugs.

    Her addiction caused me a lot of pain. I had returned to Earth in Jean Rodrigues's body to try to help people, and I couldn't even help someone close to me. I told Jo what was happening and she was sympathetic.

    "It's that neighborhood she lives in," Jo said.

    "It's crawling with drugs."

    "It's not the neighborhood. It's Carol. Besides, I told her she could come live with me if she wanted.

    She doesn't want to. She'd rather get high." I sighed. "I have nothing genuine to offer people.

    Just stories."

    "Your stories inspire people."

    "Inspiration goes only so far."

    Jo was concerned. "What's bothering you, Shari?"

    My headache had returned.

    "Something," I whispered thoughtfully. "I'll know it when it comes to me."

    But I was wrong.

    CHAPTER

    III

    JLJL ENRY WEATHERS'S HOUSE was a castle built as a symbol of the good life. High on a hill above the sprawling town of Malibu, it commanded north and south views of the coast that stretched forever on clear days. There was a marble fountain out front, a pool in the back large enough to double as a small lake. Yet he had bought the place for a modest sum thirty years earlier from an actor who had gone from being number one at the box office to appearing as a host on game shows. Henry was good and frugal with money, a quality you want in a producer.

    We didn't plan to spend all ten million the investors had given us on First to Die, but decided to split it between two films. For that reason, how we used every penny counted.

    Henry met Jo and me at the door. He was a short man with a six-course belly. Eating was one of his great pleasures in life—he loved hamburgers in particular, by the half dozen.
    Sixty-five years old,

    he softened his wrinkles with special effects makeup and dyed his hair the color of motor oil—then had the nerve to say it was his natural color. The thing that had struck me most about Henry when we first met was the twinkle in his eye, his goodness.

    He loved the movie business, even when it didn't always