Blueprints of the Afterlife by Boudinot Ryan

Author:Boudinot, Ryan [Boudinot, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Perseus Books Group
Published: 2012-01-02T16:00:00+00:00

Commercial break.

Inside the restaurant, the red carpet spills to fill the entire floor. Neethan’s agent Rory Smiley meets him at the door. Rory is a short man but doesn’t have a short man’s hair-trigger personality. This is probably thanks to the fact that he suffered through a case of premature puberty, for instance growing facial hair at the age of four. He’d been taller than the rest of the kids in his class until high school, and still thinks of himself as taller than everyone, including Neethan, who towers above him. The premature puberty had been a matter of some brief national attention, with a camera crew following the young Rory around his Montessori school as he worked with golden beads and the pink tower, addressing his classmates in a commanding baritone. Every morning his doting parents had given him a bubble bath and a shave, and by nap time his five o’clock shadow would start to come in. It’s a drag being a preschooler with ball hair.

“Hi Rory. I’m Native American, apparently,” Neethan says, squeezing his agent’s shoulder.

“Tonight, my friend, you can be anything you want,” Rory says, offering a Macanudo.

Neethan takes the cigar and bends down low to allow Rory to light it. “No, really. I’m an Indian. I just found out.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

A host appears, a newman-looking guy with a wobbly eye, and shows them to their table. Rory orders a dozen kinds of sushi and four kinds of sake. “And a booster seat, if you could,” he says.

The restaurant fills with flacks disgorged from the red carpet. Beth-Anne, her job complete, seeps into the background with the other bottom-feeders gathering about the open bar. Myra enters, a celestial event best witnessed with a space telescope, and is seated at the opposite side of the restaurant. Neethan recognizes the guy who did his hair on Stella Artaud heading straight for the booze. The portion of the restaurant Neethan and Rory occupy is roped off, intended for VIPs, with other sections set aside for lower-magnitude studio employees and the journalists and their crews. Now is to be expected an onslaught of permatanned studio execs with big teeth and fists of gold jewelry, wanting to press flesh with the talent. Until then, Rory intends to go over some recent projects that have been pitched Neethan’s way.

“So I’m at lunch with Julian Moe yesterday and he says to me, ‘Rory, what I wouldn’t give to spend an hour with Neethan and get his thoughts on this Abraham Lincoln biopic I’m developing.’”

“Told you, Rory, I’m biopicked out.”

Rory raises a hand, lowers his head in a “hear me out” type of gesture. “I’m with you, friend. In fact, the first thing I said was, ‘Julie? Why’re you wasting my goddamn time with your talk about a biopic? You know Neethan is biopicked out.’ So he says, ‘Listen, Rory, I know Neethan has had a string of biopics. But I’d be committing directorial malpractice if I didn’t at least touch dick tips with Mr.

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