The Extra Read Free Page A

not going anywhere,” Warren replied.  “Not with you, that’s for sure.”
    The guard bolted clockwise and chased Warren around the table in a circle before they both stopped again.  This time the guard took a walkie-talkie off of his belt and held it to his mouth.
    “I need backup on stage fifteen.  I’ve got an intruder at catering,” he said breathlessly, apparently not used to this much exercise.
    “Roger that, be right there!” came the excited reply.
    “You’re just making this harder on yourself,” said the guard.
    Warren looked over the table and picked up his piece of pie.  “I don’t mind,” he said before taking a bite.  He had nothing to lose.  What could they do but throw him out?  At least he’d have eaten something first, he thought, gleefully shoving more pie in his mouth.  Two more guards appeared, hoofing across the lot behind him.  This time Warren simply stood and waited.  All three guards converged on him at once.  There was no escaping and he knew it.  The two new guards grabbed him, each by one arm.  They pulled him off of his feet and began to drag him away, the heels of his worn-out boots sliding along the ground.
    From behind a giant black sliding door, Warren saw a man appear with a megaphone in one hand.  He wore jeans and tight black cotton shirt, with glasses on an angular face.  His short dark hair was flecked with hints of gray.  After watching the commotion for a moment, his expression turned from confusion to annoyance.  He held up his megaphone and spoke into it with an air of authority.
    “What the hell is going on over there?” he demanded.
    “We caught this man raiding the food table, Mr. Kaplan, sir,” yelled the first guard.
    “Is this true?” Stewart Kaplan snapped as he approached Warren.
    “I’m afraid so,” replied Warren with a wry smile as the guards lifted him back to his feet.
    “You know extras don’t eat until noon!  What are you doing out here?!” continued Kaplan.
    “But sir!” said the guard.
    “Quiet!  I asked this man a question!” said Kaplan.  “I won’t put up with this kind of behavior on my set!  You’re damned lucky I don’t fire you right here.  Get back in there and take your place!”
    “My place?” answered Warren quizzically.
    “But, Mr. Kaplan,” protested the guard.  “I don’t think…
    “Come on, party’s over!  We’ve got work to do!” Kaplan interrupted the guard again before hurrying back in the direction from which he had come.
    The first guard struck a manly pose and adjusted his pants while he considered his next move.  He realized he was beaten.  There was nothing left for them to do but retreat. Warren managed a quirky half smile.
    “Well?” Kaplan said to him, turning back around.
    “Right,” said Warren, “Back inside.  Take my place.”  He followed Kaplan through the giant doors.  Inside, the cavernous building was a hive of activity.  People in loose jeans and T-shirts, some with backward baseball caps, hustled around trailing long cables and carrying sandbags and metal stands.  Giant lights, movie cameras and equipment were set up everywhere.  Behind it all was a city scene, with storefronts, three-story apartment buildings, blue sky and white clouds.  The set was lit by what seemed like a thousand floodlights, some hanging from the ceiling and others set up on floor stands.  A group of men and women dressed in grubby attire gathered to one side; the women in plain wool dresses, the men in loose suits or worn overcoats.  All of the men wore fedoras on their heads.  Warren knew his kind of people when he saw them.  He headed for this group and moved into the middle of the pack, trying to blend in.
    “All right, places people, let’s get this thing going already!” Kaplan shouted into his bullhorn. 
    The film crew quickly moved to their places behind the cameras.  Actors hurried onto the set.  A man in cargo shorts with a goatee gave Warren a quick look