The Fictional Man Read Free Page B

rather than a fellow fictional character would be a rebellion against everything they knew, against their very nature.
    They just weren’t built that way.
     
     
    R ALPH GROANED, AND Niles could see the distaste in his face deepening to disgust. “Some days, I wish I was a real therapist. Some of these people need help.” He shuddered. “Try this on for size – I had a client once who walked in, dropped his trousers and started literally beating off in the chair. I tried dragging him out of it, but that just sent him over the edge. He was calling me his Daddy. ”
    Niles blinked for a moment. “Wait. When you say over the edge ...” He shifted in the chair, nervous.
    Ralph had the decency to look embarrassed. He nodded to the chair. “I did clean it. Thoroughly. With bleach. It’s been completely disinfected – hell, I’d sit in it myself.” Noticing the look on Niles’ face, he indicated the chair he’d been sitting in earlier – a stiff-backed wooden chair that looked like it would have been more at home around a dining table. “But feel free to sit in that one.”
    Niles hesitated for a moment.
    The author was a man of the world, of course. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was bothered by something as minor as sitting on a chair that had once been –
    – he got up hurriedly.
    Ralph sighed, looking at the chair with venom, and then returned to the sideboard to pour another drink. Niles opened his mouth to ask for one, but he reminded himself that it was only apple juice. What he needed after that revelation was whiskey.
    Ralph took a sip of the drink and smiled. “You’re meeting Maurice after this?”
    Niles fell greedily on the change of subject. “That’s right. I am indeed.” He leaned back on the creaking new chair, trying to keep his voice from getting too smug. “Apparently, he’s been talking to a studio – one of the big ones, in fact. Talisman Pictures. They might just have some screenplay work lined up for me. According to Maurice, it could – could – be the big one.”
    Cutner raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding. They’re doing a Kurt Power movie?” He sounded shocked.
    Niles ignored the implicit criticism in the tone. He’d been wanting to see a Kurt Power film for years, ever since he’d created the character in his exciting debut novel, Power Of Attorney: A Kurt Power Novel. (He’d dropped the lawyer angle after he’d realised how much research was involved.)
    For the leading man, he could just about see Cruise, or Clooney, or Pitt. But those were second choices. He knew there was only one person who’d really be perfect for it.
    He could picture the scene now.
     
    The author watched, breathless, as the adult body of Kurt Power grew in the translation tube, day by day. Like a proud papa, he would lay his hands on the tube, gazing in wonderment at the creation of life taking place before him. A life that could not have been without the first spark of genius that had come from his very pen.
    Then the first meeting with him, in some executive’s office. They shook hands, the author smiling paternally. “Welcome to the world,” he said, in gentle tones that rang with a hidden steel. Kurt Power could only look upon his Creator in silent wonder.
    Niles knew that Kurt Power, when he emerged, would know all about him – what he’d done, the part he’d played in Power’s existence. He’d be grateful for that – intensely grateful. But it wouldn’t stop the two of them becoming close friends. After all, Niles reflected, Niles Golan, ground-breaking author, was just the sort of person Kurt Power would count as a close friend. Just the kind of person he’d respect.
    “You’re a good Joe, Niles,” Kurt drawled, in the authentic voice of the American working man. “You sure are a gosh-darned good Joe.”
    And people would see him on the streets, on sets, in gossip magazines. “That’s Kurt Power,” breathed the beautiful stenographer, her full, firm