Meetings

By Top Writers Block

Some meetings will certainly make a difference to those involved, but they are not always what you would expect.
This is a collection of short stories by an international group of writers who continue to donate their proceeds to Sea Shepherd in France, an organization that devotes itself to preserving our seas and oceans and the life within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Top Writers Block
• Release date: Apr 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311510952

Top Writers Block

Top Writers Block is a diverse and eclectic group of talented writers who decided to write stories together - just for the fun of it! Our collections are usually written with one theme or genre in mind. Each author contributes when they have the time, so some of the collections have as many as twelve authors participating. Every collection has something new, with stories and poems ranging from romance, drama, and adventure to mystery, fantasy, and horror.

Book preview

A Collection of Short Stories

by

Top Writers Block

Written on the theme:

Meetings

Copyright©March. 2015 Top Writers Block

Published on Smashwords

ISBN: 9781311510952

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

http://suzystewartdubotbooks.weebly.com

Smashwords License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Cover Design Credit: Suzy Stewart Dubot

Table of Contents

Roxxy and Laddy Go To Hollywood by Bill Rayburn

Her Father’s Daughter by Elizabeth Rowan Keith

The God of Small Things by Barnaby Wilde

Pond Scum Prince by David H. Keith

DataDater by Suzy Stewart Dubot

Sunrise Meeting by Tracey Howard

Big Beautiful Bloodsucker by Melissa Szydlek

Roxxy and Laddy Go To Hollywood

by

Bill Rayburn

Copyright 2012 Bill Rayburn

I am a native Californian, having only recently moved to London. I was born in 1960 in the San Francisco Bay Area, have lived on the east coast (northern New Jersey), and now have crossed the pond to ply my wares in the old country. I am currently marketing a collection of my fictional short stories, while working on a 'memoIRISH novel' (does that phrase even exist?).

Open to suggestions, critique etc.

It was a non-descript Hollywood high rise conference room. Oddly, there was no long, wide table bisecting the room, as is the norm. Just 5 or 6 steel-framed chairs, backs and seats padded with coarse, rough-hewn material.

Mark Wahlberg was at the side window, looking down at Wilshire Blvd. traffic, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. He had on a tight black knit sweater, long sleeved. He’d kicked off his flip flops and was now barefoot.

The purpose of the meeting was a typical Hollywood sitcom cattle call. Wahlberg had stumbled on the script and liked it. Since nothing happens overnight in Hollywood, (there is no ‘fast track’, it’s a myth), it took him six months to get studio approval and financial backing, which is a long time, especially for an A-list actor and mover-shaker like Wahlberg. The hardest part for him was procuring artistic control. That was the deal breaker. He was out without it.

He got it.

As he usually did. The show had a rather unique plot. Sort of a racially mixed, edgier Three’s Company. Two white guys, late 20s, answer a Roommates Wanted ad in the L.A. Times. Turns out it is a good looking black women of roughly the same age, and she wants to live with people. And she prefers men. So initially, it all looks good on paper. But TV success almost never depends on things looking ‘good’. Conflict, conflict resolution, sharp-edged humor, and in this case, racially-charged humor; all of those went into the definition of what could make this show work.

Wahlberg liked it for several reasons. He knew the script writer and trusted him. He loved when racial dynamics were depicted with humor and sarcasm, and even thinly veiled racism.

One of his favorite examples of this was Die Hard: With a Vengeance, in which Samuel L. Jackson and Bruce Willis exchange barbs and sentimentality in equal doses throughout the movie, all while trying to save Manhattan. He loved the chemistry they had onscreen. It was easy and it flowed throughout.

Sure, everybody loved Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte in 48 Hours, but there was more nuance, Wahlberg felt, with Willis and Jackson who he thought, to be blunt, were just better actors.

The other three men in the room had also yet to take a seat. Bobby Sallavant was a producer, with a solid resume that included ‘Two and Half Men’. He was thirty years old and considered on the rise. Jack Horford worked for Bobby. Not quite in the sycophant role people assumed, but he did get his dry cleaning and book his travel. And finally, Alex Corcoran, the script writer and Wahlberg’s friend. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had the in with the A-lister on the project. His job and future were secure, and in Hollywood, that was akin to winning the lottery.

It was 10am. There was a knock on the door, then it was opened and in walked a guy, about 35, blonde hair, tan, neatly trimmed goatee with specks of grey, blue jeans, white collared shirt, navy blue linen sport coat, and gleaming white tennis shoes. He also had a dog, unleashed, which walked in alongside him. The chairs did not have arm rests and were arranged with one facing the window and the other four facing the solitary chair. No furniture between them. Nothing to do with their hands. Wahlberg felt this was important.

He turned from the window and immediately noticed the dog, a fair haired medium sized dog, maybe with some Collie in him. He looked at Bobby and mouthed What the fuck?

Sallavant shrugged and took a seat on the end of the row of four chairs.

Mark Wahlberg walked over to the man and extended his hand. How do you do.

The man shook it firmly, making eye contact. I’m good, Mr. Damon. I love your work.

The dog had obediently sat down next to him while the two men faced each other two feet apart. Wahlberg pulled his hand back and again looked at Bobby.

Bobby, is this some kind of joke?

Again, all Sallavant could do was shrug. Wahlberg turned back to the man, whose name was Radcliffe Oxnard. Bobby had told Mark he went by Roxxy.

Mark looked at him and said, Roxxy, do you know who I am?

He nodded. Sure. Matt Damon. Oh, wait, Shit! My bad, you kind of look like him. I met with Mr. Damon yesterday. I’m sorry. It’s Donnie Wahlberg, right?

Wahlberg spun away in frustration .He hated wasting time. Bobby was going to hear about this.

Bobby stood up and said to Oxnard, Uh, this is Mark Wahlberg, Roxxy.

His eyebrows shot up. No shit! Marky Mark? That’s you? Are you still doin’ rap, Marky?

Wahlberg turned and gestured toward Bobby. Get this fucking clown outta here.

Then Roxxy did an odd thing. His voice changed, and he immediately became Paul Newman in ‘The Sting’:

Ah, come on Liniment, I was just startin’ to do good. The Sting was Mark Wahlberg’s favorite movie of all time. He’d seen it at least 50 times.

He turned and stared at Roxxy. What did you say?

Again in a flawless Newman doing Henry Gondorf, he said You come to a game, you bring your MONEY! His inflection was eerie in its accuracy.

All three of the other men laughed, stunned.

Wahlberg felt himself starting to grin. What the fuck is your gig, Oxnard?

You owe me fifteen grand, pal. If you don’t pay up, it’ll be all over Chicago you welched. You won’t be able to get a game of jacks.

Ok, Ok, I got it. The Great Henry Gondorf. You gonna sit down and talk to us, or do you already know how to interview? The dialogue was spot on, but Mark couldn’t do the Newman imitation.

Not bad, Roxxy said, reaching down and scratching his dog behind the ear. Didn’t sound like Paul, of course, but not bad.

The other three men sat. Roxxy and Mark remained standing, watching each other.

This here is Shea, Spelled like the Irish Shea. He only bites if you fuck with me, and he only bites once….that’s usually all it takes.

You’re kidding, right? Mark asked, absently putting his hands in his front pockets.

Maybe.

Wahlberg was both intrigued and annoyed with this character.

Finally Roxxy spoke up, as he turned and sat in the lone chair facing the men. He gestured toward the remaining chair for Mark to join them.