Free Wayward Son by Heath Stallcup Page B

warehouse with wide eyes.
    She chewed her gum loudly, popping it between her jaws as she spun in slow circles. “So this is where you film your movies?”
    “It sure is,” Marco replied as he shut her door. “It doesn’t look like much, but trust me, hang a few drapes, set up some false walls, some furniture, you can’t tell it from a real house. One soundstage is as good as any other.”
    “Fuckin’ sweet.” She pranced around the front of the truck, swaying her hips in an exaggerated manner as she walked. Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor, and Paul noted the large hoop earrings dangling from the sides of her face. She glanced back to Marco and smiled, “So it’s a grand to do the porno then what’s my cut of the sales?”
    “One percent,” Marco answered as he walked her closer to the office. “That may not sound like much, but when you consider that most of our movies gross over a million a month, that’s ten grand for each actor. You don’t see a lot up front, but it really pays off in the end.” He stopped and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “And that’s counting our internet sales, our over-the-counter DVD sales, pay-per-view, satellite, cable...it all adds up.”
    She snapped her gum again and smiled up at him. “There must be a ton of perverts out there.”
    “Sugar, you have no idea.” He continued walking her toward the office. “We have to wait for the guys to show up with the lights and cameras. Our interior decorators are on their way and some of the other actors should be here any minute.”
    She stepped into the office and saw Rufus lying on the desk. “He looks like somebody already rode him silly.” Paul raised a brow at her then shot a questioning look to Marco.
    “Mr. Foster here is our producer. Mr. Foster, meet Judy. She’s going to be our next star.”
    “Is that so?” Paul sat upright and looked at the skinny blonde haired girl with too much makeup. “What makes her so special?”
    “I got no gag reflex,” she bragged, still popping her gum. “Want me to demonstrate?” She walked up to Paul and dropped to her knees, reaching for his crotch as she did so.
    He grabbed her wrists and held them. “Thank you, no.”
    She glared at him and spat her gum to the floor. “What’s your problem? I ain’t got no diseases.”
    “No worries,” Marco interrupted, reaching over her shoulder and taking her hands from Paul. “Mr. Foster prefers…older women.”
    “Yeah, right.” She smirked at Foster. “I bet he prefers boys. What are you?”
    Paul smiled sweetly and stood, his hand slowly reaching for the young woman. “My dear, sweet, young lady.” His hand stroked the side of her face, and her eyes showed fear for just a moment. “I’m your worst nightmare.” He flashed his fangs at her just before he launched himself at her throat.

 
    5
     
     
    Mark groaned in the narrow bed, his IV swinging slightly as he moved with the pain. Images flashed through his mind that he couldn’t begin to explain as he fought to wake. He could feel hands on him, holding him down. He struggled to push the blankets off…the heat…the cold…he could feel himself dying.
    His eyes fluttered open and it took a moment for him to realize where he was. He saw Tracy sitting beside him, squeezing a rag out into a bowl of water then reaching to wipe at his brow again. “Am I dead?” he croaked.
    Her face tightened and she tried to smile, but it looked more like a sob. Her eyes were red and swollen, obviously from crying. “No, you’re not.” She sniffled and reached for his face with the rag again. “But you are feverish.”
    “So I wasn’t attacked by a werewolf? I’m just delusional. Good.”
    “No, sweetheart, you were…” she choked on the words for a moment and had to take a deep breath before continuing. “You were attacked. And now you’re fighting a fever. I think you have some kind of infection.”
    “Fuck me,” Mark groaned and turned toward the wall.