“So what’s it like being a big name Hollywood star?” Rob asked while setting the beers on the table.

“I swear, I don’t know why people need to know every single detail of my life. I have nothing left that’s private.” Steve said, sipping his beer.

“What do you mean? You mean like Entertainment Weekly and E! True Hollywood Story?”

“Those people are easy to handle. I’m talking about the rags. For instance, about 6 months ago I was in the Bronx finishing up shooting for a movie. The director called lunch so I went upstairs to use the bath room. A popper crawled on the roof of the building across the street and used a telephoto lens to take pictures of me in the John. I mean. What the fuck? I can’t even take a shit without some sleeze bag trying to snap pics of my pecker!” he spat.

“Dude. That’s messed up.” Rob reached for the remote and clicked the TV off.

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Those low-lifes know no bounds. Wait til you hear what they tried to do to Lisa last month.”