“Thank you, Dad,” Peter said, tucking the documents back into the envelope.

“When you see Letitia Covington this afternoon, you might take those documents along, just in case they’re needed, and don’t forget a copy of your screenplay and the DVD of your edited footage.”

“I won’t.”

“By the way, I had a call from Leo Goldman, who was very impressed with the work you’ve done on your fi lm—so impressed that he immediately wanted to buy it for Centurion.”

“You mean it’s going to be released?”

“Not yet, and probably not for some time.”

“What’s the delay?”

“I swore Leo to secrecy about you and the screenplay. If he released it, say, at Sundance, as the work of a sixteen-year-old, a sensation would ensue, and a number of things would happen: first, you would become famous way before your time, which could wreck your desire for some anonymity and a good education. Fame can be a good thing, but not in this case. You would forever be known as a boy wonder, and it would be very difficult for you to outgrow that.”

“Like Orson Welles?”

“Something like that. Of course, Welles was twenty-four when he made Citizen Kane, but that was still very young, and in spite of his brilliance he was ill-equipped to deal with the studios and the smart, ruthless men who ran them, and his career suffered for the rest of his life.”

“I read a good biography of Welles,” Peter said, “and he’s one of my heroes, along with Elia Kazan, but you’re right about how the studios treated him.”

“Welles was a genius,” Stone said, “but Kazan is a better career role model. He started as an actor, then was an extraordinarily successful director in theater before he tackled film, and by the time he did he was a mature artist.”

“I see your point. I’ll finish the film, then put it aside until you think the time is right, Dad.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m going to make all your decisions for you,” Stone said, “but I want you to learn to think about them hard before you go off half-cocked.”

“I understand.”

“There’s something else. Your mother and I are delighted that you and Ben have become friends so quickly, but you have to remember that Ben, in spite of your newfound age, has two important years on you, and that’s a lot of experience you haven’t had yet. Ben is an impulsive young man, and sometimes his impulses have gotten him into trouble. You’re going to be put in the odd position of sometimes being the grown-up in the friendship, instead of just going along with what he wants. And, I’ve no doubt there’ll be times when you should just walk away from him, if you disagree with his actions. Being his friend doesn’t mean you have to be his abettor.... I’m sorry, do you know that word?”

“As in ‘aid and abet’?”

“Yes, exactly. New York City is a very fast track for a young man, especially one like Ben, who thinks he’s all grown up. You’re going to have to have some rules of behavior in this city, and since you’ll be living with me, I’m going to make them.”