Fancy moar Phan Phicshun ?

[Antoine]

Back in Paris, I was packing up, my work finished. I had checked that my passport was valid. I was carrying the netbook I used while traveling around : sturdy and cheap - no big deal if I lost it or broke it, and my personal files were password-protected. Let's hope the customs won't keep it for "security reasons".

I was to arrive on a Thursday, around 3 pm, so I could sleep a little before a meeting scheduled for the Friday morning. Full Bloom offered me to book a hotel room and send a car to pick me up at the airport, but I refused, and made my own arrangements.

The flight was boring as usual - when it wasn't, the survival rate of the passengers normally dropped fairly fast.

My first contact with Los Angeles was uneventful. I was a bit disappointed : usually, this city was invaded every month or so by aliens, bombarded with asteroids, suffered massive earthquakes and then the President saved the Planet -along with a fluffy puppy. But no... I got a cab in no time, and was in my hotel room in less than half an hour. After all the movies I saw, I was a bit weird to recognize city names and catch a glimpse of roadsigns on the freeway that looked familiar, tho I had never been in this place before.

I read on Wikipedia that the public transport system in Los Angeles was not very practical, so I had chosen my hotel based on the various bus lines. Friday morning, I was up very early, because of the jet lag, and I got to the Full Bloom building way too early.

I was looking for something that looked like a café, but everything was so different here. No visual references. So I just stayed there, back to the wall of the building, trying to find in the playlist of my MP3 player a suitable song for the Wilshire Boulevard, but didn't succeed. It was just a dull piece of tarmac with a patchwork of buildings along it. Pretty much the same landscape as next to my hotel, perhaps a bit less dusty. I was really an alien, here.

At 9 AM, I entered the building, and walked towards the receptionists' desk.

- Hi, I have an appointment with John Ward.

- Yes ? And you are ?

- Greg.

- Just... Greg ?

- Yes, he's expecting me.

- Oh ! Greg ! Yes, of course ! Please, follow me, she said, while hurrying from behind the glazed desk.

- This way, please.

I followed her. Her high heeled shoes made a horrible clatter on the marble floor. She called a lift, and walked inside after me. I was trying to breathe slowly. This morning, I shall know if I had come here for nothing or not. The floor we reached was nearly empty, from my standards. A few glazed cubicles, with people chatting on the phone or typing on computers. Nobody looked at us. The receptionist lead me to an office closed by two large dark doors. She opened the left door, and invited me  to come in.

[Antoine]

In the room, rather large, six persons were waiting. A long table with a dozen armchairs stood next to the window pane. A few photographs framed on the walls. Scattered plants in big flower pots. Since the receptionist had opened and closed the door very quietly, none of the person here had noticed me yet. I recognized Leslie and John because of pictures I found on the web.

- Allez, c'est parti, I whispered to myself.

I crossed the room, my steps muffled by the thick carpet. I stopped some 10 feet away from them.

- Ahem... err... hi ?

They turned towards me. For a split second, I read in Leslie's eyes : "now, who is that ?". John was the first to react, as I expected. He walked towards me :

- You must be Greg, I presume ?

- You're right. Nice to meet you, mister Ward.

We shook hands.

- Let me introduce you : this is Leslie, that you already know. This is Jane, who's in charge with the PR relations of Miss Ryder, Richie, our legal advisor, Max and David, two of our technical advisors.

I smiled and shook hands.

- Would you like a coffee ? And orange juice, perhaps ? asked John, pointing to another table where coffee pots and various decanters were set, along with donuts and other things to eat I couldn't put a name on.

- No, thank you, I already had breakfast.

Promptly, cups and glasses vanished from their hands. I walked towards the table, dropped my backpack on a chair, took off my leather jacket, and pulled my notebook out of my bag. When I looked back, every one of them was staring at me. Sharks with frekin' lasers. I froze :

- What ? Did I do something wrong ? pretending to be surprised.

- No ! No, not at all, John replied briskly. Not at all. Let's sit down.

I had spent so many years in offices like this one that I caught the habit to be overtly unceremonious. It saves time for the important matter. Maybe they were expecting some small talk before we started, so they could have a first idea of my psychological profile ? I had to act swiftly and keep hustling them.

Everybody sat. I had chosen an armchair at the extreme left of the table, ignoring the glass and the bottle of water resting in the middle of the table : this is where they expected me to sit. Another old habit. Sitting at the corner of a table forced them to adopt another hierarchy around the table. There was nobody seated to the left of John, who was nearly in front of me. Leslie and Jane were at the far right, with the attorney next to them. Max and David were sitting next to John.

- These are the dangerous guys, I thought. But first...

- Thank you for coming to Los Angeles, Greg. We are thrilled to have you here and excited...

I raised my hand and interrupted John :

- There is a say : never bring a knife to a gunfight, said I in a sharp voice.

John frowned. I added :

- I entered this room with empty hands, not even a toothpick. Why did you bring a weapon ?

John looked at me with rounded eyes :

- I... beg your pardon ?

I pointed towards Richie :

- Him. He's a "legal advisor". An attorney. A weapon. His presence is not necessary. I stopped just before adding unwillingly : "the Bene Gesserit witch must leave". Calm down...

John splattered :

- I... it's... this is normal procedure. I mean... We are going to discuss legal matter here. He should be with us.

With a slant of the head, I looked at John and said in a quiet voice :

- No, John. We are going to discuss how we are going to restore the reputation of Full Bloom, and eventually the way I am going to turn my writing into a scenario that you might use. Nothing "legal" about that.

After a few seconds of complete silence, Richie stood up :

- That's all right, John. I also think my presence is a bit... premature. See you later.

And he left the room. Across the table, I checked the body language of those facing me. John was still looking at me. The two "advisors" were frowning. Leslie had her hand over her mouth, and Jane stared at the sheets of paper in front of her. Let's continue. I turned to the two "advisers".

- Now... "Technical advisors". What does that mean ?

- We are... advisors, answered the oldest of the two. We work for a public relations firm, and John has asked us to... help him... solve... this... situation.

- So you're not employees of Full Bloom. Not involved in any aspect related to... writing ? I asked.

- Not... exactly.

I clapped my hands.

- Perfect ! Gentlemen, have a good day, we won't need you from now on. If you would excuse us, I replied, waving my arm in the direction of the door. They hesitated a couple of seconds, looked at John, but finally stood up and left.

John was livid.

- Right.

I stood, and walked round the table to sit right next to John. I swayed the armchair towards Leslie and Jane :

- Please, come sit next to us. I won't bite, I promise, I added with a joyful voice.

I turned back to face John.

- You see ? Much more friendly like that, don't you think ? How much time do you have ? I asked John.

- I... Roughly two hours.

- More than enough.

I pushed my chair back, so I could see the three of them.

- First, I really would like to genuinely apologize for all this uproar. I know perfectly well that the article Judie wrote got you in a tricky position to say the least, and that you image is in a very bad shape, apart from the fact that there is a big amount of money at stake here.

John opened his mouth. I interrupted him by raising my hand :

- Please, let me finish. I have nothing against you all. It was just a misunderstanding, and I came up with an idea to... mend thing out ? Is that correct ?

- Not really, but I understand what you mean, answered John.

- OK. Stop me if you think what I say is stupid. We could turn things back in our favor. Let the press know that we have agreed to work together to make this movie. That everything is fine, now. I'm no longer a bad guy, you're no longer a bad company, everything is back to normal. Full Bloom will appear to be very open-minded by letting a Joe Doe like me come to Hollywood. Tell the press I'm a kind of "advisor", for example. Take a few pictures of me and Winona working on the scenario that you will use during a PR campaign, and...

Leslie interrupted me :

- Wait. Work with Miss Ryder on the script ? But...

- Of course, I replied. It's a perfect occasion. Even ask a paparazzi to "steal" picture from us working together. The movie is not even started, we don't even know if it will ever exist, yet you get free press coverage. "Lady and the Tramp" style. Without the scoobidoo ending, of course, I added sharply, waving a hand.

- I... We can't do that. That's impossible. Winona won't accept it, she replied, astonished to the point that she even dropped the "Miss Ryder".

- I agree, said John. That is most unusual. It will create a precedent, and the web and our mailboxes will soon be flooded by God knows how many scenarios written by wannabes. It's impossible. 

I sighed :

- Look. This is not the time for faltering action. You have a reputation to restore, and even take the opportunity to do something that was never done before, that fans will love, that bloggers will still write about in 6 months... And if you're afraid of the wannabes, just don't make the movie, I don't care. In six months, pretend that it wasn't possible for some reason.

- This is not the way things are done here, Greg, said slowly John after looking at me with half-closed eyes. I can't allow that.

Time to flatten my last ace in hand :

- Ask Winona. Ask her if she agrees to do it. If she refuses, I will leave at once, and you will never see me again, I swear.

- She's very busy at the moment, I'm afraid, Leslie said.

Standard move. Let's raise the bet :

- No problem. I have an open ticket, and at least 15 days to spend here. I can wait. In the meantime, we could work on this project I talked about earlier on, in order to restore your image.

- In fact, said Jane, stepping in the discussion, that is something we thought about already. We came up with a rather similar idea.

- Perfect ! Let's do that. Have lunch together in a well-known place where everybody will see what a bunch of old friends we became in just half an hour. There is nonetheless one condition to that : my name must not appear. Nowhere. Never. I'm a nobody.

John nodded :

- I understand. Jane ? Leslie ? Any thoughts about how it can be done ? he asked, relieved by the fact that I was myself offering him what he needed to put an end to this massive press fubar.

- Easy. Any restaurant in the area is packed with competitors an the usual leeches. Or even better : have lunch in Hollywood. Visit a studio. And errr... don't get me wrong here, I don't want to be rude, but... dressed the way you are, and with your hairstyle... you will be spotted a mile away, replied Leslie, looking at me.

I smiled :

- No problem. It's even better this way.

- Whew ! It all went even faster than I thought, I said as I stood up. I really thought we would have to argue for hours. Tank you. I'm so glad we sorted this out without endless chatting, I added with a bright smile.

I wondered if I needed to apologize for the sacking of Richie, Max and David, but decided not to remember them this episode right now. Let's end the discussion on : "problem solved!".

[Antoine]

When we left the office, I followed Leslie in her office.

- I will make some arrangements for lunch. Unfortunately, John won't be able to join us. Would you like Andrew to come instead ?

- Excellent ! I have things to ask him. Jane is also coming ?

- Of course.

- Oh, and... do you have toilets here ?

- Yes. Turn right, then left, and it's the last door to your right.

- Thanks. Be right back.

In the water closet, I backed to the wall, closed my eyes, and breathed out deeply. A shiver went up my spine. Wasn't it too easy ? What did they have up their sleeves ?

I got out of the toilet, and found my way back to Leslie's office. It was less than 10.30, two hours before lunchtime.

- Press on your advantage, I thought :

- You should send an e-mail to Winona soon, you know. I'm only here for fifteen days, I told her.

Leslie blinked :

- She's in Las Vegas today. Press tour and stuff. But she will be back tonight. I'll get in touch with her this afternoon.

- Good. Errr.. do you have an Internet connexion I could use here ? 

- Sure. We have a Wifi network.

- An empty desk I could use, perhaps ?

- There is the meeting room. The door right there, across the corridor.

- Mind if I use it ?

- Not at all. Please go ahead, answered Leslie, relieved that she wouldn't have to entertain me till lunch.

I grabbed my backpack, waved at her, and walked in the meeting room. I chose a chair so that I could be visible from her desk, and left the door opened.

I entered the WPA key Leslie gave me, and I started to browse my favorite websites.

At her desk, Leslie was using the internal instant messaging system. She had a channel opened with John, Max, David, Richie and Jane. But on Skype, she had opened another channel with Jane and Andrew.

John : Strange fellow, to say the least!

Max : Still don't get why he sacked us

Leslie : He wanted to talk only to people he already knew?

John : Perhaps. What do we do now?

Leslie : Do as he says? Sounds honest.

Richie : He's a maverick. Uncontrollable. I don't like it.

John : Me neither. Other options ?

Max : Do as he says, let the press know he is here, wait a few days, then say WR doesn't want to see him. 

John : Reasonable.

Leslie : What if he finds out?

Max : Can he get in touch with her?

Leslie : I don't think so. If so, he would have done it already, and WR would have certainly told me.

Max : Else, you explain to WR that it's too risky. Ask her to inform him that she doesn't want to do it. Full stop. We get what we want, he doesn't. We put him back on the next plane to oblivion.

John : What other tricks could he come up with?

Max : Difficult to say.

The tone of the discussion on the other channel was completely different.

Jane : He's straightforward. I like it.

Andrew : Wish I was there when he ousted Richie

Leslie : You should have seen his face. I nearly loled

Jane : And he came up with exactly the same idea as us, yet better. Was he PR before becoming a journalist?

Andrew : Dunno. Maybe.

Leslie : There we go again : Max says we should fool him and ask Winona to refuse to see him.

Jane : If he finds out, it will backfire AGAIN. Max is an idiot.

Andrew : You know what? I think I like this bloke. Giving Richie a bloody nose straight away : wow! I would have posted that on Youtube if I had a camera.

Leslie :

Jane : lol

Andrew : He has balls. He walks in here and turns the company upside down.

Leslie : John couldn't say a word. Muted. Quite a sight.

Jane : Still, we need to be cautious. Isn't he a bit schizophrenic?

Leslie : You're right. And yes, I think.

Andrew : Where is he now?

Leslie : In the meeting room, typing on his netbook.

[Antoine]

In the meeting room, I couldn't concentrate on what I was reading on the screen. I was far too tensed to remain seated. I stood up, and walked towards Leslie's office.

- Leslie ? I called, holding the door's frame.

- Yes ?

- Is it legal to smoke on the street, here ?

- Yes, of course. Just don't drop your cigarette on the ground next to a cop, that's all.

- OK, thanks. And... is this a Chanel ? I asked, pointing at the vest she wore.

- Indeed ! I love it !

- Nice, I replied with an accomplice blink of the eye.

And I left the office. One more point for me. Thank you Google. Personal mental note : never disclose online the way I dress. To be honest, the only jackets I could recognize were motorcycle jackets, and I couldn't care less if Leslie had a 20$ rag coming from Wal-Mart on.

It had, nonetheless, the desired effect :

Leslie : You know what? I think he's charming, in fact.

Andrew : Oh, Leslie... Behave

Jane : lol

The cigarette did me no good. I was still feeling pretty exhausted. One false step, and I'd be back in France with a hole in my bank account and a broken dream. I had to find a way to neutralize them and go to San Francisco.

The lunch was pleasant. Andrew and I discussed about social media and pirated movies, I threw a few ideas about what we could say to the press about me and what should remain secret (Jane was taking notes), and I listened to Leslie talking about what it meant to be an agent in Hollywood these days. Still, I couldn't afford to relax. Not until I was in San Francisco.

Back in the building, we all stat in Leslie's office to write down the ideas we had, and decide precisely what would come next.

Time to get back to serious business :

- Leslie, can you print me a copy of the script edited by Winona, please ?

Silence fell into the room.

- Let me check... I must have saved it somewhere...

Jane and Andrew looked at each other.

- You see, I'm really curious. I can't imagine... I mean... what I wrote was very poor, because I don't know her. Or even the first two page if you don't want me to have the lot, I added.

Leslie was shuffling through her files, trying to think quickly. Give him the text ? Pretend she deleted it ? No, that would be a blatant lie and he would know it.

She unearthed the e-mail Winona sent her, opened the attached file, and hit the "print" icon.

When I took the pages Leslie handed to me, I was disappointed : I had expected to get a print from the e-mail client itself, retrieving Winona's professional e-mail in the process. I will have to find another way.

I started reading the text nonetheless. This was as close as I ever got to the way she really thought. I smiled sometimes, nodded at others. I took out a pen and started scribbling myself. Leslie, Jane and Andrew were silent. 

When i finished, I put down slowly the sheets on the desk, as if it was a very ancient and sacred manuscript, and said to Leslie, beaming :

- Thank you.

She smiled in reply :

- You're very welcome.

- So... what next ? I asked with a sigh.

- I... could send to Winona the e-mail we talked about earlier. Ask her if she's OK and if she has time to spare next week.

- I have her planning here. TV show next Monday afternoon, not much on Tuesday, a few interviews planned Wednesday, and she told me she had things to do Thursday and Friday, said Jane.

Damn ! A whole week ! Too long. Far too long. I needed to act now.

- What about tomorrow ? Or Sunday ? I asked. 

Andrew jumped on his chair. Both Leslie and Jane froze, startled. I continued :

- It's 380 miles to San Francisco. I could be there tomorrow afternoon if she's OK. Even if I have to wait till Tuesday. On a side note, I'd rather be in Frisco than in LA.

- This... we should ask John, I think, replied prudently Leslie.

- As you wish. But maybe ask Winona first ?

Time to throw them another bone to chew on. The last one I had, in fact :

- Oh, and... errr... by the way. One thing I forgot to tell you. Judie Prince asked me, as a favor, to keep her posted about the way things were going for me. With you, I mean. But I really don't know what to tell her and how, I said in a childish voice, as if I was expecting to be scolded.

The message was clear : try to mess with me, and you'll get a free ride on the New York Post's front page. Again.

Suddenly, Andrew slapped his palms on his knees, and laughed out loud.

- You're good ! You're damn good, kid !

He leaned towards me, and gave me gentle thump on the shoulder with his fist, grinning.

- Andrew ! snapped Leslie with a rebuked look in her eyes.

- What ? Can't you see ? He has us back to the wall. We try to f*ck him ? He calls the Post. We try to persuade Winona not to see him like Max suggested ? It's on the Internet the minute he realizes it. Max tries to double cross him another way ? He and his company join Enron in the cemetery of corporate smart asses. Write that e-mail, Les, and let him go to Frisco.

- Andrew ! Winona is my client ! I won't allow you to dictate me what I have to do ! retorted Leslie.

- Leslie, understand me : I'm not the one leading the game here. He is, replied Andrew with a soft voice, pointing at me. He's got nothing to lose. He's not in our business. He owes us nothing. You think you have a straight flush ? He has a royal flush in hand, and he's pointing a gun right at your head at point blank range. With just one phone call, he could have all of us fired. Worse : ridiculed. Now, what you gonna do about that ?

Andrew stood up :

- I'm not PR, I know. But I'm not dumb. I tell you : do as he says, else we're f*cked. I'll leave it up to you. See you soon and well done, he added, looking at me.

And he left the office.

- Don't you say word, now, I thought. Don't even breathe.

I was shaking a bit.

Leslie remained silent, reached her computer, and started typing. She frequently erased what she was writing. She then hit the "return" key, and leaned back in her armchair.

- There... was her only comment.

- Ite missa est, I commented softly.

- Beg your pardon ?

- "It has been sent". In latin.

- You're religious ?

- No, it's... general culture, I'd say.

I pretended to yawn.

-Tired ? asked Jane.

- Jet lag. I'd better go in the meeting room, try to sleep a little. Else I'll be a zombie tonight.

I went in the meeting room, grabbed an armchair and pulled it next to the wall, out of sight from Leslie's office.

Had it worked ? I wasn't sure yet. Winona could very well be too busy, or just not in the mood. Or simply reject the idea. But at least it will be her call. And if she refused, I would fly back to France knowing that I had done everything I could.

I was truly tired, so I closed my eyes, and fell asleep. 20 minutes : it was my usual nap-time at the office.

[Antoine]

Leslie and Jane remained silent for quite a long time. Jane finally spoke :

- What about flying her here ? So we can keep an eye on him ? Organize the meeting right here.

- Dunno. He might come up with yet another trick. Andrew's right. Our hands are tied. There is too much at stake here. Full Bloom won't survive another blow.

- Do you think he's a maniac or something ?

Leslie frowned, taping her lips with her fingers :

- I... don't think so. He's... focused. He has only one objective, and he sticks to it. He thinks we are in his way -and that is true, somehow- so he managed to get us out of the equation by neutralizing us using the Post. I bet he's a chess player. I don't think he's dangerous, but he's an acute menace for us because of what he knows and what he could do.

- Should one of us go to Frisco with him ?

- I think so, but will he accept ?

- And Winona ?

- Look. She's an adult. She can judge by herself if she accepts. We will arrange meetings in neutral places.

- Hotels are out of bounds. There will be paparazzi all around the minute she pushes the front door.

- I know that. Ask Sally if she would let us use her apartment ?

- Good idea. This way, we could keep an eye on him. 

[Antoine]

I woke up, just 20 minutes after falling asleep. Never really understood how I did it. I grabbed my computer, and started to look how I could go to San Francisco. I didn't want to fly there, and rather go by train, by bus, or even by car.

I found nothing useful on the California public transport website, so I ended up looking for a used car dealer. Websites here were completely different from those in France, and I was utterly lost. Above all, I only has a vague idea of what all the abbreviations meant, so I decided to define a simple price range and see what I could get for a thousand dollars or less. I ended up on Craiglist, much more effective than eBay. I soon spotted a 1988 Jetta "with trans. problems", sold 400 dollars with the smog checked less than two months before. The seller said that the (manual) gearbox had only second gear available. Hmmm... I knew what it was. Easy to fix. Rest of the car looked OK. I wrote down his phone number.

Leslie knocked on the door frame :

- Am I disturbing you ?

- Not at all, I'm looking for a car.

She looked surprised, but didn't comment.

- Look, err... Do you have plans for this evening ? I mean... for dinner ?

I replied, counting on my fingers :

- I need to find myself a new hotel in San Francisco, call to go see this car, send an e-mail to Judie Prince, and... Oh... but only if you got a reply from Winona. Did you ?

- No, I'm afraid.

- Maybe later.

- Anyway... do you want to have dinner with Jane and me ?

- If it's in a real restaurant, and not one of those fish bowls for semi-celebrities and has beens, it suits me. Provide we don't get an answer from Winona till then.

- Let's do that. I know a restaurant not far from where I live. I'll drive you there, and take you back to your hotel after that. Suits you ? Where is your hotel ?

- Downtown. East 6th Street.

- Not that far. We leave at 5.30.

Leslie looked at her watch. Half past three. John had called a meeting at quarter to. She waved at me and left.

Two more hours to wait. I sighed, and clenched my fists.

In John's office, Max and David were already there with Richie when Leslie walked in, 10 minutes early. Jane wasn't there yet.

- So, said John, like he was summing up for her the content of a previous discussion, we keep him with us until the information has leaked and spread far enough, pretend that Winona doesn't want to see him, and he's gone.

- I think it's the best course of action, replied Max.

Richie nodded.

- We could also make him sign a NDA, suggested David.

- Will he sign it ? I personally have doubts, answered Richie.

Leslie cleared her throat :

- Do you gentlemen, realize that if he suspects anything fishy, he only has to call Judie Prince to drop on us the seven angels of the apocalypse ?

- That's a big "if". Provide we play it smart, he'll never know. We could forge an e-mail, and show it to him, replied Max.

- During lunch, he told me that the first thing he did when he received my first mail was to check if it wasn't a forgery. He even explained me how he did it. You won't fool him this way, Leslie replied sharply.

- No e-mail, then. If he trusts you, he will believe you, countered Max.

Leslie was starting to lose her nerves : was he just plain stupid, or incapable of getting over the fact that he was slapped in the face a few hours before ?

- I think you don't measure the situation we're in : this guy is pointing a gun right at our heads -I mean, Full Bloom's head-. If he thinks we are trying to fool him, he has one phone call to make to vaporize this company and end our careers for good. And this also includes you, if he mentions your company. Believe me, he won't hesitate. He has nothing to lose. He's a journalist, completely out of reach if we try to retaliate.

- I won't tolerate this ! shouted John. I won't let him jeopardize my company !

Leslie turned towards him :

- "Bury the hatchet" is a good strategy. In fact, I think now it is the only one that can save us. So let's stick to it. Remember what he said : he's willing to help us restore the company's reputation. He even came up with a better idea than our own, suggesting that we have lunch and dinner with him in hyped restaurants to show everyone that everything was OK between us. And now you want to double cross him ?

Richie shook his head :

- Leslie, on which side are you, exactly ?

She replied, looking furious :

- I'm trying to protect my job ! And if it means flying him to Frisco myself, I will do it ! He gave you a bloody nose this morning, Richie ? Well, get over it !

- Easy, Leslie, interrupted John. We are not questioning your loyalty here.

There was a knock on the door, and Jane came in :

- Oh, you have already started ?

- They are trying to deceive Greg, pretending Winona refused, summed up Leslie.

Jane choked. She looked at the four me in disbelief :

- Are you guys crazy or what ? I mean... excuse me.

- It's all right, Jane. Continue, said John, waving his hand.

- This... this is madness. We're aboard a sinking Titanic, and... and... you're cheering up the orchestra ? Look, I've been in PR for more than 15 years, and you never try to fool twice a journalist. Never ever. Trying to fool him once -and fail- was already a gross mistake. If this reaches the Post, we're history.

John sighed, and bowed his head :

- Now what ? he muttered.

- Why are you still debating ? It's crystal clear : we ask Winona, get her answer. If it's yes, he goes to Frisco. If it's no, he leaves. And if he goes to Frisco, me or Leslie fly with him. We find a quiet place, let them work together, see how it turns out, and maybe even end up with a good script that we can sell to a major, with the PR campaign already running.

John nodded :

- OK. I agree with that. Ask Winona. Wait for her answer.

- John, I still think...

- Oh ! Knock it off, Richie !

John turned to the two women :

- Do it. And if it's necessary, I will call Winona myself.

They all left the office.

Leslie caught Andrew on Skype, and summed up what was said during the meeting.

Andrew : This is ridiculous. And pretty pathetic for a PR agency.

Leslie : Yes. But I think they are out of our way now. And Richie got another bloody nose.

Andrew : lol I've missed everything today.

[Antoine]

As for myself, I was getting really bored playing Flash games online.

At half past five, Leslie knocked on the door frame again :

- Ready to go ?

- Yup.

- Jane will meet us later at the restaurant. She must pick up her kids at school.

As we were getting in the elevator, I asked her :

- Shouldn't I say good bye to John ?

- Oh... he left the office an hour ago.

- Strange, I thought.

We went down to the parking lot. She was driving a big black SUV.

- You know these car kill baby seal in the Amazon forest ? I asked, using one of my favorite jokes.

She looked at me, puzzled :

- There are no baby seals in the Amazon forest.

- How do you know that ? Have you ever been there ? I replied.

- No. But I know there are... wait... are you trying to pull me leg here ?

- Guess, I answered, smiling.

She drove us out of the parking.

- You know, she said after a time, you're a quite peculiar man.

- You're telling me !

We continued to chatter while we moved slowly east on Santa Monica Boulevard. A good half hour later, she parked next to a villa.

- This is my place, she explained.

It was one of these modern concrete blocks with windows everywhere. We walked in.

- You want to drink something ? Whiskey ? Gin ? A cocktail perhaps ? I make excellent Mojitos.

- No, thanks. I'm not thirsty, I replied, looking around me.

On the walls, there were a few paintings, but also pictures from celebrities.

- Is this you hall of fame ?

- Sort of.

He mobile phone beeped. She picked it up, pressed a few key, and looked at me in a strange way.

- It's Winona. She... agrees. 

A shiver went up my spine. I bowed my head to the ground, breathing deeply. I had done it. Next : the very very very tricky part...

For Leslie, this was good and bad news at the same time. Good news because that would get Max off her back and shut him up. Bad news because that meant more work.

I had taken my computer out of my backpack.

- What are you looking for ?

- The phone number of a guy who sells a used Volkswagen Jetta in Santa Monica. So I can drive to San Francisco if it's in suitable condition. He says the transmission is broken but I think I can fix it. Or I'll try to find another one if it's not the case.

- Buy a car ? Why don't you fly to Frisco ? And rent a car once you're there ?

- I don't want to fly to Frisco. I want to make my own little road trip. At first, I even wanted to fly to New York, and drive across the US to Los Angeles.

- You, dear sir, are completely crazy, said a dazed Leslie, shaking her head.

- That you, madam, I will take that like a compliment.

- Besides, even if this car works, how will you insure it ?

I covered my mouth with my hand :

- Crap ! I forgot about that !

- See ? Rent a car if you really want to drive to San Francisco.

She walked towards me :

- OK, calm down. Winona only said yes, she didn't say when she is available.

- Oh, you're right. Can you ask her ? I replied with an uneasy smile. 

She looked at me with half-closed eyes :

- You never give up, do you ?

I remained silent.

So this is your true you, she thought. You had plans to get us out of the way, but no further. Is it good or bad ? How far are you willing to go to get to Frisco ? Let's try something :

- You know, I could... lend you a car. The one of my stepdaughter. She doesn't use it since she's studying in Chicago.

- I can't accept that, I replied immediately. Sorry : this is very kind of you, but no.

- She doesn't need it now. As long as you drive it back here, it's OK.

- No, I can't. I will rent a car tomorrow morning, and drive to San Francisco after booking a hotel. You have done too much for me already. Please, don't insist.

So... you don't accept anything coming from the others. You want to stay in control, and owe nothing to me, Leslie thought.

- Come on, I did nothing.

- You're wrong. You bypassed you boss' authority by sending this e-mail to Winona. Of course, I was kind of threatening you, but you could have  insisted on asking him before acting, and there would have been nothing I could do about it.

She shook her hand :

- I bypassed him because he's an incompetent f*g who created an agency without knowing jack sh*t about what being an agent means.

So... I had correctly read what meant the way they were seated this morning round the table.

[Antoine]

Her phone beeped again :

- It's Jane, she's on her way. Shall we go ?

- Please, lead the way, I replied.
 
We dove down a few blocks. I felt dizzy. Now what ? I had absolutely no  idea

When we arrived a the restaurant, Jane was already there. She had removed most of her make-up, and was dressed much more casually.

- Winona agrees to see him, summed up Leslie.

- Brilliant ! answered Jane.

- Max will have to shove this one down his throat. And say thank you.

Jane smiled.

Hmmm... So these two were allies of some kind. Plus Andrew, I thought. That makes three. The only ones I had to stay away from were John, Richie, and of course Max.

- He's the improbable offspring of a shark and a vulture, I said. But that's not kind towards sharks and vultures.

Jane laughed :

- Spot on !

They then asked me a ton of questions about my job, how I lived, why I started to write this script. I gave her frank answers : it was time to show them I was a pretty normal guy, and not a cold-blooded monomaniac.

In the end, Jane said :

- It's far better when you relax. This morning, I felt like facing a 10 gigawatt power plant.

- I'm sorry. I... was expecting an answer from her. A direct answer, I mean. In fact, I thought she would be there this morning. Maybe I'm a bit presumptuous... I had to get an answer. And I didn't lie when I said I would be gone if she refused.

- So, what do you plan to do next ?

- Good question. I guess I should go to Frisco one way or another, and quickly, before Max or Richie try to interfere again. From then, I think there's nothing I can do but wait till she has some spare time.

- I told you the truth when I said she was busy during the next few days. My timetable only covers the press event, but I'm afraid you won't be able to meet her before next Thursday at least. TV shows are very stressful and exhausting, this is why she has a day off on Tuesday before interviews on Wednesday, explained Jane.

- I won't bother her. I will do as she says, promise.

- One more thing : Jane and I think that it's best if you meet her in the apartment of Sally Stanford. Sally is her ex-agent, and she is very close to Winona -too close, in fact, to continue working for her, this is why I'm the one in charge, now. I haven't asked Sally yet, but I'm sure she will be OK. Even glad you're around. Besides, her husband is an author himself, working part time for the MGM.

- It's a small small world, I whispered.

- Oh, yes ! A very small world, agreed Leslie with a nod.

I tried to hide a yawn.

- Tired ? asked Jane.

- I don't want to me impolite, but in fact I'm completely exhausted.

- OK, let's drive you back to your hotel.

We took the Hollywood freeway. In less than 20 minutes, we were parked in front of the hotel.

- There... this is my business card. I wrote you down my personal phone number just in case.

- Thanks.

I shuffled in my bag and took out one of my own business cards :

- There you go. Oh, and... you have to add +33 in front of this number, and drop the zero.

She was gazing at the business card and chuckled :

- Funny : I find out your last name only now.

- That's because I trust you.

She stared at me :

- What are your plans ?

- Drive to San Francisco tomorrow morning, find a hotel, and stay put until you call me.

I hesitated a bit before continuing :

- To be honest, I have no way to get in touch with Winona, so I guess I'll have to wait for your call.

- I repeat myself, but you're a strange man. You're completely different now from the one I met this morning.

- I'm not strange. I act differently. You're not accustomed to my manners. I told you it was just... cultural misunderstanding. And... maybe the fact that I'm a bit schizophrenic, perhaps, I added with a smile.

She chuckled again :

- No, sir. Not "a bit". Completely. You're completely crazy. Anyway, Jane or I will fly to Frisco the day before you two meet. I'll ask Winona when she's free, and keep you posted.

- Thanks. Have a good night, I said, opening the door.

- Bye, have a nice trip. Remember : 70 mph max, she replied, waving her hand.

Up in my room, I was even too tired to take a shower. I took off my shoes, and fell on the bed. Two minutes later, I was asleep.

[Antoine]

My cellphone woke me up : I forgot to turn off the alarm. I really felt like sleeping a couple of hours more, but knew that I would be completely groggy if I did so.

I took a shower, cleared the room, and had breakfast before asking the receptionist where I could rent a car. Ironically, there was a used car dealer across the street, but refrained to have a look inside. Renting a car was the right thing to do.

Two hour later, I was driving down on South Hope Street in a dull silver Volvo S80. Cheapest car equipped with a GPS they had. I could have rented an even cheaper car by buying a GPS, but frankly, I couldn't be bothered.

Soon after, I was on the I-5, in the middle of a mild traffic. It was exactly like in the movies : the gray tarmac, the green roadsigns, the trucks. In the movies, they forgot just one thing : the potholes.

According to the GPS, it was a least an 8 hours drive to San Francisco. I added two hours : I should be there around 9 pm. It was just after the Santa Clarita exit that I remembered I hadn't book a hotel. Well... in the movies, there were always motels everywhere, right ? Speed regulator on, climate control off, I was trying to enjoy my own personal road trip. But frankly, it was pretty much like in France, save the width of the highway.

Around 2 pm, I pulled over, and took a few steps out. The GPS told me I was near a lake, but I couldn't see it. I shrugged, and got back in the car.

When night started to fall, I was still more than 80 miles away. I left the highway, and looked for a motel. After a few miles, I found what I looked for : a motel, next to a restaurant and a gas station.

Fortunately, there were rooms available. I payed 5 dollars to get an Internet connexion, and searched for a hotel in San Francisco on TripAdvisor. I wrote down a few phone numbers, and made calls to book a room.

Back in my room, I was feeling badly depressed after yesterday. It was far from done yet. So many things could happen in between. I couldn't stop thinking of what I would say, what she would answer, tho I knew perfectly well all this was meaningless.

The next morning, I woke up in a worse shape even : was all this worth it ? What if I completely ruined everything with a single word ? I felt like giving up. It all rested in Leslie's hands now, and if something went wrong, I couldn't figure out a way to put things back on tracks.

I walked down to the lobby to have breakfast, tho I wasn't hungry at all. The pancakes tasted like concrete, and the coffee more like bitter tea. Back in my room again, I checked my phone, hoping I got some news in between, but no.

Around 11am, I was back on the highway. Houses and small town started to appear more frequently, and before I could even realize, I was another suburb, with its long series of warehouses, gas stations, abandoned industrial yards and restaurants with flashy signs.

[Antoine]

My hotel was in ?. I chose it partly because it was next to a freeway. I checked in, and entered yet another anonymous bedroom, with orange curtains, brown carpet, and ugly lampposts. All I could do now was wait, but it was unbearable. I knew nothing about San Francisco apart from a few scenes in "Bullit", or shots from the Golden Gate, and I was afraid of going out in an unknown city. I really wasn't in the mood for museum, movies or whatever, and reading was making time run even slower. I turned on the TV, but it was worse than I had feared : piles of rubbish between commercials. Yuck !

I went out of the room, asked in the lobby for a city map, and went out for a walk. 

When I woke up Monday morning, I was beyond depression : no news from Leslie, alone in an unknown city, nothing to do but wait... I chose the web : perfect for wasting time. My first idea was to check Winona's page on Wikipedia, but it was so depressing that I quickly closed it. I nonetheless stumbled upon a newsflash in The Inquirer, saying that I was in LA, talking to Full Bloom about a possible movie based on my writing. Was it good ? Was it bad ? Who leaked the information ? Full Bloom ? Probably. But who at Full Bloom ? Anyway, there was nothing I could do about it.

The first call I got Monday morning was from Judie. I told her what happened last Friday in Los Angeles, and she confirmed what I thought : Full Bloom had negotiated a "scoop" with The Inquirer. I asked her once again to keep the story I told her for herself for now, and promised here she would get more details in the coming days.

It was not until Monday afternoon that I got news from Leslie.

- Hi, I have good news for you : she's OK to see you on Thursday.

- Thanks. How did John and the others react ?

- They were rather furious, but since it's her decision, there wasn't much they could do.

- I see. Are you coming to Frisco ?

- I plan to arrive here Wednesday evening, and stay till Thursday evening, just to be sure everything is fine.

- OK, see you there Thursday morning, then.

She gave me Sally's address, and hung up.

Soooo... three more days to wait.

Sally's house was in Belvedere, a peninsula of Richardson Bay.  Rather large villa with huge window panes looking southwest towards the Bay. I was to be there around 10am, but as usual, I arrived earlier than I thought. I parked the best I could not far from the villa, and waited. At a quarter to ten, Leslie arrived in a taxi. I got out of the car, and walked towards her. She waived at me :

- Hi there ! Nice to see you again. How do ?

- Meh... The last four days were boring.

- Sorry about that.

- Not your fault. It was predictable.

- Anyway... shall we go in ? Sally is waiting for us.

We took a few steps to a anonymous door, and Leslie rang. Sally was one of those typical blonds with blue eyes some guys fancied. Too cute and still too young to be botoxed.

We sat in the living room, waiting for Winona. I remained as silent as I could, and Leslie did most of the talking, summing up the situation. I had to accept a cup of coffee, tho I didn't need any stimulant at that time. The doorbell rang, and my heart limped in my chest. Sally left the room, and I stood up, not knowing what to do.

- Easy, just whispered Leslie, smiling gently at me.

And she was there. Wearing used jeans and a simple white t-shirt, with a jumper on her shoulders. My brain was completely out of control, and it took me five long minutes to get a functional mind back, having completely forgotten what I had said or done during that time.

When I "woke up", sort of, they were all looking at me. Someone must have asked me a question, and expecting an answer of some kind.

- Sorry ? What did you say ?

- We were wondering why you wrote this script.

- I... can't remember exactly. Sometimes I just let my mind wander, and I end up with strange ideas. I started to write, and sentence after sentence, it all came out, like something I had on the back of my head for some time. You know...

- Anyway, said Winona, I still think we could use it as the basis of a longer scenario. We will have to spice things up a bit, find a way to lengthen the plot... dunno how, but I think it could be done. Not the script of the century, but definitely a starting point. 

- I could try to think about it, see if I can come up with new ideas ? I asked.

- Or we could both work on it, for example. I quite like the idea of elaborating a scenario myself, using my own words.

- Suits me. When do we start ? I replied instantly.

Leslie laughed :

- See ? I told you : he jumps on every opportunity in a split second.

- That's... why I'm here, I answered with a little smile.

- So let's do it, replied Winona.

- You could work in George's room. It's a bit messy, tho.

- Never mind. I just need electricity for my computer, and it's fine.

Her husband's room had wide window panes, overlooking the bay. His desk was the usual mess you could expect from a writer : piles of papers, pencils everywhere, and buried somewhere, a computer.

There was also a little coffee table : perfect for me, since I hated working at normal desks. Winona also carried a laptop, and she sat in the sofa, the laptop on her knees. She gave me her version of the script, and we shared it through an online word processor, so we won't have to synchronize the files every now and then.

I was already peering at the first page, so I barely noticed Leslie leaving, saying to us that she would be back in the evening.

- So... I started. You're not in France to meet a film crew.

- No, that's unrealistic. That's not the way things are done. And I wouldn't travel alone.

- Other options ?

- Let me see... Holidays... I don't like it. Maybe meeting an important producer ?

- Why in France ? Why in person ?

- Hmmmm... yup ! What about meeting a writer ? Like today ? Meeting a writer to discuss a scenario ?

- You ? Meeting a writer in person ?

- Maybe it would be a very famous but mad writer, one that you have to meet personally ? You know ? Huge ego, bad temper...

I closed my eyes...

- But this detail doesn't bring anything to the plot. Why bother explaining why you're in France alone ? You're there, and that's all.

She scowled :

- No, we need to explain that point, else everybody will ask themselves : "what is she doing here anyway ?".

And it went on a on like that for hours. It was everything I ever dreamed of : we were both trying to improve my initial work, re-enacting sometimes a scene, trying to grasp the ideal words to write down, arguing over the use of a word or another.

In the end, the "car" was the sofa that we had moved a bit so we could walk around it. I had borrowed a few sheets of paper from George's desk so I could scribble the way I saw things : the parking lot in front of the church, the café, the hotel. We looked for pictures on the web, trying to share a common mental image of the scenery.

Hours flew by, and before I could realize it, Leslie was back : it was already 6 pm.

- So, how things going ? she asked.

- We... made progress, but it's still a long way to go, I'm afraid, Winona replied.

I, for myself, said nothing, feeling a bit dizzy after 7 hours of writing and re-writing. Besides, I was waiting for just one thing : that she decided to continue for one more day, and then another, and then...

Fortunately, she came to the same conclusion alone :

- We should continue tomorrow, see if we could find a way to lengthen the plot, she said, looking my way.

Easy... breathe... count to five, and answer... I thought.

- Yes, indeed. I will try to think of something tonight.

- We could also ask George, said Sally.

- Why not ? We could have better ideas than me, I replied.

Leslie had a plane to Los Angeles at 9 pm, Winona had already planned dinner somewhere, and I didn't want to bother Sally, so we all split, after agreeing to meet the following morning around 9 am.

Back in my hotel room, tho I was feeling pretty exhausted, I couldn't lie still in bed: my brain was still buzzing around, trying to remember every detail of the afternoon. I finally fell asleep around midnight, not really knowing if I felt happy or even more miserable than before.

[Antoine]

Friday morning, I arrived a bit late at Sally's house : Winona was already there, chatting with George. He had read what we wrote the previous day, and told us that although it was interesting, chances were we were writing a book, not a movie script, or at least not a Hollywood script. It was too blank for that. Winona looked even more disappointed than me.

So she was caring about all this, after all...

We went back in George's office. His comment had demoralized us a bit, and for a few minutes we just stood silently, Winona on the sofa, me on a cushion next to the coffee table. Sally came in, carrying a tray with a coffee pot and cups. Looking at our faces, she asked :

- Something wrong ?

- It's... George says it's rubbish, Winona replied.

- Rubbish ? Sally dropped the tray on the desk, and went to the door :

- George ? she yelled.

He came in. Sally looked pretty furious :

- What have you told them ?

- What did I tell them ? About what ? George looked puzzled.

- About the scenario. You told them it was rubbish.

- I... No ! I told them it was... well... too... blank, you know, replied George, scratching his head. I... I mean, I just spoke my mind, and... well...

Sally turned to us :

- I think it's fine. Don't listen to him.

She grabbed her husband by the arm, and pulled him out of the room, still admonishing him.

Winona and I looked at each other, and laughed.

- Ooops... was her only comment.

But the incident had got us back on our toes, and we started to throw around various ideas about how the script could bounce back in order to add another hour or so.

Around 1 pm, Sally came in with a tray of sandwiches. While we were eating, I questioned Winona about her real life in San Francisco, and how Hollywood was like, but for real. The overall answer was even more pessimistic than I thought. Instead of working, we found ourselves chatting about our respective childhood, what were the things or people that really mattered to us, how we felt about the world we grew in.

Around 4 pm, her phone beeped.

- Oh ! Already ?

- What ?

- I have another dinner tonight, and I have to... well... it's a bit far from here. I... I'm sorry.

I shrugged :

- No problem. Besides, we didn't make any real progress today.

- I'm afraid... Maybe I'm not that good at writing, she sighed.

I really couldn't figure a good answer to make, so I remained silent, a chill crawling down my spine. So this was it ?

She stared at me for a few seconds, eyes half-closed :

- I wonder... Would you like to come with me ? It's just a dinner with a few friends. It's not very far, like... an hour and a half or so outside Frisco, on the San Pablo Bay.

- How many persons ? was my immediate reply.

- Around ten or so...

I shrugged, trying to look as cool as I could, tho my heart was thumping hard in my chest.

- Why not ?

We collected our stuff, replaced the sofa where it used to be, explained to Sally what we had decided, and left. We agreed to drive both cars to her place, drop mine there, and then go to Black Point in her car.

I had turned off my GPS, and was soon lost outside San Francisco.  Her house was a pretty modest one compared to who she was. I waited in the living room, while she got upstairs to get dressed. So this was her place...

The weather was splendid, so she had folded the roof of her convertible. The highway was rather empty. This gave me an idea. I shuffled in my bag, took out my MP3 player and a cable, and put the earplugs on, looking for a peculiar song, praying this would work.

- What are you doing ?

- Shhh... wait, I answered.

On the car's stereo, there was a USB plug. I looked for the proper cable, lit up the stereo, got through the various options, and finally pressed play, hoping... yes !

- I've always wanted to do that, you see, I explained, looking at her.

From the speakers, Simon and Garfunkel started to sing :

Gee but it's great to be back home
Home is where I want to be.
I've been on the road so long my friend,
And if you came along
I know you couldn't disagree.

She looked startled, as I started to sing.

- What... on earth... are...you...doing ?

- Everywhere I go-ho ! What ?

- What are you doing ?

- And I'm one step ahead of the shoe shine ! Look, I'm in America, driving on a highway in a convertible next to... well... you... and... so... You're in trouble boy, and now you're heading into more. So I'm doing like they do in the movies : put on the stereo, and sing... Oh, wait, here comes the brass...

The laughed, agape, and shook her head :

- Leslie told me you were a bit crazy... That was an understatement.

- Wait, wait wait... another one... let me see...

I shuffled through the playlist, skipping a few songs.

I got this graveyard woman, you know she keeps my kid
But my soulful mama, you know she keeps me hid

- Meh...

- WHAT ? Meh ? I can't believe this ! Best song writer since Bach ! Come on ! Bob Dylan himself !

- Maybe, but... try something else. I'm not in the mood.

- Philistine !

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me

- Ah... come on ! Not again !

- OK, OK, just gimme a second ? I replied, still shuffling through my playlist.

Thinking about thinking of you
Summertime think it was June
Yeah think it was June

- Ah, crap, I hate Stereophonics.

More shuffling...

Come on, come on
Put your hands into the fire
Explain, explain
As I turn I meet the power

- What's that ?

- Thirteen Senses.

And we kept on driving, shuffling through our respective play lists. Mentally, I rendered thanks to all these songwriters : I was in a road movie -no, in my road movie, literally having the time of my life.

[Antoine]

When the car stopped, we were yet again next to a huge villa, hidden from the road by high walls. We got out of the car, and instead of ringing at the main door, Winona and I walked round the house. There, in the middle of a garden, was a swimming pool, with half a dozen persons chatting around a low table. A man rose from his chair and came towards us. Oh my... Al Pacino... He and Winona hugged each other, and then he turned to me :

- Hello, and welcome.

We shook hands.

- Al, this is Greg. Told you about him. The mysterious script writer. The Frenchman.

- Oh, yes ! The guy that nearly put Full Bloom out of business with a single phone call...

He laughed. He took me by the shoulders and lead me to the rest of the group.

- Guys ? This is...

He hesitated a bit, then continued :

- I'd say Full Bloom's Nemesis, or the man who slaps agents in the face for his breakfast, and has them asking for more.

- It was about time someone did so, commented a woman, rising her glass towards me in a kind of salute.

- Oh, come on, Polly, what would we be without agents ? asked a guy next to me.

- Actors, perhaps ? asked Al with a smile.

Some of them chuckled. Al introduced me to his guests, none of them I knew. Winona was already chatting with a guy, so I kept up with other discussions, trying not to look at her too often.

All in all, it was a very pleasant evening. I had to explain them what happened since last month. They were pretty enthusiastic about the way I had ousted Max and Richie. They insisted on re-enacting the scene, and we soon had around the table John (played by Al), a pseudo-Richie, avatars for Max and Leslie (played by Winona), mixing what happened then with other movie scenes.

At the end of the dinner, while everybody was having a drink, Al came to sit next to me.

- Tell me one more thing : why are you here ?

- Oh, err... Winona invited me. I hope...

- That's not what i meant. Let me ask you this question another way : why did you came to Los Angeles and then here ?

- Because of her, I answered, tilting slightly my glass towards Winona.

Al remained silent for a few seconds, biting his lips. He finally asked :

- You love her ?

I said nothing. He bent towards me, and said in a lowered voice :

- Look, we've been friends - I mean, real friends- for years. I'm a sort of... godfather, if you like. You can speak freely.

- Well in that case, I guess the correct answer is : "more than I thought I possibly could". The way she whistles the "s", the way she is holding her glass right now, with the bend of her little finger. The way her necklace rolls on... the bones you have here, I said, pointing at my own clavicle.

He sighed. I quickly added :

- But I know it's a very bad idea. I mean... I'll be back in France in less than a week, I think, and... we're... we don't live in the same world. I don't want to bother her, or be... like... I don't know how to say that in English. Too... pushy ? No. Anyway, it's a very bad idea.

He stared at me for a while, tilting his head, like he was trying to read my mind. He then replied, tapping gently on my shoulder :

- Just... be kind.

He got on his feet, and walked away from me.

I was still wondering what that meant, when Winona walked next to me :

- It's 11 pm, I'd rather leave now. I'm a bit tired.

- Fine. Let's go.

We said good-bye to everyone. I walked towards the car, and turned around. Al was talking to Winona. He hugged her, and she left. A few feet away from me, she threw me the car keys :

- Catch ! I'm too drunk to drive, and you've been drinking sodas all evening.

[Antoine]

I opened the passenger door, and said :

- Si Mademoiselle veut bien se donner la peine de monter, waiving an imaginary cap.

She smiled, bowed a little, and sat in the car. While I was trying to find out the way the gearbox worked, she closed the roof, and punched a button on the radio set. She asked after a few seconds :

- What's that ?

- Mali... Male... ne... sian, no, Melanesian Choirs, I stuttered.

- It's beautiful.

- Yes, Too bad it's yet another people bound to disappear in a few years.

- What does it say ?

- Dunno. Some religious thingy I believe. It's...

I hesitated a bit, but continued :

- It's what rings in my head each time I see you.

She chuckled, but I couldn't figure out whether it was from exasperation of amusement.

We drove in silence for a few miles. I was also feeling a bit tired, and most of all frightened this would be my last moments with her. She finally asked :

- What do you think of me ?

- I... beg you pardon ?

- What do you think of me ? she said once more, raising her voice.

- It's... That's a difficult question. I haven't really thought about it. I think you're kind, and generous, and who you are pretty matches what I imagined when I saw pictures of you.

- Yes... and ?

- There is not much to say beyond that. I mean...

- Do I really have to do this all by myself ?

- Do what ?

- OK. I will ask it differently. How do you feel now ?

- I'm a bit tired, but I had a very pleasant evening, and I'm glad you took me with you.

She sighed.

- OK, take three... Do you love me ?

My heart limped in my chest. I stopped the car.

- Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that earlier.

- Said what ?

- What I said about that music in my head each time I see you. That was stupid. Rude, even.

- That wasn't rude or stupid, that was kind, or charming, in fact.

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of the car. I unlocked the safety belt, and opened the door. I was trembling. I closed my eyes and rubbed my face with my hands.

- Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, I repeated to myself.

She had walked round the car, and was standing next to me. All I could do was to stare at my shoes.

- What's wrong ?

- Look : it's not possible. We live in different worlds. We might also be living on different planets. I... I don't belong here.

- Does it really matter ?

- Well... yes ! And besides, I'm not... Look, I'm just an ordinary guy who... did something just a bit unusual. I'm not like you.

- Stop looking at me as an actress, the Hollywood star, and all that crap. I mean...

I finally looked at her. All I could read in her eyes was : "you may". So I bend slowly towards her, coming closer to her face.

Closer...

Closer...

[Antoine]

The end is here.

[Gary]

my only question is...

why isn't is Phancy?