He smiles and kisses my hand. We finish our drinks, listening to the piano player and then escape to our room, spending the rest of the night in bed, touching and tasting each other leisurely. As far as evenings go, it ranks up there with the crème de la crème.
Ian leaves New York the next morning and I allow myself a half hour to cry because I begin to miss him the second he walks out the hotel room door. Terribly. The room seems desperately lonely without his commanding presence.
I’m meeting Mo at one o’clock and my taxi is stuck in midtown traffic. “I’ll just get out here and walk,” I say to the driver, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. The fare is fifteen dollars and change, and I’m not sure the tip is big enough, considering I left him stuck in a traffic jam but I hope it is. “Thanks.”
Mo’s office is on 57th street and I get out on 51st so I just need to walk six blocks—in the rain. Luckily I have my umbrella. I’m rushing to cross a street before the light changes when my cell phone starts singing. Checking the caller, I see it’s Lucien.
“Lucien, hello. What’s up?”
“Ella, some not so good news, I’m afraid. I just got a call from Maya St. Sauveur. She’s in Venice and apparently cannot leave until some legal matter can be cleared up. I’m stuck in Paris for the next 48 hours at least. Maya claims that if her legal matter takes much longer than two days, she might not have time to go to New York. She’s due in Bali for a wedding early next week. This interview is proving to be a massive pain. Is there any way you can get to Venice to do the interview? You can take Gerard, my cameraman, and just knock out the interview that way.”
“I suppose I can do that. I’m meeting my agent now and then I have no other business in New York. If I could get a flight out tonight, I might be able to pull it off.”
“Ah, so good to hear. I’ll phone Gerard and let him know.”
“Sure. I’ll call the airport as soon as I get back to my hotel.”
“Just to be on the safe side, Ella, I’ll call and buy the tickets for you now… in case the flight gets booked before you get the chance. I’ll call you back or text you with the details.”
“That sounds fine. I’ll speak to you later, Lucien.”
Well. I suppose I’m going to Venice for the first time in my life. If only Ian could accompany me, it would be grand. Not only will going to such a romantic city alone be a bit pathetic but then I’ll also have to deal with Ian’s inevitable wrath. I glance at my watch: he’s still in the air so I can’t call him. I’ll text him after my meeting.
“Ella! It’s so good to see you. Come, let’s have lunch. My treat.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
“It’s the least I can do considering how much money you’ve made me,” she says with a chuckle. “How about a glass of wine and a Caesar salad?”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
Mo takes me to a small café that boasts of selling only fresh food, locally grown. I observe her as she places her order. I’ve never met her in person before today, handling all our business by fax and phone. The woman is a powerhouse but, physically, she’s tiny. She has dark red hair, big eyes, and a penchant for highly tailored suits, I see. She’s wearing very high heels but I suppose that’s because she’s so petite. Though small in stature, she has a booming voice and a huge personality, as well. I like Mo a lot, I decide all over again.
“Ella, I heard from the film production company last Friday. They’re starting to cast, you know. Beth Furman, the assistant CD, asked me if you would want any weigh-in on the leads since it’s not explicitly stated in your contract—but they don’t want to get your nose out of joint, apparently. I suppose they’re hoping for a sequel,” she snorts.
“I wondered about that. I don’t know anything about casting or film production, in general, but I’d like to get a final approval on their choices, as well as possibly offer them my idea of the characters’ physicality.”
“You describe them in the book,” she points out, breaking a bread stick in half. “That’s what they’re using as a jumping off point. Trust me,” she says, waving the bread stick at me, “they do not want to piss off your legion of fans. The fans are the ones who will pony up the dollars to see this movie; they want them to be pleased as punch with the actors cast in the roles. I think it’s a good idea to give them your take but not to hold their feet to the fire. How does that sound?”
“Fine, Mo.” I tilt my head in consternation. “Do I look like the type to hold anyone’s feet to the fire?”