P.S. from Paris(22)
Why do my characters have so much more courage than I do?
How many roles had she played, dreaming of the freedom they offered her? How many times had David reminded her that her fans were not in love with her but with her character? Why not take a brave step like Paul had?
Her fingers rested on the keyboard.
Dear Paul,
I really enjoyed your message. I’m new to this kind of website too. In fact, I think I would have made fun of my friends if any of them had told me they’d agreed to dine with a stranger because of a message on a dating site! But what you said is so true. Is it the freedom of characters in fiction that we find so inspiring, or the way that freedom transforms them? Why do they dare to do so much and we so little? (Apologies for the repetition—I’m not much of a writer!) Since I’m unlikely to bump into these characters in reality, I would be happy to talk to someone who breathed life into them. It must be wonderful to have your characters accomplish anything you want them to. Is it really that simple? You must be very busy, so I suppose we can save this detail for when we’re face to face.
See you tonight—no strings attached!
Mia
PS: I’m British, and far from perfect myself.
“Unbelievable. Just unbelievable!” Lauren exclaimed.
She waited for the waiter to leave their table, drank her lemonade in a single gulp, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“My message wasn’t all that bad, huh?”
“It was good enough to get her to write back. Arthur, I know you’d do anything to stop Paul from going to Korea, but you’ve really got to stay out of it.”
“I seem to recall this whole thing was your idea, remember?”
“But that was before he met with his editor . . .”
“I don’t mind if he goes to the book fair, I just want to make sure he comes back.”
“And what about the other reason for the trip?”
“All the more reason for a little nudge!” Arthur smiled.
“And how do you plan to convince him to turn up at this restaurant?”
“That’s where I need you.”
“You always need me.”
“I’m going to invent a dinner date with an important client and invite Paul along as backup.”
“You two haven’t worked together as architects for seven years. How much help could he be?”
“As a translator, maybe?”
“You speak French as well as he does, if not better.”
“He knows Paris better than I do.”
“And what’s the project all about?”
“Good question. I need to come up with something convincing.”
“Tell him it’s for a restaurant,” Lauren said.
“That wouldn’t be big enough for the agency, not so far from home.”
“A very big restaurant?”
“Ah. What about a beloved American restaurant considering a location in Paris?”
“Is that credible?”
“It’s perfect! I’ll say Alioto’s has decided to open a restaurant here. That’s his favorite place back in San Francisco.”
“So what role do I play in this little yarn?”
“If I ask him myself, he might think something’s up, or just flat-out refuse, but if you’re the one who insists, he’ll say yes. He’d do it for you.”
“This is a really dirty trick, Arthur.”
“Maybe, but it’s for his own good. He’ll be grateful.”
“Oh, I seriously doubt that, once he realizes you’ve taken him for a ride. And from that moment on, the evening will be a disaster. What are we supposed to talk about during the meal?”
“What are ‘we’ supposed to talk about? Nothing. We won’t be there!”
“So you’re planning to send him to dine alone with a stranger who accepted an invitation on a dating website, when he thinks he’s there to be talking architecture with a client?” Lauren burst out laughing. “I would love to be a fly on the wall for that meal.”
“Same here, but let’s not push our luck.”
“It’ll never work. They’ll figure out what’s happened before the first course.”
“Maybe. But imagine: What if there’s a chance it does work, even just a tiny one? How many times have you attempted something impossible in the operating room, when everyone else was telling you to throw in the towel?”
“Don’t try to win me over by stroking my ego. Honestly, I can’t figure out if this plan of yours is totally evil or totally hilarious.”
“Probably a little bit of both. Unless it works . . .”
Lauren asked the waiter for the bill.
“Where are we headed?” Arthur asked.
“To pack our bags and find a hotel. I’m afraid Paul’s going to kick us out tomorrow morning.”
“Good idea. Let’s bust out of Paris tonight. I’ll take you to Normandy.”
Paul thought it rather high-handed of Arthur to book the table under Paul’s own name, and he was further irritated at being the first to arrive. The waitress showed him to a table for four, with only two places set. He pointed this out to her, but she slipped away without replying.