Three weeks passed. Paul wrote constantly. He barely left his desk, except to eat lunch at Moustache’s café and Sunday brunch at Daisy’s flat. Though Daisy was pleasant company, she maintained her silence on all things Mia. The tabloids had quieted as well.
One evening, at eight p.m. exactly, he received a call from Cristoneli.
“Are you writing?”
“No.”
“Watching television?”
“No.”
“Perfect. Whatever you’re doing . . . you keep doing it.”
“You’re calling just to find out about my schedule?”
“No, I wanted to check how you are, and how your novel is going.”
“I threw out the one I was writing and I’ve started a whole new one.”
“Excellent.”
“Completely different.”
“Oh, really? You’ll have to tell me what it’s about.”
“I’m not so sure you’re going to like it.”
“Oh, nonsense! You’re just saying that to pique my curiosity.”
“No, I really don’t think so.”
“What is it, a thriller?”
“Check back in with me a few weeks from now . . .”
“A detective story? Procedural?”
“Right now I’m just going to focus on getting that first draft out.”
“Erotica, you little devil?”
“Gaetano, is there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”
“No . . . as long as you tell me you are okay.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Scratch that. I’m great. And since you’ve taken such an intense interest in my life, I should tell you I did some tidying up this morning, then I had lunch at the café down the road, after which I spent most of the afternoon reading, and tonight I’ve warmed up some lentils for dinner. Which are currently going from lukewarm to cold. After I’m off the phone with you, I’m going to write, and then go to bed. Does that satisfy your newfound curiosity?”
“Lentils? A little tough to digest at night, if you ask me.”
“Good night, Gaetano.”
Paul hung up, shaking his head, and turned back to his computer. As he began a new paragraph, he reran the bizarre conversation with his editor in his head.
Suddenly seized with doubt, he grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV. The news was on TF1 and France 2. He kept flicking through channels, frowned, then went back to France 2, which was showing the trailer for a new film.
In it, Paul saw a man kissing a woman in an evening dress. The man took the woman in his arms and laid her on a bed before undressing her. He kissed her breasts as she moaned with pleasure.
There was a close-up of the actors, which became a freeze-frame and then cut to a television studio where the same two actors were live on camera.
