I was a free man in Paris
I was unfettered and alive
- Joni Mitchell
CDG-LAX
D-Day minus 120 hours, otherwise known as the Week Before They All Came Out (Whether Or Not They Actually Wanted To). Pam had just left one of Simon Antoine's disaster preparation meetings and was walking around her flat in stockinged feet, weighing up the pros and cons of bribing Mme Odile, the proprietor of her favourite boutique, into opening the store at 2 AM for a valued, insomniac customer. She had a feeling that, very soon, there would be no opportunity to stock up on hosiery and gloves. (Pam was careful, really she was, but blood stains in kid leather were impossible to get out.)
Sure enough, the telephone rang as she was slipping into her navy crocodile pumps; it was Eric.
'How soon can you be in Shreveport?' he said, as if it had been two days, not two years, since they last spoke.
Ah, Shreveport. How she hadn't missed that place.
'Anubis Paris-Los Angeles flies every Wednesday and Sunday,' Pam said, careful not to sound the least bit eager. She heard him make a disgruntled noise, and added, 'If I bill a chartered to your account, I can be there by tomorrow night.'
Eric's deep chuckle, a continent away, made Pam's toes curl. 'I will see you on Wednesday night, Pam.'
'Miser,' Pam retorted, grinnng, and hung up.
She was going to need more suitcases.
THE END
13 September 2009