Los Angeles

A flashback of something he knew by heart: He and Kelly in front of a bonfire on the beach, both wet and wrapped in a beach towel. He told her about his fear of the sea at night; actually about the fear of not finding his footsteps once he got out of the water. While she reassured him that it would never happen.

Brandon ready to puff back into the unknown ocean and invited her to follow him.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"You'll get by on your own."

"Yes, I had asked you," Brandon said in a low voice as he drove to the Hilton; the sun had just risen. Seeing her in that way had put him in a very bad mood and now he had to understand the reason. The news that Brenda and Dylan were together in London had certainly played a key role. What could her reaction mean? Was she jealous? Was she still in love with Dylan and hadn't taken his living together with her teenage friend/rival well? Was she disappointed? Did she expect Dylan to finally assume his responsibilities as a father rather than go look for his old flame even in Europe? Brandon was able to willingly accept the second hypothesis: Kelly and Dylan still had a child in common, but Dylan had never fulfilled his role as a father, leaving all the burden of the task on her shoulders. It was absolutely understandable that Kelly was angry, who had once again escaped her responsibilities. But the idea, even remote, that Kelly could still nurture a strong feeling for the friend awakened in him ancient grudges, negative feelings that gave him back a decidedly black mood. He thought a shower would be helpful in waking him up, clarifying his ideas and making him feel a little more peaceful with the world and with himself.

New York City

For several hours the great Apple had been running in its daily frenzy; thousands of people were crossing Manatthan, marching in unison towards unspecified goals, each immersed in their own thoughts. She was advancing confidently on her unscrupulous heel, proud of those shoes with decoltés she had bought the day before in a delightful boutique on 5th Avenue. The black tube highlighted her generous breasts, which peeped inside the dust of skin she loved to wear on late autumn days. She thought she made pandas in the colors of fire that covered Central Park between October and November. He sipped his black coffee as he headed for the art gallery he had been leading for two years now. Moving to New York had been a very good choice. After living in Los Angeles, the return to Buffalo had been very close to her; the non-idyllic relationship with her mother had done the rest. Weapons and luggage, she had moved to the other metropolis of the States, on the opposite coast, hunting luckily, she loved to tell. And luck had come a couple of weeks after his arrival. A chance encounter in a Jazz club with a distinguished and resourceful middle-aged man. His business was very eclectic, ranging from culture to retail. A couple relationship actually lasted very little, but fair, sincere, not based on Valerie's hidden purposes, as some malalingua had repeatedly insinuated. But she was used to the accusations made by friends and enemies, she had shut us up. And she didn't care. The fact is that the man had real affection for him and had proposed to her to run his art gallery. The old director had left the vacancy to follow other chimeras and there was not much time to reflect. She had objected that she had extensive experience in the direction of premises, but that she did not understand anything about art, of any kind. It wasn't a problem, he had supported Louis without blinking an eye. She would have been joined by an art consultant. At least for six months, then they would review roles and relationships. The semester had been absolutely positive. Visits had increased by 20%, the exhibitions followed one another at a fast pace, thanks to Val's great ability to manage relationships and relationships. Louis was satisfied with his intuition. Valerie had managed to convince him and convince herself of his excellent organizational skills. There had been nothing between the two, after the initial liason; only a healthy friendship.

Valerie arrived at the gallery and dodging the people already in line at the right time, she went in and went to her own office. A plan of orchids welcomed her on her desk, with a note on display.

"To the most beautiful collaborator a business man can ever dream of."

SHe smiled, took off the duster and sank into her armchair, grabbing the phone.

"To which I owe the pleasure," Louis said on the other side

"I just wanted to thank you for the flowers," she smiled.

"Tell me what you want"

"In what sense?" The man replied pretending surprise, "Come on Lou, it's not up to you to give flower and sweeten compliments without asking for anything in return"

"You're really ill-thinking!"

"What do you want?" Valerie insisted

"I bought a new gallery...it's a disaster, it's been in my wallet for 3 months and it keeps losing despite changing all the staff; but I think the problem is the direction."

Valerie snorted but was flattered that her quotes had grown so much that she transformed her from a poorly dettracted provincial girl who recently arrived in NYC to a problem solver for a wealthy entrepreneur. "You're a worm," the woman said, laughing.

"I knew you were going to help me," the man replied, "Sorry, what about my gallery? Who will take care of it?" Val replied;

Louis smiled "YOUR gallery" ironic "is fine like this and scores one ticket record after the other; your deputy will be able to endure a semester without you"

"Is this just a semester?" Asked showing openness;

He smiled "for the moment yes, then you can see".

"Where would this gallery be?" Louis took his breath and hissed "Los Angeles."