A week later, Ophelia found herself at auditions for the next play. As she thumbed through the new script, Eric approached her.

"My dear," he said, "what are you doing reading the script? You don't need to audition."

"What?" Ophelia was completely puzzled by this.

"I've secured the two lead roles for you and I already," he explained.

"But I always get my own leads."

"So? It's still the same, except this time you don't have to audition."

"I suppose so."

"And with a new writer, you risk not getting any roles at all."

"New writer?"

"Yes, new writer, Evan something or other. A nothing. He would not know talent if it hit him with a plunger. And since the writers always cast the roles, it will be better this way."

"Evan?"

"Yes," he said, "what's the matter?

"Nothing." Ophelia lied. "It's nothing."

As Evan casted his actors and actresses, Ophelia ran off to the park with Eric. Did she really want to be here? Or would she rather be with Evan? No, she was with her future husband. That was all that mattered to her.

"You know," Eric broke an awkward silence, "there's a week between auditions and the start of rehearsals. And I will be traveling to New York for an interview. I was wondering if you'd might like to join me."

"Of course," she replied. "Wherever you go, I go."

And so Ophelia found herself at an airport no more than two days later. She held onto her handbag waiting for Eric to return with the tickets. She was going to New York. The Metropolitan Museum. The Statue of Liberty. Ellis Island. She could hardly stand the wait.

Eric approached her with two tickets in hand. His hair was in perfect order and his teeth were perfectly white. Neither a strand nor speck was out of place. Three tickets? Why were there tickets in his hand?

"Are you ready?" he asked. Eric grabbed her waist and thrusted his body against hers and kissed her madly.

"Yes." she could hardly talk, "but why do you have three tickets?"

"What?"

"Why do you have three tickets? There are only two of us."

"So we can have the row to ourselves," he explained.

"I guess that makes sense."

See how smart he is? she thought. Evan wouldn't even be able to afford an extra seat.

As the plane taxied, Eric filled his tray with alcoholic beverages. He had a fear of flying. He was soon in a deep drunk coma. So, Ophelia sat alone by the window with nothing to do.

The next morning, Ophelia awoke naked in the hotel room. She reached out across the bed. Eric was missing. Where was he? She found a note. He had gone to his interview already. She prepared herself for the day and stepped out onto the busy New York streets. Ophelia decided to visit the Statue of Liberty, after all it was a gift from France.

Meanwhile, back in Paris, Evan sat busy at his typewriter. He no longer had Ophelia on his mind and found it easy to write a playwright. With the additional help of Amelia, the idea soon became a script.

"Monsieur?" Amelia looked up from her copy.

"Oui mademoiselle?"

"I was wondering if you'd care to join me for dinner?"

"Dinner?" Evan was slightly taken aback, "Uh .I suppose I could do that."

"When will you pick me up?"

Evan wasn't quite sure what was happening, "Eight o' clock?"

"Eight o' clock it is."

She handed him the script with a note attached to it. Her address. She blew him a kiss and walked out the door. What had just happened? Did he have a date for the night? Sure, Evan had gotten along with Amelia, but why had he agreed to a date? Possibly Amelia was the one thing that could take Evan's mind off of Ophelia.

As Ophelia came to the base of the statue, she was faced with a set of stairs and an elevator. Evan's voice rattled through her brain "How can you ride an elevator and experience Paris, anything for that matter, the real way?" Eric's soon replaced it. "My feet wouldn't make it up two steps." She smirked. She knew what she wanted to do. Ophelia put her foot on the bottom stair and started climbing.