London.

Brenda returned home and found Dylan sitting on the couch. It was in backlight. That unmistakable profile she would have recognized him in the midst of a million.

He hadn't noticed her return. He was focused on reading, Brenda approached behind his back. He was reading her scripts, scattered on the couch like leaves, the furious writings of Brenda's night, her plans to become a theatre screenwriter.

"What are you doing?"

Dylan smiled without looking at her, he knew she was going to get angry.

"What is this?"

"Nothing," she replied by stretching his hand to take off her sheets.

But Dylan was faster than her and with a quick shot out of her reach.

"This story is very familiar to me..."

"Is it?" Brenda sighed jumping on the couch next to him "I love being an actress, but sometimes I have the inspiration, at night I start writing and this is one of the first jobs I did, I know it seems trivial to you"

"It's not trivial at all" he smiled "maybe because it's a story that is familiar to me, maybe because I don't have to invent the characters, I saw them, I lived them"

"Anyway," Brenda puffed, "for now it's just a dream."

" Why? It's a good job."

"I sent this script to the producer months ago but I never got an answer, maybe he didn't like it"

"Are you sure I got it?"

"Safe"

This time Brenda was the fastest and she managed to pull the sheets away "I don't like that spying on my job, I never look in your papers"

SHe has been fingering Dylan's PC and notes on the living room table for days now.

"Did you call your son?"

"Yes this afternoon, before he went to school."

"Kelly, how is she doing?"

"Kelly barely talks, she's angry"

"Suncertainly," Brenda pointed out.

He didn't answer.

"Dylan, you've been here for a few weeks now, let's spend time together, you accompany me to rehearsals, come to see the shows, let's go out to dinner with JT, let's walk on the Thames, let's make love at night, we use our bodies to try to fill the void, I don't ask you

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about"

Brenda felt the anger wrling, he was leaving, she warned him, she perceived him from his gaze. He dulled.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Dylan, I promised myself that I won't let you in my life anymore, but every time you show up at the door I can't help but open it, to let you in my house, in my soul, in my bed, in all my days, and I always live with the fear that first then you'll leave, Alone, but I certainly don't need you to destroy it again"

" Oh my God, what kind of problems do you have, I'm here, I'm here now, can't we live the moment? I've been alone for too long to be able to make such long-term plans"

"Don't do this Dylan, don't try," Brenda said, "you haven't been alone for so long, you've had me, you've had your friends, Kelly, Sammy, my family, you've had so many people who have loved you deeply and that you've loved deeply, this is not loneliness, it's your choice. It seems that when you are asked for an extra step you feel a loop tightening around your neck. Do you want to know what loneliness is? Loneliness is not having one of choice, it is having left so as not to have to see the pain in the face anymore, loneliness is having spent days and days writing never sent letters, loneliness is not only in tragedy. Loneliness is your brother around the world who realizes his life and calls you every now and then, who comes to visit you every now and then, whom you would like to bring back in time. You that I would like to bring back and I couldn't do it."

He looked at her with very sweet eyes.

"You had a lot Brenda"

"Yes, but it's not a fault" Brenda was raising her voice "It looks like you've always blamed me. But what you forget, Dylan, is that everyone fights their own battle, and there is no harder or lighter one, everyone fights their own. Just for that we should treat the hearts of others as if it were crystal."

Dylan calmed down.

"I want to show you what I do when I'm away from here"

Brenda didn't understand.

"I wish you would come with me"

"Where?"

Dylan thought about it for a moment.

"Can you take a few weeks?"

"Weeks for where?"

"Ecuador"

"Do you want to go to Ecuador?"

"I want to show you what my foundation does"

"Why?" Brenda had planted her eyes on him.

" Because when I'm there my pain subsides. Because when you're with me the pain getsmuted."

The sweetness exploded and pervaded the room.

"What about Kelly?"

"Brenda..." he sighed leaving her..

"What about Sammy?"

"I loved Kelly a lot, whether you believe it or not and I know it makes you suffer, but I loved her and I don't intend to deny him; and I love my son very much, but I'm not able to stay with her, because we end up arguing, we end up discussing the daily life that I don't want, we end up losing sight It didn't work, she knows, I know it and that baby deserves maybe something better"

"Better than your father?"

"I don't know how to do it. And it's weird because that's all I wanted for me I'm not able to create it for this baby"

"You are the baby."

"Maybe. I want to fix things, believe me. I need more now, I want you to come with me, come and see."

Dylan took a breath just mentioned.

He kissed her, slowly, with small slow kisses on her lips and He slowly undress her blouse. Brenda let him do it. She felt the fire rise from the center of her soul. It was Dylan who touched her. It was Dylan who took her and she didn't want to do without it. sHe couldn't. SHe took it and put it on the table.

She unbuttoned his jeans. They let their hands touch slowly, then more frantically. Less delicate. More powerful. As she took it, Brenda thought she wouldn't ask him questions again.

Having Dylan there with her, inside her, was a gift. It had the analgesic effect of sweet May night. SHe felt him go faster.

Dylan thought about how much he missed her.

And how much he wasn't able to tell her. They made love like that. Standing up. In a shaded kitchen.

That night they went out: it was cold, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter anymore.

Los Angeles

Brandon had his head been busy for days on Johnson's statements but realized he needed help. He needed more information. Other feedback. The problem was he had no confidence in there. Good reporters for sure. Excellent formen. But who?

He looked out the glass door insistently. In New York they were happy with his work.

His cell phone lit up vibrating "Kel". He hadn't seen or heard her in those days, he had clearly avoided her and as always he had thrown himself to work. He didn't really feel to talk to her.

He had returned to where he left off. On the edge of his worst fears.

How much did he think he could avoid? He thought he ended up answering.

"I was going to hang up," she said, "sorry maybe you're busy"

"Yes, no" he corrected.

"We haven't heard from that night."

Silence.

"Ok," shot her" wasn't one of my best evenings and I'm sorry, but don't tell me you don't have bad days either."

"Fuck...Hundreds"

She laughed.

"I owe you a dinner. Come on. I just want my friend Brandon here. As it used to be. My goodness, bad entrances can always be recovered, can't you? That's not the image of me that I wish you kept"

Brandon smiled.

"You're the one," she replied raised, "barbecue?"

"Ok"

Betty came in as soon as she hung up.

"Mr. Walsh is Director Barret"

"Let it pass, this office is his," replied Brandon still keeping his smile on.

Fred Barret was an old journalism wolf. A heart of paper. In his sixties. An important presence.

They shook hands. Brandon felt embarrassed, the one in the background was his office. And Brandon was just replacing him.

"Please call me Fred"

"So how's my shack going"

"I don't know, tell me Fred"

He looked around "I would say well. You know I wanted to go through the handover first and everything else, but Mindy is not well. And in short.."

"Don't worry. Betty opened all the doors for me," he said, exchanging a smile with her who had brought the hot coffee in the meantime.

"We met years ago," Brandon debuted.

"Really?" Barret replied interlocutory.

"Just graduated I applied here"

"Rejected?"

"Yeah "

Barret sighed "I didn't understand anything then..." they laughed together.

"No, instead," Brandon stopped, "I think it was better that way, I had to make my own way"

"I think you did it"

Brandon went back to the days of the Beat. To him, Steve and Janet. Putting that newspaper together with a string of string. Yet that little local newspaper had brought his articles under the right eyes.

And he hadn't been grateful enough for that.

He told Barrett about what had happened to him, Johnson's statements and he was in worm of passion. Again.

He needed that job, it was obvious.

"I can help you if you want"

"Really?"

"I know a lot of people"

He didn't even finish the sentence.

He had found out who could help him. No one better than him.