Holly woke up with a start to the sound of her alarm clock the following morning. She stretched and rolled over, briefly trying to remember where she was. Then she saw the note on her pillow and it all came back to her. She lifted herself up and picked the small piece of paper, a smile dawning on her lips. It read:

"Dear Holly,

Last night was spectacular, and the only reason I'm not there to tell you in person is that I have a early meeting that I can't miss. Please let me make it up to you by inviting you for drinks after dinner,

Richard".

"My, I look forward to it," Holly said out loud.

She jumped out of bed and called Gilly. They agreed to meet for breakfast and to attend the morning's conferences together. Then, as Gilly offered, they would wander out, find a nice spot on the waterfront and review Holly's notes for her conference the next day.

"As long as I'm back for dinner," Holly said.

Something in her tone made Gilly grin at the other end of the line. "Why, do you have a hot date tonight?"

It was Holly's turn to smile. "Maybe."

"Get out of town! Who with?"

"That man you said was looking my way last night."

"He finally worked up the courage to talk to you?"

That, and more, Holly thought. "Yes, he's very charming. His name is Richard, and he's a journalist from New York. Freelancer."

"Too bad he isn't from Springfield, or even Chicago."

"I don't mind. I'm not looking for anything serious right now."

"Well, maybe that's your problem!" Gilly blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Holly replied, taken aback.

"Forget it, it's not of my business."

"No, please. I want to hear what you think."

Gilly sighed. "Alright, but remember that I'm only saying this because I care about you." She paused for a second. "When I saw you last night, I thought that you looked very driven and focused, but not very happy. Obviously, there something missing from your life, or should I say, someone."

Holly sat down on her bed and pulled at the telephone cord. "Maybe you're right, but I just can't imagine myself being in a relationship anymore."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Because I've been burned one too many times, or because I'm disillusioned."

"Or maybe because there is only one person that you can see yourself with…and that person is taken?"

Holly breathed in sharply. Was is that obvious? "Maybe," she replied reluctantly. "Listen, I should really start getting ready if we want to catch that breakfast. I'll see you later!"

She hung up and sat still for a few minutes, her throat suddenly feeling tight.


On the other side of town, Roger contemplated the small but luxurious office space he had rented two weeks earlier. The furniture, the fake portraits and documents had been carefully arranged so as to make it look like the room had been in use for several years. The rug showed just the right amount of wear and the pictures, featuring Roger and his "family", seemed to date back from previous decades.

He sat behind the oak desk and looked out the window. He was ready for his visitor.

As he waited, his mind wandered to Holly. She had been in his thoughts constantly since the night before, and he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to feel closer to her. There was only one way left for him to do that these days, he thought despondently before picking up the phone.

It rang four times before his daughter finally picked up.

"Marlers' residence," Blake said, out of breath.

"Honey, it's me."

"Dad! It's so nice to hear your voice! You haven't called in ages!" she said in a slightly accusatory tone.

"I'm sorry, I've been very busy. I'm glad to catch you, I thought you might be at work."

"Kevin has the flu, so here I am, trying to work from home." Blake cradled the phone between her cheek and her shoulder and started to fold her laundry. "So, how are you?"

"I'm great! My new job is pretty demanding but the business is flourishing, so I can't complain."

"What is it that you do again?"

"I've started an import-export business. Mostly wine and liquor."

"So I take it that you don't miss Spaulding?"

"Not a bit," Roger said, meaning it.

"Was Amanda very upset when you decided to leave the company? I mean, business is pretty much the one thing that you two have in common, right?"

Roger chuckled. "That's the main thing but not the only thing. Amanda and I are getting along just fine," he replied. Mainly because I haven't seen her in over a year, he added to himself. He had yet to announce his divorce to his daughter, for various reasons.

He picked up a pen and started drawing random lines on a piece of paper. "How is your mother?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Hum, she's good," Blake replied circumspectly.

"How are things going with Fletcher?"

"Good, I think." Blake frowned. She hated lying to her father. She understood why Holly wanted her to do it, that it was best for Roger's marriage, but she hated it nonetheless. Her parents belonged together. She folded her last piece of clothes and made an executive decision. She couldn't very well betray her promise to her mother, but she could certainly give destiny a nudge in the right direction.

"Actually, Mom is in California right now. So if you want to catch up with her in person, now would be a good time."

There was a long silence on the line. "Dad?" Blake said, thinking that she might have lost the connection.

"I'm here," Roger finally said, his fingers clutching the receiver. "Where is she, exactly?" he asked, praying that his daughter would say San Francisco or San Jose. Anywhere but Beverly Hills.

"Somewhere in the Los Angeles area. She's at some media convention."

So it had been her. With that man.

Roger pictured her hands, wrapped around the man's neck as the elevator doors closed, and had to resist the urge to send the phone flying out the window.

Instead, he took a deep breath and steadied his voice. "I'll look her up then, if I have time. I have to go, Honey, a client is waiting for me. I'll call you back next week."

"Promise? Because you always say that and then you don't call for months!"

"I promise. I love you."

Seconds after he hung up, his phony secretary buzzed him and announced the arrival of Richard Casey. He only had time to plaster a fake smile on his face before the man came in. That bastard was even handsomer than on his pictures, he noted with suppressed rage.

Roger fleetingly fantasized about connecting his fist with the man's sculpted jaw, but clutched the edge of the desk instead. He couldn't afford to mess up that particular deal.


He offered his guest coffee before sitting back at his desk.

"Before we start, I have to ask you how you heard about my services. I hope you understand," he said.

Richard crossed his legs and smiled. "Of course. One can never be too careful. It was Cheery who told me to come and see you. I bring these as an introduction."

He opened his briefcase and took out several rolls of banknotes, as well as a small gold medallion. Roger picked it out from his desk and turned it over. He recognized the engraving that he was expecting.

"Excellent. So, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to get some valuable merchandise into the country in the next few weeks."

"Where from?"

"Thailand. The crates are sitting on the docks, ready to be shipped to the States."

Roger nodded. "And what does this merchandise consists of, exactly?"

Richard shifted in his seat and peered at Roger. "Cheery said that you were sympathetic to our cause."

Roger grinned. "I am, but that's not the point. If you want to go through with your plan, you will have to trust somebody at some point."

"So, you're saying that we can trust you?"

"For the right price, I can be a very trustworthy man, Mr. Casey."

Richard deliberated for a few seconds while Roger waited for his answer. "Guns," he finally said. "Ten crates."

Roger's face remained impassive while he processed the information. "No explosive devices?"

"Not yet."

Roger nodded and turned on his computer. The two men sat in silence while the machine noisily awakened. "You're in luck, I have a shipment of Sangsom leaving Bangkok tomorrow. The cargo is due in San Francisco in exactly two weeks."

"Where can I pick up the merchandise?"

"I own a winery in Napa Valley. It's very remote. Meet me there."

"Alright." Richard picked up the medallion on the desk, but left the money untouched. Meanwhile, Roger wrote the address of the pick-up on a slip of paper. "Memorize this," he ordered.

They shook hands before Richard briskly left his office. Roger's smile faded and he wiped his hand on his trousers. "Asshole", he muttered.

He took his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed the operator. "Can you please give me the number for the L'Ermitage Hotel, please? In Beverly Hills, yes. Yes, I'll hold."

He then called the hotel and asked for Holly, but was told that she was out. He decided not to leave a message. He was far from convinced that she would return the call anyway.

He sat down and rested his head in his hands. He didn't know what to make of what he had uncovered before his meeting. Holly had been unfaithful before, as he very well knew, but somehow it seemed out of character for her now. Unless she believed her marriage to be over.

This thought perked him up. Maybe she and Fletcher were on the verge of breaking up. Maybe…

He shook his head and got up. He had no time to lose in conjectures. The fact was that she had slept with Richard, and he had to make sure that it never happened again.