Chapter 3

Sixteen hours later I was onstage and halfway through my set. The venue was just over two-thirds full and extremely smoky, the seating literally on top of the stage. So close that even through the haze of the stage lights and cigarette smoke you could see the expressions on everyone's faces and so it was easy to gauge people's reactions. Throughout the set my gaze was drawn to a particularly attractive blonde haired woman sitting just in front of me. She was wearing an extremely low cut top thus affording me a great view of her impressive cleavage. Throughout the gig I had a serious fight on my hands to avert my gaze from straying down her top. She knew it too as she kept bending down anytime I'd look in her direction before smiling up at me. Being the consummate professional that I am (yeah right) I managed to finish my set without too many glitches and as I sauntered off stage and towards the bar I looked in her direction and smiled. She returned my smile with a sexy little grin and a wink.

'Yeah... Looks like you got an admirer there man.'

I turned around and before me was a tall young man who looked to be in his twenties. He was leaning against the bar a cigarette dangling between his lips, unkempt blonde hair, blue eyes, a faded grey Jimi Hendrix T-shirt, ripped blue jeans. An American too by the accent.

'Maybe... but I think she's probably taken. See the goon there with the brown hair... I think they're probably together.'

I pointed, discreetly I may add, at a lean longhaired man who had just arrived at the venue. The two of us stood in silence as we watched him begin to weave his way skilfully through the maze of tables towards where the blonde was sitting. On reaching the table he leaned down and kissed her passionately on the lips.

'Damn... guess you were right.'

Shrugging I turned and faced him again;

'Ah... easy come easy go.'

I ordered a beer and as I waited lit a smoke. It was my new acquaintance who broke the silence.

'That was a great gig. Real good. You can really fuckin' play. I loved your version of 'Red House', man. I've never heard it played on one of those slide guitar things before. Man it's a song I've always wanted to learn how to play properly.'

'You play?'

He grinned sheepishly;

'A little... when I can. It's a hobby though. I like playing stuff like Hendrix, Dylan that kind of stuff. I'm no good at that really wild guitar playing stuff you were doing. Much as I'd love to be able to do that stuff... '

Taking a swig of beer I shrugged;

'People prefer to hear songs though. If you just piss about with solos and that type of stuff people will get bored very quickly. The only people who can listen to that type of stuff all the time are other musicians. And believe me even they get hacked off with it.'

He nodded and we both took swigs from our perspective drinks. His looked to be harder than mine. From the smell of it, bourbon. I was the one who broke the silence this time. Stretching out my hand;

'My name is Alan by the way.'

'Michael.'

'Nice to meet to you Michael. So what brings you to Paris?'

For the next twenty minutes we talked, mostly about music. Michael was reticent to talk a lot about himself except that his full name was Michael Pitt and he was in Paris acting in a film by an Italian director whose name he refused to disclose. I on the other hand told him a lot about myself and how and why I had ended up in Paris. We were in the middle of a conversation about the merits of Bob Dylan's new album when we were interrupted by a reproachful female voice.

'Michael... there you are... Louis and I were wondering where you had gone.'

With that I turned around and was confronted with a vision of pure joy.

She was quite simply one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Tall and slim with lustrous dark hair that cascaded well past her shoulders she stood hands on hips with a scowl on her face and a pout on her full lips. Her blue eyes blazed out through the black kohl applied sparingly underneath them. I just stood there for about twenty seconds drinking in her beauty and my stare was only broken when I heard a screech of mock contrition to my left and saw that Michael had dropped to his knees and was begging her forgiveness in such a comical fashion that I couldn't help but laugh. As if using my reaction as a cue Michael reached out and clasped her knees and began to sob and bawl at how sorry he was. By now most of the patrons in the venue were staring at us in confusion obviously wondering what the hell was going on.

Obviously embarrassed the girl hissed;

'Michael... stop it... look what you have done!'

This drew fresh cries from Michael and another stifled laugh from me which wasn't appreciated by the girl who glowered;

'Why do you encourage him?'

By now Michael had returned to his feet;

'But he doesn't need to encourage me Eva... your reaction is all the encouragement I need Ma Cherie.'

The fact that these words were spoken in quite possibly the worst French accent ever heard was enough for all three of us to descend into laughter. When we had recovered our senses Michael put his arm around the girls shoulder and kissed her cheek.

'Forgive me?'

She looked at him and gave him a little push:

'Do I have a choice?'

Shit. Were they were together? I was astonished to feel the hackles in my throat when I saw them together. At that moment I remembered a line I'd read in The Godfather several years ago. Michael Corleone had been exiled to Sicily and had happened upon a local Sicilian peasant girl. When he'd seen her he had had this overwhelming sensation of desire; that he must possess her. As it was described he had been 'hit by the thunderbolt'. That is what it felt like when I first saw her.

With that she turned to me and my heart skipped a beat as she smiled at me. Such a wonderful warm smile that a flush of warmth surged through my body.

'Eva this is Alan... Alan this is Eva. Eva is one of my co-stars in the movie I was telling you about.'

'It's nice to meet you Alan.'

We kissed each others cheeks and as we did my heart did another leap.

They invited me back to their table where I was introduced to the third member of their group, Louis who was also an actor and another star of the film that Eva and Michael were in. He was a pleasant enough man who had a shock of black hair and like Eva spoke English perfectly. Like Eva he had spent time in England where he'd studied acting although not in the same place as her. As we talked I learned more about the movie they were working on. It was called 'The Dreamers' and they were almost finished it. The Italian director whom Michael had mentioned was none other than Bernardo Bertolucci.

'Bernardo Bertolucci? Stealing Beauty and The Last Emperor? That Bernardo Bertolucci?'

They were amused at my astonishment.

As the evening wore on I found I couldn't keep my eyes from Eva's face and this was even when the other two were talking at me. A couple of times she caught me looking and smiled back lowering her eyes a little. It also became obvious that there was nothing romantic going on between Eva and Michael, which Louis confirmed me when I'd 'innocently' enquired. As the next act took to the stage, a two piece combo called Bluesy Train, Michael and Louis went to the bar to get some more drinks. Eva turned to me;

'So Alan... where are you staying in Paris?'

I moved over to the seat beside her.

'I'm living in a rented place just off Pigalle. Les Quartieres Blanc... or something like that. The record label are paying for it so... so although it's small and can get quite noisy at night I really shouldn't complain.'