I glanced back at what I posted Friday and realized it appears that I gave the French sounding guy the pseudonym Marcel, because of course it could only be that or Pierre, right? I promise Marcel is his true name. I was tired when I wrote it and it didn’t occur to me to change it. That’s happened a couple of times, but this is the first time the real name seems like it’s made up.
One of the movie theaters shows a classic film on Sundays. This week it was Hitchcock’s “Vertigo,” which I’ve never seen. And now I’ll never need to see it again. I did appreciate the complexity and subtlety of the story, and the performances were outstanding, but it got under my skin.
Blaine survived lunch. They were mostly interested in how we met, and Eve provided those details. “She said she had someone else in mind for you. Did you know that?” Blaine asked.
“Yeah, I don’t know who though.”
“I know him. You wouldn’t like him,” he said with good humor.
I smiled. “No, there’s no way I’d like him.”
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