The Man of Their Lives Read online

  Having calmed down, he stood behind Louis and said, softly, “Play it again... Yes, very nice, it’s edgy... And now you can orchestrate it in your own way. You know, that suave, sophisticated French thing you do. It’s going to be like an awesome combination of hot pepper and honey.”

  Louis felt irritated, exhausted like never before. He turned around and shot Frank a hard stare.

  “And when do you want the sheet music? Tomorrow morning? In one hour?”

  “Stop being pissed off all the time. Here, in the States, we work. You’re not in Paris right now.”

  “Yes, well, Paris is the capital of good taste. Don’t ever go there, you’d get thrown out!”

  “Lou-iss,” Frank said softly, shaking his head, “you’re incredibly talented, and I knew that before I hired you, but your attitude, man... Come on, play me that thing one more time.”

  “No! I’ve had enough for today. “

  “Please.”

  Louis turned back to the synthesizer, and tried to compose himself. He looked at the keyboard, and reluctantly played the notes.

  “Freakin’ genius,” Frank mumbled.

  His hand landed very hard on Louis’s arm, startling him.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Frank said in a burst of laughter. “I like my lovers very young—you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Thou shall not take the Lord’s name in vain,” Frank said and giggled.

  “Hilarious... You’d actually spit on the cross if there was a paparazzo around! You’re always working on your image, Frank, but this music is not going to do much for mine, my reputation, I mean.”

  “I beg to differ. What’s French cinema anyway? You count on it to be known around the world? What a joke.”

  It was nine o’clock at night, and Frank realized that he was hungry. They’d been cooped up in the studio since morning without consuming anything but coffee and energy drinks. He decided to take Louis to L’Orangerie, one of the city’s best French restaurants. It was on La Cienega Boulevard, known in L.A. as “Restaurant Row.” As soon as they were shown to their table, Frank ordered two of the bigger dishes.

  “We’ll never be able to eat all that,” Louis said. “Why are you always so over the top?”

  “Because that’s how things are, at least here in L.A. You, what do you do? You’re reasonable. You wait for the flash of genius to strike down like a bolt of lightning...”

  “That’s not true, Frank. I work hard.”

  “Bull! Today we did some real work, you and me, and I forced you to dig deep down, into your gut.”

  “I don’t care about that! It’s your music and I hate it.”

  “That’s really too bad…”

  “You know what I’d really like to do? Write an opera!”

  “You’re nuts.”

  Frank’s pale blue eyes rested on Louis’s face, indulgent.

  “Completely nuts,” he repeated. “And way too conventional. Know something else that bothers me? Billy and I haven’t managed to take you out for a wild time yet. That’s a very bad sign. Don’t you ever have fun? Or else you’re in love. It is that it?”

  “Bingo.”

  “And so you spend your nights on the phone? Lucky dog… It’s a woman, right? Of course... What does she look like?”

  “She’s blond.”

  “A real blonde?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Frank shook his head, cracked a smile, then looked at his empty plate. Louis intrigued him. He was even beginning to feel a certain respect for the man.

  “I’ve had too much to eat,” he said. “Let’s go for a drink.”

  “I’d rather go to bed, but if you insist… I’m buying.”

  “Cool. I’m going to take you to a bar I like. It’s kind of a dive, but the crowd there is always interesting. It’s not far from here.”

  Ten minutes later, they walked into a dark and noisy club filled with smoke and an all male clientele. Louis and Frank made their way to the bar and Frank ordered cocktails, which had a suspect color and were served in huge glasses. Resigned, Louis had a sip of the drink, and couldn’t prevent himself from grimacing.

  “You won’t turn me into an alcoholic, no matter what you try,” he said to Frank.

  “That’s not it, my little French friend. I’m just trying to relax you a bit. After two or three rounds, you’re going to be nice and loose.

  People around them were speaking too loud. There were a few barely-legal boys wearing outrageous makeup, couples making out, hot young men showing off their muscles, others dancing and laughing hysterically. A strong and pungent odor of marijuana permeated everything.

  Someone bumped Louis’s shoulder a few times, until he finally turned around and saw a gigantic black man standing right next to him. The man must have been at least 6’6” and no more than twenty five. Above Louis’s head, he asked Frank, “Who’s your good-looking friend?”

  “A foreigner. His name is Louis.”

  The black man’s smile broadened, displaying perfect teeth.

  “Joe is a professional basketball player,” Frank said to Louis while setting his empty glass on the bar.

  Frank’s expression seemed to contain a bitter warning. Louis became aware of the danger.

  “No thank you,” he said to Joe.

  Ignoring him the athlete gestured at the bartender, who refilled their glasses right away.

  “Louis did say no to you,” Frank said.

  Louis felt Joe leaning against him, then one of his huge hands resting on the back of his neck.

  “So, Louis,” he said, “where are you from?” Then he blew on Louis’s hair.

  The man was glued to Louis, preventing him from moving.

  “I come from far away,” Louis said in an impeccable American accent, “and I’m not here to be bothered by some asshole.”

  The atmosphere around them changed right away. All conversation at the bar came to a stop. Joe let go of his grip and Louis got off his stool. Frank didn’t want to intervene, though he should before the situation became downright explosive. Joe was towering over Louis, Goliath-like, sure of himself, with an expression that was not particularly friendly. In this type of place he probably wasn’t used to rejection. Forty-year-old men were undoubtably his prey of choice. The surrounding patrons were eagerly waiting for what was going to happen next. Frank got up and dropped a few bills on the bar by his glass.

  “I think we should go now, Joe,” he said as pleasantly as possible. “Don’t bother with him.”

  “Hey man,” Joe said defensively, “I’ve never forced anybody. You guys should leave. Right now!”

  Everything about Joe’s body language revealed that he wouldn’t mind getting into a fight. Frank picked up on it and took a step toward the giant, but Louis grabbed him by the elbow and forced him through the crowd to the exit. As soon as they were outside, Frank lost some of his swagger and hurried to his car.

  “Move it!” he told Louis. “Jesus, you’re totally blind! You didn’t notice when we walked in there that it was a special kind of joint?”

  As soon as they stepped into the car, they saw that Joe was also coming out of the bar, accompanied by two men almost as big as he was. Frank turned on the engine and grumbled, “I should’ve left you with Joe for an hour or so. It would’ve taught you a thing or two. Might’ve changed your life!”

  On the sidewalk, Joe and his buddies,watched Frank’s car speed away.

  “What a charming place this was,” Louis said. “So very festive... You’re really a bunch of psychos!”

  “Oh yeah? Did you hear yourself, the way you behaved with him? Can’t you just turn someone down politely? Why didn’t you call him a nigger while you were at it?”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference if he were Swedish! You should’ve warned me before taking me in there.”

  “Drinking and cruising and doing a couple of lines of coke—that’s my idea of a good time. You’re clueless.”r />
  Louis only gave him a haughty look.

  Frank sighed and said, “I’m taking you back to your hotel. You’re no fun at all. And don’t forget that you still owe me a drink. Because of that attitude of yours, I was stuck paying the bill. Next time we’ll go somewhere very chic and very expensive, where no one is going to talk to us.”

  Frank said it with a pleasant tone along with a phony smile. ,He said nothing more until they arrived at the Marmont.

  “Okay, Louis. Go call your girlfriend and sleep well. When do you want me to book the studio? What day?”

  Louis glared at him, incredulous.

  “You never stop thinking about your movie, do you?” he said. “Well not me. It is three o’clock in the morning on a Sunday...”

  Louis got out of the car and gave the roof a friendly tap before making his way to the hotel lobby. Once in his room, he went straight for the phone and dialed Francine’s number. He knew it by heart even though he still hadn’t called her since he arrived in L.A. He’d only phoned the house a few times to talk to Frédéric. Now he felt the need to be connected to Francine.

  When she picked up, he felt stupid and could only mumble, “Hi, it’s me.”

  There was a brief silence, and then Francine said, “Louis, it’s you? How are you doing?”

  “Not so good,” he said with a sad smile. “I can only think of one thing, and that’s coming home.”

  Another silence, a bit longer, until she said, “I was wondering what had become of you.”

  “People are crazy around here. They work sixteen hours a day and the rest of the time they try to get you drunk.”

  He heard her joyless, polite laugh. She wasn’t making things easy for him. He really couldn’t blame her. Maybe he’d waited too long to give her a call. He should’ve remembered that she got upset easily.

  “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admitted. “It’s been hard for me to figure out where the two of us stand. And now you’re so far from me that it’s not going to be easy to explain to you that...”

  He had to interrupt himself in order to catch his breath. He hadn’t come out with a declaration of love since his early days with Marianne. Tense, he blurted, “I’m in love with you, Francine.”

  “Really? What time is it in Los Angeles right now?” she asked, her voice icy. “You just got back to your hotel room and you’re drunk and lonely?”

  “Yes, I just got back to my hotel room and I am lonely. But I haven’t had too much to drink. It’s not that.”

  Francine’s response sounded more like a grunt than anything else.

  “Is everything okay?” Louis asked. “I mean, the way you responded to what I just said worries me. Are you home alone?”

  “Romain is in his room. He’s still sleeping.”

  “There’s nobody with you, right? Can you talk?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great. Okay, then. Listen to me first, and then you can say whatever you want. Alright? I haven’t called you until now because being stuck out here is driving me crazy. And if you had said anything like you miss me, I’d be tempted to jump on the first plane back to Paris. I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what you’re feeling. I mean, you’re not telling me anything. And I don’t think I deserved for you to leave my house in the middle of the night! Until now, you’ve been tender with me, but I don’t know if you just want to have a good time with me and nothing more. I mean, women being free and all is marvelous, except that it scares the living daylights out of a man. Since our first day, I have the impression that you don’t want an emotional investment with me. It’s your right, of course. But I’d feel like an idiot loving you if you think that it’s impossible.”

  She said nothing while Louis was pouring his heart out, and then he was done.

  He waited a few seconds before whispering, “Are you still there?”

  “Louis...”

  “Say something! Don’t be afraid, I’m thousands of miles away.”

  “I wish you’d told me all that before…”

  “Why, is it too late?”

  “No! You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “How do you know? You don’t know what’s on my mind.”

  “You’re wrong about me! You say I’m not really interested in an emotional relationship… What makes you say that? Here you are on the other side of the planet, and just hearing the sound of your voice makes me want to cry. I miss you so much, you have no idea!”

  “Really?”

  He felt like he had to sit. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been standing until then.

  “Francine,” he said. “When I’m back in Notre-Dame-de-la-Mer, will you come live with me?”

  The words had come out of him naturally and he did not regret uttering them, though he wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.

  “There’s nothing more I’d love than that,” she said in a quavering voice, “but...”

  “But what?”

  “What about the boys?”

  She was more practical than he was, and less selfish. Without insisting, he said, “I have another week here. It’s going to be hell on earth!”

  “But you have to do it.”

  “I know. I’ll be calling you again.”

  “Call me as often as you want.”

  “I’ll call you later on today, then. I love you.”

  He hung up first and noticed that he’d been squeezing the phone so hard his fingers had left traces of perspiration. The only thing he could do now was to give Frank James the music he wanted. And he was going inject all the passion that was now in his heart into the work. If that hotshot American director thought that French people were afraid of hard work, he was in for one hell of a surprise.

  CHAPTER 7

  Alix came out of the elevator with a vague feeling of malaise. She’d come to Roissy Airport dozens of times, but meeting Louis there brought back the memory of Marianne’s death. That night, she really thought that Louis was going to have a breakdown. She worried that every trace of talent and joy in him was going to get crushed and destroyed for ever. It wasn’t so much for her sister-in-law that she felt sorry, but rather for her brother, as she always did. And she hadn’t just held his hand after the accident; she’d basically kept him afloat. She knew him better than anyone else, at least she was convinced of it. She had a key role to play in his recovery—to hell with anyone who didn’t get that.

  She cast a glance at the arrivals board to learn that Louis’s plane had landed twenty minutes early. She hurried to the baggage claim, hoping to find her brother near the luggage carrousel.

  “Let’s get out of here, Alix. I’ve got to light one!”

  Startled, she saw him behind her, leaning against a cart on which he’d piled up his suitcase and three travel bags. He was tanned, a bit skinnier, all smiles.

  “Louis,” she said, jumping in his arms. “You look great!”

  He held her against him for a second, before pushing her towards the elevator, saying, “Let’s go or I’m going to go nuts! Where are you parked?”

  “Level two. Are you tired?”

  “No. I slept on the plane and I ate. I feel great.”

  “You have to tell me all about Hollywood. I can’t wait!”

  While pushing the cart in the parking garage, Louis lit a cigarette before taking out his cell.

  “Frédéric! How’s it going, buddy? Yes, just landed. We’ll be home soon. Make sure there’s a bottle of champagne or two in the fridge for when we get there. Love you.”

  He hung up and smiled at his sister.

  “By the way,” Alix said, gaily, “I bought your son a new scooter. His old one was falling apart.”

  “What?”

  “It kept breaking down. It was a huge pain in the neck for him. And I’m allowed to spoil my nephew, aren’t I?”

  “Spoiled rotten…”

  “But he was so nice while you were away! He’s a great kid.”

  “Anything new at the house?”
r />   “Like what?”

  “I don’t know… Like the wind blowing off the roof, the furnace exploding. You know…”

  “What do you think? We made sure everything went fine at the house while you were gallivanting in California. But we do have tons of things to talk about, a bunch of offers including one that…”

  “Not now!”

  He was done filling the trunk of the red MG with his luggage. Alix loved that car so much she never let anyone else touch it.

  “Can I drive?” Louis asked, even though he knew the answer.

  “Yeah, right. Park your butt on the passenger’s seat or stay right here.”

  Resigned, he buckled up.

  Alix put the MG in gear and said, “So, how did you find Frank James?”

  “Obnoxious and insane. But deep down he’s a good man.”

  “He called me this morning to let me know that he’d taken you to the airport himself, and to thank me. He sounded delighted by your collaboration.”

  “When you hear the cacophony, it’s going to give you an idea of what I had to go through over there. We finished recording the two nights ago. I did everything myself on the synthesizer. It was a marathon.”

  “But you still managed to get a tan.”

  “The last few days, I forced myself to swim for an hour in the morning. It helped with my hangovers. I went to clubs every night to listen to the music they play over there.”

  Alix gave Louis a sideways glance, surprised to find him in such a jolly mood.

  “But you’re extremely happy to be back, aren’t you?” she asked, irritated.

  “Of course! Alix, for me to go back to Hollywood it would take nothing less than Star Wars. I mean it. We’ll talk about this later, but I have some serious things to tell you about.”

  “Why later? Go ahead!”

  “No. Not while you’re driving.”

  “It’s so bad?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Well, I actually need to gas up. Let’s do that now.”

  Alix veered sharply at the exit and headed for the gas station a few yards away. After filling the tank, she parked the MG in front of the mini mart.

  “Okay, then,” she said. “Tell me.”

  Louis, a pained look on his face, shrugged.