Beyond the end

French Breakfast

Hilton Hotel
At 7 a.m., as punctual as a Swiss, Leonard showed up at room 313, on the third floor of the Hilton, and gently knocked on the door of the suite. Valerie gradually unfolded and took a whoplenty five minutes to show up at the door. Leonard knew he had to wait patiently. On the other hand, the tips that that generous woman frequently gave him abundantly justified the wait. The door opened and the still sleepy girl made room for the breakfast cart, which the waiter slowly pushed into the middle of the room past the entrance. Whole wheat bread, various jams, assorted fruit, at least three juices, low-fat yogurt. A hearty meal, but light. The boiling coffee would have sipped on her way to the office, as usual. Leonard noticed an unusual mess near the sofa: underwear on the floor, the messy shoes under the chair, the pillows in bulk, scattered around the room. All signs of a not really quiet night for the lovely hotel guest. But that, of course, he found anything but surprising. Perhaps unusual. As it climbed into his thoughts, Valerie repeated for the third time, resentful: Thanks Leo, you can go"
"Excuse me Mrs. Malone, I was distracted"
"And I got it; byeLeonard"
"My treats, Madam" and went out.
"What an asshole," the girl said out loud, as she spread the strawberry jam on the bread and butter; a smile spontaneously surfaced on her lips "Beautiful night" and thickened the slice, continuing to retrace the fresh memories. SHe took the phone out of her bag and sipping a pineapple juice, she chose from the David Silver column.
"Valerie, have you gone crazy? It's early," he said under the headline, "i was thinking about you D."
"You're really crazy; I have a wife and a son – he peeked into the doors to make sure these people didn't materialize – and I won't shatter everything for a night of sex"
"So was it just a night of sex?" For a moment David was caught in a counterattack
"Um, n...nno, I didn't mean that"
"I meant to say well – Valerie replied – "it was a night of GREAT sex!" She was more than pleased.
"Valerie, certain things will never change; okay, I grant you, it was very nice. But it was; and now it's gone."
"Are you sure?" Val teased him.
"Absolutely" he had no hesitation in the answer.
"We'll see; what are you doing in the afternoon?"
"I'll take Donna to the pediatrician, but I don't know exactly what time; in short, I'll be busy...all day."
"I understand, let me see my agenda – Valerie kept sipping the glass, of an agenda not even the shadow – here it is, I'll wait for you at 5.30pm at the Peach Pit."
"You're crazy"
"You said that before, and in any case I never argued otherwise," .
David remained mute looking at the soulless phone "Who were you talking to?" Said Donna with the usual bad mood in the morning.
"Um, with my father, he wants me to reach him in the studio in the afternoon, he has to talk to me."
"David; imagine if an unlikely afternoon commitment didn't come up just when you said you wanted to take us to the pediatrician; but don't worry, I call my mother" and she said it without betraying any resentment.
"Okay honey, who knows what he will want to tell me" .
"Not at the peach pit, let's see each other under Mel's studio, you know the address, it hasn't changed,".
"The madman must be me" David thought.
I4ever
Steve had gotten up at the right time. He was in a great mood, the day with friends of all time had reinvigorated him. He had shaved, had taken a shower and was ready to go to the office: the room next door. But first he would have gone from a brasserie three blocks from there. He had been in the habit of having French breakfast for a few years. His analyst had insinuated that it was a mental link with a country that, indirectly, had put an end to one of the most important relationships he had. Who knows what his life would be like now if he had accepted Clare's offer and followed her to Paris. Often, as he added half a baguette with goose pâté, he found himself fantasizing about his unlikely life in the overseas capital. One day he found himself a painter on the Champs Elysees, another was a manager of a famous Parisian designer; yet another was the manager of the Bataclan and organized the best events in Europe. In short, he didn't lack his imagination in the morning, as did his appetite. That day, however, was meant to flow differently from the others. He made his entrance into the venue, went to his usual table and found Janet sitting there, who had all the air to wait for him. He immediately got serious, but he was pleasantly impressed to find her in front of him. For months, only service information was exchanged at Maddy's passage, on alternate weekends. He didn't remember how much time had passed since they last met without her daughter. What time he was at school; or so Steve had guessed.
"Didn't anything happen to the little one?" He thought, but he immediately calmed down by seeing the smile on the woman's face.
He approached at a slow pace "To what do I owe the honor?" Opened the conversation.
"I still know your habits, Stevy," she was the only one, besides Samantha Sanders, who called him that way.
"Yes, and I'm not a guy who varis them with simplicity," he insinuated sideways into the bench in front of Janet's.
"How are you?" He asked her.
"Good," she replied as she began to scrutinize the menu.
"Please.. Bring us a crepe with mushrooms and one – Steve looked with a smile – goose pate baguette." Ordered Steve.
The waiter smiled to them.
"You know how it is, I'm waiting to be able to go back to my house, in the meantime I've found a temporary solution."
"Steve, maybe you better look around to find a less precarious accommodation"
Steve rumbled "Why?"
He barely managed to articulate.
"Remember our old accountant Bruce McKallagan?"
He didn't answer and she continued "We've been together for a few weeks, I'm going to live with him." "Who is the baguette for?" Interrupted the waited.