So why me

07h45am - Paris time

In a small, typically French restaurant near their hotel, Adam who has just joined a Meg so smiling that he is afraid that her lips will eventually tear, Adam observes the writing characters he learned when he was still very young but which he cannot decipher today. Yet the lack of understanding of the menu he holds in his hands is only the least of his worries. Today, following the signing of her contract, as soon as they returned to their hotel room, Adam wanted to go for a walk with Meg, but to his great regret, she spent most of the day on the phone speaking in a language that is not his own.

"Meg, can you translate for me what's written on this menu? If you see chicken wings, don't bother reading the rest, I'll take them."

In front of Adam who sulks tonight, Meg, whose eyes are sparkling, stops when she hears chicken wings. Do we eat foie gras* in a snack bar? Can you find champagne or Bourgogne in a local beer bar? Not wanting to offend Adam more than he already is, Meg smiles to better hide her laughter, nods her head, then goes through the menu, who fortunately is not very consistent.

"Sorry Adam, I don't see chicken wings, but I see fried duck breast and Antigneul pheasant among the dishes on offer."

[Their Magret or their Antigneul they can stick it up their ass. Me, what I like that's chicken wings.] Despite his disappointment, Adam knows deep down that chicken wings is the monopoly of high-end restaurants, so the first slum found around the corner can't offer this exceptional dish, which requires careful preparation and a chef worthy of the name. Sighing with disappointment, his eyes meet a Meg, who strangely enough, has just placed her hand in front of her mouth.

"Forget it, I've seen too big. A XXXL hamburger will do, but as a connoisseur, I want a double serving of onion inside."

[Hey, you forget who sleeps next to you?] This time it's too much, this request from a young American who for all restaurant, has no other reference than fast food, triggers the laugh of an already very happy Meg from the returns of her phone calls. All this work carried out all this time, all these known disappointments, Adam's hard way of life, all this is about to end and Meg, who is freeing her heart and nerves that have long been put to work, is crying as much joy as relief. Faced with Adam's questioning gaze, in front of the reproachful expression of the white-collar customers who turn one by one towards her, Meg, who takes a tissue out of her Longchamps handbag, takes a long time to recover.

As long as the food is not as disgusting as the food he ate in England, Adam, who is hungry, would be willing to swallow a little bit of anything. He easily accepts this proposal and moves on to the subject that worries him more than the food he will have in front of his eyes in a moment.

"Meg who did you call this afternoon to be so happy tonight? It wasn't a man, was it?"

Unlike the agency, which sees above all the 6% commission they will receive on Adam's income, Meg is still very mixed about this contract, which is intended to be of a generosity that is beyond comprehension. According to initial investigations by journalists who have already taken up the case, a kind of group of large companies, the majority of which are North American, are responsible for the significant investment in Balmain. However, the name of the representative of these companies, appearing on the documents, would only be known by the President of Balmain himself. Despite her doubts and fears, taking advantage of this investment and the case of the former muse, strangely very, no, too much mediatized, Meg takes the opportunity to surf the wave, by (selling) Adam, to the media, which for the moment, are focusing on the brand. Happy to see her jealous Adam, Meg doesn't answer immediately. She lowers her head by playing the adulterous woman, uncomfortable being caught in the act and only responds quickly when Adam gets up from the table furious.

"Sorry, Adam, I was getting back at you for the Kenzo photo shoot. Honestly, this afternoon, I spoke mostly with men and women from France and New York to ensure your promotion. I am a little ashamed to admit it, but the decadence of your predecessor allowed me to accomplish a real tour de force in a very short time. Get ready, because tomorrow you will be doing interviews for various magazines, TV newspapers, websites and Tadam, you will participate in 2 TV shows on cable channels. All this is for France, because in New York, you will also have a job waiting for you. I'm so happy that all our work is finally paying off, aren't you?"

Work, a word that itself is already exhausting Adam who no longer has an appetite. Looking up at Meg, whose enchanting smile slightly warms his heart, Adam sketches a false smile.

"Oh, I'm glad. I'm so happy, happy. So happy, that suddenly my body wants to move by itself."

°°°

"How are the feedback from the main French and American press groups?"

Four very elegant men, dressed in refined costumes, watch with great desire the young girl in a bikini who spins her tongue delicately on the top of a vanilla ice cream that she holds with a soft grip. On the edge of the large indoor pool, 4 men swallow their saliva successively, before one of them, a little more resistant than his colleagues, after a prolonged inhalation, declaims in one exhalation.

"In Paris, Le Figaro, LVMH, Groupe Hersant Média, Groupe Sud Ouest and almost all the others except for two strong heads, have very kindly agreed to cooperate with you, Miss Benson. In the United States, Comcast, 21st, Hearst Corp, Liberty media, Viacom and all others except Warner were very pleased to respond positively to Miss Benson's request."

As soon as the man finishes his answer in one breath, a vanilla ice cream is stuck against his forehead. Standing 1ft from him, a young girl the same size as his, looks him in the eye with disappointment and irritation. The man who senses the young lady's breath against her face, following the music of the drops of water hitting the ground from her long still wet blond hair, is suddenly caught in the whirlwind in romantic waltz. At that moment, he only wants one thing: to approach his lips slightly to grasp those of this naiad with its bewitching beauty.

"You useless morons. You represent the best law firms in New York, so prove to me that your degree, your pretentious smiles and these costumes are not just smoke and mirrors. Now out; you will only come back when all the press groups have agreed to my request. If they refuse, persecute them, buy some of their newspapers, contact the unions and provoke strike action, in a word, make them comply with my will. Open the ears of these people who play the deaf and make them understand that you don't say no to Jessica Benson."