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"Hamid's a good man," thinks the host, as he watches the couturier walk away, head held high. "But the night hasn't got off to a very happy start for him."
THEY ALL SIT DOWN AT the corner table. Gabriela understands that this is her one chance, yet another of those many "one chances" that have happened today. She says how pleased she was to receive the invitation and that she'll do all she can not to disappoint.
"I trust you," she says. "I even signed the contract without reading it."
The other three people don't say a word; they just look at each other. Is something wrong? Can it be the effect of the champagne? Best to keep talking.
"I'm particularly happy because, contrary to what people usually say, the selection process was very fair. There were no special requests, no favors. I did the test this morning, and they didn't even let me finish reading the text they gave me. They just asked me to go to a yacht to talk to the director. That sets an excellent example, Mr. Hussein, I mean, treating people with dignity and honesty when it comes to choosing who you're going to be working with. People think that in the world of cinema the only thing that really counts is..."
She was about to say "sleeping with the producer," but the producer is sitting next to his wife.
"...is what a person looks like."
The waiter brings the entrees and launches into his usual monologue:
"Tonight's entrees are artichoke hearts in a Dijon mustard sauce, drizzled with a little olive oil, flavored with fines herbes and served with slivers of Pyrenean goat's cheese..."
Only the young woman smiles and listens to what he's saying. He realizes that he isn't welcome and leaves.
"It looks delicious!" she says. Then she glances round at the others, none of whom has made a move to pick up knife or fork. Something is very wrong here.
"Look, you obviously need to talk. Perhaps I should sit somewhere else."
"Yes," says Hamid.
"No, stay here," says the woman.
What should she do now?
"Do you like your companion?" the woman asks.
"I've only just met Gunther."
Gunther. Hamid and Ewa look at the impassive Igor sitting beside her.
"And what does Gunther do?"
"Aren't you friends of his?"
"Yes, and we know what he does. But we don't know how much you know about his life."
Gabriela turns to Igor. Why doesn't he help her?
A waiter arrives to ask what wine they would like to drink.
"White or red?"
Saved by a stranger!
"Red for everyone," says Hamid.
"You still haven't told us what Gunther does?"
She hasn't been saved.
"He works with heavy machinery, I think. We hardly know each other really. The only thing we have in common is that we were both waiting for friends who never turned up."
A good answer, thinks Gabriela. Perhaps that woman is having a secret affair with her new "partner" or else an affair that her husband has just found out about--that would explain the tension in the air.
