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“Not even remotely,” she says.
“She’s a doctor,” says Brigitte.
Marilyne looks at her.
“Don’t be silly. I’m just a chemist.”
“But you have a doctorate degree.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re a doctor,” says Brigitte insistently.
Marilyne sips her martini, then shakes her head.
“I just run a small lab, analyzing whatever the true doctors send to us.”
Kasabian starts to say something. His pupils are the size of tractor tires. It’s true love and whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to be embarrassing for everyone.
To cut him off I say, “What part of France are you from?”
“Nothing exotic. I was born and raised in Paris. Have you ever been?”
“No. I have a friend from there, but I’ve never been there myself.”
“Yes, Marilyne. You must meet Eugène,” says Brigitte. “He’s the most French man I’ve ever met and he’s a chemist, like you.”
“That sounds lovely,” she says. “This is only my second visit to the States, but I liked it enough that I came back and have decided to get my citizenship.”
I cut Kasabian off again.
“Good luck with that.”
“If you ever need any help studying . . .” Kasabian says.
“Thank you,” says Marilyne. “That’s very kind of you.”
She looks back at me.
“And what do you do, Mr. Stark?”
Brigitte touches her arm and aims a wicked smile at me.
“Don’t call him mister. It makes him uncomfortable. And don’t call him Jimmy. That makes him furious.”
“Not furious. But only you and Chihiro get a pass on the Jimmy thing.”
“Don’t let the tough-guy act fool you,” says Kasabian. “He loves being called Jimmy. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”
The jukebox changes to Arthur Lyman doing “Sakura.”
“If you ever call me that again, I’m going to recycle you into Max Overdrive belt buckles, Tin Man.”
Kasabian is on a roll, though, showing off for his new lady love.
“Belt buckles. That’s a great idea. We need to get back into merchandising.”
“And what do you do, Mr. Kasabian?” says Marilyne.
