21 Steps To Happiness

I stand and step away from the bed.

“I…I need to go back to the hotel.”

They don’t listen. They just fight on the bed, and now Carolina is laughing, too. They find everything hilarious.

I walk out of the room. The Fat Breeders are watching them fighting. They are in heaven.

I walk to the door. As I pass in front of the office I can hear Stephan, the worst writer of his generation, yelling, “Bagels!”

I put up the Do Not Disturb sign and lock the door to my room. I don’t ever want to go out again. Here, in the room it’s safe and comfortable. Out there is madness. Crazy Japanese girls, Pierre the banker, frozen-yogurt Carolina and the Fat Breeders.

And Nicolas!

He betrayed me!

Somehow…Okay, so I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.

But come on. He took me on his scooter. Everyone knows a scooter ride means something. It’s like a secret bond. You cannot seduce a girl with your scooter and then tell her that you are gay.

Bastard! Oh, I hate him.

I sit at the desk. I see the Air France flight coupon and my passport. I can leave…whenever. And now would be a good time.

This job, this place, these people, it’s all way out of my league. It’s not at all the way I pictured it, not even in my worst nightmare.

I pick up the flight coupon. I see Roxanne Green’s bible: 20 Steps to Success.

I open the book. Roxanne wrote a phone number on the first page. “You can phone me in case of emergency,” she said.

I dial and I recognize Roxanne’s voice.

“Who’s that?”

“It’s…Lynn. You know? We met on the plane.”

“Mmm?”

“Jodie Blanchett’s daughter.”

“Yes, I know. Listen, I’m in the middle of something, darling.”

“It’s an emergency, like you said.”

“Did they fire you already?”

“No, it’s much worse than that.”

I am about to cry. I don’t want to cry. That would only annoy her more and she would hang up.

“Are you crying?” she asks.

No wonder her books are such hits. She reads people’s minds.

“Listen to me, darling. Remember what I told you? Step #6.”

I remember how good and easy it felt in the plane, listening to Roxanne going through the different steps. And how miserable I feel now. I start to cry. I can’t help it. Please don’t hang up. Please!

“Can you read step #6 for me?”

“Yes,” I sob. I turn the pages to the sixth chapter. “Step #6. Sometimes it’s hard to be successful.”

Step #6:

Sometimes it’s hard to be successful.

I’m eating my fourth croissant, drinking my fifth coffee and I’m pretending to read the same French newspaper for the gazillionth time and there is still no sign of Massoud.

“Can I have another pot of coffee?”

“Sorry, breakfast service is actually closed.”

How rude!

I look at my watch. I’m the last guest in the restaurant and I’m getting on the waiter’s nerves. I decide to take another look in the lobby.

“Have a good day, mademoiselle,” the waiter says. Trust me, he really means good riddance.

I check myself once more before I enter the lobby. Look at this gorgeous young woman. It’s Blanchett’s springtime, I’m blooming. After talking to Roxanne, I went on a shopping spree. The funny thing is, I did find a shop called Basic selling Basic T-shirts.

I am dressed in the same fashion as yesterday, but with a brand-new pair of Diesel jeans (175 euros), a simple white Basic T-shirt (39,90 euros) and I have a pink H&M scarf (9,90 euros) on my shoulders. I even splashed myself with some Kazo cologne (80ml/39,95 euros). “We American women can get away with everything!”

Where is everybody? Where is Massoud? How unprofessional of him. I try reception again.

“No, Mademoiselle Blanchett, there are no new messages.”

“Phone calls?”

“No phone calls.”

Aren’t they supposed to be worried about me? I feel like the ugly little duckling, you know, the smelly little girl that nobody wants to play with.

“Can I make a phone call from here?”

The desk clerk points at the phone booth across the lobby. He doesn’t even bother talking to me. What happened last night? Did I get disgraced while I was asleep, and all of a sudden everybody knows that it’s okay to be rude to me?

I walk to the phone booth and place my call.

“Muriel B, bonjour!” says a voice at the other end of the line.