21 Steps To Happiness

“This is Lynn Blanchett,” I snap.

“Who?”

Is she joking?

“Lynn Blanchett. From New York. Can I speak with Nicolas, please.”

“Mr. Bouchez is not in the office.”

“Let me speak to Muriel, then.”

“Mademoiselle Boutonnière is not in the office either…I’m sorry.”

“Is anybody else but you in the office?”

Silence.

“Goodbye, then.”

I hang up. I’m so frustrated. I imagine Muriel and Nicolas locked in their offices, shaking their heads. No, no, no! We don’t want to speak to any Lynn Blanchett. She’s an ugly little duckling. Shoo, shoo!

“Can you get me a taxi?” I ask the concierge.

“Certainly. Where will you be going?”

“Muriel B. Office. It’s somewhere…” I point toward what I believe is the direction to the office. “This way.”

“I am sure we can manage to find the address for you.”

He smiles. Or is that a smirk?

I’m furious. They took me away from home. They flew me across the Atlantic. For what? To forget about me like yesterday’s favorite flavor?

And Nicolas? Mr. Backstabbing-Bouchez! Does he think that it’s all right to flash his pretty looks, his charm and his suave accent right in my face, just like that?

Mademoizelle Blanchett, yu are zooo delicioze, I wanta iit yu!

And now that I’m really dazzled and want a taste of it, too, it turns out he thinks I’m a waste of time and he’s gay! I am going to strangle him with his tie.

The taxi drops me off in front of the office.

“Just move, all right!” I say to the prostitute. It’s the same girl. She must be leasing this spot. She doesn’t dare to spit today. She feels I’m about to blow and she’s not willing to pay for it.

I press the intercom and cross the courtyard. I’m not impressed anymore. I’m not this ridiculous American girl that can’t handle the glitz and glamour of it all. I’m Lynn Blanchett, heir of the Blanchett empire! Lynn Blanchett, daughter of a genius! I am a complete bitch with a new wardrobe who is about to OD on caffeine!

I walk straight to the receptionist. I don’t say hello, I don’t say please, I don’t say sorry, I don’t say anything but “Nicolas Bouchez! Now!”

“Oh, he is out of the office.”

“Like hell he is!”

I don’t wait for more lies. I head upstairs and make my way to his office.

“Mademoiselle Blanchett! Please!”

I open the door to his office. It’s empty. “Nicolas,” I call. He’s hiding. Coward! I walk to Muriel’s office. It’s empty too.

I make my way to the workshop. I push the door. Where is everybody? Where are all the punks?

Back in Japan?

Françoise Neuton looks up at me. She’s working on a new version of the dress that I trashed yesterday.

“Can I help you?”

She’s alone in the workshop and something’s up, because she seems too happy to see me.

“Where is everybody?”

“Is it any of your business?”

“Oh, believe me. I’ll make it my business.”

She takes off her glasses. She wants to take a better look at me.

“I talked to Muriel this morning. You’re over, Mademoiselle Blanchett.”

What?

“Didn’t they tell you yet? Mmm?” She brushes the dress with her hand. “Do you like it better now?”

“Where is Nicolas?”

“Oh…He will be out all day, at the Carrousel du Louvres.”

“Where?” He didn’t even bother contacting me. He just discarded me as if I didn’t exist anymore.

“I’m sure that you can meet him there. After all, it’s his job to tell you you’re out.”

I don’t find the strength to strike back. I turn my back to her and focus on breathing.

“It was nice meeting you, anyway,” she says. “I’ve always admired your mother.”

I crawl back downstairs.

“You were right, nobody’s here,” I say to the receptionist. “Can you get me Nicolas on his cell phone?”

“Sure.” She dials and passes me the phone.