In the Footsteps of Nick and Jena: The Fan.

by | Jan 15, 2024 | Uncategorized | 2 comments

I returned to the computer…

“Interesting, how did you know that?” I responded. My mind was racing. Nobody knew about the sequel, let alone, its title. Needless to say, she was right.

“I read it somewhere. Pria, pleased to meet you.” Both her introduction and expression were disarming. Note to self, the UN needs something like this.

“Pleased to meet you Pria. Brian. Although, I imagine you already know that.” I took her outstretched hand in mine. It was like trying to pick up the most delicate pastry, without leaving a crumb.

“I do. Please forgive the Nick thing. He is literally my hero. Where did you find him?” Her handshake was like nothing I’d experienced before. Her fingers enclosed mine like a vine embraces its host.

I extricated my mitt from its indulgence and placed it over my heart. The reason for which, I hadn’t a clue.

“Here,” I said, patting my chest as if I’d just scored the winning goal at St James’ Park.

“So, it’s true. You are Nick?” Her smile broadened and I was blinded by her dental prowess. Her eyes sparkled inside their glass domes.

“Tell me, Pria? What brings you to Paris? Tourist? Transit?” I was conscious of the transient nature of my favourite hotel.

“I’m on my honeymoon.” Her words left me becalmed, heading towards the rocks of compromise.

“Where’s the lucky guy?” I paddled vigorously away from the wreck.

“He’s asleep. It’s been a long day.” Her expression was that of pure love for her absentee groom.

“So, your honeymoon is Paris? Do you have an itinerary?” Why was this newlywed in love with my fictional hero?

“I imagine so. It’s nothing to do with me.” There was a distant look cutting through the beautiful dawn of her previous countenance.

“I see.” What was I even doing engaging with this distant Himalayan peak? “ If you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of something.” I turned away and engaged with my laptop.

The eyes burned more intensely into me, as I tried to get back to Château Rouge. It seemed this young woman had unfinished business with the author. I became agitated, for what reason, I didn’t know. Try as I might, I couldn’t concentrate. I turned to my companion.

“Where would you like to go?” My query was directed at her, without emotion. Her expression was confident. As if she’d anticipated my question.

“That, Mr Nick, very much depends on you.” A sinking feeling sucked me down into some invisible sands.

“Do you have a choice?” My hackles were beginning to rise against our absentee host.

“You know I don’t.” The sand sucked me deeper, at her response.

“It was nice to meet you,” I replied, wishing I’d chosen another part of the lounge. At that point, we were joined by another person.

“Adnan! You’re awake!” My companion lit up like the Eiffel tower on New Year’s Eve. I returned to the computer for the final time, vowing that, if I had another interruption, I’d turn in. Thankfully, I was left alone by the loving couple. However, my mind wandered through the Paris of Nick and Jena, as opposed to the home of Lucien. Thank you for that, Pria.

I played my trump card, the tiny slip in my pocket. One big, shiny, liquid pint of the amber stuff. She would be my companion for the rest of the night. No questions, no hassle, just pure indulgence.

Now, where were we?


  1. Kenneth Childs

    Memories or fantasies sometimes confuse me.

    • brian

      Your own?


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