The Lonely Hearts Bar. Конни Гранма

of coke from the table and, after taking a small sip, turned to me:

      «Señorita, be straight with me, how much has he already had?»

      «Two glasses of coca-cola.»

      «Lee, here’s the lady I met in that bar: Connie!» David gestured to me.

      «Good gracious, I do apologize, I’m terribly ill-mannered. When you live a couple years with this monster, you tend to forget about etiquette. And here I was thinking that you were one of his…» At that moment, David splashed coke in Lee’s face. He shook my hand as if there weren’t drops falling from his pointed nose, and introduced himself: «very nice to meet you, the name’s Lee.»

      «He actually goes by ‘Jackie Chan’,» David blurted out.

      «Very nice to meet you too, Connie.»

      Lee grabbed a couple napkins from the table and mopped his face:

      «Sorry, but how long have you been here for?»

      «’Bout 30 minutes,» replied David.

      Lee’s eyes bulged:

      «And you’ve putting up with this mofo for that long?»

      I laughed and David shook his head, irritated:

      «Order something already, moron! No worries, there’ll be time to talk about your feelings for me later.»

      «I’ll have a martini, please, and my rodent friend here would like another coke,» said Lee and sat down next to me.

      «And you’re telling me not to drink?»

      «People don’t get drunk off martinis, stupid.»

      «You could get messed up on milk!»

      «I’m lactose-intolerant! So, where are you from?» continued Lee.

      «I can tell you her biography when we get home.»

      «You’re being a jerk.»

      David smiled, satisfied, and winked at me.

      «Watch out, you might exhaust your entire vocabulary. You only know ten words anyway,» Lee remarked.

      «Really? Can you be a little more specific?»

      «Egotistical, foul, gross, fucktard, son-of-a-bitch, moron, jerk, crap, ass, and turd…»

      «That’s thirteen words.»

      «’Son-of-a-bitch’ is a collocation.»

      «Douchebag. That’s 11.» I smiled.

      «What?» Lee asked.

      «He also says ‘douchebag’.»

      Lee stared, surprised, at an extremely self-satisfied David.

      «Where do you study, by the way? David, if you open your cake hole one more time!»

      «At film school. She came here to take classes,» calmly answered David for me and took a gulp of Lee’s martini. He responded by «accidentally» tipping over David’s glass of coke, which spilled onto his shirt.

      «Film school? You don’t say,» he continued nonchalantly to me.

      «Asshole,» whispered David, reaching for a napkin.

      «Twelve!» Lee and I exclaimed in unison, and all three of us burst out laughing.

      Only I was dry when we left the bar. David and Lee sighed deeply, examining their stained clothes.

      «Connie, why don’t you come over? Our place is where it’s at: we watch movies… eat popcorn… beat each other up…»

      «Definitely… some other time. Thanks for the night out though! Need a lift?»

      «Nah, we’ll just toddle on back. Got some things to do,» said David.

      «It was nice to meet you,» Lee gallantly kissed my hand.

      «Man, you’re so full of shit!» David gave his head a shove.

      «Stop being a dick!» hissed Lee, shoving him back.

      David turned to me one last time:

      «Nice running into you again. See you tomorrow.»

      «Bye.»

      They waved and walked in the other direction. Turning around, I watched as they kept kicking each other along the way until they finally began chasing each other. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

      I returned to my car and drove home. It was so quiet… only the rumble of the old engine.

      A hot shower, a soft robe… I settle comfortably onto the couch and pull my book, Master Class for Directors, Screenwriters, and Novelists, out of my backpack. Skimming through the first three pages, I set the book aside and get back to the screenplay I’d started, my fingers flying over the keyboard. I didn’t even notice as the page number in the margin went from three to forty. It’s already 5am. And the sound of my alarm is just as annoying.

      A breeze rose from the balcony. Early morning in Los Angeles. There’s nothing like it! Here the sun is only just stirring, but somewhere faraway the moon has already risen in its stead. It’s all rather like a giant traffic light: it goes red – the cars sleep, it goes green – we go, racing anywhere to avoid the next red light.

      Red. I finished my strong coffee and looked out the car window. A small boy with three red balloons stood by the light. This kid was so happy even though he was standing by himself, at a great distance from his chaperone, who was talking on the phone and searching her purse for something. He was happy, truly happy. I could tell by his look, which was full of desire to get to know the world. He stuck in my mind, especially his hair, as if he were Melozzo da Forlì’s «Angel Playing the Violin.» I’d never seen such a beautiful child: masses of blond curls, freckles on his little snub nose, scarlet lips, and sky-blue eyes. Suddenly the tiny cupid gazed right at me and waved. I smiled and gave him the peace sign, and then the light went green.

      Now Oasis’s «Whatever» was playing in my car. If you’d only seen me! I sang at the top of my voice, and stuck my tongue out at the elderly couple in the next car over. I was in my all-too-rare NSG mode, No Shits Given, and the weather was stunning.

      Today was director training day… according to the schedule. But Mr. BB got onto the topic of script format. He was interested in the topic because he wanted to get to know us, given that we were still just another bunch of students at our desks. We discussed everything from scripts for ads of chocolate bars with raisins to my own screenplay for a drama.

      «Drama?» Mr. BB looked surprised and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

      «Yes, drama,» I said, and gripped my notebook hesitantly.

      «What’s the subject?»

      «Life.»

      «Life?»

      «Yes.»

      «And what’s life?»

      «What happens to us every second of every day.»

      «Do you mean today, or a day that’s passed?»

      «Today or yesterday?»

      «Exactly.»

      «The past, present and future exist simultaneously,» I stated, and a smile appeared on Mr. BB’s face.

      «And what led you to that conclusion, Mr. Hawking?»

      «The so-called past is far too influential on the present, which the future depends on,» I locked eyes with Mr. BB without a trace of a smile. «If I hadn’t talked about drama in the last couple minutes, our conversation would never have touched upon Einstein’s theory.»

      «Wow!» he exclaimed, and his smile didn’t falter for quite some time.

      I was happy with class that day, as I was able to impress Mr. BB himself. It was only when I was getting into my car that I realized I hadn’t seen David or Lee today. Something felt wrong after the heart-to-heart with David yesterday.

      There