Simon finished his dinner, ordered a coffee; black, and lit yet another Romeo y Julieta. The phone rang…
"Comment ose j'aidez-vous, mon ami?" JP returning his call.
"I had a strange meeting. A certain party calling himself Smith is interested in acquiring a mountain range. Said it's for an associate. The retail on this piece is one hundred million."
"Vous avez refuse?"
"Out of the question, left me no options."
"Laissez-moi deviner? Deux choses. You need a copyist and you wish to exploit a weakness."
"Oui, I mean yes, now you've got me doing it. Someone here in the states, preferably."
"And the location of the ‘faiblesse’, weakness?"
"Upper East Side, Jewish. Comprenez?"
"Oui. Stay put. I'll put it together in a week."
"Less if you can. Jean Pierre, thank you."
“Mon plaisir, mon ami.”
This is how the trouble began.
I go shopping
In my dream hundreds of people milled about. The morning dew tickled my bare feet. The grave stones were marked clear as day; yet I couldn't read a single one. Without warning I was driving my car at high speed; the car doing as it wished. I had no control. Suddenly, I found myself in a home that I was familiar with and didn't know at all.
Anthony was sitting in the center of the room. People filed past; shaking his hand; saying goodbye. Across the room I eyed my mother. She looked radiant. There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned; there stood the father I never knew. He smiled brightly.
"Dad, what are you doing here? You're dead!"
"I've come to help."
At the far end of the room was a long table covered with food. I walked over and piled some onto a plate. As I lifted a fork to my mouth a hand encircled my wrist and gently pushed it down. "Don't eat that. This food is for dead people." My mother smiled sweetly.