Jessica was just a few short steps from the club door when a delighted cry made her stop and turn around.
"Ah! Miss! Miss! S'il-vous-plait, I beg you stop!"
A short, skinny man was crossing the street towards her. He ran with his arms outstretched; in the evening light, his bushy gray hair and the large and thick glasses that hid most of his face gave him quite the demented look, at least for a human.
"Ah! Ah, miss..."
Panting and wheezing, he raised his hands towards Jessica.
"Ah, miss, you are exactly the woman I was looking for!"
Jessica hurriedly took a step back. She had heard that sentence dozens of times before, and it was almost always followed by an eager grab at her breasts. But the short man's hands didn't dive for a feel or a squeeze: they stayed where they were, palms towards her, as if he was saluting and offering peace. A business card stuck out from between two fingers of his right hand. Perplexed but on her guard, Jessica took it and read it aloud.
"Jacques Lejus-Dugland, toon memorabilia curator..."
"Yes... yes! Exactly! I am what you may call a connaisseur and a collectionneur, and I owe a charming art gallery, just a stone throw away. Ah, miss! Will you hear my plea? I beg you!"
Jessica shot a nervous glance over her shoulder. This excited little man with a thick accent wasn't very clear, but she was nonetheless curious about what made him so exhilarated, since it didn't seem to be the prospect of manhandling her bosom... Still suspicious, she invited him to go on.
"Ah! Miss, you see, I am an admirer of toons, an admirer of the toon world in its entirety! I am fortunate enough to have the means to share my love and admiration with the public. My gallery! In my gallery, I have organized expositions, wonderful expositions! They are audacious, irreverent, sometimes funny, sometimes sad... They are art! Toon art! My dream is to elevate the toon form to that of the great masters of the past! Michelangelo and Maroon! Donatello and Disney!"
Suddenly, the man's ecstatic tone broke. Tears filled his eyes and his voice quivered.
"Alas! Tonight, tonight is a catastrophe! My new exposition is to be revealed at midnight, and my pièce de résistance, the star of my display resigned not an hour ago! But you, miss, you! You could fill her shoes! You could take her place! You could be the glorious revelation of 'Toons: Toujours Plus Gros!' Please, please, I beg of you..."
Jessica's head was spinning. An art gallery A real, bonafide artistic exposition with her at its center? An unexpected, unhoped-for chance to break into a new career, so much more noble and rewarding than club singing? That was... that was almost too good to be true! |