Chapter 41 – France, Anna, and The Deneuve
Anna and Gwen landed in Paris a week before the film production was due to begin. The Deneuve and Spielberg had made the arrangements for this week, partly as a crash course for Anna, and partly as a promo tour. The three women were installed in a three bedroom suite at the Intercontinental Grand. Anna looked out the window at the Paris Opera House across the boulevard and thought: “They don’t have one of those in Charleston.”
“What’s this place cost a night?” Anna asked.
“I’ve no idea, dear,” said Catherine. “We’re compted here for the week. I have to sit in the bar one night and drink Champagne with you. Let the press take pictures, which is promo for the hotel. Have you had your picture in Le Monde? Bertie’s a very good photographer, and I hope they send him.”
“Am I going to come out of this an alcoholic?” asked Anna.
“Possibly, dear,” said Catherine, “but don’t worry, the Champagne companies will supply you with all the wine your addicted little brain cells will demand. And you’ll get to share that with all the men who will be hanging around you, after this. Some things demand a price, and there are worst things than a little bout of alcoholism, now and then.” Her eyes twinkled the message that she was joking.
“What’s the plan?” said Gwen.
“Well, the plan is to have fun before the work begins. Steven’s a maniac then, no fooling around. He’s squeezing this doco in between two big movies, so we’re going to work very hard for two weeks or so. This week we show Anna the history of Champagne in French culture.”
She picked up the phone and called her assistant, who came immediately from the room next door. Jorgee, like Anna, was twenty-seven years old, going on forty. He had been around the block. Jorgee was a cross between a decathlon athlete and a chess grandmaster, having it in both departments, and he was polite and humble, at least on the surface. He took care of Catherine. One time a paparazzi stuck his camera in The Deneuve’s face. Jorgee pushed the guy up against a wall, held him there by the throat with one hand, and with the other, tore almost every piece of clothing from the guy’s body. He left the guy with his shoes on, lying naked on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Other paparazzi filmed this, which was shown on French TV for the best part of a week. Many young French girls got their first looks at the male member in this clip, because it was shown all day long. Most celebrities in most countries would face legal charges for this, but not The Deneuve; not in France. The guy didn’t even bother to file a charge. He knew the score.
“Jorgee, this is Gwen and this is Anna. They’re my best friends. Please take care of them. What’s our itinerary?” She went and stood behind Jorgee, draping her arms around his three foot wide shoulders. Jorgee started to say something, when Catherine interrupted him. “Anna, would you come here.” She stood aside, and when Anna came close, she took Anna’s arms and put them around Jorgee’s shoulders, like hers had been. “Do you know what that is, dear?”
Anna breathed deeply and said, “The smell of paradise.”
Catherine said, “Oh, I love that as a name for a cologne. PARADISE. Jorgee is wearing my cologne, made for me. THE SHIMMERER. I love that word. “Jorgee, how does THE SHIMMERER work for you, attracting women?”
“Like followers to a saint, Catherine. When I wear it I’m good. When I don’t wear it, I’m a lot less good. At least that’s what women think.”
“Do you know what Anna’s favorite perfume is?”
Jorgee turned around and looked at Anna, just a foot between them, him now having an excuse for a full visual evaluation. He’d been playing it cool, trying hard to avoid checking out both Gwen and Anna, doing pretty well at blocking the hormones from exiting the glands, keeping them out of the bloodstream and his brain.
After looking into Anna’s eyes for a few seconds he turned to Catherine and said, “She’s an OPIUM girl, if I’ve ever seen one.”
Catherine turned to Gwen, said, “He’s got a brain and good taste. Also very funny. And he beats up the paparazzi for me, takes no shit from them.” Then to Anna, “He’s right. OPIUM. I remember that from the night we met. Strapped to a chair, black undies. You turned Roger into a limp rag with those, didn’t you.” Then to Jorgee, “THE SHIMMERER and OPIUM, you ever put them together, dear, in any significant way?”
He said, looking at Catherine, not at Anna, “Not yet.”
Catherine looked at Gwen and said, “To be young again, meshing perfumes with sweat. Well, I had my share.” Looking back at Jorgee and Anna, “Good luck, you two. Now, what’s our itinerary?”
“This afternoon we do Champagne and paintings. Tomorrow we have readings of Champagne in literature. Tomorrow night it’s Champagne in music. Next day is Champagne in movies. After that it’s ritual and symbolism.” Jorgee looked for approval.
“When are we going to drink some, Jorgee? Isn’t that the most important part?”
“Eighteen cases were delivered to my room yesterday. Eighteen different estates donated to the project. Is that enough for five days?”
Jorgee kept a straight face when he said this. Catherine asked Anna if she thought this was enough, also keeping a straight face.
Staying in tune Anna said, “If he’s gonna drink with us, I’m not sure.”
Catherine smiled and said, “What time do we meet?”
“2 o’clock.”
Gwen asked, “In the lobby?”
Jorgee said, “God no. We meet her in the lobby, we’ll never get out. We meet here, then go through the lobby with me leading the way, fast if we can. Car out front.”