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.This little method also happens to work like a charm with written articles.As such, what he needs right now is a standard run-of-the-mill set of ears, those of an average person.And all of a sudden it hits him.What a stroke of luck, he thinks.For goodness’ sake—I have the perfect specimen right under my nose.He looks at his watch.Six o’clock in the evening.More than an hour to kill before dinner, which is very convenient, for that will be just enough time to recount the whole story to Ana Fernández de Bugambilla as she gets dressed for dinner.“How would you like to hear the story of a real bitch, darling?”Let’s see.that opener is definitely out, for he already used it as an introduction to a previous conversation, and Antonio Sánchez is not a man to recycle conversation starters.No.The prelude will be different this time around—much simpler, something like “Sit down, darling.” And then he will launch into his story while caressing the contours of her neck or one of her divine calves.Sánchez sits up, saves what he has written, and before closing his word-processing program he thinks: Fuck the fat congresswoman.And he thinks this because he no longer has the slightest doubt that the piece he has been asked to write for the special Sunday supplement will be a hell of a lot more successful if he sticks with the story of high-society infidelity and murder.“I feel sorry for you, but you fucked up, Santiago Arce and company,” he says as he closes his laptop.“You really fucked up.”SportsCareful! To play paddle tennis, don’t even think of wearing tennis clothes, for that would be terribly gauche.Men will look perfectly fine in a pair of old cutoffs that land right about mid-thigh level (shorter shorts are only for French backpackers who frequent campsites) or a simple pair of bathing trunks with a T-shirt (if possible, as well-worn as the cutoffs).Oddly enough, an unspoken rule seems to dictate that the best players are always those with the most ragged, disheveled appearance.—Carmen de Posadas, Yuppies, jet set, la movida y otras especies (Yuppies, jet-set, the movida and other species, 1987)Paddle Tennis, Cellular Telephones, and Sneakers (Two Days Later)The Muguet bedroom at L’Hirondelle, occupied by Bea and Bernardo, pays homage to its name even in the tiniest of details.Lilies of the valley decorate the porcelain in the bathrooms, the subtle wallpaper is dotted with faint petals and stalks, and lovely little flower buds cover the bedspread.Bea stops to admire these little flowers, alternately wrinkling and smoothing them as she chats with J.P.Bonilla, whom she has just telephoned in response to the message he left on her machine.“I can hardly hear you, J.P.Please tell me you’re not in a restaurant because, I might remind you, it is the height of bad taste to sit there talking into your Nokia unless you are eating alone, and I doubt you are, given how terribly popular you say you have become.”Bonilla assures her that, no, he is playing paddle tennis at the moment.He does not, however, wish to waste his one hour of athletic activity by talking to Bea and so he quickly explains the reason for the message he left her.As it turns out, he wants to offer her a little assignment, one that he claims is tailor-made for her.“It’s a real cushy job,” he says.“You are going to absolutely love it—it’s easy, well paid, a real deal.Look, for someone who’s well connected, speaks English, and knows how to be a guardian angel it’s a breeze.”Bea raises her hand—not to indicate enthusiasm for such a hearty pitch, but to search for the pack of Gitanes she has left somewhere on the bedspread.She locates it and lights a cigarette, despite the fact that such strong tobacco hardly jibes with the delicate muguet decor of the bedroom.And she listens.“Are you familiar with Harpic Arvhaubi, darling?” asks J.P.“No.I don’t think I could even pronounce the name, matter of fact.Someone important?”“Darling, darling, come back to planet Earth.She’s in all the newspapers
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