JOHNNY AND VIVIENNE got deep under the down duvet. He was kissing her neck. They smelled of semen and viscosity. They were heated, sweaty, getting the post-love chills, hair wet, giddy. They were in Johnny and Val’s room. Two queen beds. Room 10688. Johnny fed Vivienne strawberries from the room service breakfast at two in the morning: OJ, muffins and croissants, big pot of coffee, berries, yogurt and omelettes. Val had agreed to look for Danny in front of the Eiffel Tower. The Birdman of Paris.
VAL FOUND DANNY at his perch right below the bistro Mon Ami Gabi. “It’s time to go to Death Valley,” Val said.
Danny twirled his red ski pole in circles. “f*****g A,” he said. “You got that right.”
“Come along, Mr. Towne,” Val said, using Danny’s alias from his Montevideo days.
“Thank you, kind
