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stopped waiting Julian received another letter from her. He could not help smiling idiotically, remembering down to the last detail the treatment she had inflicted on him.
    Â 
    Dear Julian,
    It’s been very hard to get in touch with you lately. I almost thought I’d never see you again! That would’ve been too bad, I think you’ll agree. I hope I measured up to your expectations the other day; I did my best to make a good impression!
    I won’t tell you why I didn’t stay the last time, it’s not important. But I’ll be in Quebec City for your next show. Maybe we’ll have a meeting as nice as the last one—or nicer?
    Until then,
Love,
X
    Quebec City. She would be in Quebec City! Julian adored that town. Besides being beautiful, it was warm and alive; anything could happen there. And maybe, just maybe, “everything” would! He was almost jumping out of his skin with impatience. He forced himself to calm down, thinking about the unpleasant things that could happen.
    Maybe, as he feared, she was as ugly as a toad, in which case he would regret having let his impetuous cock venture into that mouth, but would file away the episode as a “lapse of judgment.”
    Maybe she was totally unbalanced and would threaten his life if he wasn’t attracted to her.
    Maybe it was some kind of bad joke—the kind only women knew how to play—where he had been chosen by chance, a helpless victim.
    There it was. “Is that all? The risks aren’t
that
bad!” he concluded. “And if she does what she did last time, what’s a little humiliation compared with so much pleasure?”
    * * *
    Once they got to the hotel in Quebec—though “hotel” was just a fancy way of saying “seedy-room-with-sagging-mattresses-as-usual”—the musicians, according to ritual, drew lots to decide who would have the supreme privilege of a room to himself. Julian was the lucky one this time, and he felt this was a good sign. They quickly showered, then headed to the venue.
    By 10 p.m., the place was packed. Local radio stations had done a publicity blitz for their arrival in Quebec and gave them star treatment. But though the show went well, it did not have the magic of the last one—as though the musicians were trying too hard, or their minds were elsewhere. But the crowd did not seem to notice, and they got two standing ovations.
    Julian was impatient. He liked to play; he loved the tension and the spectators’ appreciation. But he could not stop thinking about what would happen after the show. Would she keep her promise? He had no reason to doubt her, and he knew he should take her at her word. He did his best to maintain the illusion of being totally absorbed in the music.
    When the show was over he did not follow the others right away, preferring to remain in the wings. He told himself that if he waited there, it would make things easier if she meant to drag him into some dark corner. But ten minutes went by and she still had not appeared. He decided to go back to the dressing room. He met the other band members on their way to the bar, where they were awaited by some tall cool, blonde brews, and, if they got lucky, maybe some tall hot, blonde fans as well.
    â€œAre you coming, Julian?”
    â€œI’ll be there in a minute.”
    â€œCome now, our fans are dying to meet us!” Julian resigned himself to going for a tall frosty one before getting changed. Maybe she just wanted to test his patience; it was still early, after all; anything could still happen.
    * * *
    The dressing room was locked. Each musician had been given a key and was told only they would have access to the room. He opened the door and fumbled for the light switch, which was covered with adhesive tape! The door closed behind him. She was there, putting a hand on his shoulder.
    â€œYou knew I’d come,” she whispered.
    â€œI was hoping …”
    â€œOh! So