“Wrong – an artist has talent.”

“I might have talent,” he said, maintaining his hopeful lilt.

“As a writer?” she asked, incredulous.

“How do you know if you never give it a try?”

“Listen Max,” she said with a final, scathing look. “I’ve been listening to you for a while now and let me assure you – you are no Dostoyevsky.”

“Who?”

8.2

Julia drained the dregs of yet another daiquiri.

“Mmm – that’s nice,” she said.

She could feel the alcohol flowing through her now, flushing her with excitement.

“Would you like to come up to my room?” Buck asked, finally.

“How could I refuse?”

“You could just say no,” he laughed.

She thought that an odd response, but battled on.

“And where would that get me – out on my own again?”

She grabbed his arm –

“No Buck – I’m sticking to you like glue.”

Buck pulled away a little.

“The name is Buckland, actually.”

“Buckland!”

What happened?

“It’s a family name. I’ve never been called Buck in my life until Marlon came along. I hate that name.”

“Oh sorry… and here I’ve been – calling you Buck all the time.”

Julia actually thought “Buck” was quite cute.

“I don’t mind it so much from you.”

“But Buckland!” she blurted without thinking. “My God! What kind of name is that?”

“It’s my middle name actually,” he said. “My Christian name is Roger.”

“Roger!”

Julia thought this was hilarious –

“Roger!” she repeated.

What kind of name is that?

It was amazing how, in the space of a few drinks, everything had changed. It all looked quite different now. Now she was not dealing with a brooding, mysterious Buck at all!

Now she had a jolly Roger!

Now she was in control!

“Well Roger – let’s go.”