8

A phone rings three times, then is answered by a groggy voice.

“Hello…?”

“Riyad? That you? Christ, where have you been?”

“Mr. Pham? I don’t….”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a week! The last I heard from you was that weird email you sent me, and then nothing!”

“Email? I don’t remember a… what do you mean I’ve been gone a week?”

“You just vanished on me. No one’s been able to get ahold of you. I put in a missing persons report to the police, for christsake!”

“But… that can’t… I don’t remember….”

A pause. “Look, Riyad, I don’t know what’s going on with you. But right now, I need you up on your feet. You’ve got an interview with Celine in three hours.”

“Celine? Raymond Celine? Isn’t he missing?”

“Where the hell have you been this past week? He showed up in New York just yesterday; everyone’s talking about it. He’s not speaking to any of the press, but he emailed me saying he’d accept an interview from us, so long as you were the one meeting him. I told him that you were missing, but he just said to call you at this time and I’d be able to reach you.” Another pause. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“I’m not sure.... I’ll get myself ready, then.”

“Good man. Don’t worry about writing up the story, just send in me your notes and I’ll have someone else take care of it. Soon as you’re done with the interview, get some sleep or get yourself to the hospital or whatever you need to do.”

“Thanks, I… I will. Goodbye.”

“Later.”