The Escort (L'escorte)

A writer can no more stop writing

than breathing, eating or drinking.

Asking himself why he writes

is like asking himself why he lives.

Asking himself why he writes

I write to discover who I am,

and so others can see themselves in my words,

and thus I can know them better.

I write to free myself by inner travel

and to experience the outer world.

Or am I simply afraid to live?

An easy cop-out of putting on paper...

that which I haven't the courage to do.

The more I write

the more I ask myself why I write.

I get to the point where I even ask why I ask.

If it's for the restaurant, I'm not here.

It's from my mom.

She sent it by courier.

Philippe darling. It's grey here

but it sure beats winter.

A new board of directors at the condo...

I finally decided to leave your father.

I need all the money back that I invested in your cafe.

It's all the money I have.

I hope you can pay me back quickly.

How are you? Kisses, treasure.

Signed, Aline.

THE ESCORT

What'll you do?

I don't know.

The restaurant's been closed for a month.

Jean-Marc hoped to re-open, but...

Meanwhile, the debts keep piling up.

He hasn't paid the staff in six weeks.

It's a mess.

All he has to do is find a new partner or take a loan.

Who's the girl?

A rich friend of Joe's.

We've already started our search.

I'm a mess too.

What's wrong?

'I’m stressed out. I can't sleep.

You party too much Christian. Try slowing down.

- Finally! - Hello.

Sorry I'm so late.

Don't I get a kiss?

Of course!

Your mom didn't tell you in person?

She'd take it out on me

and then stay with him as usual.

So instead... -Call her!

No.

We'll lose everything!

Poor Philippe. You're a saint with your mom.

Oh yes!, I sure could use one.

No, thanks.

- Since when? - Since now.

Comfy?

I've got the invites for Marco's memorial party.

Show me.

Strange kind of party. He's been dead over a month.

They do it in lots of cultures. In Madagascar.

Madagascar?

Yes, people celebrate one month after a death.

The body must stink!

They party all night with food and drink.

The famadihana.

Fama, what? The Famous Diana?

Famadihana. The Madagascans have a proverb:

You're not dead if...

Why not hold a seance?

Jean-Marc listen...

What's the proverb?

You're not dead if someone remembers you.

We're back to the Middle Ages!

Or the New Age, I should say.

It's what Marco wanted. A party, as if he were home for the night.

I'm all for the Bible. Jesus said:

Let the dead bury their dead.

A toast to the living!

There's electricity in the air!

Didn't you fix the light?

You're so negative, everyone says so.

Who?

You're always judging people.

They're always ugly or too fat.

According to who? Anyone here? Who?

I can't say.

Some friend. So frank... it's admirable!

You're just repeating anonymous accusations.

It's not right.

I'm saying it:

Jean-Marc, you're always judging people!

We don't all have the same taste.

Some like'em older, solid.

Others want 'em hairy or young.

Or in leather. With pierced nipples.

Some want love to last a lifetime, others aren't able to commit.

What's eating her?

Natalie, don't go!

I didn't come to be Insulted.

- What's with you? - I'll handle this.

So later we'll kiss and make up?

I don't have to put up with this!

Natalie!

Are we really like that?

No, not always.

Are we so judgmental? I don't get it!

"18 years old, versatile." Sounds good.

I hope they're not into steroids.

Can we get him to come here?

Get him to come?

What's up?

He's calling an escort.

An escort.

My card number is 350270320.

That's my card!

That's my card!

Party pooper!

What a drag!

Out of booze?

Where's Charles?

Look what I found!

- Hey that's Philippe’s. - It's ok, I quit playing.

You play flamenco?

Hello.

Who is this?

Natalie, what's wrong?

Calm down, you're hyperventilating.

Take it easy I'll be right over.

What's up?

Natalie had an attack.

Another one?

I've never heard her like this.

She could suffocate.

Shes manipulating you.

I'll come with you.

- Where's the escort? - We canceled.

In that case let's go catch some dancing boys.

Who wants to come?

Thanks a lot bye!

Goodbye.

Thanks it was a great party.

Talk to you soon.

Hey, wait up!

Breathe into the bag.

I broke up with Mauricio.

I miss him so much, I'm a complete wreck.

When I turn 40, he'll be 29. He'll want someone younger.

Come off it!

My biological clock is ticking away.

You're younger than me!

It's time I grew up. I can't spend my life with an assistant cook.

An ex-assistant cook.

That's even worse!

Since the restaurant closed

he just sits around, doesn't even look for work.

Plus he's an obsessive eater.

I can't live with someone who thinks of nothing but food!

How'd you get in?

The door was open.

We changed our mind, we canceled.

Isn't there a party?

Everyone’s gone, even the guy who called.

He didn't leave a message.

Sorry but it's not my problem.

Here...

Want another one?

It sure is hot.

If I add the drinks

you cost a lot more than $150 an hour.

My name's Jean-Marc.

A pleasure. I'm Steve.

"Steve" sounds professional.

Is that your boyfriend?

Yeah.

Is he dead?

No, why would he be dead?

Jean-Marc's a good listener.

Stop putting him down.

You're not right for each other.

All you have going is the sex.

With Mauricio too. It was like an addiction.

That's why I could never split up.

At least he used a condom. Bloody condoms!

Blow up in your face. In a manner of speaking, I mean.

Poor guys, I hear they're awfully tight.

You're lucky, after this long you two don't need them.

These days we wouldn't need them anyway.

I don't want to!

Don't worry, I'll pay you.

- No. - Then get the hell out of here.

If it's ok I'd like to crash here

on the living room sofa, of course.

Are you kidding me?

I don't want to be alone.

Everything has it's price.

Pretty strange, with your job.

Wait.