and kept staring at the ceiling in silence until he said, “I’ll help you. Not for your own sake, but for the sake of your unfortunate wife.”
“May God give you long life, sir.”
“When is the investigation?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Go to them.”
“I could get a letter from a doctor and postpone it for a week.”
“No. Go tomorrow as they want you to.”
“Sir, Dr. Baker is well respected in the department and they will definitely expel me.”
“Let them expel you. They have to send us your expulsion decision. We can bury the decision here and the educational bureau will not know about it.”
“May God give you long life, sir, but I’d no longer be enrolled.”
“Once things calm down, I’ll try to get you enrolled in another university.”
That was more than Danana had hoped for. He kept staring at his master’s face then said in a hesitant voice, “I’ll consider that a promise from you, sir.”
Safwat shot him a disapproving look that almost transfixed him in his place, and then said in a bored tone of voice, “Go back now to Chicago and finish the tasks I assigned to you. Our revered president’s visit is drawing near and we don’t have much time.”
Danana tried to start a spiel, however short, of thanks and gratitude, but Safwat Shakir once again started reading the reports scattered on the desk in front of him and said, “Don’t take up my time. I have a lot of work to do.”
Danana sighed and his features relaxed. He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Safwat’s voice, in a different tone, stopped him. “By the way, I have a request for you.”
“I am at your disposal, sir, upon my life.”
Chapter 26
Carol was so terrified she looked pale. Her heart raced, her breathing became irregular, and she almost fainted as she, with her friend Emily, entered the crowded elevator in a skyscraper overlooking Michigan Avenue. Emily whispered something to the elevator operator and he pressed the button for the thirtieth floor. The elevator made a musical sound before it started up. Carol and Emily remained silent; they had talked so much that nothing was left to be said. Carol posed many questions. She hesitated for a long time and almost changed her mind more than once, but Emily reassured her. She looked at her with a mother’s smile and said, “This is the opportunity of a lifetime. If I were in your place, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
“I can’t help feeling ashamed.”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you look at it from a purely aesthetic point of view.”
They left the elevator. Emily proceeded with Carol, following her to the end of the corridor to the right. She stopped in front of a tinted glass door on top of which was an elegant sign: fernando advertising agency. Emily pushed the button and said her name into the intercom. The door soon opened and out came a forty-something man with his hair in long thin intersecting braids. It seemed from his soft movements and the light makeup on his face that he was gay. He was smoking a fat cigarette from which came a strong smell of marijuana. He exchanged cries of welcome with Emily, who hugged him warmly and kissed him on the cheeks, and then said cheerfully, “My friend Carol. My friend Fernando.”
“Happy to meet you.” Carol shook his hand and struggled to feign a smile.
The apartment was big and furnished in a modern, luxurious style. On the walls Carol now saw enlarged snapshots of faces and landscapes that she guessed had been taken by Fernando, who led them through a long corridor, on one side of which was the open door of a bedroom bathed in a soft red light. At the end of the corridor they entered the studio: a small round room with a very high ceiling in the four corners of which cameras of different sizes were placed. In the middle there was a chair, a small table, and a sofa. From the ceiling hung floodlights casting yellow, blue, and red light. Fernando invited them to sit on the sofa while he sat on the chair in front of them. Then he said in a friendly tone, “Sorry for this mess. I’m a disorganized person.”
“Like all artists.”
“Would you like an excellent joint?”
“No, thank you,” Emily mumbled while Carol remained speechless.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Anything cold.”
He opened the fridge and brought out two cans of Pepsi, and then he said in a practical tone, “Okay, Carol, I don’t want to waste your time. I think Emily has told you.” Carol nodded. Fernando went on, “I must see your breasts first, so we can have a constructive basis for discussion.”
He let out a loud laugh, then shook his head and gathered his braids in his hands and got up, almost dancing. He stood in front of the camera and hit the remote control turning on a floodlight, which made a round spot of shining light on the wooden floor. He signaled for Carol to approach. She got up slowly, and it actually occurred to her at that moment to run away, to open the door of the apartment and run as fast as she could, leaving everything behind and going home to Mark and Graham. But, in spite of everything, she moved toward him as if her feet were moving on their own. Fernando smiled at her gently as if he realized what she was going through. In a calm voice he said, “Take off this shirt, please?”
That was too much for her. She stood there, her head bowed, totally still. He said simply, “I’ll help you.”
He went over to her and began to undo the buttons slowly, as if he enjoyed it. She trembled and felt queasy and thought her soul was ebbing away from her, and yet she succumbed to his hands. He undid the bra from the back and dropped it on the table. Her breasts came down as if freed from a shackle. He turned around, his face having acquired a neutral professional expression. He stood behind the camera and peered carefully through the lens, then he went back to her and adjusted the way she stood in order to examine the image of her breasts in the camera from different angles. Before long he sighed and exclaimed, as if resolving a pending matter, “Not bad. Let’s talk a little bit.”
She extended her hand and covered her chest with the shirt, but to her own surprise, she left it unbuttoned. He sat in front of her and lit a new marijuana cigarette whose end glowed intensely before it produced thick smoke. He coughed hard and said, “This is the story, dear friend. There are two adult lingerie companies in Chicago, the Double X Company and Rocky Company. I think you’ve heard of them. Competition between them is fierce, cutthroat, as they say. They compete in promoting bras in particular because they sell the most. Performance levels in the two companies are close to each other, which makes advertising more important. A few months ago, Rocky started a new advertising campaign on cable television using real women rather than professional models. A woman would appear on television next to her real name and profession. The audience would watch her taking off her clothes and putting on a Rocky brand bra, then she would talk about its advantages. Have you seen these commercials on late-night television?”
“Yes.”
“We must admit that it was an ingenious advertising campaign by Rocky, leading to a twenty percent decline in Double X brand bra sales, which meant a loss in the millions of dollars. Double X has asked me to organize an advertising countercampaign. This is a major professional opportunity for me. If it succeeds, my little advertising agency will make it to the top. I’ve given the matter a lot of thought and I’ve come up with a totally original concept for an ad.”
“Emily has assured me that my face won’t appear in the commercials,” said Carol, looking at her friend as if seeking her help.
Fernando said, “Calm down, baby. We can’t imitate Rocky’s commercials. Our look will be totally different. I will shoot you only taking off a Rocky bra and putting on a Double X one. The camera will not show your face. I will show the viewers by your body language how much more comfortable you feel wearing Double X. That’s the real challenge. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. We will run a lot of rehearsals in order to teach you how to express yourself using your body.”
