When Daphne hung up the phone, she was afraid to go back and tell Jacques that Thomas wouldn’t sell the sheep to him. Be a good actress, she told herself. That’s what counts.
She sashayed over to where Jacques had planted his director’s chair. His cigarette holder was dangling out of his mouth, and his black beret was back in place.
Daphne laughed as though she didn’t have a care in the world. “It turns out, Jacques, that the sheep have deep, deep meaning for the club.”
“What do you mean ‘deep meaning?’”
“I mean that they are an important part of the club’s history, and they’re not interested in selling them.”
Jacques removed the cigarette holder from his mouth. “Don’t you want parts in my movies? Starring roles?”
“Of course I do, Jacques. It’s a privilege for me to work with you.”
“Those sheep are magic,” Jacques said, pointing to Dolly and Bah-Bah. “I don’t know what it is about them, but they’ve got something special. And I want them! I want, I want, I WANT THOSE SHEEP! And you are the only one who can arrange that. So do it! Tell them we’ll give them fifty thousand dollars.” He turned away and flicked his hand. “Get a check from what’s his name and take it up there now. Make sure they accept it!”
A moment later, Daphne took the check that had been hastily scrawled, raced down the steps to the street, and hightailed it up to the club as though her life depended on it.