THE GETAWAY

Good morning you merry little month of May.

I only can hope this true.

Darling, are you aware how many wonderful outfits I've witnessed murdered just in the month of April? Makes you shudder almost does it not? Might even bring one to tears if they were the sort that got themselves all wrapped in such those kind of nonsense emotions. I mean, darling, always you simply can go shopping and if that isn't possible, you just have someone do it for you. No worries. Except for something that's been monogramed. Uh oh.

I think I may have dropped in the grottes last night my leather driving gloves complete with my initials: JDL
Mmm...this might cause a bit of a quandary, but hopefully not a full affair investigation should a dead brother wash up to the bank. And, they were my most favorite pair, you know. The perfect roasted gold sort of brown colour. With wrist buttons!

That little drive to the country last night, though splendid it was, didn't keep me from town nearly as long as I'd expected. But, darling, I was so washed out by the time I made it back to my room that I dialed the house help to come immediately fold down the coverlets so I could fall straight right to my pillows, as I simply was too tired to eat, though still I was crazed with the thought of that delicious lobster. I so had looked forward to it, you know? Well, Fiona ruined that for me, didn't she though. What a pathetic little monster she turned out to be. I mean, darling, truly, can you believe all that she put me through? Andrea's already sent a cablegram to my room this morning which reads:

JACQUELINE.
LAST NIGHT I WAS STEVE.
SHOULD ANYONE ASK: THE GETAWAY.
JE T'ADORE.
McQUEEN.

Is he not just the most? Truly, he's such a sweet man. Wanting to play car chasing scenes and all. Makes you want to pinch yourself just to see what all's the matter with your laughing so hard. He's just the tops, being so terribly charming and tragically funny. Oh, how I love a paradox or two. And darling, he was just such the gentleman last night when he took the driver's seat and sped my little Peugeot faster than it's ever been driven.
Oh, he was divine.

The front desk just rang saying a Mr. McQueen shall be round at 3p to meet him in the lobby. I haven't even had my morning bun and tea let alone read the papers. Darling, I'm not even going to bother "acting" affected by his brash manner. I find him and his behavior rather compelling, you know. He's simply the most fun I've had since I arrived in France. Ever! I'm certain he won't bore me with details of his dead brother. He's just not that type.

I've just got to come up with the most perfect getaway outfit, you know, something that will send him right over the moon and drive even faster. Oh darling, I can't wait but to sit still. He's just so damn dashing, you know. Honestly, I'm rather glad we ditched his brother- he was just so in the way. Two people in a convertible says so much more than three, unless I suppose one is dead. Now, that may cause a few heads to turn.

If he wears pink socks, what colour should my shoes be?

If his name is Steve than mine must be Ali.

Darling, I love Paris, France.

-Jacqueline