What are you watching anyway?
LAYLA:
The Godfather.
I exhaled then, closing my eyes as I contemplated asking her to marry me instead. My Uber arrived, and I sank into the seat, grateful to be going home finally.
ZANE:
Michael Corleone…
LAYLA: Yes! I love him.
ZANE: You know he isn’t real, right?
LAYLA: I know, but…
ZANE:Would he make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?
LAYLA: I’d have to say no even to him :(
ZANE: Jeez. You must love this guy.
She didn’t reply, and I frowned.
ZANE: You don’t have to answer that.
LAYLA: Okay. I won’t.
I frowned at my screen, gazing out of the window as the city sped by. Why couldn’t she answer a simple question like that? He was going to be her husband.
ZANE:
Of course. But now my curiosity is piqued... what makes Micheal Corleone so special?
LAYLA: Tall, dark, and handsome, of course.
ZANE: You’re killing me here.
LAYLA: Haha. You are tall, platinum blond, and gorgeous.
ZANE: You make me sound like a damn Barbie doll…
LAYLA: Oh hush. You know you’re hot.
ZANE: Hotter than Corleone?
LAYLA: He’s fictional, though. You’re not.
ZANE: So?
LAYLA: It’s okay to fall in love with a fictional character.
ZANE: Tell me about it. Many of my mistresses belong in books or the screen.
LAYLA: Ooh. Like who?
ZANE: Wouldn’t you like to know?
