“I swear I’ve seen you someplace before,” she said, as she tucked into her chili fries. Was she serious? That was one of the oldest lines in the book.
“Really? You can do better than that for a pickup line,” Jack replied. “Besides, you already picked me up, so you don’t need one anyway.” He had wanted to get close to her, and now he didn’t even need to cozy up to her mysterious coworker to do it.
“OK, it’s a cheesy line, but I meant it! I know I saw you, I think it was last week, but I can’t remember where.” She scrunched up her forehead and half-closed her greenish-blue eyes, clearly trying to force herself to recall where she’d seen him. Jack considered helping her out, but it didn’t seem wise. She’d only ask why he, as a visitor to Romance, would have bothered to attend a town meeting, and then he’d have to tell her another lie, on top of lying about where he worked and how that work had brought him here.
He’d told her the same story he told anyone else who asked: he was in Romance to evaluate the effectiveness of the town’s tourism marketing efforts, he’d probably be here a month or so, and when he was done and the final report was written, he’d be happy to send them a copy if they wanted it. So far, nobody had taken him up on that offer, for which he was grateful.
“Probably just passing by on the street,” he said. “Downtown isn’t that big.”
Marianne grinned. She did that a lot. He supposed he’d smile a lot, too, if he owned a thriving business, and a major chunk of real estate, before the age of thirty. “It’s big enough. I think I’d like it better if it was a little smaller. I’d get more foot traffic walking past the theater that way. You’d be surprised how many people I run into who don’t know what’s playing, and I’m the only movie theater in town.”
He didn’t ask the first question that came to mind, which was: why would anyone come to her theater in the first place? Obviously they did, or she wouldn’t be in business. And it was equally obvious that she took a great deal of pride in the theater, and worked hard to keep it in pristine condition. He’d gone once so far, and he’d been impressed at the way it retained the look and feel it had had when it was first built, but at the same time had enough modern features and amenities to make seeing a movie there a comfortable experience.
All that aside, though, he didn’t see why people would pay even five dollars to watch movies that were decades old, and which they could see for free any time they wanted at home. Especially because none of them had the big special effects and stunning visuals of modern movies, which were the only reason to spend the money (and pay for parking, and buy overpriced drinks and popcorn) to go to a movie theater these days.
If Marianne Carter could give him a sensible answer to that question, it would go a long way towards convincing him to recommend that the Esmerelda Theater get the landmark status she had applied for.
“Seems like you already do pretty well with the traffic you get now,” he said. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised you get so many customers. Everybody’s already seen all the movies you show, haven’t they?”
Her eyes flashed. Clearly he’d hit a sore spot. “I wish! I’d do double the business I do now if more people had seen my movies already. Educating people about why they need to see them is the hardest part of my job.”
He noted that she said “my movies” as though she had some ownership of them. “Well, then educate me. Why do I need to see The Shop Around the Corner?”
She told him. She told him in exhaustive detail, over ninety minutes, according to his watch, which was probably longer than the actual movie was. He now knew – not that he’d probably remember – all about the cast of the movie, and the various remakes of it over the years, and why this version was by far her favorite, although the remake with Judy Garland and Van Johnson had a lot to recommend it as well, including a small role for Buster Keaton.
Thankfully, he knew who Buster Keaton was; Jack didn’t want to imagine what her reaction would have been if he’d said, “Who’s that?”
Despite all the facts, and her obvious – almost infectious – enthusiasm, he still didn’t understand why he needed to see the movie. The farthest he was willing to go was, “Maybe I’ll try to see it one night this week.”
“Maybe?” She didn’t quite shout, but her eyes were blazing, and her hands were shaking with, if not rage, than at least indignation. “After all that, the best you can give me is maybe?”
He supposed he could go to the show tonight. It wasn’t as though he had any other plans. And he really ought to see the theater in action again as part of his evaluation. “OK, I’ll go tonight, are you happy now?”
She calmed down a bit. “Yes. Yes, I am.” Her hands were no longer shaking. “You know what, I’ll even treat you. I can’t go myself tonight, but just tell Jessie – she’s working the box office, pretty girl, talks a mile a minute, anyway, tell her I said you get in for free.”
He hadn’t expected that. “Really? That’s generous of you.”
“Well,” she said, grinning now, “you could buy some popcorn, so it won’t be a total loss for me. And you can find me tomorrow and tell me what you thought of the movie. Fair enough?”
A free movie, and another date – if that’s what this had been – with Marianne? That was definitely fair enough.