Free Julie's Butterfly by Greta Milán Page B

She went to her laptop and swiftly typed in Bastian’s proposed caption. “If I’d known you were capable of coming up with such creative descriptions for these gruesome things, I’d have roped you in sooner.”
    “It’s not so gruesome,” Bastian remarked, amused, as he returned to his place behind the camera. “It’s not as bad as that vase with the contorted cat.”
    “Or the Mayan statue,” recalled Julie with a shudder. “That certainly would have gotten an F in art class.”
    Bastian scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And what grade shall we give this shining example?”
    “Let’s see . . . C minus,” she said, grinning.
    For the first time, Bastian returned her smile.

C HAPTER 9
    “You can’t be serious.” Julie stopped short and stared at Bastian suspiciously. “ Fight Club is a masterpiece!”
    Bastian grinned from behind the camera. “I swear I haven’t seen it.”
    “How can you claim to be a movie buff?”
    “I never did.”
    “Oh, really? A man who can quote movies from so many different genres without batting an eyelid is someone who knows his stuff.” Her eyes sparkled as she watched Bastian.
    It all began with a small jewelry box that looked like a miniature version of the Ark of the Covenant. Julie had opened the box and looked wide-eyed at Bastian.
    “ ‘Don’t look at it, no matter what happens!’ ” she warned him. He looked at her with an annoyed expression on his face but broke into laughter when Julie pulled the box out. He knew she was quoting Indiana Jones from Raiders of the Lost Ark .
    “We’re only missing the staff,” he remarked drily.
    Julie giggled.
    That was the start of a lively debate over the best movies in cinematic history, one that had been liberally peppered with quotes from the films. To Julie’s surprise, Bastian could hold his own in any genre—until they got to Fight Club .
    “Is that everything?” asked Bastian, looking around.
    “Yes, we’re done.”
    Bastian began to unplug his camera from the cables. “So what’s Fight Club about?”
    “Hmm. It’s about a lonely man who convincingly illustrates the materialistic nature of society. He has everything, yet nothing. He ultimately goes to pieces for that reason,” explained Julie as she sealed up the last box. “One day he meets Tyler, and they form this fight club together. He uses the pain and the fights as a kind of safety valve, as a form of self-help.”
    Bastian stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Self-help?” he asked.
    “Feeling you’re alive through an awareness of your vulnerability and ultimately your mortality.”
    “That doesn’t make much sense to me.”
    “People have strong but conflicting feelings about it. Some find it brutal and say it glorifies violence. Others see it as a deeply critical work that reflects the struggle against mainstream values.” She placed the box on the shelf and turned back to him. “The acting is excellent,” she added, leaning easily against the table. “I highly recommend it.”
    “I’ll make a note of it.” Bastian rolled up the screen and dismantled the legs, then looked up at her. “I’ve never met anyone who knows so much about movies. How do you know all that?”
    Julie shrugged. “No idea. Some people love books, others love football. I just really like to watch a good movie.” She took a step forward. “Wait, I’ll give you a hand.”
    “No, thanks. I’m more or less done,” he said. He slid the screen legs into one another and winced. He swore under his breath.
    “Everything OK?” asked Julie.
    His expression darkened. “Excuse me a moment,” he said stiffly and left the room.
    Julie watched him uneasily. After laughing so much over the past few hours, she’d let herself feel a fragile sense of hope, at least that they’d see each other again.
    But when he returned, he was like a different man. The old coldness was back in his eyes, and his bearing was tense. He packed away his last few bits