“Don’t be like that. I can see why you’d be around once in a while—Louis adores you. It’s no problem with me.”
“Good.”
She stayed by the piano and didn’t take a step in his direction. She was becoming a stranger to him. Beautiful, regal, but so distant .
“So,” she said, bitterly, “even you met the American. I’m the only one still in the dark.”
Once again, her brother was her highest concern. Tom thought it was just as well she hadn’t been there to hear Frank James’s comments.
“And dear Ms. Capelan, how did she handle herself?”
Louis probably hadn’t told her too much, and she was dying to know what happened.
“Very elegant, very comfortable,” Tom said. “She danced with James’s assistant, but mostly served as an interpreter. She’s perfectly bilingual.”
Stunned, Alix was quiet for a moment. If this was true, why tell her about it? Was he trying to provoke her? She’d sworn that Francine would make a fool of herself that evening. Here Tom was saying that the total opposite had happened, with a sort of perverse satisfaction that she found suspect.
“I don’t believe you,” she finally said. “Besides, men are so much more indulgent when it comes to blondes... I should dye my hair, maybe you’d be nicer to me!”
“What did I do?” Tom said. “You asked me a question and I answered, that’s all. It’s not my fault Francine speaks English and she’s a good dresser. And it’s not my fault that Louis is in love with her! I’m just seeing what’s there.”
His remoteness attitude was very unpleasant. He’d turned around and was now looking at the backyard, as though he’d lost interest in her.
“Tom,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “What’s the matter? We agreed to be friends, didn’t we?”
“Friends!” he said. “I’d like to, I swear, but you’re so...”
With his back still to her, he didn’t hear her come over. When she put her hands on his shoulders, he stiffened. First he smelled her perfume, then he felt her body against his, then her breath on his cheek when she whispered, “Next time you invite me to dinner, I’ll say yes.”
Eyes closed, he had to resist the urge to turn around. He managed not to move, silent. If he gathered enough self-control, there would be no next time.
* * *
By 9pm Market Square was filled with people. A group of high school kids were glued to the stage, where Richard was executing an impressive drum solo. The evening was just beginning and already the atmosphere was electric. Everywhere in town, on the sidewalks and in bars, local groups were playing folk, rap, rock, and even jazz.
Frédéric walked around the square, hands buried in his pockets. Stopping for five minutes here and there to listen to a group, but mostly tried to spot Nadège in the crowd. They were supposed to meet in front of their favorite bistro but she wasn’t there. Finally he was intercepted by friends who dragged him along with them. Though he had no desire whatsoever to listen to Romain, he was stuck in front of the stage for a while and was irritated just seeing people fawn over the group. He’d noticed that Romain’s face still showed traces of their fight, which made him feel good. He only had a faint scab caused by the broken glass of the coffee table.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” shouted Nadège grabbing his hand into his.
This simple contact made Frédéric shiver, and he closed his fingers on her hand. She wore a minuscule top with thin straps, so short he could see her tanned skin above her pants. When she realized what he was peering at, she started to laugh.
“Come to the pool with me one of these days,” Nadège said. “I go there every morning!”
“Why not?”
Her tan made her gray eyes even brighter, bigger. With all the hustle and bustle around them, it wasn’t the perfect moment but he impulsively brought his face close to hers and grazed her lips with a light kiss that she didn’t try to avoid.
“Want to check out other acts?” he suggested.
They walked away from the stage, hand in hand still. As they did, Romain saw them go. Nadège was in his homeroom class. He thought she was a cool, bright girl. He couldn’t fathom what she was doing with Frédéric. Then he remembered, with a pang, that Élise herself had been torn between the two of them. Obviously, girls were attracted to this brat who liked to fight.
Damien’s turn to solo on the synthesizer gave Romain the chance for a quick break. Their second gig confirmed his love of performing. The year before, during Music Fest, he’d stood on a small street corner and gotten good feedback playing the guitar by himself. Since then he’d formed “his” band, and he encouraged Damien and Richard to rehearse regularly. After their first show at the hall, he’d grown more confident. Louis had sparked all this by encouraging him. His mother’s support and patience hadn’t undone his father’s bullheaded close-mindedness about music. The opinion of a professional of Louis’s stature had been decisive. Romain now knew that he wanted to make a living as a musician, though he was going to keep his intentions a secret until he graduated from high school. At eighteen and no one would be able to prevent him from going for his dream, not even Antoine.
A lot of familiar faces gathered in front of the stage, friends and even teachers. Romain couldn’t see his mother. Élise was there, as promised, surrounded by a few girls, whose enthusiasm fired up the audience.
* * *
At the end of a long dinner, Hugues had a hard time making Sabine and Tiphaine go to bed. It was the shortest night of the year. Tomorrow was the first day of summer and the girls were too excited to sleep.
Tom had made sure to chat only with Louis or Laura during the meal, ignoring Alix. Being comfortable among the Neuville family was a paradoxical situation that amused him. However, he’d turned down the offer to stay overnight. It would be awkward for him to sleep in a guest room, and that he’d unable to resist Alix’s advances if she were to try. He wasn’t cured, only in remission.
Shortly before dessert, Alix grew tired of Tom’s indifference. Expressing her foul mood, she volunteered to drive Frédéric to town. She left with her nephew without giving any indication as to when she’d be back.
“I’ll drop him off wherever he wants,” she said in a challenging tone, “and then I’ll walk around the Fest, by myself, looking for new talent!”
Relieved by Alix’s departure, Tom managed to joke around and drink some more coffee. At ten-thirty Grégoire turned on the moth and mosquito repellents. A while later, when the conversation was less animated, Louis turned to Tom.
“Before heading back to Paris, you could come with me to the Music Fest!”
Tom wasn’t crazy about the idea.
“Come on!” Louis said. “It’s not as if you like to go to bed early...”
“Don’t you ever get tired of music?” grumbled Grégoire, who didn’t want to see them go.
“Not at all! And I’m curious to see what kind of music kids are playing nowadays. I’m forty years old, Dad, I don’t want to be out of touch with the younger generation...”
“Is Romain performing?” Tom asked.
“Yes. And I promised Francine I was going to be there.”
“We better do that before we try to find Frédéric, I suppose...”
“Does that mean you’re coming?”
“I’m only doing it for you,” he said. That wasn’t quite true. He also wanted an opportunity to make peace with Alix, if he managed to find her in the crowd. He’d ignored her too much tonight, he was aware of that, and he couldn’t bear the idea that she was truly sad. Maybe he was going to be able to leave Alix, but he wanted to avoid hurting her.
They went to town in Louis’s car, which had to be parked far from where the Fest was taking place. Hundreds of people were walking around or standing in front of performing musicians--some cheering, some heckling the band members, others dancing. Near the bigger stages the air was filled with a crazed energy that was fueled by music cranked up to the l
imit. Feeling uneasy, Louis wondered how he was going to find Francine. She’d mentioned a bar, Le Batracien, where she was supposed to have drinks with some colleagues of hers. He hoped she was still there.
Richard was the first to spot the shady-looking group of young men who were prowling around the stage where the band was performing. Hyper, aggressive, obviously looking to start a brawl, there were at least fifteen of them, all with earrings in their left ear.
Between two songs, he’d pointed them out to Romain and Damien, saying they should keep an eye on them and not to respond if they caused trouble. Fights broke out during Music Fest almost every year. The police preferred not getting involved if they could help it. Brawls between rival gangs from other towns were inevitable, especially with kids high on drugs, alcohol, and loud music. Unless the riot copes were sent in, there was no way to avoid fights.
“Man,” Richard said suddenly, “they’re going to give us a hard time. Look at them!”
He could see the gang head in their direction. Their friends were still at the front of the stage, perfect and unsuspecting prey for the hoodlums--too young, nice, and cute in their fashionable clothing. What they had in mind was totally different from typical high school rowdiness.
“Don’t pay any attention to them,” Damien said, his hand on the mike. “Don’t talk back to them!”
Four of the thugs jumped onstage and began violently heckling the band.
* * *
Frédéric and Nadège had strolled around the square, stopping almost everywhere. They had fun talking about which acts they liked and didn’t like so much. Hand in hand, they were enjoying getting to know each other. Many times, Frédéric leaned over to kiss her thrilled that she’d let him. He didn’t try anything else but she even pressed her body against his when their lips met. It may have been the happiest night of his life-- he couldn’t remember feeling so carefree.
He didn’t care about the time since he knew that his father wouldn’t be worried. When Alix dropped him off, she told him to enjoy himself. If Louis was too tired, she’d bring him back home. She was going to hang out at the Fest for a while and all he had to do was give her a call on her cell.
A little stunned by all that music, Frédéric and Nadège hadn’t had anything to drink except for soda. When they ran into friends, they chatted for a while, but then left together, making sure they didn’t lose sight of each other.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Nadège asked. “I know I’m starving. There’s a hot dog stand over there.
“Let’s go, then! It’s on me!”
Frédéric was famished, and he wanted a beer. More and more euphoric, he guided Nadège through the crowded streets. When they got to the square, there were still as many people as before. The music was still loud but one band seemed to have stopped playing. The smell of grilled hot dogs wafted over them, but a sudden surge of the crowd prevented them from going further. Frédéric sensed that things weren’t right. Vaguely worried, he turned to the stage where Richard was supposed to be performing and saw that it was wrecked. Around him, some folks were laughing, but he thought he could also hear screams. On full alert, he let go of Nadège’s hand and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Come with me,” he told her. “Something’s not right.”
They had difficulty moving forward but they did manage to get close to the stage only to find it in complete chaos. Richard’s drum kit was on the ground, destroyed by those fighting and those trying to flee. In the middle of indescribable chaos, some girls were screaming hysterically. Frédéric saw Damien, his face covered with blood, and he understood that this was an all-out battle.
“Get out of here!” he shouted at Nadège.
He pushed her away from him, not quite sure what to do next. He saw her back up, carried away in the crowd trying to escape. Surely someone had called the police, but there were going to be a lot of wounded people before they got here. Things were going much too fast. Frédéric felt completely overwhelmed when he saw Richard on his knees, clutching his head with his hands. He wanted to rush to his side, but at the same instant he felt someone grabbing his arm. He recognized Élise just in time to catch her before she collapsed to the ground.
“Do something!” she screeched, about to lose it. “There’s three of them, they dragged Romain over there. They’re going to kill him!”
She was crying and was shaking Frédéric like a madwoman. The wail of a police siren in the distance sent the crowd into a panic. Frédéric was almost toppled to the ground by a man who was plowing through the crowd with his fists to get away from the scene. Élise was screaming, still hanging onto his arm. Damien appeared in front of them, breathless, eyes bulging.
“Come with me. Quick!”
Without thinking, Frédéric took off behind his friend toward a nearby alley. It would do no good to shout for help in such pandemonium--they could only count on themselves. Fifty yards away, hidden from sight by a row of parked cars, three thugs were mercilessly pounding Romain. Frédéric heard the punches landing on Romain and their hoarse grunts. He threw himself at the closest one. He didn’t know how to fight, nothing had prepared him for such violent circumstances. His mind was empty, but his adrenaline surged. Damien was fighting with a second goon. The third one focused on Romain, who was no longer moving. Frédéric was thrown down on the sidewalk. Getting on his feet, he saw the silver glint of a knife blade.
* * *
Louis and Tom had managed to find their way to Le Batracien, when police cars drove down the avenue, toward Market Square.
“Must be some trouble somewhere,” Tom said.
A bit nervous, Louis looked at the cruisers’ flashing lights. The idea that Francine, Frédéric, and even Alix were stuck in that madness was troubling. He wasn’t crazy about crowds. It was a charged atmosphere with noise and excitement in the air.
As they were about to enter the bar, Louis’s cell began to vibrate in his pocket. He picked up, but he had trouble hearing Alix’s hysterical voice with all the racket around him. He covered his free ear and asked her to repeat herself a few times. Tom, who was looking at Louis, saw his jaw drop and right away asked, “What’s going on?”
He put a hand on Louis’s arm, as if to steady him. Inside the bar, Francine had just seen them and was waving enthusiastically.
“Let’s go!” Louis shouted.
He darted and zigzagged his way through the crowd, heading for the alley behind the avenue. One hundred yards ahead, police cars and two ambulances were parked, preventing anyone from entering the perimeter occupied by the men in uniform. Curious bystanders, motionless and strangely quiet, were kept at bay. Tom, a few steps behind Louis, was stopped in his tracks by Alix. She collapsed against his chest. Exhausted, she was unable to come out with anything coherent.
Intercepted by two police officers, Louis couldn’t get any closer. He went insane with worry when he saw the stretchers and the emts. He tried to force his way through, but the cops grabbed him with an alarming amount of force. As Louis tried to get away from them, one of the police officers twisted his arm behind his back. Searing pain immobilized him. Louis knew that if he didn’t quit resisting, the man would dislocate his shoulder.
“Let him go!” Tom yelled. “Are you crazy? His son is over there somewhere!”
Louis managed to catch his breath, though he was livid.
“Are you okay?” the cop asked him. “Take it easy. You can’t go over there.”
Tom and Alix were now standing next to Louis, still in the clutches of the police. Already sick with anguish, he looked at a stretcher coming his way. But when he finally made out Romain’s blond hair, he managed to free himself and bolted.
* * *
After the forms had been filled out and signed, the detective squinted at Louis and then at Frédéric, both sitting in front of him.
“Young man,” the detective said, “you’re lucky. Very lucky! Those guys aren’t amateurs, they’re not two-bit hoodlums, but real criminals. T
hey’ve committed similar crimes in Évreux, in Mantes... We know these guys, they have a rap sheet for assault, battery, you name it. I hope that this time the judge is going to come down on them hard... You survived an extremely dangerous situation!”
Saying nothing, Frédéric managed only a grimace. He’d stayed in the hospital only two hours, to be examined and have a battery of x-rays taken. The doctors wanted to keep him overnight, but he’d begged his father to take him away from there.
“There will be no charges against you,” the detective said to Louis.
Neuville had given his men a hard time. When the officers finally got ahold of him, they’d decided to teach him a lesson. Things could’ve taken a turn for the worse, but when the cops saw Frédéric throw himself in his father’s arms, crying, they relented and left the two alone.
“Mr. Neuville,” the detective said, “the law applies to everybody. In the heat of the moment, you have to let the police department do its job. Otherwise how do we tell the bad guys from the...”
“You arrested three of them,” Louis interrupted. “What about the others?”
“Witnesses will eventually be called to identify more using mug shots that we have in our files. For today, though, that’s enough. We all need to rest!”
He got up and smiled conspiratorially.
“Your son is brave,” he told Louis. “He’s got guts.” To Frédéric he added, “I hope your pal is going to be fine. The parents are pressing charges, of course.”
Louis simply nodded and guided Frédéric out of the office. Once outside, they were taken aback by the sun and the heat. It was nine in the morning, the streets were calm. The town still seemed to be sleeping.
“You want to have breakfast somewhere around here or you want to go home?”
Exhausted, the teen pointed to the terrace of a nearby bistro. They ordered some food and Louis pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He fiddled with the pack, and after a moment said, “I’ve never been so scared in my life, Fred.”
Until now, he’d said nothing. He had only offered basic answers when questioned by the medical staff and the police. When his son collapsed in his arms, he’d hugged him without saying a word.
The Man of Their Lives Page 27