by Anna Adams
She’d leave that to Cynthia from now on.
Chapter 10
“Spotted—Jason Taylor attended the Aliens and Aliases movie premiere with new girlfriend Jazmine who, according to an anonymous source, also happens to be Maude Laurent’s cousin. The two met while Maude filmed a cameo in Vampire Love 2, the film that stirred controversy due to its portrayal of young girls as defenseless victims. Now, we’ve heard about co-stars falling in love on set, but cousins of co-stars is new for us. Interested to see where this is going.”
Maude dangled the latest edition of Hollywood Buzz before Jazmine’s eyes, though she was intent on putting her first layer of bright pink nail polish on the nails of her left hand. Cynthia grabbed the magazine from Maude’s hands and read the article with amusement.
“I know, I saw. Don’t you think I look gorgeous?” Jazmine blew on her fingernails.
“You do! Both of you! You look beautiful together,” Maude gushed.
“Better than Jonathan and I ever did, huh?”
“I never said that!”
Jazmine laughed and flipped through the pages of the magazine.
“Too bad I’ve got to end things with Jason.”
“No! No! Why end things? Jason is perfect! Please, please, please, don’t break up with him!”
“I can’t stay with a guy just because my cousin wants me to!”
“Why not?” It seemed like a good enough reason for Maude.
“He’s just too damn good.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
“Count on Jazmine to turn a quality into a fault.” Cynthia had known how this fling would end from the moment it started but found it amusing how Maude had imagined she could change Jazmine’s mind.
“He’s booooring! He holds the door, draws the chair out before I sit. Who cares for gentlemen in the twenty-first century?” she asked.
They all looked at each other with a smile and answered in unison, “Harriet.”
“I don’t have anything against gentlemen either,” Maude added.
“I should’ve gone with my gut from the beginning and not date him at all. He’s nice, but . . . ”
“But he’s not Jonathan, right?”
“This has nothing to do with Jonathan,” Jazmine argued. “I’m over him. Unfortunately for you, I’m over Jason, too.”
Maude huffed.
“Haven’t you heard by now good guys always finish last?” Cynthia asked, shaking her head with philosophy.
“Maybe it shouldn’t be so.”
“But that’s how it works,” Jazmine put in with conviction. “Look at Matt for example. He ends up with a broken heart while you go traipsing off with Thomas Bradfield, the guy who stole your music last year.”
“Tonight is just another publicity stunt.” Maude looked away uncomfortable. She’d tried her best to ignore him, but Soulville and Glitter were fueled with new publicity rage ever since she’d kissed him on the rooftop.
“And Matt is going out with Rebecca Sylvester now.”
“They’re going on one date,” Cynthia put in. “We don’t know how it’ll turn out. If you’re any indicator, first dates are just that: first dates and in your case, the last one, too.”
“I did something,” Maude blurted. Ever since she’d given Rebecca bad advice, guilt gripped her conscience like a leech.
“I sabotaged Rebecca’s chances!” Maude admitted, hiding her face behind her hands. She recounted the details of their conversation her face hidden behind her fingers.
“Way to go!” Jazmine cheered once Maude had finished.
“Jazmine!” Cynthia cried. “Rebecca’s her friend. She’s got to fix this.”
“Come on, what can Maude do? Call Rebecca and tell her it was a mistake?”
“Of course she should! When’s their date?”
“I don’t know. It might’ve already happened for all I know.”
The doorbell interrupted their conversation, and Maude got up from the bed.
“That must be Thomas. It was great seeing you girls. Elder Williams can’t give advice like you do, Cynth.” Maude picked up her clutch and kissed her cousins goodbye, before running downstairs.
Thomas greeted her at the door with a bouquet.
“Before you say anything, I know the kiss was a dare,” Thomas said. “I don’t care. But I do want you to give me a chance. I want tonight to be a real date. I made a reservation in a restaurant I know you’ll love, a French restaurant. I want you to relax and enjoy the evening. I told Glitter we’d be at Ambrosia, but we’ll be at La Grenouille. No paparazzi. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds great,” Maude answered. No matter that her first date with Matt was supposed to be in a French restaurant. If he could move on, so could she.
La Grenouille was not any French restaurant. It was elegant, intimate, and the quintessence of French elegance with a hint of rustic. The floral arrangements were spectacular, and Maude gazed at their colorful flamboyance with keen pleasure. Diamonds sparkled on women’s long fingers, earrings danced, lovers whispered, drank Burgundy, and whispered some more a little louder, intoxicated by the exquisite atmosphere.
The menu was just as refined. Frog legs, veal kidney with mustard flambéed with cognac, beef tournedos with fleurie, and fingerling potato.
“So, what would you advise, Maude?”
Maude lifted her nose from the menu long enough to say.
“I haven’t eaten half the things on this menu.”
“Come on, if you’re really French, you must know.”
“I’m French but I . . . ” her voice trailed off. She’d never eaten in fine restaurants such as these in France. She’d tasted these dishes separately, but certainly not in such fancy assortments or with the quality the establishment offered. But Thomas knew nothing about her past, and she’d rather keep it that way.
“I’m sure you think all French people eat frog legs every day, but it isn’t the case. It’s as if I said all Americans ever eat are McDonalds. Or that they all drive in sports cars because I went to Beverly Hills.”
“Point taken,” Thomas laughed. “My first car was a run-down Toyota.”
The waiter took their order.
“At least you had a car at sixteen. French teens cannot drive in France. We have to wait until we’re eighteen, and even then, teens usually use their parents’ cars. The driver’s test is harder in France, too and more expensive. Around $2,000 in euro equivalent while Cynthia told me it’s around $100 in most American states. Oh, and you aren’t allowed to learn in a parking lot with your parents for example. You have to learn in a driver’s school.”
Thomas looked at her as if she were describing life on Mars.
“Tough,” he said. “My parents never let me use their car. Thought I was a reckless driver.”
“Were you?”
“Guilty.”
“Your parents seem reasonable enough.”
She wondered for a moment how her parents would’ve raised her. Would they have been severe or kind? A mix of both was perhaps best. Would they have lived in France or in New York?
“They’re the best,” Thomas was saying. “I didn’t have a lot growing up, but they did everything to help me fulfill my dreams. I owe everything to them.”
“Is that why you’re so ambitious?” Maude asked. It was the single point of failure she found in Thomas. His ambition and what it drove him to accomplish, regardless of the consequences.
“They sacrificed a lot. I didn’t have the luxury to fail.” His eyes hardened for an instant, but long enough for Maude to notice it again. The glint of ambition.
“I regret what I did. I don’t think they would be too proud if they knew.”
Maude thought he regretted but didn’t dare ask if he would do it again if he could start over. No use asking a question for which she already knew the answer.
“I think ambition is a good thing, but, unfortunately, we sometimes make a bad use of it. I realize you’re ambitious, b
ut don’t let it eat you up, okay?” she spoke with gentleness, but concern marked her face. She took his hand and squeezed it with what was for her a friendly gesture but for him reflected a ray of hope.
“Are you ambitious?” He played with her hand, not appearing to want to let go.
“My ambition is to make good music without losing my integrity, but I think I’ve lost it completely.” She slid back in her chair, retrieving her hand at the same time.
“Because of what we’re doing?”
Maude nodded.
“Your integrity is still intact, Maude. Need I remind you how you helped a homeless person?”
“A fake homeless person.”
“You didn’t know that at the time. You challenged Hollywood’s portrayal of women and raised money for women shelters.”
“True. I loved every . . . this food looks delicious!” she said as the waiter passed by her with plates for the table not far from theirs.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
“I am,” Maude acknowledged with undisguised pleasure. “Sure beats our first date.” Unless he’d stolen another of her songs. Because if that were the case, it would be a repeat of their first date at Ambrosia.
They raised their glasses of sparkling water and toasted.
“To our . . . ” Maude stopped.
Matt held the door for Rebecca as they entered the restaurant. Maude’s fingers tightened around her glass when she realized just how lovely Rebecca looked in her dark green satin dress.
“You’re our second French celebrity this evening,” the waiter was saying to the couple that had just entered.
Maude wanted to tear her eyes away from him but couldn’t. Her eyes were glued to him. His eyes wandered the room to find the first French celebrity the waiter had mentioned without naming.
He saw her first, then noticed Thomas, their glasses hanging in mid-air.
Drooping her eyelids, wishing they were long enough to hide her face, Maude put down her glass with embarrassed abruptness, spilling droplets of sparkling water on the perfect tablecloth.
“I think we should go,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t want Rebecca to see her, couldn’t face Rebecca.
Thomas asked what was going on while Maude grabbed her things. She missed the waiter by an inch as he neared their table with their meals.
“Maude!” Rebecca exclaimed. She and Matt were being led to a table at the other end of the room, but the wavering waiter holding desperately onto his platters caught her attention.
“Webecca,” Maude greeted with a humiliating lisp. “I mean, Rebecca.” But Rebecca wasn’t paying attention to what Maude mumbled, thrilled as she was that coincidental circumstances had allowed her to run into her dear friend.
“What are you doing here? Were you leaving?”
“No, we weren’t. Our food’s just arrived.” Thomas dragged his confused eyes away from Maude and signaled the waiter to put down their plates on the table.
Rebecca coughed ever so slightly with intent and curled, then uncurled her forefinger in Thomas’ direction.
“Right, I forgot my manners. Thomas, Rebecca.” She refused to address Matt who remained silent during the entire exchange.
“No introductions necessary, I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Sylvester.” He bowed his head and turned to Matt. “Matt.”
“Thomas, no trail of paparazzi this evening?” Matt asked with the side of his mouth curled with a contempt he made no attempt to hide. He avoided Maude’s gaze and focused his attention on Thomas.
“No, this is a paparazzi-free evening. We’re both here because we want to.” Thomas answered Matt’s contempt with forced pleasantness.
“I’m sure you are,” Matt slid a glance a Maude who quickly averted her gaze.
“Rebecca, would you come with me to the ladies’ room?” Maude asked, desiring ardently to step away from the uncomfortable encounter.
The girls went to the restroom, and after checking they were alone, Maude turned to Rebecca.
“Forget the advice I gave you, forget all of it. Just follow your gut. It’s best, okay?” Maude was no longer sure whether she was warning her friend for her benefit or to erase the guilt eating at her.
“No problem. Although I spoke about the Love Doctor, and it was the best advice. He admitted he hated the song, and he told me some pretty fun anecdotes. It was a real icebreaker. Thanks for your help. You’re a true friend.”
Maude swallowed, managed a faint smile that disappeared as soon as it came like an evasive sun on a cloudy day.
They returned to the dining room, and each couple sat at their respective table.
For Maude, the evening was ruined. She could see them from the corner of her twitching eye, was far enough not to hear their conversation but close enough to writhe every time their blurry shapes laughed. How many jokes could Matt have? Had he taken clown classes before going on his date? He was the perfect gentleman, pouring water in her glass before he did so in his, signaling the waiter whenever Rebecca needed something.
Maude never gulped down a meal so fast in her entire life, and Thomas, understanding their date would never be a real one unless they left La Grenouille, hurried to catch up with her.
It was a relief when they left the restaurant. Thomas offered a stroll in the city, but Maude declined. They said goodbye with the awkwardness of a couple who’d just had a spat. But they weren’t a couple, and Thomas despaired that they would ever be. They separated with relief on one side and disappointment on the other.
When Maude returned to her grandfather’s house that evening, Rebecca’s grating laugh still irritating her ears, she found Elder Williams reading The Aeneid, seated in his favorite chair. Never again would he, an eminently literate man, be caught watching Living with the Livingstons by that French Granddaughter of his.
She paused at the entrance of the living room.
“Elder Williams, what kind of father would Aaron have been?” It was strange calling her father Aaron, but less so than calling a man she’d never met “Dad.”
“A bad one. He was too good for his own good. You would’ve done whatever you wanted of him, kind of like your relationship with that jobless man Victoria married.”
Maude laughed. “He’s not jobless, and Uncle James is not a pushover. He may be less strict than you are, but he’s a good father and uncle.”
She liked the idea that her father would’ve been like her uncle. She’d have gotten along great with him, that’s for sure.
“He spoiled Queen Victoria. That’s what he called his sister. You would’ve been too spoiled, a wild child like Pearl.”
“Aunt Pearl is cool!”
“She and Stephen used to fight all the time.”
“Used to, huh?”
“Okay, they still do. Aaron was the glue that held them together. As was my wife.”
“Is that her?” Maude went to the picture frame on the fireplace mantelpiece. She gazed at the picture of the lovely, dark woman smiling in a black-and-white picture.
“That’s her, but you watch your hands and don’t break that frame. I made it for her.”
“Just like Aaron made a box for my mother!” Maude cried.
“That was like him. Sentimental fool.” Elder Williams jabbed his finger in his knee with impatience, lest Maude broke his treasured frame.
“She looks nice.” Maude put down the picture and returned to her grandfather who heaved a sigh of relief but not for long. She sat on the arm of his seat after he evacuated his arm with a discontented huff.
“Nice! I don’t know that she always was! Could give some mighty good spankings. Hers were more frequent than mine.”
“Auntie Victoria got spanked?” Maude laughed at the thought of a small Victoria whimpering, her hands rubbing her tiny butt.
“They all did! Stephen got less of those than his brothers and sisters. That kid was born an adult. Always so grave, so serious. The yoke put on the eldest, I guess.”
> They fell into contemplative silence. A stair creaked. But the house was empty, apart from Elder Williams and “that French Granddaughter.”
“This house is creepy,” Maude murmured. “It creaks and moans and has this gloomy air about it.”
“Every house has its ghost.”
Maude turned her face to check if he was talking seriously or jesting.
“Don’t look at me like that. Nigerians were animists before Christianity and Islam came to our lands. Some still are.”
“So you believe in spirits?” asked a shocked Maude.
“Of course I do. So do my kids. Ask Victoria. Don’t you?”
“There are no such things as ghosts.”
Elder Williams looked at her as if she were crazy.
“But your mother is from the French Caribbean islands, isn’t she? How then can you be wholly unaware of these things?”
Maude did a double take and fell off her precarious seat.
“Ouch.” She got back to her feet. “I didn’t know my mother was French Caribbean. How did you?”
Elder Williams mumbled uncomfortably for a while and when pressed to speak louder, growled.
“Do you really think I’d let an unknown girl, French, too, waltz into my family claiming she’s ‘that French Granddaughter of mine?’ Nu-hun.”
“Elder Williams, you had a background check on me?”
“I did, too.” He stuck out his lower lip and waited for Maude to thunder.
But Maude shrugged. “I could act surprised, but frankly not much surprises me coming from you anymore. Just tell me more about my mother.”
“I don’t know that much. I saw her birth certificate. She was born on a French Caribbean island. You do know what that means right. I don’t know what they teach you in those French schools of yours.”
“It means she was born on a island that’s belonged to France for centuries, making her a French citizen. Kind of like Hawaii for Americans, I guess. There are a couple of French Caribbean islands though. Where is she from?”
“She’s from Guadeloupe.”
“One of the largest French Caribbean islands.” Maude clutched her grandfather’s shoulder with excitement. He was the most beautiful man in her eyes that evening.