Chapter 34 – Fashion Week in Paris
Gale and Helstof boarded the Gulfstream at 7pm. They would arrive at Charles De Gaulle airport at 7am Paris time, a system they hoped would alleviate as much jetlag pain as possible. They could sleep on the flight and then start a regular day on local time over there. When they were in the air out over the Atlantic, Gale said, “Who owns this anyway. You guys?”
Helstof said, “The plane? I don’t really know. I know Henric uses it when he travels, but I don’t know if we own it. I don’t travel a lot to far places, and when we go around Europe we usually take the train. That’s what I prefer. But this is nice, isn’t it?”
Gale wondered about a person who didn’t know if she owned a private jet or not, but didn’t dwell on it. She was excited about the trip because they were going over to attend the Paris spring fashion week. Now that’s fashionistaville. She had made pilgrimages to all four of the primary events several years before (London, Milan, Paris, and New York), but this was the first time in a while, and the first time on a private jet. Helstof never had been to a fashion week, and was curious. She wanted to see the weird clothes, the skinny models, and the beautiful people. “Are we going to have to stay up all night, every night? Isn’t that what all these people do? Take drugs, get in fights with each other, have sex in public, and make money. Are we going to do that a lot?”
Gale said, “I will if you will, except the fighting part. And the drugs part, except wine. And the making money part. I up for all the rest, though.”
“I’m not very good at staying up late. You may be on your own in that department. Are we going to do any work while we’re over here?”
The purpose of the trip; the ostensible purpose of the trip; was to get ideas from the new fashions for the ballet costumes. It had been Gale’s idea to attend the show, and the others had acquiesced, though none of them thought it was necessary or had a lot of faith that much actual work would get done. But as money was no object, and there was a small possibility that something good would come out of it, Gale and Helstof had grown wings. Six hours after takeoff they landed in France, and an hour later they checked into a four room suite at the Intercontinental Grand. The Gulfstream refueled, and took off to parts unknown. It was due back to pick them up in four days.
Both felt a hint of jetlag, but decided to stick with the game plan of pretending they were starting a normal day, in the morning. They had a wimpy French breakfast, and then a long planning session with the concierge. It took the concierge two hours to secure tickets to three days of shows, starting at 9pm and going to 3am. Helstof said, “Why did we schedule the flight to arrive early morning Paris time, if we’re going to be up all night? How is that supposed to minimize jetlag?”
“Stop worrying about stuff like that. We’re two hot babes in Paris, doing fashion week. Even though we don’t do drugs except wine, and don’t have anyone to diss, and are not here to make money, we still can have lots of sex, can’t we, and act like mega-fashionistas, can’t we? We’re rich, right? Well, you are. I can pretend.”
Helstof said, “I’ll try, but it’s been a while since I stayed up past midnight. You didn’t tell me about the late night part.”
They headed over to the Carrousel du Louvre, which is where the shows are, even though they would be nine hours early. They figured they could shop, or look at art in the museum, or people watch. They ended up not doing any of these, because while sitting at a café, Gale got an email from Gwen:
Dear Gale and Helstof: Hope the flight over in the Gulfstream wasn’t too uncomfortable (smile). Guess what? Anna and Richard want to see you in Paris. They are filming in the Pyrenees, but finagled a few days off when I told them you are doing fashion week over there. They are having fun making the movie, but say the days are long and sometimes boring. They don’t have much time off, so need to meet you right away. Here is Anna’s cell phone. Call her pronto. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Gwen.
Gale squealed and showed Helstof the email. Helstof smiled and got a dreamy look on her face, which Gale understood, and which immediately created in her a sense of envy. Helstof was going to see two of her lovers, here in Paris. A year earlier, at the height of their previous conflict with Stirg, Helsof, Richard, and Anna had had a brief but glorious affair, that included Slevov, another member of the heist team. This fourway was the envy of most of the remaining members of the team, especially Gale, who then, as now, was romantically unattached. All thoughts of ogling fashion models, and achieving spiritual reveries while staring at masterpieces of religious painting in the Louvre, evaporated from both of their minds. They were replaced by visions of the four of them, achieving stellar states of Elton John’s universally desired condition of “thunder, under the covers.”
Laughing like children
Living like lovers
Rolling like thunder, under the covers.
And I guess that's why
They call it the blues.
Anna and Richard had been in France for four months, working on a film together, her one of the actors, him the screenwriter. These opportunities had torn them away from Charleston and their first attempt at a collaboration with other team members on the creation of a ballet. Richard had conceived the story of the ballet, and he and Anna had produced a first draft of the score. Then the French film opportunity had appeared. One reason they had accepted the film proposal was to allow Anna some time apart from things in Charleston. Her name was Anna Stirg, and her new friendships with the Junes and their associates had made things difficult with her grandfather.
Gale immediately dialed the number, and Anna answered. “Where are you? How are you? Is Helstof there?”
“We’re both here, and can’t wait to see you and Richard. Is he with you? We’re at the Louvre, studying Renaissance religious paintings. Thank God you’ve saved us from that. When can we meet?”
“How about now? We only have today and tomorrow, then we have to be back at work. I had to sleep with the producer to get this time off.”
“Huh?”
“Just kidding. About the producer. But we do only have a day and a half. Gwen said you were at The Grand, so that’s where we came when we got here. Shall we meet here or at The Louvre?”
Gale figured if she was going to engineer some thunder under the covers, and thus enter into the rarified world of a foursome with good friends, she’d better get back to the hotel. “We’re coming. Stay there. Don’t start drinking till we get there. Ok?”
“Yes dear. We’ll see you in the dining room. We’re starved.”
“So am I, believe me.”
All hints of jetlag evaporated in both Gale and Helstof. So did any residual hint of responsibility for viewing the fashion shows with the objective of bringing home ideas for their ballet costumes. They made a quick pilgrimage past the Mona Lisa, bowing down before the most perfectly drawn human hands in all of western art, and were outside, into a cab, and headed back to The Grand. When they arrived they bypassed the formal dining room and went into the other one, through whose windows you can see the facade of the Garnier Opera House. Sitting at a large window table were Anna and Richard. Gale let Helstof take the lead in the kissing department, hoping she would secure an embrace more intimate than the standard European double smooch; thinking if she did, that she, Gale, could follow suit, and get something rolling. It was 2pm, and Gale was ready to rumble.
Helstof gave both Anna and Richard an American style kiss, right on the lips, and Gale followed suit. This surprised Anna and Richard, who had gotten into the European habit. They were happy to see such good friends from home, and were wondering what the next day and a half would bring with this as the start.
After the kisses came the seating, and after the seating came the waiter, and after the waiter came the champagne, of course. This was de rigueur with all June associates in social situations over which they had command. The dr
inking and loving commenced.
The Lost Ballet Page 34