by Mandy Baggot
‘You weren’t like this before your first show were you?’ she asked, holding his hands.
‘Yes... much worse. I was sick.’
‘Shit, really?’
‘Yes, shit, really.’
‘Well, you need to remember that you’re the best there is,’ Ava said matter-of-factly.
‘Your opinion matters to me so much, Madonna, but it is a very competitive world and—’
‘Wow, Julien, you really don’t know the modelling industry, do you? Have you ever had someone poke you in the ear with a long range lens?’
She folded her arms across her chest and waited for a response.
‘I cannot say I have.’
‘Well, try having someone stick you in the ear with a bobby pin because they thought you were trying to do them out of an assignment.’
‘I cannot imagine,’ he admitted.
‘It’s for charity and there is no competition,’ Ava reminded him. ‘Last time it was just for collectors who loved what they had seen of your work. Now it’s all about the Red Cross. There’s no way it isn’t going to be a success and you’ve got a whole mini-team of people behind you.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘And Lauren is the most important thing.’
‘Then, Monsieur Fitoussi... get a grip,’ she urged.
‘A bobby pin?’ he asked, a wry smile on his face.
‘Sometimes I wonder if you pretend when things are lost in translation,’ she said, looking up at him.
‘Is that what you really think, Madonna?’ he asked, matching her gaze.
The way he was looking at her made her insides tingle. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’
‘Like what?’ he asked, edging a little closer to her.
‘Like you want to... lick me all over,’ she said, her thoughts spilling from her mouth.
She watched his expression as her sentence met his mind and before she could do anything else he had caught her mouth up in his and delivered another one of those hot, sexy kisses that had her pinned to the spot.
‘Madonna,’ he said when he had come up for air. ‘You must stop saying these things in the middle of Paris.’
‘Really?’ she asked. ‘I thought the French were well known for being liberal. I mean... Moulin Rouge near here and something about energetic bunnies.’
‘Au Lapin Agile?’ he queried.
‘Like I said.’
‘Yes, but mime artists are for the street, Ava, not licking people,’ he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. ‘No matter how appealing it might have sounded to me.’ He drew her in tight to him.
* * *
‘We’re here,’ Ava said a few moments later. They had weaved slowly through the twisty, windy streets around the Montmartre district until the roads grew a little narrower and the tourists and resident population began to thin out. It was somewhere they had explored on their first visit here. Ava had admired the tiny doors and even smaller windows of the traditional town houses and he had enjoyed watching every bit of enthusiasm she had shown about a city he thought he already knew so well. Seeing things through someone else’s eyes was always part of what he tried to do but with Ava it was even better. She was like a ball of unfettered energy, just waiting to soak life up.
‘Are you listening to me, Monsieur Fitoussi?’ she asked. ‘I said we’re here.’
He looked to the small bistro just in front of them. It was made from old, thick, grey, brick; garlands of gold lights around each window and at the edge of the scarlet red canopies. Two small fir trees sat either side of the door, twinkling the colours of the tricolour.
‘Have you been here before?’ Ava asked him.
He shook his head. ‘Non.’
‘I thought it was the sweetest little place I’d ever seen,’ Ava said, then smiled. ‘And I saw someone eating the biggest Camembert with at least a pint of coffee.’
He laughed. ‘I should have guessed.’
‘So, shall we go in?’ she asked. ‘I’ve booked a table.’
He nodded, taking hold of her hand and stepping towards the door. ‘This way, Madonna.’
The warmth from the inside hit him straightaway and it was a welcome relief from the harsh wind that had been whipped up around Paris that evening. A waiter was there to relieve them of their coats and his eyes went to Ava, the blue dress making her look even more radiant.
‘This way, sir,’ the waiter said, directing them to the left. He fell in step behind Ava, giving a cursory glance at other diners, enjoying food that smelled divine, heart-shaped candleholders and carafes of wine on the table. When he turned back and prepared to walk on Ava was moving into a seat even further away from the fire exit. Instantaneously his mouth dried and his palms started to feel a little damp.
‘This is OK?’ the waiter asked him. The young man looked completely confused as Julien found his feet were almost stuck to the floor.
‘Yes,’ Ava said to the waiter. ‘This is OK. Can we... have a moment and... two beers and the wine list.’
The waiter nodded his approval and left, heading towards the bar.
He wanted to move. He wanted to just take a seat but it was going against every single instinct. His eyes flashed over to the back of the restaurant, looking for the fire door. Then he looked at Ava, not knowing how to resolve the situation, not wanting to appear weak.
‘Julien,’ she said, softly. ‘I’m not moving to another table.’
He managed a nod. He had known she was going to say that. This moment she had made was all about the things he’d said before they’d made love together for the first time. Him wanting to grab life tightly, not let the past define him, and here he was failing at the very first obstacle.
‘I know how you feel about it, but I want to sit in windows, Julien,’ she said. ‘And I want to sit in windows with you.’
Of course she did. Why wouldn’t she? And before this had happened to him he had chosen to sit where he could watch the world go by too. He tried to batter the memories down. It had been an accident. A tragic accident. The chance of it happening again, of happening to him...
He looked over at Ava. She was breathtaking. The dress brought out the colour in her eyes, her bright hair like icicles, her fingers toying with the edge of the tablecloth. He wanted this new existence so much. He wanted to be the man he had started to be with her. The one he wanted to grow into and live with for the rest of his life. A courageous man, a better man. Ava’s.
He took a step forward, concentrating on just getting to the seat opposite her and not really knowing what came after that. He gripped the back of the rustic wooden chair and lowered himself into it before realising his breathing was coming so short and fast it could almost be classed as hyperventilation. And then Ava’s hands sought out his and she enveloped them in hers, interlocking their fingers together. He lifted his head, keeping his eyes on hers and let his focus drift back, away from 2015 and here in the moment, with the woman he loved, holding onto him. Very slowly his breathing re-established a pattern and, in his peripheral, he saw the waiter coming back with two bottles of beer. Ava squeezed his hand and he attempted to settle in the chair.
As soon as the waiter had taken the tops from the beer he reached for his, needing to get some moisture into his mouth. He took a swig and, with a shaking hand, replaced it on the table.
‘You did it, Julien,’ Ava whispered, smoothing his palm with her fingers.
He shook his head. ‘This is not how things should be,’ he stated, making sure the disappointment was obvious in his tone.
‘It was never going to be easy,’ Ava said. ‘But it is all about making that first step towards a new start, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been telling me since we met.’
‘Look at me,’ he said, frustrated. ‘Scared of not sitting next to a fire door.’
‘But you’re doing it,’ Ava encouraged. ‘You’re here, in the window... and look outside.’
He forced his head to the left and it was a moment before his vision cau
ght up. In this tiny back street where the snow was starting to fall again, it was a perfect snow globe scene, a snapshot of quaint, quiet, nothing-to-fear Parisian life. He felt the tension dissipate. He could do this.
‘There’s something else,’ Ava said, drawing his attention back to her. She smiled, squeezing his hands again. ‘We have a new venue for the exhibition.’
‘What?!’ he exclaimed. ‘But... how? Where?’
‘It had to be bigger. We were never going to fit all my mother’s contacts in the first one, and apparently your father is getting confirmations by the dozen already.’
He nodded. ‘He told me.’
‘So, we had to think outside the box a little,’ Ava stated. ‘And... basically all the concert halls were booked.’
‘Ava, you need to tell me,’ Julien said, his heart back to palpitating.
She smiled. ‘It was my idea but I needed Didier and his connections at the council to make it happen.’
‘Madonna, please,’ he begged.
‘We’re having your exhibition at Place des Vosges,’ she said. ‘Your favourite place.’
He swallowed. ‘This is not true.’
‘It is true,’ Ava insisted. ‘I promise you, it’s true.’
‘But... how?’ He could not believe this. He was already starting to think about the work involved – canopies, chairs, lights.
‘Because it’s for a great cause and everyone wants to help.’
‘But, Ava, to have something like this... outside... in December.’
‘I know, it’s a little crazy, right? But don’t worry, we’re thinking of everything. Debs, Didier, even my mother – who seems to be relishing the job – we have marquees and heaters and wine and things to eat that aren’t just nuts... It’s all coming together.’
He was staggered. To know that these people were all working to make this event a success while he went around just trying to ensure he had photographs worthy of this night. And now she was telling him this event was going to take place in his very favourite square in the city.
‘I do not know what to say,’ Julien admitted. There didn’t seem to be enough words to express how he was feeling.
‘Say you’re happy about it because I’ve been really nervous about telling you,’ she admitted. ‘Especially as I knew I was also going to try and make you sit away from the fire exit.’ She swallowed, dropping her eyes to the table.
He smiled and tipped up her head with his index finger, until she was forced to look at him. ‘Madonna, I don’t want you to ever feel nervous to tell me anything. We should always trust that hearing the truth is better than anything else.’
‘People have said something like that to me before but I’ve never thought they really meant it,’ she stated.
‘I mean it,’ he promised her.
‘OK,’ she answered. ‘Then, seeing as we’re getting everything out in the open...’ She paused, taking a sip of her beer.
He waited, wondering what she was going to say.
‘My mother wants to meet you.’
She had blurted the sentence out and then closed her eyes up tight as if not seeing would protect her from something. He smiled, even though she couldn’t see and waited patiently until one of her eyes unfurled slowly.
‘I think I would like that,’ Julien answered.
Ava’s other eye opened. ‘You did hear what I said, didn’t you?’
‘I did, Madonna.’ He picked up his bottle of beer. ‘And I might have been a little apprehensive about sitting in the window seat tonight but I am not afraid of meeting your mother.’
‘O-K,’ Ava said. ‘That beer is dulling your senses.’
‘I have had two mouthfuls,’ he said.
‘She will ask you lots of difficult questions. Sometimes it’s best to say the first thing that comes into your head rather than think too hard about it. Like... if she asks, “What do you think of Kate Middleton’s hair”, you say...’
‘It is not quite as beautiful as Ava’s,’ he responded, smiling at her.
She laughed. ‘No! Don’t say that! She hates my hair! That will score you no points at all.’
‘I have to score points?’
He watched her change her expression and shake her head. ‘No... you’re right,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to score points. Because it doesn’t really matter what she says or thinks… My mind is made up.’
‘It is?’
‘Yes, Monsieur Fitoussi,’ she breathed. ‘I think I want to keep you.’
62
Hotel Agincourt
Ava bit her nails and started to pace. Debs had the hairdryer on full blast and it was starting to get on her already fragile nerves. She walked to the balcony doors and looked out over the street. The sky was a cloudless blue thanks to the harsh frost of the previous night. The snow on the pavement looked like it was hard and crispy just the same as that squeezy chocolate topping you put on ice cream that you had to batter with a spoon when it set. She watched workers with their coffees to go, an old man wearing a long coat and a beret on his head, thin cigarette hanging from his mouth, navigating the traffic on the road on an old-fashioned bicycle. Why was she so freaking nervous? This was just breakfast with Julien... at the hotel... with her mother.
The hairdryer stopped and Ava turned, the next fingernail between her lips.
‘You are going to choke on one of those in a minute,’ Debs said, hands in her hair, fluffing it like it was a precious lapdog.
‘Good,’ Ava said. ‘Then I wouldn’t have to have breakfast.’ She checked her watch again.
‘I don’t know what you’re so nervous about,’ Debs said.
‘Really?!’ Ava exclaimed. ‘You really don’t know!’
‘Ava, this isn’t about a job in the... Cayman Islands... or a fashion shoot for ASOS. This is breakfast.’
‘With my mother and the man I—’ She stopped herself. ‘With Julien.’
‘And he is adorable,’ Debs reminded, her hair now resembling a Wookie. ‘Totes adorable.’
There was no denying her friend was right. The issue was, apart from Leo, who had introduced himself one time when he had picked Ava up from home, she had never introduced anyone to her mother before. It felt colossal.
‘He isn’t going to drop croissants and jam down his front. He isn’t going to talk with his mouth full. He will probably pull out your mother’s chair and charm her with his photography talk,’ Debs suggested, throwing her head forward until she was face down to the carpet then quickly flicking it back up again. Now it was Afro Wookie.
‘You’re right,’ Ava said, feeling almost excited. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. That’s what they have in common. The camera! Him behind it. Her in front of it. They can talk about lighting and posing and... all the things I never talk about with him.’
‘There we go,’ Debs said, adding some dangling fairies to her earlobes.
‘And we can’t stay for more than an hour because we have the families’ photoshoot and then we need to look at the photos and sort the photos and decide what goes on canvas, on block, in frames... Apparently people are into buying “moving pictures” right now.’
‘Isn’t that called video?’ Debs asked.
Ava shrugged. ‘No idea. Julien’s the expert.’
Debs looked at her watch. ‘You’d better go. The lift was particularly slow last night.’
Ava checked her watch. ‘Shit, five minutes!’
‘Good luck!’ Debs called.
Ava bounded for the door.
Rhoda was already ensconced at a table for four in one corner of the dining room when Ava entered. There was no food in front of her mother, just one small white china cup and a side plate desperate to be treated to something. She was thankful Julien wasn’t there. She wouldn’t have wanted to leave him alone with her.
‘Morning!’ Ava greeted brightly, slipping into the chair opposite her mum and shaking out the napkin folded into a star shape before placing it over her lap. �
��I’m going to have crepes and bacon.’
She waited for Rhoda to make comment – something about fatty acids.
‘I’ve ordered some coffee,’ Rhoda said. ‘It should be here soon.’
‘Bacon?’ Ava asked, feeling she almost needed the criticism.
‘I thought I might try the scrambled eggs,’ Rhoda responded.
‘Not the fruit salad?’ Ava asked.
‘Not today,’ Rhoda stated. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes... just... really need some coffee.’
Ava saw Rhoda look at her watch – gold from Dubai, studded with emeralds. ‘He’ll be here,’ Ava assured. ‘He lives a little way from here and in the morning the Metro is really busy.’
‘I was looking to see how long ago I ordered the coffee,’ Rhoda responded. ‘Are you sure everything is all right, Ava? You seem a little on edge.’
‘I’m fine,’ Ava insisted, toying with the napkin on her lap.
‘So, Julien Fitoussi is someone you have been spending a lot of time with in Paris,’ Rhoda said. ‘Not just “an acquaintance”, which you passed him off as when asking for my help with the exhibition.’
Ava swallowed then nodded.
‘And how did you meet?’
‘Well...’ She took a breath. ‘Sorry, can I stop you? I just want to know are we starting the cross examination now? Just to be clear, because I sort of had the idea that that would go down over food when Julien was actually here.’
‘I’m not cross examining you, Ava, I’m trying to settle myself with this situation.’ Rhoda cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t mean situation, I meant this...’ She leaned a little across the table. ‘Ava, you have never willingly introduced me to a boyfriend before.’
‘Willingly is pushing it right now,’ Ava said with a half-laugh.
‘Is boyfriend the term we should be using?’ Rhoda asked. ‘I’m only asking because it’s only been just over a week since Leo.’
‘I know,’ Ava said as a waitress brought them coffee and she almost snatched it from the woman’s hand. ‘But when you meet him properly... hopefully soon... you will see he isn’t like Leo at all.’