by Corey Deitz
Dark Desires said nothing at first and just downed the rest of her drink. Then she put her glass down and looked straight at her dinner partner.
“Translate,” she insisted.
“I’m going to kill myself. Commit suicide. It’s the only way I can be assured I will never go to prison,” he said rather businesslike.
“Fuck you!” she laughed.
It was the kind of ‘fuck you’ somebody hurls at you when they only half-believe what you’re saying and want to make sure you know they know that what you’re saying is complete bullshit.
But, Ford did not laugh with her. He just kept looking straight into her eyes in that way people look at you that tells you they are absolutely not joking about what they just said. There was no mistaking his sincerity and as she continued to stare at him in somewhat disbelief, her eyes began to well up. Her tone turned a little sour.
“I don’t appreciate you fucking with me this way,” she said. “If this is some kind of joke, then you’re an asshole.”
Although Dark Desires seemed a bit of a hard-ass herself when they first met on FuckUandDie.com, beneath all the curt language and nonchalance was just a girl who was protecting her self esteem from further attacks. She had already been hurt enough by the men in her life, from her father, a cold military man uncomfortable with emotions to her legendary bad choice in boyfriends. She did not appreciate anyone who might trash her feelings for their own purposes.
She did not like to be played.
They had only been in each other’s company for a few hours. Yet, the announcement of Ford’s intentions left her quietly distressed.
How ridiculous, she thought to herself. This was not part of her plan. At most, she was looking for a friend with benefits. Just 24 hours earlier all she knew of Ford was he worked at a convenience store in some hick town in Ohio. Yet, now she was dining in Paris with an identity thief who was also suicidal.
“Who are you, Ford Fallon?” she asked. “You’re not exactly who I thought you were.”
“Yet, I’m finally the person I always wanted to be,” he replied. “No more shit jobs. No more microwaved burritos. No more living in an old RV in the backyard of a doomsday prepper. No more Kunkle, Ohio.”
It was true. He was a new man.
Ford had achieved the ultimate in cosplay: he was dressed as himself but, in Ford superhero mode. The new Ford had adventures, money, and a pretty companion. It was so much better than the old Ford who had…uh…jack shit.
Dark Desires’ rational side continued to remind her that she hardly knew this guy. But, her intuitive side already suspected that there was something about him that excited her in a way usually reserved for people who deny things like love because love would make them too vulnerable.
Love?
Love is a pain in the ass.
Love changes everything.
Love makes you vulnerable.
Love takes away your independence.
People who fall in love are helpless against it because it’s a bio-chemical and psychological snare which all humans have built into their DNA. You can no more avoid falling in love with the right person than you can avoid eating foie gras while in Paris.
It’s bad enough falling in love with somebody when you think it’s inconvenient. But, having the same emotional temptation in the world’s most romantic city is a death sentence for staying single.
But, in the end, you cannot resist when it is real love.
Do you believe in love at first sight? Some do.
That kind of immediacy seems to suggest there is a force at work which is greater in power than and feelings that might be created by the redundancy of dating someone for two years. Proponents of the latter say “love grows” over weeks, months, or even years.
Bullshit.
If it takes two years for someone to finally decide they are in love then maybe they’ve just wasted two years on mediocrity.
There’s something somewhat reassuring to believe it happens faster, not slower. Many like the idea that love can be triggered in an instant, like a circuit that is turned on and suddenly generates electricity.
For Dark Desires, that might be the best explanation as to why it felt like her insides had caved in and she felt sick to her stomach when Ford told her of his intentions. Though she would be hesitant to admit it out loud, she was falling for him in a big way and the worst part was he already told her he would be leaving.
Permanently.
That’s why when they left The Smoking Dog that night and walked back to Ford’s room at the Hotel Regina, she gladly came into his arms and they made love against the silhouette of the fading French evening.
There were no promises made, no verbal commitments entered into. There seemed to be no point to any of that. There was only the moment of two people sharing the intimacy of the most private gift one can give another.
After some time they both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
The lights on the Eiffel Tower - visible through their room’s window - shimmered until midnight and then, they too, rested.
Chapter 11
Ford woke up the next morning and felt amazing. For a moment he stared at the exquisitely detailed ceiling above him and just listened to Dark Desires’ light breathing as she continued to sleep. He quietly swung his legs around from under the covers and lifted himself up from their bed.
He walked into the attached living room and sat on a plush couch that backed into an end table near a room telephone.
He dialed and waited for someone to pick up.
“Hello, room service?” began Ford.
“Oui, Monsieur. Good morning,” answered the phone attendant.
“Good morning to you, too,” replied Ford.
He then proceeded to order breakfast in a non-stop stream of consciousness, providing barely any opportunity for any response from the person in the kitchen other than “Oui.”
“I would like a few things. Two Eggs Benedict, some scrambled eggs, sausage. Do you have pancakes?” asked Ford.
He cocked his head and thought for a moment.
“Wait. How about Crepes? Yes, crepes,” he continued. “Do you have any pastries? How about an assortment? And coffee…for two….and I think that’s it.”
“Very good, Monsieur,” said the attendant.
“Thank you…I mean merci,” replied Ford.
“Sounds like you’re starving,” said a voice from the bedroom.
“Yeah, I might have over-ordered. I didn’t know exactly what you wanted for breakfast. So, we have choices.”
By now Dark Desires had walked over to where Ford was sitting.
“How long until it arrives,” she asked.
“Twenty minutes or so,” replied Ford.
She leaned over and spoke into his ear.
“Need a way to pass the time?” she whispered.
“Yes. Yes, I do,” he smiled.
Before they realized it, twenty-five minutes had gone by and the room service waiter was softly knocking on their door.
“Coming,” he shouted.
“That’s all you seem to do,” she laughed.
Ford smiled and sprung out of the bed with a hop and a near-fall. He opened the door and just stood there in his underwear. The waiter didn’t even flinch. The service people were more than used to lovers exiting their beds in a moment’s notice. After all, it was Paris – and nobody understood romance better than Parisians.
Unfortunately for Ford, in his haste to answer the door he did not realize he was barely veiled by his underwear. As he stood in the entry way the attendant could see his manhood was generally more exposed than not.
In other words, his dick was hanging out.
But, protocol at the Hotel Regina would never have permitted staff to comment on such a personal gaffe or in any way embarrass a guest. The waiter did not flinch.
“Monsieur, good day,” he smiled. “I have your breakfast.”
As he spoke, the attendant wav
ed his hand from left to right to accentuate the width of food service he was about to wheel in.
“Crepes, eggs, coffee,” he said. “And sausage,” he quickly added, glancing back at Ford’s exposed penis, then just as hastily averting his eyes.
“Great!” replied Ford. “How about right over there?”
Ford pointed to the table in the dining area and just stood there smiling.
Still, with his dick hanging out.
Then, for some reason he reached for one of the plates in an awkward gesture to assist.
“Monsieur, please step back,” the waiter gently requested. “It is very hot. Allow me…”
The waiter was mostly afraid Ford might get too close and in some unfortunate breakfast accident wind up with scalding coffee on his genitals. No hotel, 5-Star or 1-Star, wants to have to dodge that reputation forever.
The waiter rolled in a cart full of covered dishes and began to reveal them. He carefully moved the breakfast items onto the dining room table, set the silverware, and poured the coffee.
“Will there be anything else, Monsieur?” asked the waiter.
“No. Thank you,” said Ford.” This looks great.”
He handed the waiter an American twenty-dollar bill.
“Merci,” said the man, who grinned and then exited.
Room service and everything on the menu became a regular breakfast delivery to Ford and Dark Desires’ room. Fortunately, he was successfully able to answer the door many times without significant damage to any body part.
At night they sequestered themselves in their suite at the Hotel Regina. But, during the day they made their way through the streets and sites, availing themselves of the best that Paris had to offer: The Versailles Palace, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, Sacre-Coeur, Notre Dame Cathedral, The Tuileries, Moulin Rouge, the Pantheon, the Avenue des Champs-Elysees, and of course, the Eiffel Tower.
Maybe the moments they enjoyed most were their time floating on the bateaus that traverse up and down the Seine providing tourists with commentary and history into many of the famous landmarks that line the river. The bateaus are designed to hold several hundred people on two levels. Passengers can sit or stand while the large boats chug under bridges and highlight the sights. The bateau Ford and Dark Desires enjoyed the most was the 9 p.m. boat that left from just below the Trocadero near the Eiffel Tower. When it returned 60 minutes later, it was always perfectly timed for the passengers to witness the sparkle lights that covered the entire Eiffel Tower for five minutes each hour. It was a breath-taking display that should be seen at least once in your life.
Many say Paris is the most romantic city in the world, and with good reason. The hotels and restaurants treat visitors like they are royalty. The architecture has character only maturity, age, and history can provide. The French know how to cook and their food goes beyond nutrition. If it were possible for your palate to have a relationship with food, it would choose to be involved with French cuisine. Then there is the full acceptance of public displays of affection. Lovers in Paris do not have to hide themselves. The French applaud every decision to kiss in public and embrace the joy of human compatibility.
Who would not want to visit this city?
Once you visit Paris, you will pine to come back.
You may even want to live there.
You may even want to die there.
Ford and Dark Desires purchased the best tickets for every attraction, dined in the most lavish restaurants Paris had to offer, walked miles around the city every day and when they were finally worn out from each day’s destinations, simply hailed a cab no matter how far from the hotel they might be.
The money – more specifically the credit cards – provided them easy access to the best time you could have. Their days were filled with wonderful things and those days turned into weeks, and then almost a month. When Ford maxed out a credit card he would simply pull it out of his wallet and discretely toss it down a sewer or into the trash. Dark Desires began to notice that the empty slits in his billfold were beginning to outnumber the ones holding cards. She knew they were not only running out of money, but time. She began to try and pay for some things with her own money just to keep Ford from discarding another useless Visa or Mastercard. To her, his wallet had become a timepiece of sorts, ticking down to an inevitability she was becoming more and more uncomfortable with.
Yet, it seemed somewhat unreal that this person she was spending such wonderful days with could even have a plan as ridiculous as suicide. Didn’t he happen to notice she was probably falling in love with him? How could he even consider doing that to her?!
As for Ford, well he was a pragmatist. He also saw his wallet becoming lighter and emptier. He was running out of money and it was just a matter of time before something went wrong. He didn’t know exactly what but, things were going too well for something not to go wrong.
The longer he was able to keep up his ruse, the more he began to sense a feeling of doom. Isn’t it just human nature to assume things cannot go perfectly forever? Even with the best planning, isn’t there often a hitch? A glitch? A bug? The thing you didn’t think of that just fucks it all up?
Ford was not born with the brain or conscience of a thief. He had to manipulate himself into becoming one. That’s why when the initial excitement of his adventure wore off a bit, his real conscience began to use his dreams as a punching bag. His sleep became more and more disturbed with nightmares of being chased and caught by the French police or worse – Interpol. He would wake up in a sweat and panic.
Toward the fourth week in Paris he began to become quite paranoid and wondered if he would get back to the hotel room to find an officer sitting on the couch waiting for him. He didn’t like being paranoid and for that he still vowed he would not go to prison.
What Ford did not know was his paranoia was not so misplaced. The fact is, the authorities were slowly on a path to finding their way to him because of the nature of thievery and the electronic residue it leaves behind as clues. Ironically, it seems that Ford, himself, had been victimized by a local credit card interloper. As is common in Europe, waiters and waitresses tabulate the needed payment for your meal right at your table using a handheld computer that will also take your credit card on the spot. Sure, it’s safer if the card never leaves your sight.
But, a good thief – actually even an amateur one – can still easily abscond with your card name and number while you are finishing your crème brulee and espresso. That is, if they break protocol and suggest they have to ring it up at the inside register. On their way to the register, they pull out what is known as a “skimmer” - a small, unobtrusive device about the size of an ice cube. The thief nonchalantly runs your card through the skimmer in all of a second or two and they now have captured all the pertinent data. From there, the thief may sell the data in bulk to others who perpetuate a cascade of charges or the crook may use your card number for their own purposes, and then discard it.
As it turns out, one of the fraudulent Visas which Ford had procured was itself, the target of such a scam. But, in this case the waiter was rather sloppy with her stolen wares and raised enough suspicion through online activities she was quickly targeted by authorities. Forensic investigation of the card’s history exposed a prong going straight to someone at the Hotel Regina. The police weren’t quite at his door, but it was only a matter of time before they were in the lobby asking questions.
Yet, not knowing any of this Ford still had reason to worry, at least a little. After the waitress skimmed his card and tried to charge several hundred dollars on the number a few hours later, Ford received an email to Kit Fallon from LifeLock. That was the first indication his card had been compromised.
That he had been compromised.
This was the glitch.
The bug.
The variable he could not anticipate. He also could not know what kind of ripples it might set into motion. He only knew there were now ripples.
Alas, there is no hono
r among thieves and it was a twisted paradox that Ford, himself, had now been victimized in the same way he had victimized others. He did not foresee this and even if he had, it probably would not have changed his plan much.
What he did know was his wallet was getting lighter and time was running out.
Almost one month into their lavish and carefree escapade, Dark Desires woke up around 6 a.m. to see Ford sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing through the picture window at the sunrise that was about to silhouette the Eiffel Tower.
“You alright?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer right away.
“I’ve had a great time,” he said. “This has been amazing. You’re amazing. I’m so glad we met. I’m so happy you came here.”
It was obvious to Dark Desires he was providing context for what he really wanted to say. Somehow, through all of it, she had convinced herself that Ford’s original idea to commit suicide would fade away or be pushed away through the sheer power of their relationship.
Love conquers all, right?
Maybe not.
Yet, she found it difficult to accept that he would just walk away from what they had together, though neither during all their time together had actually verbalized that they had anything in particular together except a mutual good time.
At least, that was the plan going in. But, plans often go awry and when they do you have to call an audible. That said, Dark Desires was not at all confident Ford would listen to anything she might say.
“You know what has to happen here,” he said. “You have to go back to Germany and I have to insure I won’t go to prison.”
Both were silent for a moment.
“You’ve been great. I really care for you,” he said.
“I love you, Ford Fallon,” she said.
But, he did not hear her words because they were not spoken aloud. They were not meant to be heard. They were said using only her inner, most private voice. She was too devastated to admit her true feelings to Ford. To say those words out loud would make her pain too real and it was more than she could bear.