Detour Paris: Complete Series (Detour Paris Series Book 4)

by Dancer, Jack

  "Tonight I have for your viewing pleasure two lovely young ladies who have volunteered to act as surrogates for your daughters so I might demonstrate for you what they - your daughters and your wife - will be undergoing very soon. I would have preferred your wife and daughters be with us tonight so you could enjoy their performance first-hand, but unfortunately they were not available on short notice. And since your final demise is already scheduled for tomorrow morning, I thought you deserved at least a substitute performance so you’ll have a lasting memory to take with you, though lasting may be a bit of an over promise," she laughs.

  "Before we get started with these two young ladies, I want to tell you what you have to look forward to at your funeral tomorrow. You know you're a lucky man, Señor Marti. Very few people, at least these days, have the opportunity to attend their own funeral, fully conscious I mean.

  Tomorrow you will know what it's like to be christened a saint during your lifetime, the very end of your lifetime but nonetheless. As I'm sure you're aware it is at one's funeral when everyone has only good things to say about the dearly departed, how wonderful they were, the love and kindness they bestowed upon their fellow man all during their lifetime and all of the sacrifices they made for the good and well being of others. Yes, it is at funerals where the dearly departed are miraculously transformed into saintly status in spite of all the tears and hatred and evil they may have spread during their time on earth. Funerals are where memories of all those terrible deeds one has done to others are purged, washed clean, and sanitized. All will be forgiven and you will be sent off into eternity as fresh and clean as a newborn baby.

  "It will be a banner day for you, Señor Marti, and you'll be there to witness it all and to bask in the limelight because you will be completely conscious and aware of everything around you, just as you are now. You'll be there to bask in all the grief and the tears and cries and sobs that will pour out of your wife and your little daughters and your family and friends. You'll want to reach out and tell them you love them and that it's okay and that you'll always have them in your heart but you won't be able to move a muscle to do that Señor Marti.

  "It'll be the most horribly frustrating moments of your short life, Señor Marti. It will rip your heart out, destroy your spirit and you'll go to your death knowing God is a myth and your life meant nothing. You’ll also go, knowing very shortly afterward your wife and your two lovely daughters will be suffering the same agonizing demise as you. And you'll have plenty of time to contemplate all of this tomorrow because the final injection of NMBA you'll receive just prior to your going away party will be timed to wear off after you've been properly buried six feet under. Those last moments are sure to be a kick. I hope you will think of me.

  "But that's tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to enjoy the performance of these two young ladies before you, Sophia De la Riva and Elena Basso. And please keep in mind, Señor Marti, what you see here tonight will be exactly what your wife and little daughters will experience this time next week at the latest."

  The next thing Paulo Marti hears is the Crazy Serbian Butcher's Dance.

  thirty-six

  Evening, Thursday, 4 September.

  Dans Le Noir, Barcelona.

  I had booked a reservation for two at nine o'clock, but I got a call from the Dans le Noir with apologies they were overbooked and could we change to ten o'clock. I told 'em fine, and we arrived right on time. When we entered the restaurant, we were each given a free cocktail in apology. I thought the gesture was very nice but not so unusual for a good restaurant. What was unusual was everything else.

  They asked us to put our bags, and anything we might have on us that would emit light into a locker, even our mobile phones. Monica refused to give up her Louis Vuitton and they relented if she would agree to leave her cell phone in a locker. She gave in on that one.

  We then lined up with the other patrons having ten o'clock reservations and were instructed to put our left hand on the shoulder of the person in front of us. Our waiter led us through a curtain into a totally dark room. One person in the line immediately changed her mind and backed out.

  “Is this a good idea, Tucker?” Monica whispers in my ear.

  “Guess we'll find out.”

  We're escorted to our table where we sit down a little clumsily since none of us can see a bloody thing, and we're not the only ones because the waiters serving us are completely blind. Yeah, blind waiters. Can you believe it? They make no mistakes and are very professional and even fun. We have to learn how to pour water into our glasses without spilling before we have our food. I thought waiters did that, but I didn't make anything out of it because it was too much fun trying.

  We're then asked how many dishes and wines we'd like, not a particular food, just the number of dishes. We're not to know what we're being served. The idea is for us to re-evaluate the notion of taste without sight, using only our other senses, no preconceptions. It's an experience you cannot imagine until you try it. You can’t judge your tablemates from their looks; so everyone talks more freely and spontaneously. It's weird but nice, really.

  But, then there's the sensory experience. You eat with your hands, no silverware. Without sight, your other senses take over and bring about a whole new range of sensations and emotions. Since you can't see what you're eating you've just got to have faith and go with it because any biases you might have from seeing the food are simply not there. All you can do is go with mouth feel and taste. It's really very cool. The sales pitch we get is the Dans le Noir chef works very hard to create cuisines using the freshest ingredients so our senses can enjoy the real taste of the food. Green beans became a whole new experience. And the pudding! There's nothing like it using only your bare fingers.

  At one point during the meal we did experience a slight disturbance when Monica felt someone's hand rifling through her purse. Believe it or not, she jumped up and swung the thing until she hit some guy in the head knocking him to the floor. A couple of the blind waiters rushed in and dragged the man away then proceeded to calm everyone down, especially Monica who stood in the total darkness cocked and ready to floor anyone else who dared touch her purse. She'd apparently knocked the guy unconscious when she hit him and they shipped him off in an ambulance with a couple of Barcelona's finest watching over him. Other than that, we had a fine time.

  After the meal, the manager, Christophe, took time to explain each dish we ate and also showed us photos of how we destroyed some really beautiful dishes using only our hands. Dans le Noir means "into the dark.” It is a French concept restaurant, but it's not so much the food as much as it is the experience.

  Just ask Monica. The guy who got put to sleep by Monica's purse? I'm sure it must have been an experience for him too but I don't think it was an epicurean one. Shouldn't have fucked with her purse!

  ***

  The Rider.

  "Prendre aquestes manilles fora de mi vostè idiote. Sóc Cesid," (Take these handcuffs off me you idiot. I am Cesid.), the rider screamed at the officer accompanying him in the ambulance.

  "Qui és el teu cap? Ho anem a trucar," (Who is your boss? We will call him.), the officer yelled back with pen poised to pad.

  The rider decided it was probably in his best interest not to press the matter. He'll straighten these guys out at the station.

  ***

  “So, what'd you think?” I ask Monica as we're returning to the hotel.

  “It was awesome; the food was okay, but the experience was incredible. Except, the one little disturbance of course. Nothing like it would I have ever imagined, thank you, Tucker. It was really cool. How in the world did you find that place?”

  “I got on the Internet and Googled, off-beat places to eat in Barcelona.”

  “Did Hotel Arts room 1650 come up?” she asks.

  “As a matter of fact, it did.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Said to go there after dinner and have dessert.”

  “Did it say eat dessert?�
�

  “It said dessert would eat me.”

  "And it will, Tucker, just not tonight,” she says.

  “What do you mean just not tonight?”

  “I've been meaning to tell you for a while, but I've been having so much fun with you, I didn't want to spoil everything.”

  "So don't spoil everything now. Leave everything unspoiled. Everything's just fine. It doesn't have to be spoiled. Tell you what; let's just make a pact between us, right here and right now, that we're not going to spoil. Leave the spoiling to others . . . you know . . . the spoilers. There're plenty of those around, and they like to do the spoiling, so let's just leave it to them. They're spoiled anyway. They don't need us. Whaddaya say? We'll be the un-spoilers. Okay? Let's shake on it," I say and stick out my hand to cinch the deal.

  "Oh, Tucker," she says and throws her arms around me pulling me into her, and I happily cooperate. "You're such a good man," she says and then pushes away holding me at arm's length.

  "But, you're going to do the spoiling thing anyhow, right?" I say.

  “Please don't be mad, Tucker. Try to understand. I have a situation I must attend to. I've been putting it off and it's just come to the point where I can't put it off any longer. I have to deal with it."

  "Okay," I say hopefully, "Maybe I can help you deal with it. Whatever it is honey (oops. Did I just say honey?). Look, whatever it is I'll do anything I can to help. Just tell me."

  "Oh, Tucker. I wish you could, but this is something I've got to do alone."

  "What it is you have to do alone?" I say with not a little impatience.

  "Well, you see," she hesitates and steps back and is now looking very guilty.

  "Yes?" I say becoming even more impatient.

  "You see, I have this boyfriend, and he's here in Barcelona . . .” she says shying away.

  “What? You're kidding. A boyfriend? And he lives here?”

  “No, I'm not kidding and no, he doesn't live here," she says straightening up, gathering the confidence to get what she has to say, out. "He came over to meet me here, but it's not what you think."

  This is not happening, I say to myself and look away from her.

  "Just let me finish okay? It's hard enough already.”

  “So finish,” I say spitting the words out like a bad taste.

  “I've been seeing this guy for a while now, and this trip was originally to be where I was going to decide whether or not I'm in love with him.”

  "You're kidding."

  "No, I'm not."

  “So, are you?” I ask barely able to believe what I'm hearing.

  “I don't know. That's why I came on this trip, to decide, but it just so happens, en route, I met someone else. Someone who took me on this crazy detour through France and showed me the time of my life. Someone who has made these last few days the craziest I've ever spent and the most wonderful too. So, I've been putting off my original plan. The thing is, I can't put it off any longer. I promised I'd be with him tonight and tomorrow."

  At this point, I'm standing there with my jaw dropped. I must look the fool of fools.

  "He's already very upset I've been with you, up until now. I'm sorry, Tucker, but I have to placate him. More importantly I have to decide if he's the one or not.”

  "And you're in love with this guy?"

  "I don't know for sure. That's what I'm saying. I have to decide whether or not I am or not."

  "Jesus Christ, I can't believe what I'm hearing.”

  “Well, believe it, Tucker," she says growing tired of the moment. "Look, I've been with you since New York, and if you remember we were supposed to go our separate ways after we got to Barcelona. You said it yourself. Had we done that, you wouldn't care, one way or the other, about any of this. But, things happened on the train; things out of the blue, and beyond our control, things that brought us to where we are now. I didn't choose this, and neither did you; it just happened to turn out the way it did, and I've had to put Lloyd off.”

  "Lloyd?"

  "Yes. If you must know, his name is Lloyd."

  “So, you're going to just up and leave and spend the night with Lloyd now?”

  “Yes. Grow up, Tucker. We're all adults here. None of us possesses the other.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “I don't know about tomorrow. I'll probably spend the day with him. I'll spend as much time as it takes to make up my mind.”

  “Whether or not you're in love with him,” I finish the thought.

  “That's right. I need to know, and right now I'm highly conflicted about my feelings.”

  “Because of me?” I ask hopefully.

  “Maybe.”

  “Why do you have to sleep with him? Why can't you just see him tomorrow and decide?”

  “Tucker, I'm a very physical woman. You should know that by now. And love is a physical thing, among other things. I haven't been with Lloyd for a month, and I have to know from all angles, whether or not there's really something there. Don't be the jealous boyfriend, Tucker. Be an adult about this. Besides, you already have a girlfriend, remember?”

  “And you have a husband.”

  “That I'm divorcing, Tucker. If I were still in love with my husband, I wouldn't be doing any of this, now would I?”

  I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole.

  “Look, Tucker, you can't always have what you want.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Everybody wants what they can't have, Tucker. Don't you know that?”

  Is she saying I can't have her? Sounds like it. I'm not even going to pursue that one either. That's probably exactly what she means - that I can't have her. I'm not going to hear that, so I'm not going there.

  “Are you in love with Lloyd?” I ask.

  “Haven't you heard me, Tucker? I'm going to be with him to decide if I am or not.”

  “But, you were in love with him.”

  “Yes. Look, Tucker, I really need to go. It's getting late, and he's expecting me,” she says pulling out her rolling bag from the closet.

  “You're already packed?” I say incredulously.

  “I packed before we went to Dans le Noir.”

  “I see. Can I ask you one last question before you go?”

  “What?”

  “Are you in love with me?”

  “Okay, then let me ask you. Are you in love with me, Tucker? You haven't said you are but are you?”

  “Fair enough. I think so.”

  “But, you're not sure.”

  “Not entirely, too much has happened since last Saturday night. I haven't had time to know for sure with all this other stuff constantly getting in the way. I can tell you this though, after today I'm certainly leaning that way.” I'm lying like a dog! Why don't I just tell her and be done with it. Shouldn't she know how you feel?

  “See, Tucker, you're in the same boat with me as I am with Lloyd. I need to find out too, one way or the other. Apparently, so do you.”

  “So, what if you decide you're in love with him, and you're in love with me too. Is it possible to love two people at the same time?”

  “I granted you one last question, and you've turned it into two. Can a person love two people at the same time? Yes, I think so. But, it'll always come down to making a choice because you can't expect someone else to accept something like that. Look, I've got to go, Tucker,” she says opening the door.

  “Okay. Well, I don't see much sense in me going to Perpignan tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean? You have to go. That has nothing at all to do with this, Tucker. That's a problem we both share and one that could cause both of us harm. You can’t refuse to go because you're upset about this. That'd be foolish. You owe it to both of us to go up there and see what's going on. See if we really are in danger or not. Don't be stupid, Tucker. If you don't take care of business on that front, there may be no need in worrying about our relationship because we both just might end up dead. You go up there, Tucker. You promised, and I'm
counting on you,” she says firmly.

  “Look honey, (now it's honey, huh?) all this with Lloyd may just blow over. It probably will, and if it does, then we can concentrate on how we really feel about each other and go from there. Me meeting with Lloyd does not close the door on us,” she says and gives me a kiss. "I'll talk with you tomorrow when you get back. At least by then we should both know more than we do now. Good-luck, Tucker.” She leaves, and I'm standing in the doorway watching my life go with her.

  ***

  What the fuck! I shout out loud to no one.

  I cannot believe she's doing this. Lloyd? Who the fuck is Lloyd? Where did he come from? And why hasn't she said anything about him before? Why did she leave Lloyd until tonight? I can't believe she just up and left and is going, wherever, to sleep with this guy!

  I go to the bar and pour myself a glass of Glenfiddich and slug it down and pour myself another. I start stripping off my clothes, angrily throwing my shirt against the plate-glass window, then my pants and shoes against the wall screaming, SON OF A BITCH!

  Is this woman crazy or something; just up and leaves; at friggin’ midnight? To meet some Floyd, Lloyd, whatever the hell his name is. What kind of name is that anyhow? Who the hell is named Lloyd? I've never even met a Lloyd. Nobody names a kid Lloyd, for crying out loud!

  Goddammit, I should just forget her. Should've never gotten involved in the first place, that two-timing *#@X%*.

  Motherfucker, I scream, kicking the furniture until I slam my foot against the chrome coffee table nearly breaking my big toe. Ouch, Goddammit. I think I broke my freaking toe, I holler, sitting on the floor stark naked, holding my foot, trying to squeeze the pain out of it.

  I stand up, limp to my Glenfiddich and pour a glass full, down it and throw the glass into a mirror shattering it. Goddamnit!

  Oh, great there's another two hundred dollars gone.

  "I need to figure out if I'm in love with Lloyd or not," I say mocking, "and if I'm not, I'll just screw his brains out anyway. To hell with Tucker Blue; I don't give a shit about him. I need someone new, like Floyd. I'll just go sleep with Floyd tonight. I'll think of Tucker. Oh, yeah, Tucker, back there in his fancy hotel room jacking off, thinking about me. Oh, yeah!"