by Sandi Scott
“No!” Her voice was rising, and she was ready to burst into tears. He sounded so reasonable. Even though tempted to just let the whole thing go, Ashley knew she couldn’t drop it until she made him understand, otherwise, she’d be up all-night rehashing it all over again. Sleep would elude her. “I want you to act like I’m important to you.”
“How do I act like you’re not important to me?”
“You’re never here!”
“But that’s for work!”
“You’re not listening to me! You’re just arguing around in a circle!”
Serge had been sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. Now he got up and said, “You’re not being rational, Ashley. I have to work. Not everything revolves around you, you know.”
She pounded a fist on the covers. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
“I am listening.”
“No, you’re not!”
He took a deep breath. “I’m going to go now. I’ll be at work. I’ll call you later.”
Ashley bit back all the horrible, awful things she wanted to screech at Serge. He would just use them against her, making her look more and more irrational and refusing to hear a word she said. Right now, she just wanted him to go so she was relieved when, without another word, he left.
Ashley had a big, messy crying fit on the bed, then washed up, put on real clothes, and went out. She was starving. She had been hoping that he would say something like, ‘Oh! Of course, we should spend more time together. Let’s go out to eat like I said we would. That’ll be a start, won’t it?’ Instead, everything had gone wrong.
The absurdly cold rain had turned late September into January. Arrgh! Ashley hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella or a raincoat or even a heavy coat to Paris! They had come here in late April, and here it was late September, five months all ready. They had been here five months, and it seemed like the time had zipped past without leaving a mark. Only when she had been at the restaurant did she feel like the days were passing at a normal speed. Each drop of rain felt like a slap against her back as Ashley wrapped her arms around her torso and jogged off down the street. She’d just go to the market, pick up something to eat, and then go back to the apartment alone – again.
Ahead of her was a crêpe cart built onto the back of a bicycle. It had a black awning and was parked underneath a tree. Even in the pouring rain, there were still a couple of customers. The crêpes smelled heavenly. Suddenly, nothing else would suit her on this dark, stormy, evening but that she bought a crêpe for supper and ate it, right there on the street.
“Salut, mademoiselle.” the owner greeted her cheerily. “What would you like?”
“Whatever is the best.” Ashley was suddenly starving.
The quaint crepe vendor laughed. He was wearing a black rain slicker with the hood pulled all the way up. Meanwhile, the crêpe griddles hissed as the rain fell on them. “Unfortunately, that will not be possible because I am out of buckwheat crêpes, only wheat crêpes are available now.”
“No matter, I’ll take whatever you want to make because it smells delicious.” He nodded and poured out the batter, swirling it around with his T-shaped wooden crêpe spreader.
“Why are you still out here in the rain after dark?” she asked, curious because normally crêpes were for lunch or a snack.
“Alas, I have recently arrived in the area,” was the reply, “and that means that everyone is too impatient to get my crêpes to wait for good weather or for another day. I make crêpes until no one wants anymore. Still, everyone wants my crêpes. So, I stay here. During the day, I have someone to help, but now? I wasn’t expecting demand to go for so long into the evening, and I am almost out of batter.” Appearing to slice it off the grill with a saber-like sweep of his spatula and flipping it back onto the grill with perfect aim, the vendor finished up her crêpe. A moment later, he was folding it into quarters. Ashley was immediately jealous of his technique.
Meanwhile, a batch of sugar was caramelizing in a pan on a side burner. The vendor quickly added butter, orange zest, orange juice, and Grand Marnier. With perfect timing, the crêpe flipped into the pan, and a minute later the sauce was ablaze. The flames shot up almost to the chef’s eyebrows, and Ashley stepped back, laughing in delight. She was cold, wet, and miserable in the rain, but completely delighted.
Crêpes Suzette was a dish that had been created by mistake for the Prince of Wales by the young assistant waiter Henri Charpentier. Even though he wasn’t supposed to have set the liqueur on fire, the waiter had accidentally done so, what a happy mistake!
Although her crepe was still too hot to eat, Ashley tasted it anyway and bounced on her toes saying, “Delicious!” She backed underneath a nearby awning while eating the luscious crêpe. It was wonderful, and the texture was absolutely perfect! How can I make a crêpe like this? What’s the trick? Or is it just experience? After she finished her crêpe, she wanted another one.
“Oui, oui, mademoiselle,” the animated little man said. “Just one moment more.” Soon the liqueur had burned off in that fascinating orange blaze again, and the crêpe was turned into a cone-shaped wrapper of stiff paper. After drizzling the last of the hot orange caramel from the pan, the food maestro put a napkin around the paper and handed it to Ashley, who paid and immediately bit into the crêpe.
As he cleaned up, the owner said, “My apologies, mademoiselle. That is all the batter there is. I must go. Please forgive me.” He truly sounded as if he regretted having to leave, so Ashley gave him a big tip and started walking. Already shivering, she’d need to take a hot shower, or she would catch a cold and that was the last thing she needed, being sick in Paris with no Serge to nurse her back to health. She sighed and licked the last of the butter off her fingers. Time to go home.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley spotted a dog slinking along the street with its tail between its legs. The dog was clearly a mutt but a pretty one with short black fur and an expression that was filled with curiosity, even though the dog was soaking wet, and skinny.
Ashley whistled to the dog, who perked up and looked at her, then shook itself all over, scattering rain on the sidewalk and staggering a little. When she took a step toward it, the dog trotted away from her in a crooked line. Then, at the end of the block, the dog went straight out into traffic! Oh no! Ashley stood at the edge of the sidewalk, chewing on a knuckle. The drivers in Paris weren’t as aggressive as those in some cities, but they still moved at a good clip, throwing up a spray of water all around them.
Suddenly, the dog swerved one way as a Peugeot swerved the other. The little car skidded on the wet street as the dog hopped backward out of the way. Other drivers slammed on their brakes. If she didn’t do something soon, the whole street would become a pileup! Ashley ran forward, grabbed the dog by its back legs, and pulled it out of the street. The dog trotted backward on its forelegs like a wheelbarrow, twisting its head around to look at Ashley as if thinking – This is one of the strangest dances I’ve had in a while!
Unexpectedly Ashley’s heel encountered the concrete lip of the sidewalk, causing her to fall backwards. She landed heavily, arms full of soggy dog, while the cars untangled themselves and resumed their journeys. Within a few seconds, everything was back to normal, as far as drivers were concerned.
Ashley felt around the dog’s neck for a collar and tag, but there was nothing there. Obviously, the poor dog wasn’t feral, it sat contentedly in Ashley’s lap and even started wagging its tail. Ashley gave it a good rub on the head. The dog turned to lick Ashley on the face then went back to watching the cars drive by on the street. Ashley laughed and struggled to her feet, making sure to keep a firm grip on the dog as she stood up. “Okay, sweetie,” she said. “I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to have animals in the apartment, but hopefully they’ll make an exception for the night. I don’t know what they do here for lost animals, but I’m certainly not going to let you run loose all night and get hit by a car!” The dog wagged its tail and looked at her gra
tefully
“Food?” Ashley asked. “Do you know that word?” The dog sat down in the middle of the puddle.
“Speak!” The dog barked obligingly.
“Shake!” Ashley was offered a slightly muddy paw.
“Play dead!” The dog tilted her head as if to say, I’d love to, but I have no idea what you’re saying.
“Walk?” The dog hopped up and wagged its tail.
“Heel,” Ashley said. The dog came to her side and nuzzled her hand with its cold, wet jaw.
Whoever the owner was, they spoke English and not French. Poor puppy – and poor owner, too, probably frantically looking all over the city. Even in its bedraggled state, the dog reminded Ashley of Dizzy, the puppy that she and Ryan had been training before her sudden departure for Paris. I wonder how Dizzy is doing now? The thought popped into her head, followed by a sudden wave of homesickness so strong she could hardly bear it.
Ashley stopped at a nearby market, telling the dog ‘Stay’ as she went inside. As usual, she asked about peanut butter but received a negative head shake in response. She bought six cans of dog food, all the market owner had, and pointed toward the dog outside, asking if he recognized her. “Non,” he said, shaking his head, “but she is well-trained, you can tell. Let me take a picture and see if anyone asks about the poor thing.” He took a few photos of the dog with his phone, promising to have one of them printed up by tomorrow.
“Oh, I can do that,” Ashley laughed. “We have a printer upstairs.” She left her phone number and wished him good evening. He promised not to tell anyone about their little conspiracy of hiding a dog upstairs.
One long, bedraggled shower later for both Ashley and the dog, Ashley decided that the poor thing must have some kind of ear infection that was making it stumble and get turned around. After toweling off the bedraggled dog, Ashley fed it a can of the dog food. The food was wolfed down, the grateful dog keeping Ashley’s china bowl from sliding around by bracing it between its front paws. The dog was a tidy eater but thankfully not a picky or delicate one. When everything was finished, the area around the bowl was carefully examined for scraps before the dog walked over to where Ashley was sitting cross-legged on the floor and curled up beside her.
Tracking down the number of a vet clinic that wasn’t too far away, Ashley called and left a message for the vet to call her in the morning. In a few minutes, the dog was making soft little doggy snores. Ashley surfed the Internet on her phone until she got tired then she grabbed a couple of blankets and curled up on the floor next to the dog.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Ashley was awakened by a pounding on the door. “Coming,” she said. Her whole body felt like a dog had been rolling on top of her all night, which was exactly what had happened. She even had fur in her mouth.
“La police!” Oh, crap! She’d been busted for having an illegal dog in the apartment. She hoped they wouldn’t get kicked out. Staggering to the door while trying to blink the sand out of her eyes, Ashley opened it. Two officers stood in front of her, looking stern.
“Mademoiselle Ashley Adams?”
“Yes,” she said, “and the dog is over there.” She stepped out of the way and pointed to the dog, who tilted its head to look curiously at the officers – very cute. “I’m sorry that I’ve caused trouble. I just didn’t want it to get hit by a car.”
The officers looked at each other. “We are not here about a dog.”
“Oh!” she said, blinking at them. “I’m sorry. What is it?”
“We are here to arrest you for criminal computer activities.”
Ashley stared at them, unable to comprehend what they were saying. She hadn’t downloaded any illegal movies or anything, and even if she had, getting arrested for it seemed to be kind of extreme.
“Wait, for my what?”
“For hacking activities related to the company Cubiste Internationale.”
“But that was legal,” she said. “I was hired as a freelance security consultant for Data Security Inc. Cubiste Internationale was paying Data Security to have us test their online security.”
The two officers frowned at her. “I need to make a call,” one of them said.
“Okay. I’m going to get dressed so I can go with you to the police station.” The other officer was patting the dog on the head and smiling. “Um, it probably needs to go out for a potty walk.” Ashley added, gesturing at the dog.
“Where is its collar and leash?”
“It doesn’t have one.” Quickly, Ashley explained about rescuing the dog from the street the previous evening.
The officer promised to see what he could do. “Poor thing. My sister has a dog, she lives near here. I’ll see if she can take this pretty one for a few days while we get this all sorted out.”
BY THE TIME SHE CAME out of the shower and got dressed, Ashley’s whole world had been turned upside-down.
“Mademoiselle, I have something very serious to tell you,” the first officer said as Ashley stepped back into the kitchen.
“What is it?”
“There is no such company as Data Security Inc, or at least, not one that has been hired by Cubiste Internationale.”
Ashley’s mouth gaped open. She couldn’t help it. Her whole brain seemed to have gone numb with shock. “That can’t be right.”
“I am sorry, mademoiselle, but it is so. We have spoken with the president and the head of security for that company, and they have stated that they did not hire any such firm as security consultants. There is also no record of the business you mentioned in the places where it should be recorded and registered to operate legally in France. Additionally, your visa states that you are here simply as a tourist.”
“I’m sorry about that last one. I didn’t think I was going to be working while I was here. Serge Payton, my boyfriend, had the contract. He works full-time for Data Security.”
“No, mademoiselle, he does not,” the officer said. “He, too, is supposed to be in France for a vacation, and no other purpose.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“This is a very serious matter,” the officer said. “The circumstances seem as though you have been stealing a great deal of money, mademoiselle, but I am starting to think it could be that you are as much a victim of a crime as anyone else in this matter. Apparently, your boyfriend has framed you as an illicit, very skilled, computer hacking mastermind who has stolen almost a million Euros over the last six weeks.”
“Framed me?” she squeaked. “Why would he frame me?”
“In case, mademoiselle, he was caught.”
TWO WEEKS LATER, ASHLEY was still living in a numb haze. The prosecutors had seized her computer, really it was more of a polite request for help than a seizure, because she had to decrypt files and help them sort out her convoluted, but perfectly logical to her, folder structure. As soon as they had downloaded everything, they even gave it back.
Ashley went online and tracked down every piece of information about Serge that she had ever known, providing multiple sources and handing over the names of companies that she thought had employed them, some of those companies hadn’t even realized that they’d been hacked yet.
Serge didn’t answer his phone, no matter how many times Ashley called. After a day, all she got was the French equivalent of “this number has been disconnected.” He was gone and so were all her plans, but she had to stay. The police were insisting that she help them with their investigations, and she couldn’t blame them.
Rapidly running out of money now, because everything she’d earned from Data Security Inc had been taken away from her, Ashley was in a bind.
The only good thing that happened was that Ashley got to keep the dog. The officer’s sister didn’t have room for another dog, and the owner of the apartment building politely agreed that Ashley could keep the pet with her until someone came to claim the dog – for an additional deposit and an increase in rent! Ashley paid up without complaint. Sometimes the only reason she
got up in the morning was to take the dog – who she had named Belle after the vet had identified her as a female – out for a walk or to get something to eat. What was she going to do now?
Ashley was walking down the street with Belle one afternoon, her thoughts a million miles away when someone exclaimed, “Oh! It is you,” and grabbed her in a quick hug with a kiss on each cheek.
It was Patty, from L’Oiseau Bleu. “Salut! How are you? I haven’t seen you in weeks. Is everything okay?” Patty hugged Ashley again before holding her out at arm’s length and looking more closely at her face. “Oh dear, I see everything is not okay,” she added as tears started rolling down Ashley’s face. “What has happened?”
In a café halfway down the block, they sat and drank espresso while Ashley told Patty the whole sordid tale. Belle was tied to the railing next to them as they sat at an outdoor table. Patty shook her head. “I’d kill the loser if I knew where he was. I can’t believe it! On top of it, he tried to keep you from going to my cooking class so that he could push you to work a little harder on ripping people off!”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Ashley agreed.
“And now you are broke, you say?”
“Almost.”
“Then, you start tomorrow,” Patty announced. “The job offer is still open.”
“But you already have a baker.”
“He’s no good, not compared to you. Either he can learn how to be a prep cook, or he can go.”
“Don’t say that!”
AS IT TURNED OUT, MALIK was just as happy to stop baking and take up prep work. “I’m so sick of it,” he admitted. “I know you won’t be here forever, and I do love to bake, but I need a break.” Malik was a real lady-killer type who always sported a carefully-maintained five o’clock shadow and tousled hair. At first, he tried to hit on Ashley, but when he heard her story, he just laughed and said, “You’re a hopeless cause then. No more bad boys for you.”