Make Me Bad: Private Lessons

by Vega, W. H.

  My thoughts shifted to my visit with Juliette the following day. I felt like I was walking on eggshells with Juliette, especially having no idea what surprises she had in store. She clearly had not given up on me, but I was hoping that her kids would create the perfect buffer for her advances. Although knowing Juliette, she would find a way around that.

  Saturday dawned bright and sunny, and I imagine Maddie happily spending the day with her parents. She sent me a quick text the night before saying that she and her mother were going to spend most of the day shopping together.

  I can just picture how lovely little Maddie’s southern life must have been growing up. She had been a child of privilege, growing up in a true Southern family. Having the added perk--or burden, depending how you looked at it, of having two country superstars as parents.

  I’m sure she wanted for nothing, and was taught good values and morals. She had two parents who loved her, and probably grandparents that weren’t far away. I envied that. I always envied those kids when I was little. I don’t remember much of my father, except that he was a bum and he never took much interest in me. I was just The Accident that turned all the fun he was having with my mother into something real and I think he always held that against me.

  Once he was gone, my mother and I were all we had. I remember my mother working more jobs than I could count. Sometimes, she would be gone when I got up for school in the morning, and I would have to get myself ready and out the door. I would eat dry cereal or slather peanut butter on stale bread before heading out to school.

  If she was home in the morning to get me off to school, then she was absent when I got home, and I would have to let myself in with the key I wore around my neck. I would come into the empty house, make myself a snack and do my homework before watching TV. And if she wasn’t going to be home in time, my mother would leave an easy dinner for me in the fridge.

  That was our life – my mother working and me spending time alone as she supported us. As I got older, it got easier, and my mother always made sure that she could support my music. She knew that I was talented, and she didn’t want me to suffer the same fate she had – she wanted better for me.

  Thinking about my mother is making me feel worse. I push my thoughts of her back to the furthest corner of my mind, which is where they are normally kept. I head out onto the streets, and duck into a small chocolate shop. I purchase two chocolate ballerinas for Juliette’s girls, purposefully not buying anything for Juliette. Instead, I go next door and buy a baguette to take to Juliette’s. Bread is much less romantic than chocolate.

  I head towards the Metro and get on, then make two more switches before I’m on a train that heads out to the countryside where Juliette lives. The journey takes less than hour, and soon I’m getting off the train and making my way towards her house.

  Montargis is lovely, just as Juliette promised, and I can’t recall if I’ve ever been here before. It’s less than a mile walk to her house, and it’s a nice day so I appreciate the fresh air and exercise. I come upon her small cul-de-sac and I easily find her quaint, charming house. It has a small stream running below a tiny bridge to her front steps and it’s very French, which suits Juliette well.

  “Jean-Luc!” she exclaims, yanking the door open before I can even reach for the knocker.

  “Bonjour, Juliette,” I say, giving her the perfunctory two kisses on each cheek.

  “I’m so happy that you are here to visit. My girls are so thrilled to meet you!”

  Hmm. I’m not sure why they are so excited to meet me. I’m nothing more than a boring adult.

  “Oh? I’m happy to hear that,” I say awkwardly, handing Juliette the baguette.

  “Thank you,” she says taking the bread, looking somewhat disappointed with my gift.

  Good.

  “Come in, come in!” She rearranges her features and ushers me inside. Her home is decorated beautifully, just as I had expected. There are warm colors, sophisticated patterns and lush furnishings. Beautiful artwork covers much of the walls, and in the back of the house lies a bright, window-lined room, filled with every girly toy one could imagine. There is a pink play kitchen, a flower-trimmed vanity, purple and white bookcases, and piles upon piles of frilly dress up clothes and loved baby dolls.

  “Playroom?” I ask.

  Juliette laughs. “How could you tell?” She swipes a loose piece of hair away from her face. “I have two little princesses.”

  Right on cue, two adorable little girls appear at the foot of the steps.

  “Mama, is this Jean-Luc?” the youngest pipes up, her blonde hair braided in two plaits down her back.

  “Yes, sweetie, it is.”

  “Hello,” she smiles. “I’m Monique.”

  “Hi Monique, nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Sophia,” the other girl chimes in. She has reddish-blonde hair, and it hangs long down her back with a flower headband holding it back. Both girls are dressed in pretty dresses.

  “Girls, why don’t you go play so Mama and Jean-Luc can talk?” Juliette smiles sweetly at her girls and grins at me.

  Uh-oh.

  “Oh wait!” I say quickly, “I have something for them.”

  Juliette raises her eyebrows. “How nice!”

  The girls hop excitedly from foot to foot and I produce the two chocolate ballerinas.

  “Chocolate!” Monique squeals, clapping her hands together and happily taking the chocolate.

  “Thank you,” Sophia says happily. “Can we eat it now, Mama? Please? Please?”

  Juliette gives them a rueful grin and shakes her head. “You know the rules. Not until after lunch. Go place them in the kitchen and I promise you can have them as soon as you’ve finished your lunches.”

  The girls moan and groan, but reluctantly place their chocolates on the table before they go into the playroom and start playing.

  Juliette walks into the kitchen and I follow her.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer, “I didn’t realize bringing them a treat would be a problem.”

  She laughs gaily. “No problem. I just don’t want it spoiling their meal. No harm done. They can eat them as soon as they finish lunch.” She stirs a liquid in a copper pot and looks over at me. “Thank you for doing that. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Sure,” I say, waving it off, “I didn’t want to be rude and show up empty-handed.”

  She smiles and takes out a bottle of wine. “Wine?”

  “Sure.”

  She smiles again as she pours two glasses, and gives me a suggestive look as she hands me my glass.

  I ignore the look and look around her rustic kitchen. “Your home is beautiful,” I comment.

  “Thank you.” She sits down across from me and reaches over to my hand. I don’t want to be rude, so I wait a few seconds before I pull it away.

  “You know,” she says, her voice somewhat coy, “The girls have playmates across the street. I could send them over there after lunch.”

  I frown. Juliette has wasted no time getting right to the point. I should have known, based on how she’s dressed. She looks gorgeous, naturally, but she also a looks a little overdressed for a casual lunch with a friend. She’s dressed in a short camel-hued skirt and knee-high dark brown suede boots. Her cream silk blouse is draped perfectly over her breasts, accentuating them in just the right way.

  “That’s not necessary,” I say nicely, “I wouldn’t mind spending the afternoon with them.”

  Juliette laughs, twirling a piece of her hair. “Oh, Jean-Luc, don’t be silly. There are plenty of other things that you and I could spend the afternoon doing.”

  Oh boy. I guess I was going to have to go with direct and blunt.

  “Juliette,” I begin, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Instantly a look of annoyance flashes in her eyes. She obviously likes having the wrong idea. “I think you are lovely, and it’s been wonderful catching up with you while I’ve been in town visiting.” I stress the word visiting. “But besid
es catching up, nothing else is going to happen between us.”

  “Well,” she says, slightly embarrassed, and giving a little shake of her head. “Trying to let a girl down easy?”

  “Juliette,” I say, but she holds her hand up.

  “No, no, no. Please don’t make this any worse. I’m already embarrassed enough as it is.” She shakes her head again, as if arguing with herself. “I just don’t get it! Do you find me unattractive? Is there someone else? Why wouldn’t you want to have a little fun while you’re here?” I feel her leg slide up my jeans and I jump back in my chair.

  “Juliette, you’re wonderful, but I’m just not interested. I have a lot on my plate now. And yes, you’re very attractive. Please don’t take this personally.”

  And oh, yes, I’m busy screwing one of my students. She’s very young and very sexy, and I think about her non-stop.

  But, I can tell that she does take it personally. We drop the subject, and she gets up to put lunch on the table. She’s made a delicious stew, and the bread is the perfect complement to the meal, but Juliette is uncharacteristically quiet. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I find myself questioning my choice during the meal. Juliette is very beautiful, and I can’t help but think about what it would be like to sleep with her. But then I remember irresistible Maddie, and I’m annoyed for even entertaining the thought of Juliette. I imagine how crushed Maddie would be if I thought with my dick and spent the afternoon in bed with Juliette. That would be a top-rate asshole move.

  Needless to say, I spend only a couple hours at Juliette’s house. We discuss what her relatives have been up to over the years, and I spend the remaining time watching her little girls put on ballet shows. Her children are very sweet, but exhausting, and I’m ready to be done with this whole fucked-up visit.

  I say goodbye to the girls, who very merrily wave and thank me for the chocolates, and then Juliette walks me to the door.

  “Well, I’d suggest we get together again, but I guess you’re not interested,” she says dryly.

  “Juliette, please. I told you – it’s been lovely running into you again, but I’m not interested in anything more than a friendship.”

  “So you’ve said. Though, I don’t quite understand, given that we’re both unattached, and you’ve admitted that you find me attractive. I promise you, I don’t get clingy.”

  Yeah, somehow I don’t quite believe that, but that’s neither here nor there.

  “I really am very flattered. But I have to say no, thank you.”

  “Your loss,” she says flatly.

  “Yes, I’m sure it is.”

  She fixes me with a sultry stare. “I give one hell of a blow job.”

  I nearly choke. What the fuck is going on?

  “It’s been a pleasure, Juliette,” I say stiffly, completely ignoring the comment, and hurrying over the small bridge and down the front path.

  What the hell just happened there? Since when do grown women start advertising their blowjob skills? Christ. I need a drink. And I need to get back to Paris.

  I manage to get to the train station five minutes before the next train, and I breath a sigh of relief once I’m seated and safely on my way out of Montargis. The further away I am from Juliette, the better.

  I pull out my phone and send Maddie a quick text.

  Lunch is over. Don’t worry. I won’t be seeing Juliette again any time soon.

  A few minutes later a text comes through.

  Okay. Sounds like there is a story there. Shopping with my mom. We are heading back to meet my dad soon. It’s been a good day.

  I guess I’ll have to give Maddie the whole story. I’m glad that she is enjoying her time with her family.

  I head back to my apartment, and think of Maddie with her family. In some weird, twisted way, I would actually like to meet her parents. Part morbid curiosity as to who raised Maddie, and part wanting to make Maddie happy. I’d left the possibility open, but I just didn’t know how we would arrange it without it seeming strange.

  Before I reach my apartment, my phone rings and it’s Maddie.

  “Hey,” I answer, cupping the phone to my ear.

  “Hi! I only have a minute to talk. My mom just ran into a store to buy something she saw earlier.”

  “Okay. I’m glad you are having fun.”

  “It’s been a great visit so far. I really wish that you would meet them though. I mentioned that you were one of my teachers and my mom recognized your name.”

  This surprises me. “Really?”

  “Yes. I guess she came across your name doing research on guitar composition and making a career out of it. She seemed very impressed.”

  “Well, that’s nice.”

  I can practically hear Maddie roll her eyes. “Yes, it is nice,” she repeats, “But I really think she would enjoy meeting you. And so would my dad. We could do breakfast tomorrow. You could come to the hotel.”

  “Maddie, I’d love to meet your parents… But breakfast at the Ritz seems a little fancy for meeting a professor.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It does sound too fancy… Maybe we can think of something else?”

  “Maybe. I’ll think too, okay?”

  “Okay.” She pauses. “It looks like she’s coming out of the store now, I have to go.”

  “Alright. Have fun. Text me if you have any other ideas.”

  I will.

  We hang up and I can still hear the disappointment in her voice. I hate letting her down. Maybe if she shares her plans for tomorrow and I can see if I’ll be in the same area. For now, I’m going to head home and try to forget all about my awkward, uncomfortable day with Juliette.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Madison

  I can’t manage to find a way for Luc to meet my parents without it seeming forced, so I let the idea go and come to terms with the fact that they won’t meet this time. I worry about what Luc said about the likelihood of us surviving as a couple in New York. I hadn’t given much thought as to what would happen when we returned to New York, but now that we only have four weeks left, it seems that point in time is racing towards us. Even then, I’ll only be returning to New York for one night before catching a flight back home to Nashville for winter break.

  Then what? I return to the city in January, and I graduate in May. As much as I love Nashville, I’ve never really thought that I would return to pursue a career. Nashville is a country music town through and through. If I had any chance of really making it composing and playing guitar, I needed to stay in New York.

  Thinking about all of this makes my head spin, and I try to focus on the last full day I have to spend with my parents. We spend most of Sunday sightseeing and eating so much my pants feel like they might burst. After a delicious dinner in Saint-Germain-des-Pres, we head back to my parents hotel room.

  I sprawl across the couch, rubbing my stomach. “I can’t believe how much I ate,” I groan.

  My mom laughs, holding her own belly. “Goodness, I know. I feel like I’ve gained ten pounds this weekend.”

  “This weekend,” I exclaim, “I feel like I gained ten pounds alone today!”

  My dad laughs deeply. “You girls need to learn how to eat!”

  I take a sip of water and look at my parents. “So, what are you two planning to do for Thanksgiving?” I feel guilty about not returning, but it would be such a long way to travel for such a short time. Then again, my parents just made the very long trip themselves for only a short weekend.

  My mom smiles, “You know, your daddy proposed to me on Thanksgiving.”

  “I think I knew that,” I say slowly. It sounds vaguely familiar, but I honestly can’t remember if I’ve heard the story.

  “Mhmm,” she says in a faraway voice. “On this beautiful farm where they used to do sleigh rides and had all of these beautifully decorated Christmas trees.”

  “Wow, that sounds really nice, Daddy. Good job.”

  He grins.

  My mother continues,
“It was very romantic.”

  “So, are you guys celebrating some kind of special engagement anniversary?” I ask, trying to count the years in my head. I know that I was a honeymoon baby and was born before my parents even celebrated their first anniversary.

  “No,” my mom smiles, sipping her drink, “We’re going to have Thanksgiving at our house and have our parents can come to us. It’s getting harder for them to cook big meals, so it will be nice for them to relax and just enjoy themselves.”

  “Yes, that will be nice,” I agree. “It’s going to be nice to come home for Christmas.” And I meant it. I missed my family, and I’ve always loved Nashville at Christmastime.

  “We’re going to be excited to have you home too,” my mom says. She frowns slightly. “No rush here, Maddie, but have you given any thought as to what you want to do after graduation?”

  I squirm on the couch, not really prepared to have this conversation now.

  “Umm, I’ve given it a little thought.”

  “Paige, don’t pester her about it now,” my dad scolds. He reaches over and takes my hand. “Honey, you still have six months until graduation. No one is asking you to make any decisions now.”

  My mom looks guilty.

  “No, it’s okay. I mean, I have thought about it a little bit. It’s just that, you know, Nashville is really the country music capital of the world. There’s not really much room for any other genres of music.”

  My dad nods knowingly.

  “I would probably have to stay in New York if I really wanted to pursue my music. You know, my music is more rock with a bit of a classical twist.”

  “Honey, we figured that Nashville wouldn’t be the place for you,” my mom cuts in. “I was just curious, really. I know that it would be hard for you to pursue your music in Nashville,” she blushes, “Not to mention that you would have to contend with me and your Daddy. We don’t want that either.”