‘I am so very concerned about you,’ Lily said.
Natalie’s bottom lip trembled. ‘I really am sorry for all the horrendous things I’ve done, Lil.’
Lily sensed Natalie’s genuine remorse and the anger she’d harboured started to fade—just a little. ‘What do we do now?’
Natalie lifted her shoulders. ‘Maybe I should finish telling you what happened and then…’ Her shoulders dropped. ‘Then when we’re ready we can move on to the more important stuff—us.’
Lily nodded.
‘So, aside from wanting to find out more about Picasso’s pictures, I wanted to find out if Cristian knew what had happened with his great-uncle.’
‘But no one really knows, right? Aren’t the waters of history muddy when it comes to Erik Cheverin? Not even our great-grandmother knew.’
‘I’m sure Cristian knows. He just didn’t want to tell me.’
‘Okay, say he had all the facts, why would he tell you if he’s only known you five minutes? And how did you end up getting arrested for stealing and harassment? He even mentioned blackmail.’
‘Blackmail?’ Natalie scoffed. ‘I’d like to see him try. Look, orchestrating a meeting with Cristian served multiple purposes.’ She used her fingers to count off each. ‘One, I could go the nice way and ask him to loan us the drawings so we could use them for the costume design. Two, while I had him on board, I could try to convince him to become a patron. Three, if he resisted in giving us the drawings then I would remind him that he is in possession of stolen property.’
‘How on earth did you come to that conclusion?’
‘Bohème is the grandchild of the Ballets Russes, is it not?’
‘Yes.’ Weirdly, her sister was starting to make sense.
‘So in theory, those Picasso drawings belong to Bohème.’
‘But Diaghilev is long gone, as is the Ballets Russes.’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘I’m on the side of fair. You can’t waltz into someone’s house under the pretence of a hot date and demand that he gives up a family heirloom.’
‘It’s not theirs.’ Natalie crossed her arms.
‘Fine, it’s not theirs, but I’m not sure if that’s the case legally. Surely there’s a statute of limitations or the like. Why did he say no to you borrowing them?’
‘Because by the time I asked him I’d already got him offside by quizzing—okay, harassing—him about Erik Cheverin.’
‘I’m figuring this was after…’ Lily cocked an eyebrow.
‘Of course it was. I thought afterwards he might be more likely to agree. Well, it doesn’t matter now,’ she said lightly but bitter disappointment was etched on her face. ‘I guess I’m not going to be working as a diplomat any day soon, huh?’
‘I still don’t get why he referred to blackmail,’ Lily ventured.
‘Oh, that.’ Natalie pursed her lips. ‘It was all a misunderstanding.’
‘Like?’
‘When he said no to giving me the drawings I may have mentioned something about using evidence from Viktoriya’s diaries to blacken his family’s name.’
‘Jeez, Nat.’
Her sister threw her arms wide. ‘I was desperate, okay? By that stage I knew I’d already shot myself in the foot.’ Bringing her hands to her face, Natalie cried. ‘I’ve made such a mess of things.’
Lily rested her hand on Natalie’s shoulder. ‘All you need to do is explain to the director why you left in such a hurry. I’m sure if they realise you were doing this for the good of the company they will cut you some slack and everything can return to normal.’
* * *
Yves opened the door to Bar du Sully and Lily stepped across the threshold into another world. Dark panelling adorned both sides of the long hallway and the magnificent parquetry floor reflected the art deco light fixtures. In the distance music played, the distinct notes of jazz growing louder as they progressed to the bar proper.
Chandeliers cast muted light around the space and to the left was a beautifully decorated bar with a rainbow of liquors on brightly lit shelves. On the stage nearby, a trio performed—a drummer, a cellist and a singer. The singer’s red sequin dress accentuated her every curve and her milky skin and dark hair gave her Hollywood starlet qualities. Patrons lounged on brocade chairs at candlelit tables, the men in formal suits and the women in evening dresses that barely concealed their cleavage.
Looking down at the hot pink number she wore, Lily was glad she’d packed at least one dress that made her presentable. Not that she’d envisioned her trip to Paris would result in entering a swanky establishment such as this. The only reason she had such an outfit was because her great-grandmother had instilled in her that a woman should always pack an evening dress ‘just in case’ and Lily had never gotten out of the habit. Thanks, great-grandma.
‘You look beautiful.’ Yves’s warm lips met her cheek. He surveyed the crowd and surreptitiously reached for her hand. The ease with which her fingers wrapped around his disconcerted her. Was she getting too comfortable with Yves? With Paris?
‘What is this place?’ she asked.
‘Another world.’ Yves waved at a waiter with slicked-back hair. He sported a thin moustache and could easily have passed as a young Clark Gable. The guy appeared familiar with Yves and showed them to an empty booth on the far side of the room where she slid onto the seat, took off her shawl and placed it with her bag in the corner. Yves moved close to the waiter and spoke to him in a quiet voice. The waiter gave a curt nod and flashed a wall of white teeth at her.
‘So…’ she said.
‘Ah, yes. It is best we get this out of the way. I am sorry that I did not return after I left your apartment last night but it was better for you and Natalie to talk, yes?’
‘True.’ Lily ran her hands over the smooth, shiny table. ‘Nat and I have a long way to go but at least we’re talking.’
‘I am very happy to hear this.’
‘I thought about calling you after she left but it was late and…’
‘And?’
‘And I don’t know, really. I guess I was a little afraid to talk to you after our conversation yesterday.’
‘About your fiancé?’
She nodded. ‘And I made an idiot of myself when I kissed you.’
Yves reached across the table and gently held her hands. ‘My dear Lily, you do not need to be concerned that things will be strange between us.’
The muscles in her back relaxed slightly and she squeezed his hands. The waiter appeared with a bowl of sugar cubes, two glasses of green liquid, some strange looking spoons and a small jug of water.
‘No way,’ she said. ‘Is that absinthe?’
‘If we are to immerse ourselves in the style of Bohemian Paris then yes, we should partake in the Green Fairy.’
‘Oh my God.’ She held up the oddly shaped glass.
‘That bit,’ he pointed to where the absinthe was, ‘is called the reservoir.’ Yves picked up the flat metal spoon with a series of swirls cut out of it. He pointed to a notch. ‘This is where it rests on the glass.’ He placed it over the top. ‘And you put a lump of sugar here.’ As he did so, Lily grew apprehensive. The only thing she knew about absinthe was it could cause wicked hallucinations. Given the current goings-on in her life, she much preferred to have her wits about her. ‘It will not make you crazy.’ He winked. ‘This is just a myth.’
In her head yet again. How the hell did he do that?
‘What about Vincent Van Gogh?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t he chop off his ear because he was hallucinating on absinthe?’
‘Time distorts the truth. Yes, he did have a problem with absinthe but it is not what made him crazy. Some people thought he had schizophrenia, syphilis, or he was bipolar…the list goes on. No one knows for sure what prompted Van Gogh to do what he did but I am sure it was not the absinthe.’
‘What about Vaslav Nijinsky? I’d heard that absinthe was what could have set off his illness.’
‘The rumour mills worked overtime, even back then,’ said Yves. ‘I doubt very much absinthe was to blame.’
She glanced around at the patrons, some slouched inelegantly on the padded armchairs, almost in a stupor. ‘Hasn’t it been banned in places?’
‘It has and it has also been reinstated as well. It’s the byproduct of wormwood in the drink that can cause hallucinations, but, my dear Lily, you would need to drink litres for it to have that effect and if you did that you would be dead!’
‘You’re not really selling this to me, I must say. I can’t think of one good reason why I should try it.’
‘Because life is an adventure.’ He gave an encouraging wink then poured the water gently over the sugar cube and it melted into the absinthe. The liquid turned a cloudy colour. ‘This is called louching. Louche is French for opaque.’
A strong aniseed scent tickled her nostrils then she noticed a floral hint.
‘It smells like spring.’ She waved her hand a few times over the top of the glass, enjoying the aroma.
‘It tastes like fuel.’ He winked and passed her the glass. Yves poured his own and held his glass high. They clinked and he said, ‘Here’s to adventure.’
‘Adventure.’ She took a tentative sip, letting the alcohol kiss her lips. It didn’t burn like she’d expected it to so she had another swig.
Her mouth caught fire.
‘Water,’ she rasped and grabbed the jug, not bothering with a glass. Sculling half, she finally set the jug down, her nostrils and head the clearest they’d been in years. ‘Good grief.’
‘This is the Belle Époque method—nice and smooth.’
‘That’s smooth?’
‘In the Bohemian days, they set fire to it.’
‘Before drinking it?’
Yves nodded. ‘They soaked the sugar cube in absinthe then placed it on the spoon. The fiery sugar cube melted into the absinthe and then the drink in the glass caught on fire.’
‘Is this what they did for entertainment a hundred years ago? It’s a wonder the human race survived.’
Yves laughed, the smile lines around his eyes highlighting his baby blues. It reassured her that, just like he’d said, she had nothing to be concerned about when it came to their relationship…friendship…whatever it was. ‘No, my lovely Lily, they poured a little water to extinguish the flames. The effect was a much stronger taste than what you have experienced.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ She held up the milky liquid again, examining it in great detail. ‘So it really was as popular as history leads us to believe?’
‘But of course. People like Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, Erik Satie and the great Pablo Picasso were all fans of this little fairy of green.’
She flinched upon hearing Picasso’s name, as it only reminded her of Natalie and the drawings. Natalie had gone in to see the director earlier that morning and Lily had waited all day to hear from her sister but she hadn’t returned any texts or calls and Penny hadn’t seen her either. Once again, Natalie had managed a disappearing act.
‘Stop thinking about her. She will contact you when she’s ready.’ Again with the mind reading.
The jazz band turned up the tempo and the room filled with music and a vibe she could only describe as fantastical. Glancing around the room, the décor and people reminiscent of Paris a century ago, Lily settled back against the comfortable upholstery, an air of calm descending upon her. She sipped the absinthe quietly, quickly adjusting to the potent mix, and studied the crowded dance floor where people dipped and swirled.
‘Would you like to dance?’
She shook her head vehemently. ‘I’m happy to watch.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure as sure.’ A shot of pain grabbed her lower back and she willed it away, still not knowing whether these episodes were physical or mental. Either way, she wasn’t dancing for anybody—ever. Those days were long gone. Forcing enthusiasm, she said, ‘How about another?’
‘You like it?’ He didn’t hide his surprise.
‘I don’t mind it.’ She grinned, a mellow feeling growing inside.
‘Two maximum for this evening, okay?’
She nodded while Yves waved at the waiter.
‘Thanks, Yves.’
‘For?’
‘For taking me out and helping me forget about the Natalie drama.’
‘It cannot be resolved this evening so let the hair down and enjoy, oui?’ He moved closer to her and his fingers gently fondled the strands of hair that had fallen from her up-do. The angst she’d been clinging to instantly eased.
Yves was right, damn it. She’d spent too much time stressing over things she couldn’t control. She deserved a night off.
The waiter arrived bearing another tray of absinthe paraphernalia. He set down fresh jugs, spoons and glasses and collected the old ones. He even flashed a knowing smile her way, as if to say ‘I knew you would like it’. She grinned back, a warm buzzy feeling enveloping her.
Yves went to prepare the drinks and she scooted forward on the chair. ‘May I?’
‘But of course!’ He leaned back and rested his hands behind his head as he sported a wide grin.
‘What?’ She gave a glare then set about following the order of preparation.
‘I love that you are willing to try something new.’
‘I’m not a stick in the mud.’ She carefully balanced a sugar cube on each of the spoons then gently poured the ice water over them. The bright green liquid in the glass fizzed then turned milky opaque like before. ‘Ta da!’
‘I believe you have become an expert in absinthe. What shall we drink to this time? Happiness? Fulfilment?’
‘Life.’
‘Life in general?’
‘Yes, to being alive and having the chance to enjoy the world in all its glory.’ Lily held her glass high and Yves clinked his against hers.
‘Chin chin.’ Yves put on his best English accent.
Lily burst out laughing. ‘Did you know chin chin is Japanese slang for penis?’
‘Ha!’ He slapped his hand on his knee then sipped the absinthe. ‘Do I want to know how you know this?’
She narrowed her eyes but kept her smile. ‘What are you saying, Mr Composer?’
‘Nothing! Nothing at all!’
‘Hmm.’ She let the absinthe sit on her lips for a moment before taking a bigger sip. The liquid slid down her throat and the temperature in her body rose a degree or two. In all her years dancing ballet, she’d rarely touched alcohol so it was nice to let its effect wash over her. Lily continued sipping the milky green concoction and wondered why it had earned the name of Green Fairy. As far as she was concerned, the only thing she focussed on was the handsome Frenchman sitting across from her. Funny to think she’d thought he was pursuing her in a park all those weeks…eight or so days ago. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzzy cloud surrounding her.
‘So how’s the inspirationist thing working for you?’ she asked then wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Way to spoil a pleasant evening, Johansson.
Yves choked on his drink and quickly put it down. Dabbing his mouth with a serviette, he took a while before replying. ‘Our side trip to Lille has delayed my progress.’
‘Sorry.’ Did the room just dip?
‘Why are you sorry? It is good being in your company. I may not be writing on paper but I am most certainly creating in my head.’
She had her own creations running through her head—of a naked Yves. Resting her elbow on the table, she leaned forward to put her chin in her palm but missed.
Crap.
She aimed for the target of her palm again.
Bullseye!
‘So I’m helping?’ The words sounded slower than normal. Why did her mouth feel like someone had shoved a handful of cotton balls in it? Grabbing a glass of water, she sculled it. Damn glass musht have a leak cos water dribbled down her shin…chin…goddamn it! What was wrong with her?
‘Let us ge
t you some fresh air, yes?’ Yves threw a handful of notes on the table and offered his hand. She tried to get up but her legs wouldn’t budge. Somehow they’d turned to lead.
Lily let out a snort, followed by a short burst of laughter then tears slid out the corners of her eyes.
‘What is so funny?’
‘What is so funny?’ she mimicked in a woeful French accent.
‘You are way too drunk. Come.’ Yves bent down and placed his hands under her armpits. He hoisted her up and she draped an arm around his very nice body.
‘I like you.’ She looked up and gave a lopsided grin.
‘And I like you, too.’
Lily’s body melded to his as he leaned down and picked up her coat and handbag. With a small shake of his head and an almost inaudible laugh, Yves guided her down the long hallway and out onto the street. The second her feet hit the pavement, a wall of cold crashed into her.
‘Whoa! Steady!’ Yves grabbed her and slid the coat on to her leaden body. He then drew her against him, holding her tightly.
Feeling his strength was…nice. Sexy…and those eyes. Oh those eyesh. And his lipsh. She just wanted to grab him behind the neck and yank him down so she could plant a big whopping kishhh…
‘Lily…’ Yves’s deep voice drew her back into the moment.
She blinked slowly, realising his face was only inches from hers and her hand was forcefully planted on the back of his neck.
‘Oh.’ She slowly let go and Yves straightened.
‘We need to get you home.’ Those gorgeous smile lines deepened around his eyes.
‘You wanna take advantage of me?’ she asked hopefully.
‘As pleasant as it would be, I am not that kind of man.’
‘But we’ve shlept together before.’
‘I am aware of this and I will not lie and say I would love nothing more than to do it again.’
‘So what’s shtopping you?’
‘I prefer my lovers to be sober.’
‘You mean you’ve been with more than one woman?’ She slapped her hand across her mouth and feigned surprise.
‘And I am sure you have been with more than one man.’
‘Hey…’
‘I don’t mean…’ He urged her forward a few steps, allowing her legs to get used to this strange sensation called walking. ‘You know I don’t mean to offend you.’
Beneath the Parisian Skies Page 23