by Harper Bliss
“A politician through and through.” Juliette sat shaking her head. “It explains a lot.”
“What do you mean?” Steph asked.
“Open your eyes, Steph. She must have known much longer than she let on. She has planned this and she wants to use this to her full advantage.”
“How can she have planned her husband’s affair?” Steph’s voice shot up.
Claire was with Juliette on this one. She’d been in this business long enough. “She didn’t plot that. She’s just making sure she’s turning this setback into an advantage. We all know her story. Old money. Lots of it. Her father a confidant of Chirac. Conservative wing of the MRL. Model husband on her arm. Two adorable children who photograph exceptionally well. The Socialists are not doing well and MRL is expected to win the next election. Laroche is their poster child.”
“The woman sitting in my sofa last night was not a calculated ambitious bitch with a hidden agenda—”
“Your sofa?” Claire gripped the edge of her desk tightly between her fingers. “What was she doing in your sofa?”
“Telling me about this. She asked for a discreet place to meet.”
“And you chose your flat?”
“Well, yes—”
“Be careful, Steph. She’s a client first, a smart one who knows exactly what she wants, not your friend.”
Steph bit her lower lip but didn’t reply, just nodded.
“Is there anything else we should know?” Juliette asked.
“No.” Steph met Juliette’s eyes defiantly. Maybe she was fooling her, but she wasn’t fooling Claire.
“My day is packed absolutely full. Can we have a strategy meeting about this tonight?” Her heart sank while she made the proposition.
“No way.” Juliette rose from her chair and hovered over Claire’s desk. “No politician’s crumbling marriage is going to keep you from that date tonight.”
“Date?” Steph whistled through her teeth. “A real date? You?” She arched up her eyebrows. “With who?”
“The hot doc,” Juliette said, as if Claire wasn’t even in the room.
“Oh.”
Claire would have told Steph in person, if only she’d been given the chance.
“Cancel something else. If I work late tonight, I won’t be able to see Nadia.” Juliette’s tone was firm. “We really have to start paying more attention to a better work-life balance.”
Now it was Claire’s turn to paint a quizzical expression on her face. Nevertheless, she was loathe to postpone her date, especially because Margot would be working all weekend. “Fine. I’ll arrange it. Fred will let you know.”
“Your new assistant started yesterday, by the way, Jules,” Steph said.
Claire didn’t understand the grin accompanying that statement.
“Oh shoot. I forgot about Sybille.”
“Don’t worry, I took good care of her.” Steph rose from her chair and elbowed Juliette in the bicep. “Let me know when the strategy meeting is scheduled.” She exited Claire’s office, always the place where they touched base first thing in the morning, and let the door fall shut behind her.
“What was that all about?” Claire asked.
“Search me.” Juliette headed for the door.
Why did Claire feel as if everyone was hiding something from her? Having enough on her plate already, she decided to drop it. “I take it your home-cooked meal was a success?”
“Let’s just say it didn’t involve eating a lot of the meat I prepared.” The smile on Juliette’s face beamed.
“I’m happy for you, Jules.”
* * *
Claire adjusted her hair in the reflecting window of the bar. She’d wanted to stop at home for a quick shower after a work, but she would never have made it to Saint-Germain-des-Prés on time if she had. And she had an inkling Margot would not be fond of a date arriving late.
The bar was small, even by Parisian standards, but, unlike most cafés in this city, the few tables inside were spaced out enough to allow for a little intimacy without the people perched around the next table being able to hear what you were saying—or what your chat-up line was.
Excellent choice.
Margot occupied a corner table next to the counter, an open bottle of white wine and two empty glasses in front of her. Would the doctor be consuming copious amounts of alcohol tonight? She rose when she spotted Claire. She’d dressed down in jeans and a light-pink blouse tucked tightly into the waistband of her trousers, open at the throat and bringing out the ochre of her skin. Without her leathers, she looked more petite, perhaps even a bit less intimidating, but still very much intriguing.
“Ça va?” She smelled of honey and flowers when she pecked Claire briefly on the cheek.
“You look relaxed.” Claire felt a bit overdressed in her stiff business suit.
“Day off.” She grabbed the bottle of wine and presented it to Claire so she could read the label. “Is white okay?”
“Perfect.” Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if women her age actually went on dates.
“Nadia and Juliette are talking again,” Margot said after she’d poured them both a glass.
“Do you think they’ll be all right?” Claire sipped from the wine. A bit too fruity to her taste, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.
“I honestly have no idea, but at least they made a start.”
Talking about mutual friends was a great way to break the ice, but Claire had had enough of her friends’ dramas. She wanted to talk about Margot, get to know her better. She stared at the doctor a bit too long, lost in thoughts of how to start the real conversation between them.
“What?” A small smile played on Margot’s lips.
“I was just wondering if you were born here.”
“Might as well get that out of the way.” The smile didn’t fade from Margot’s lips. She seemed in an agreeable mood, much more so than the first time they’d met. “My sister and I were both born in Korea. We were adopted as babies. I’ve lived in Paris all my life.”
“Concise and precise.” Claire sipped from her wine again before meeting Margot’s ink-black eyes.
“It’s the training.” Margot shrugged. “How about you?”
“Born and bred in—” The loud beeping of Margot’s phone, shamelessly deposited next to the bottle of wine on the table, interrupted Claire.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” Margot had already answered the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Oui, oui,” she said a few times, followed by the dreaded words, “I’ll be right there.”
“Work?” Claire asked when Margot rang off.
“Worse.” Margot sighed. “My mother.”
“Oh.” Claire waited for an explanation.
“My parents are not so young anymore. Apparently my dad took a nasty fall. I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I have to go.”
“Gosh, I hope he’s all right.” Claire tried to hide the disappointment coursing through her. They’d barely had five minutes.
“That’s what I need to find out.” Margot’s forehead wrinkled with worry. “I will make this up to you.”
“But not this weekend.”
“I’m sorry.” Margot reached into her bag and dug up her wallet.
“It’s fine. I’ll get it.” Claire waved away the twenty euro note she wanted to leave on the table. “You can buy next time.”
“Deal.” Margot rose and plucked a brown leather jacket from the back of her chair. “I’ll call you.” She quickly planted a clumsy kiss on Claire’s cheek and strutted out of the bar.
Claire fully understood why the sexy surgeon was single. She also wondered if Jennifer was still in town.
STEPH
Steph had no idea what she was doing in this luxurious apartment on Avenue Foch on a Sunday afternoon. Barbier & Cyr paid her to advise Dominique Laroche on public relations affairs and to come up with the best strategy to preserve her image for the coming ele
ctions, but frankly, she had a hangover, and the phone number of a desirable woman she met last night burning a hole in her pocket.
“I have a few other secrets, I guess.” Dominique leaned against the marble mantle. “This place, for example. I inherited it from my grandfather when he passed away ten years ago.” A coy smile split her lips. “His mistress lived here before he got too old to satisfy most of her needs and she left him.” Steph scanned the living room. It was decorated in the colours of bourgeoisie, salmon pink and broken white and lots of flower patterns. “Being his only grandchild had its advantages.”
Steph didn’t know if she was expected to contribute to the conversation or if this was a monologue, and if it was, what the point of it was.
Dominique crossed to a cabinet in the corner of the room and lowered the front panel. A vast collection of hard liquor appeared. Steph’s stomach protested at the mere sight of it.
“Would you like a drink?”
Steph was well aware that the fee Barbier & Cyr charged the politician included politeness at all times, so she nodded, a queasy feeling rising in her gut. She watched Dominique pour two whiskies with a steady hand.
When she handed Steph the glass, she remained in her personal space a fraction too long. “I thought this would be a better place to meet than your studio, no offence.”
“None taken.” Steph pretended to sip the liquor but just the smell of it was enough to make her knees go weak. “Nice place.” She shuffled in her seat before continuing. “You know I’m at your disposal at, huh, most times, but I have a family dinner on the other side of town I need to get to in an hour.” She looked at her watch ostentatiously.
“Not a hot date then?” Dominique sat down next to her. “I asked around about you. After you dug up that intel on Murielle, I was intrigued. You have quite the studly reputation.”
Steph tilted her head and her face broke out into a smile, as if she couldn’t help herself. “All lies.”
“I’m sure.” Dominique nodded with pursed lips. “Philippe is introducing the children to Angelique this afternoon. Not as his girlfriend just yet, but he’s taken them to some open house thing in Neuilly his firm has organised. She’ll be there. At least he had the courtesy to tell me beforehand.”
“I’m sorry. It must be difficult.” Steph was convinced Claire and Juliette had Dominique all wrong. She wasn’t naive when it came to human nature, but she saw the pain on Dominique’s face, the loneliness in her eyes.
“The only thing that makes me feel marginally better about this ordeal is talking to you.” She gave a small chuckle. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“PR is more psychology than anything else.” Steph deposited her glass on the coffee table, tired of the smell in her nose. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“It means a lot.” She drank again. “We’ve decided I shouldn’t postpone telling my father about the divorce. I’m seeing him later tonight.”
“The mighty Xavier Laroche. I imagine you’re not looking forward to that.” Maybe this was all going over Steph’s head a bit.
“Just going through the motions. I can easily predict what he’s going to say and suggest. It’s not that I disagree, it’s more that I feel as if my life is being lived for me. That everything is planned and I just have to show up.”
Steph reached for her glass and took a big gulp. “I can stay a while longer.” The whiskey burned its way down her throat.
“Do you know what I would want to do if I really had the choice. If I didn’t have an entire nation watching my every move and an entire Socialist party—and half of my own party—waiting for me to screw up?”
Amused, Steph shook her head.
“I’d want you to take me to the biggest lesbian club in Paris. I’d dance the night away, and wait for you to take me home when I was all partied out.”
Steph was grateful she hadn’t just taken a sip of her drink, or every last drop would have landed on the expensive rug below their feet. She wondered how much Dominique had drunk before she arrived. “We have booze.” She fished inside her jeans pocket for her phone. “And we have this. We can have our own private party right here.” But not the kind you have in mind.
Dominique stared at Steph’s phone with wide eyes.
“It plays music, you know. What do you like?”
“Anything they play at the clubs these days.”
“Really?” It was Steph’s turn to look surprised.
“I honestly don’t care. Just put on something. I’ll pour us some more whiskey.”
Steph opened the Spotify app and searched for an eighties playlist. She wasn’t going to subject Dominique to the beats she danced to at Les Pêches. It wouldn’t work in a place like this.
She watched Dominique as she returned with the bottle of booze. She was definitely good-looking, which played a large part in her popularity, with piercing green eyes and long salt-and-pepper hair, but she was hardly the type Steph would go for. Let alone the fact that she’d surely get fired for even thinking about it. So what on earth was she doing?
“One hell of a party.” Dominique raised her glass. “To the men ruining my life.”
So that’s what it’s all about. Steph relaxed a bit. She could deal with that.
“Don’t you have a family dinner to go to?” Dominique asked as she added more whiskey to Steph’s glass.
“Don’t you have to go see daddy?” It sometimes slipped her mind that she was sitting opposite the rising star of the MRL. The circumstances didn’t exactly enhance a professional atmosphere either.
To Steph’s relief, Dominique burst out laughing. Big gurgles of laughter bubbling up from her belly, creasing the skin around her eyes and mouth. She looked relaxed, maybe even obliviously happy for a split second. She raised her glass. “To you and me, Stéphanie. We’ll show them.”
NADIA
“I wasn’t expecting you here tonight,” Margot said as soon as Nadia entered the living room of Margot’s flat.
It was eleven p.m. on a Sunday night and she’d wanted to stay at her and Juliette’s place but, just because their physical relationship had magically reignited again, she didn’t want to give the wrong impression that all their problems had been solved because of it.
“You’re probably not the only one.” She heeled off her shoes and sank down into what had become her spot in Margot’s sofa. “The look on Juliette’s face when I told her I wasn’t staying… that lopsided curve in her upper lip, it starts quivering a bit when she’s upset but she doesn’t want to say.” Nadia sighed. “It would be so easy to just go back, but I didn’t move out for nothing. If I go back now, the next time I leave, it may be for good.”
“Baby steps.” Margot was her usual talkative self. Truth be told, the fact that she never said more words than strictly necessary was one of the main reasons why Nadia enjoyed her company so much.
Nadia nodded. “Rough shift?”
“Nothing too unusual, but knackering as always.” Margot looked exhausted. Strands of hair had come loose from her usually tight ponytail and dark circles gleamed underneath her eyes.
It hit Nadia that she’d left the hospital on Friday before Margot had arrived and hadn’t had an opportunity to ask. “Hey, how was your date?”
Margot expelled a puff of heavy air while shaking her head. “I’m afraid I screwed it up.”
“Why?”
“We’d barely sat down when my mother called. My father fell down in the shower and since his surgery we’re always worried about his hip, so I rushed home, leaving Claire with a full bottle of wine.” She leaned back in the sofa, intertwining her fingers behind her head.
“And?”
“And… my father barely had a scratch and a promising date was ruined.”
“I’m sure Claire understands. Have you spoken to her since?”
“I texted her on Friday to let her know dad was all right and we exchanged a few messages over the weekend. I—I, huh, I don’t know.”
&nb
sp; “Tell me.” Nadia knew Margot well enough to know she wouldn’t be stuttering if she didn’t really like Claire.
“Well, I’m hardly ideal dating material, am I? At least one weekend shift a month, on call for another weekend, which seriously limits the activities I can engage in. Irregular shifts during the week. Plus, I’m not sure it’s all worth it in the end.”
Nadia also knew fear when she saw it. “What happened with Inez was not your fault. She left.”
“She chose the job over me. It’s what we do.”
“Either way, if that’s what you’re worried about, Claire should be a good fit. She works just as many hours as Juliette. She has unexpected meetings and drinks in the evenings, not even mentioning client emergencies. Trust me, she understands, or at least she should.”
Nadia fully understood the irony of the situation. She was telling the woman she was temporarily staying with because, amongst other things, her partner worked too hard, to take a chance on a woman who was exactly like Juliette—probably even worse, since Claire hadn’t had a real relationship in a very long time. Still, she didn’t stop. Nadia could picture them together. Maybe she was the only one, but she could.
“You have tomorrow off. Invite her to lunch. Take her to dinner. Don’t just sit here and assume it’s over before it has even begun.” She stood up and picked up Margot’s phone from the coffee table. “In fact, call her now. Claire Cyr does not go to bed before midnight ever, except when she gets a better offer, if you know what I mean.” Nadia winked at Margot. She was getting a bit caught up in the excitement of their early courtship, something she herself hadn’t experienced in ten years.
She searched for Claire’s number, dialled it and handed the phone to Margot, leaving her no choice.