Season Five: French Kissing, Book 5

by Harper Bliss

  “Are we out of a job?” Zoya asked, with a smile on her face.

  “This week’s all about being amongst the people for Dominique,” Claire said.

  “But she hasn’t given us the symbolic sack?” Zoya asked.

  “She can’t fire her fiancée’s PR firm,” Juliette said.

  “You should have seen Camille last night,” Zoya said. “She gave Dominique a standing ovation in our living room. And the things she shouted at the TV when Rivière was finally able to say something again.” She shrugged. “Pity I can’t vote.”

  “When’s Camille going to make an honest woman out of you?” Leah asked. She and Zoya had become quite chummy.

  “Last night she said we had to quickly marry this week, so that I could vote next Sunday.” Zoya chuckled.

  “Don’t marry for politics,” Juliette said.

  “Tell that to Camille.” Zoya smiled at them. “I’ve been in Paris a while now. I feel like she’s starting to take me for granted.”

  “I’ll give her a good old telling-off at Dominique’s victory party on Sunday,” Leah said.

  Claire and Juliette hushed her in unison. “Don’t jinx it by saying something like that. There’s still one entire week of campaigning left,” Juliette said. “It might not seem very long in the grand scheme of things, but anything can still happen.”

  Leah held a hand to her mouth in apology. “That’s the difference between working at Barbier & Cyr versus Johnson, I guess.”

  Juliette noticed how she eyed Claire from time to time.

  “Now that you’re both here, I’d like to announce that Claire’s leave of absence has ended,” Juliette said. “But, Leah, that doesn’t mean your job’s in danger. Just so we’re clear.”

  “I look forward to working with you, Leah,” Claire said.

  “Welcome back,” Zoya said. “We’ve missed you.”

  Ain’t that the truth, Juliette thought.

  Aurore

  “I won’t be doing any call-ins today.” Aurore was in the radio studio, which had become like a second home, a place where she felt at ease, even under the pressure of live radio. “Because I have a lot to say—and it will get political.” She had given Marc only a brief overview of what the show would sound like today, which didn’t mean Aurore had come to the studio under-prepared. On the contrary, she had a large stack of notes in front of her—but she didn’t want to show them to her producer beforehand.

  They’d worked together long enough for Marc to trust her. And he could be sure of high ratings tonight.

  “I’ve been a member of the Socialist Party since I was eighteen years old,” Aurore said into the microphone. “Tonight, I will explain why, after all these decades of being loyal to what I considered ‘my’ party, I will be voting for Dominique Laroche, the MLR candidate, next Sunday.” She caught Marc’s eye in the producer’s booth. He gave her a short but enthusiastic nod.

  “But first, let me talk about that video of me in my younger, more nimble years, that I’m sure most of you must have seen by now.” She gave a quick chuckle. “I sure hope you enjoyed it.” The show was called Sexualité Aujourd’hui, after all. “I enjoyed shooting it, all those years ago. But I won’t get too nostalgic for my younger years. What I will say is this: twenty-five years ago, when I agreed to act in a porn video, we lived in a different world. Mainstream porn wasn’t yet the biggest source of sexual education for most teenagers. For that reason, I’m actually glad my porn video is now getting so much renewed attention. It’s out there for everyone—young and old—to see. I’m glad, because it shows how things can be when you have sex. It’s by no means mainstream, and quite the opposite of hardcore, which is probably why no one ever cared one iota about it before the Socialists tweeted it.”

  Aurore could smile now when she spoke the words. “So go and watch it, I urge you. If only to see how different sex can be from what the porn of today would have you believe. I’ve always prided myself on being a good sexual educator and this video might as well be a part of my curriculum now. I’ve never deliberately hidden it, although I always believed that using it as an educational tool would be counter-productive, because of the connotations porn has. Simply saying the word has something illicit about it, don’t you think?”

  Aurore was used to talking into the microphone in a radio studio all by herself, but tonight, she found herself missing live feedback—she missed looking someone in the eye. Maybe she should go on the road again. Talk to teenagers and young adults around the country about this very thing.

  “I’ve said it before and I will say it again, I’m not ashamed of that video. Not even a tiny little bit. In fact, I’m proud of it. Yet…” Aurore had thought long and hard during several windy walks in the Bois de Boulogne, about whether she should say this on the air. “My friends, the Socialists, tried to shame me. And for what? For a little political gain? My friend, Anne Rivière, has known about this video for a long time. But because I’m in a relationship with Dominique Laroche’s chief of staff, she believed now would be a good time to use it against her opponent. Betraying me in the process.” Aurore paused for a moment to settle the words in her head.

  “As I said earlier, I honestly don’t care that the video is now getting more attention than it ever has. What I do care about is how someone whom I’ve known for a very long time, someone I called a friend, would deliberately draw attention to it because she believed it would gain her some votes. And I’m sure it will get her some votes, but at what cost?” Aurore didn’t suppress her sigh just because she was on the radio.

  “It definitely cost Anne Rivière her friendship with me. And why? Because in this day and age, we believe politics is inextricably linked with sex for some reason? Or is it because nearing the end of her first presidential campaign Anne Rivière has turned into a hypocrite?” The thought still stung and Aurore took a second to compose herself.

  “What hurts the most is that I believed in Anne Rivière as a candidate so very much. I felt privileged to know and advise her and I was over the moon when she decided to run. I believed she was exactly what this country needed—but now I’m not so sure anymore. Not only because Anne has shown her true colours—the kind that only come out when cornered—but even more so because what she has done stands in such stark contrast to what our sitting president stands for. Add to that Laroche’s magnificent performance at last Sunday’s debate, and my vote is secured. In case there are any doubts left, I will vote for Dominique Laroche on Sunday, and it will make me very proud to do so.” Aurore thought she hid the tremor in her voice well.

  Marc gave her a thumbs-up from the producer’s booth. Despite their conversations over the past few months, he wasn’t the kind of producer who only cared about ratings. They were friends and because of the nature of her show, they often discussed politics. He was a staunch Socialist, just like her—but perhaps not for much longer either.

  Anne Rivière was meant to save the Socialist Party from the ruins that Goffin had left it in, and she had certainly made a good start, but she had failed to finish. At least in Aurore’s eyes, even though she was, admittedly, rather biased.

  “We’ll see what Sunday brings,” Aurore said. “I’ll be back next week to share my thoughts on whoever won and the implications of the result.” A frisson of excitement ran through her. This time next week, the game would be over. The die would finally have been cast. “Thank you for listening. I’m Aurore Seauve and you’ve been listening to Sexualité Aujourd’hui.”

  Steph

  Steph woke with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t place. Aurore publicly coming out in favour of Dominique on her show the previous night, was a win. Aurore was revered in certain left-wing circles for her boldness. Her saying she would vote for Dominique was a big deal.

  “Hey,” Dominique whispered in her ear.

  When Steph removed her sleeping mask, she noticed Dominique was already fully dressed. Steph quickly removed her earplugs as well.


  “Morning, Madam President.” She might as well still say it while she still could.

  Dominique gently stroked her shoulder. “Don’t reach for your phone immediately, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s out. The story from five years ago about you visiting Le Noir. It’s all over the internet.”

  “Le Matin published it?” Claire had gotten the journalist’s word that they wouldn’t run the story.

  “No, Rivière’s spokesperson recorded a video and put it on YouTube.”

  “What?” Steph sat up.

  “They’re not even hiding that this is coming from them anymore,” Dominique said. “They’re not bothering with leaking it to the press. Because of what I said last Sunday, no doubt. No more hiding behind PR people—and supposed press leaks.”

  “Have they lost their minds?” Steph looked around for her phone. “What does it say?”

  “You don’t have to watch it, chérie.”

  “Oh, I most certainly do.”

  “How about I give you the gist of it instead?” Dominique insisted.

  Steph nodded. Dominique could tell her while she searched for the video.

  “It says that after I so readily admitted to leaking our wedding date, the public has a right to know who exactly their president is marrying.” Dominique’s voice was soft. “They’ve interviewed some people. One woman explains what Le Noir is. Another claims she had sex with you in the club.”

  “It has to be fabricated.” Steph found the video, but didn’t click play yet. “It’s a private members club. It’s standard practice to sign a non-disclosure agreement when you become a member. These people could get sued.”

  “Rivière’s people must have paid them handsomely then.” Dominique shrugged. “Whether the testimonies are true or false hardly matters at this point. It’s Friday morning and the election’s on Sunday. We can’t do much about it.”

  “I’m going to watch it.” Steph pressed play. She knew Rivière’s spokesperson, who didn’t bat an eyelid while debasing herself to bring this message ‘to the public’. Steph had no idea who the woman was who explained Le Noir—her name didn’t ring any bells. Next came the woman who claimed she’d had sex with Steph. Steph refused to feel anything close to mortification, but it was hard. She wasn’t ashamed of her past, but this wasn’t who she was anymore. And it hurt that she was being used to damage Dominique’s chances.

  “I don’t know who this is either,” she said, which didn’t mean that much because anonymous sex was perfectly possible at Le Noir.

  “It doesn’t matter, babe.” Dominique looked her in the eye. “This is not your fault. This is the vilest form of politics on display. This is exactly what I fumed against last Sunday.”

  “It must be in response to Aurore’s radio show. Every action has a reaction. There’s no such thing as a consequence without a cause.” She held Dominique’s gaze. “We started this. No, I started this because I came up with the idea of leaking our wedding date.”

  “Don’t,” Dominique said. “This is not your fault. Leaking our wedding date was our news to make public. Pointing the way to Aurore’s video and going through the trouble of producing this one about you is not Rivière’s news to impart on the world. It’s simply very basic mudslinging.”

  “It might be very effective mudslinging.”

  “It might also not be.”

  “What are you polling at?” Steph looked forward to starting a day without wondering about Dominique’s polling numbers.

  “Up a few points, but this video has only been out a few hours so we haven’t been able to measure its effects yet.”

  “I can’t publicly react to it.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to. Let’s just go about our day—and the rest of the campaign—and not mention it. As far as we’re concerned, this never happened.”

  “They must be feeling really cornered.” Steph was amazed at Dominique’s ability to shrug this off.

  “Of course they are. They had one last shot to fire—which I think will backfire.”

  Steph buried her face in her hands. “That our family has to be confronted with this.”

  “My family knows how politics works.” Dominique put a hand on her knee.

  “Lisa and Didier don’t.”

  “I’m sure Philippe will shield them from it.”

  “He can shield them all he wants but they still have to go to school and be with other children whose parents might not be so protective.”

  “We’ll talk to them, babe.” Dominique gave her knee a squeeze. “We’ll have to give them a lesson in dirty politics, but we can’t let this get to us. Not now. That’s what they want.”

  “To think I once had a lot of respect for Rivière as a candidate.”

  “Ironically,” Dominique painted on a wry smile, “if she’d had Barbier & Cyr as her PR agency, instead of that two-timing millennial running her campaign, she would have had a good chance of winning this election in a clean and satisfying manner.”

  Steph had to chuckle at Dominique’s statement. “This is your biggest strength.” She nodded. “Your ability to remain calm under all this pressure and madness.”

  Dominique winked at her. “You should probably call your mother, though.”

  “Yeah.” Steph knew her mother wouldn’t judge her—it wasn’t how she was raised. However, the people who were still deciding who to vote for, and had started leaning in Dominique’s direction, might judge her very harshly now.

  Claire

  Even after Claire had cast her vote, she was still fuming.

  “She needs to get her comeuppance,” she said to Margot as they walked home from the polling station. “That bloody Sybille. They have to lose.”

  “Babe.” Margot leaned into her. “At some point, you’re going to have let this go.” She grabbed her hand. “How about now? There’s absolutely nothing you can do.”

  “I’m nervous.” Claire sighed. “If Dominique doesn’t win, I will feel partially responsible because I sidelined myself.”

  “I have no doubt that Dominique will win.” Margot’s voice was unwavering.

  “How can you be so sure?” Claire admired her wife for her lack of nerves. But Margot was trained not to display any trepidation—a trembling hand couldn’t hold a surgeon’s scalpel.

  “Because I believe in people and I believe they will vote for the right person.”

  How naive, Claire thought. But she didn’t want to get into a discussion about how things had changed since the last presidential election. She herself was the biggest proof of that. There was a restlessness beneath the surface of some people that spurred them on to make the worst decisions—only to regret them after. She had been one such person. She, too, had been looking for some light relief. For something that felt like an easy way out. The sort of simplistic solution that only radical change could offer, or so she had believed.

  “If Rivière wins, that’s one thing,” Claire said. “But what if she hires Sybille to work on her staff? What if Rivière leaves her husband and starts a relationship with that conniving salope who has not a scrap of a conscience?”

  “Rivière’s a big girl. She’ll come to her senses after this is all over. You know better than anyone that an election campaign is like a pressure cooker.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if Dominique doesn’t win.”

  “Don’t worry,” Margot said, her voice still as steady. “I’ll deal with you.”

  At least, Claire thought, she had her wife back. Margot de Hay in her full glory.

  “Remember what we talked about a while ago?” Now was as good a time as any to broach the subject—and Claire was desperate to talk about something else other than the election. “About that trip to Korea.” She turned to look at Margot.

  “We were going to go after the election,” Margot said matter-of-factly.

  “Tomorrow is the day after the election.”

  “But Juliette is in dire need of a b
reak,” Margot said. “And you’ve just had the longest holiday of your life.”

  “What about you?” Claire wasn’t going to be standing in the way of Margot’s wishes again.

  “I guess that me not taking any time off during your leave of absence says it all,” Margot said.

  “You’re a hard one to drag out of a hospital, that’s for sure.” They’d reached the corner of their street.

  “I’m not saying that work is the antidote to grief, but it helped me. Being useful. Making people better. Knowing that I play a part in a patient’s healing process, even though my parents died.” Margot held on to Claire’s hand a little tighter. “I no longer feel as though it’s my fault that they died. That I should have done more. That I somehow should have seen it coming because I’m a doctor.”

  Claire let go of Margot’s hand and curled her arm all the way around her waist.

  “How about we take up the conversation about a trip to Korea in a few months?”

  Margot nodded. “It’s also my life with you that has helped me get over my grief.”

  “That’s what spouses are for.”

  “Especially the ones who attract all the drama.” Margot drew her lips into a smile. “You’re a drama queen, Claire Cyr. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.”

  “And you love it.” Claire pulled Margot closer to her. “Don’t you ever try denying it.”

  “Correction.” Margot brought her face close to Claire’s. “I love you, despite all your drama.”

  Claire kissed Margot on the lips.

  “Shall we go see who Nadia and Juliette voted for?” Margot asked when they broke from their kiss.

  Margot

  “This is unbearable,” Juliette said.

  Margot looked at her. At first glance, as a doctor, she would prescribe a host of stress-reducing activities. She hoped Juliette would really take that leave of absence—starting tomorrow.