by Alex Marcoux
“The pleasure is mine.” Jessie found it odd that Neil, like Clark, had turned his back on his companion, giving Brennan his undivided attention.
Clark, Neil, and Brennan had been speaking about five minutes when Jessie became aware of Neil’s eyes on her. She resisted showing her unease.
It was Neil who broached subject. “Brennan, have we met before?”
Jessie’s heart skipped and she shook her head. “I don’t believe so, Neil.”
“Maybe you just remind me of someone I once knew.” There was a flicker of dissonance in his eyes.
In Jessie’s peripheral vision, she glimpsed a long, black, shapely gown. Without giving it any thought, Jessie turned to admire the fleeting woman, only to see her backside, and long dark hair braided in a chignon.
Neil and Clark noticed Brennan’s gaze. “Have you met her?” Neil asked.
Jessie’s skin heated from embarrassment. She realized that she must have looked like a teenage boy in heat, and didn’t know what to say.
“Have you met Rachel Addison? She works for me,” Neil continued.
Rachel? Jessie’s heartbeat quickened. She had never expected to see her, and she didn’t want to surprise her, after all, it could blow her cover. “Excuse me,” Jessie said seriously. “I didn’t mean to seem disrespectful.”
“Disrespectful?” Clark eyed Michelle chatting with Neil’s wife. In a low tone, “Rachel’s the most beautiful woman in the hotel.”
“Here she comes. I’ll be happy to introduce you.” Neil turned away from the group and gestured to Rachel.
Rachel in everyday attire looked beautiful, but tonight, she was absolutely stunning. Her gown draped from one shoulder, baring the other, while side slits revealed just the right portion of thigh.
Jessie didn’t know what to do. She turned away from the advancing Rachel.
“Rachel, I’d like to introduce you to some people. This is my very good friend from The Empire, Clark Coburn.”
“Clark, it’s a pleasure,” she said.
Neil continued, “And this is his upcoming star reporter, Brennan Keller.”
Rachel’s eyes peered into Jessie’s. There was the slightest falter before Rachel offered to shake Brennan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brennan,” she said, her eyes not leaving Brennan’s.
People were starting to sit for dinner, and Neil suggested that they get a table. “Why don’t we take the table in the corner?” He pointed to a table away from where musician’s equipment had been set up. “Rachel and Brennan, why don’t you join us?”
“Excellent idea,” Clark said.
The round tables had place settings for six. It was Jessie who objected. “I’m sure Ms. Addison has an escort. I would be happy to find another table.”
Rachel, still digesting Jessie’s appearance, remained uncomfortably quiet.
Neil was direct, “Rachel, is Stanley here tonight?’”
“He’s out of the country. There’s enough room, Mr. Keller.” Rachel’s seemingly cold eyes bore into Jessie. “If you would excuse me, though, I would like a drink.” She headed away from the small group leaving Brennan watching her backside.
Neil laughed. “She must like you, Brennan.”
* * *
Brennan Keller’s presence at the BCA event threw Rachel. It had been only the past two years that she had been deemed worthy enough to earn an invitation herself, and only recently felt welcomed by the old-boy network. But somehow, Brennan Keller managed to stroll into the business and get an invitation to the most exclusive, event of the year. Consequently, Brennan’s attendance undermined her feeling of accomplishment.
To Jessie the dinner was awkward and uncomfortable. On her left was Michelle, Clark’s chatty wife, and Rachel was on her right. Rachel snubbed Brennan most of the evening.
Over dessert, a band started performing and Rachel broke her silence. “So…Brennan…was that your name? Brennan?”
Jessie was getting the feeling that Rachel enjoyed this way too much. “Yes. Brennan Keller.”
“You’re a reporter for The Empire?”
“Yes.” Jessie sipped her Cabernet. She noticed that Neil was eavesdropping on their conversation. “I’ve been there since July. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I read that you will be taking over an anchor spot next season.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, I just love to dance,” Michelle’s voice escalated over their conversation. The comment was clearly directed toward Brennan.
Jessie glanced at Clark and was surprised when he made eye contact and cocked his head toward the dance floor. Clark remained sitting with his arms folded.
Does he want me to dance with his wife? Brennan flashed a questioning look.
As if reading Brennan’s mind, Clark directed his vision on Michelle, then back to Brennan. He nodded at Brennan.
Jessie reluctantly took Clark’s cue. She turned to Rachel, who had been witnessing the eye exchange. “Excuse me.” To Michelle, “Would you like to dance?”
Brennan led Michelle to the dance floor. They danced three songs and returned to the table when the music slowed, and Brennan continued idle chitchat with Rachel.
After one song, Michelle voiced her opinion, “Oh, I just love to slow dance.”
This time, Jessie didn’t dare look at Clark, for fear that she would be asked to slow dance with his wife. Instead, Jessie turned to Rachel. “Would you like to dance?”
To Jessie, Rachel’s pause felt like an eternity rather than the few seconds of hesitation. Then Rachel nodded, Brennan took her hand and led her to the dance floor.
Once among the other couples, Jessie pulled her so that they were only inches apart. “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Jessie whispered in her ear. “I didn’t want to slow dance with Michelle.”
“You afraid she’s going to feel you up?” Rachel’s voice had a detached ring to it.
Yeah. Actually I am, Jessie thought. “This is a bit awkward tonight. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Rachel backed away from Jessie and their eyes met. “Very awkward!”
Jessie noticed that at the far corner of the room Neil’s and Clark’s eyes were glued on them. “Can we have a truce? It’s obvious that my presence has upset you. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. It just slipped my mind that you might be here.”
Rachel didn’t respond and danced rigidly.
“Can you relax? You’re stiff as a board.” Rachel’s arm braced Jessie, placing Brennan at a distance.
“Am I?” Rachel slowed to almost a stop.
It was just a whisper. “Please don’t blow my cover.”
As if there was a ceasefire, Rachel’s arm journeyed up to Jessie’s shoulder, closing the gap between them.
“Thank you,” Jessie whispered. The couple continued to slow dance. “So your boyfriend…is out of the country? I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone.”
“I have for the last couple of months.”
“Can I ask who it is?”
“Stanley Chancellor.”
“From the Fed?” Jessie knew Stanley worked for the Federal Reserve. “Isn’t he a member of the Trilateral Commission?”
“Yes.” Rachel said.
Jessie introduced more space between them so she could better see Rachel’s eyes. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Rachel nodded. “Yes.”
Instinctively, Jessie squeezed Rachel’s hand, and pulled her closer. Her lips brushed against the loose strands of hair. “Be careful,” she whispered in her ear.
Rachel’s demeanor softened a bit, and she changed the subject. “Are you still going to Europe for Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. I can’t wait to see Taylor. I leave on Tuesday.”
Rachel saw how Jessie’s eyes lit up when she spoke of Taylor. “I hope you have a good trip. Any news from the lodge?”
“I went through the seventeenth degree last weekend,” Jessie twirled Rachel around. “One of the sacred names used during the lecture was Abad
don.”
“Abaddon? What does that mean?”
“The devil,” Jessie answered as the song came to an end.
Chapter Seventeen
Jessie had longed for this day for such a long time. At noon on Tuesday, she left The Empire and headed to the Catskills. When she arrived she found three boxes by the front door of the cabin. She quickly lugged the packages inside and opened them. They contained women’s clothing, shoes, and cosmetics.
After a quick shower, Jessie dressed in woman’s clothing for the first time since she could remember. Her makeup application felt foreign to her. She squeezed the gel in her hand, massaged it into her short hair, then quickly blew it dry. She backed away from the mirror so that she could take in her appearance. It surprised her that her hair actually looked stylish. It had nothing to do with her hair. She could have been bald, she decided. She was just delighted to be herself.
Jessie bolted out of the house with a small bag. She hopped in the Mustang and drove to Syracuse Airport. There, she caught a flight to Boston. In Boston she connected to Brussels and in Brussels she took a plane to Nice. She was so exhausted on the last leg of her journey that she fell asleep, only to be awakened by the jet wheels screeching to a stop at 11:30 the following morning.
Jessie waited for the other travelers to disembark before she retrieved her carry-on bag and moved to the exit. As she followed the signs to the baggage claim she realized that she was dawdling. Why? She was nervous. She hadn’t seen Taylor in seven months, and she had missed her so much. What if Taylor wasn’t looking forward to this visit as much as she was? What if she hated her hair? After dressing like a man for so long, she felt unattractive. She had never felt so insecure in their relationship before.
As Jessie entered the baggage area, she searched the unfamiliar faces, but she didn’t see Taylor so she proceeded to the carousel. She didn’t get very far before she stopped. She hadn’t seen Taylor, or heard her, but something made her glance behind. That’s when she saw Taylor’s familiar back, her long dark hair, but she was waiting at the wrong carousel. Jessie paused about 30 feet from her, admiring her backside.
It didn’t take Taylor long to feel Jessie’s eyes upon her. For no logical reason, Taylor turned, catching sight of Jessie. She smiled, ran to Jessie and flung herself into Jessie’s open arms. All of Jessie’s nagging concerns had been answered.
Taylor drove from the airport. She picked up the motorway, exited past Monaco, and followed signs to Eze-Le Col. Eze, a 1,000-year-old medieval village, sits 1,300 feet above the Mediterranean Sea. From its central square, Taylor turned onto a small winding road. The sporty Mercedes convertible hugged the twisting roads that led up the mountain until they could go no further. A valet took the keys from Taylor and removed Jessie’s bag from the trunk, leaving the women to hike the remaining distance to the Chateau Eza.
Jessie resisted taking Taylor’s hand as the couple ascended the cobblestone passageways, passing cave-like restaurants and boutiques. The ancient castle, now an exclusive ten-room hotel, clung to the cliff’s rock walls. At the path’s summit, the ancient stone pathway forked. Taylor’s hand slipped into Jessie’s and she led her down a stone walkway to the room’s private entrance.
Moments later, Jessie was taking in the view of the Mediterranean Sea from their private balcony. She marveled at the postcard-like surroundings of the blue sea and nearby mountainous cliffs. “It’s absolutely beautiful.” Jessie felt Taylor’s arms wrap around her waist from behind, and her chin rest on Jessie’s shoulder. Jessie closed her eyes, welcoming the safe feeling.
“It is,” Taylor whispered.
Jessie turned to meet Taylor’s familiar eyes. Their lips met and they kissed. When they parted Jessie whispered, “God, I’ve missed you.”
Taylor smiled. “I’ve missed you, too.” Her hand moved to Jessie’s hair. She pulled it and smiled. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Jessie had been so anxious about their meeting—it slipped her mind. “Well, you see there was this drag contest and…let’s just say I didn’t want to lose. You hate it?”
Taylor backed away to study it. “No…I don’t hate it. It’s just going to take a little getting used to.”
“Do I look too butch?” Jessie smiled.
Taylor laughed. “You could never look butch.”
Jessie laughed out loud. If she only knew.
“You must be exhausted. We have dinner reservations at eight. Do you want to take a nap?”
“Eventually.” Jessie stepped closer to Taylor. “But first,” she kissed her forehead. “I want to take a shower. Then I want to hold you,” her lips moved to Taylor’s lips, “and love you,” she nibbled Taylor’s neck, “and please you.” Jessie’s eyes returned to Taylor’s. With her index finger, she slowly traced Taylor’s seductive lips, and when she came to a complete circle, her mouth found Taylor’s. “And then I want to rest my head on your shoulder,” Jessie wrapped her arms around her, “listen to your heartbeat, and fall asleep in your arms.”
* * *
Even without a nap, Jessie felt like a new person by dinner. The couple strolled to the hotel’s restaurant, Gastronomic. They were seated on a romantic balcony, overlooking the spectacular French Riviera. Each table was dressed with white lace tablecloths and lighted candles that gently flickered in the Mediterranean breeze. The ambiance was delightful, consistent with their romantic afternoon.
It was Taylor who changed the mood as they sipped wine before their entrees were served. “Jess? Why don’t you stay with me the rest of the tour? Or at least through New Year’s?”
Jessie had feared the subject would come up. “There’s nothing more that I’d rather do. But I can’t.”
“What are you working on that’s so important? Or, do you have a new romantic interest in New York?” Although Taylor smiled, there was seriousness in her eyes.
“Taylor, I assure you, my only romantic interest is right here.” She reached for her hand. “I’m working on a conspiracy novel, and I’m using my brother’s life as the impetus for the story.”
“What do you mean?”
Jessie paused, deciding what she could tell her lover. “Remember how I wrote Deceptions, and years later the story became our reality?”
“How can I forget?” It was only the year before that Taylor had gone back to Salem.
“Before Steve died, I was working on a story about conspiracy theories.”
Taylor recalled the night that Jessie had had the nightmare. Jessie had told her about the projects she was working on, but she couldn’t remember the details.
“I was writing a story about a woman—a TV news reporter—who is attempting to uncover that the world is ruled by a few powerful people.”
“Jess, what’s this got to do with Steve?”
“Taylor,” it was more like a whisper. “You can’t repeat any of this to anyone.”
Taylor saw something in Jessie’s eyes. “You’re scaring me, Jess. What the hell is going on?”
“Steve didn’t commit suicide. He was involved in a secret men’s group. He suspected that the senior hierarchy of this organization was involved in a globalist agenda and controlled the world. He had started his own investigation and then he was murdered. The authorities don’t seem to give a damn. So, I’ve been attempting to piece together what happened to him. And I’m using his story as the basis of my new project.”
“My God, Jessie! This sounds dangerous.”
“I’m taking every precaution. But I have appointments lined up in December and January. I just can’t stop right now. I need to finish this. Taylor…this is important.”
Taylor was quiet. Something troubled her but she couldn’t put her finger on it. But what could she say? She just stared back at Jessie. “Jess, I don’t have a good feeling about this… at all. Please…don’t go back to New York.”
“I’m sorry, Taylor. I have to.”
“You think the story you were working on before Steve died was precog
nitive, don’t you?”
“I don’t think it’s a glimpse of my future, Taylor.” Jessie tried to relieve her. “I’ve wondered if somehow, I psychically tapped into what Steve was mixed up in.”
“Why do you want to write about this, anyway?”
“I have to do this. Maybe it’s my way of seeking closure on Steve’s death.” Jessie tried to explain further. “Taylor, years ago, when you walked into my life and auditioned for the role in Deceptions, I asked you why you wanted the role so badly. Do you remember what you said?”
Taylor recalled the moment. “I said that…the role felt like my destiny.”
“Taylor, I need to do this. Somehow I feel like this is my destiny. I assure you, I’m taking every precaution. When you return to the states I will be wrapping this up. Then we can go home and continue where we left off.”
* * *
Both agreed not to discuss Jessie’s project the rest of their vacation, and the week flew. Their days were spent hiking, sailing, horseback riding, or just relaxing in the sun. During the evenings, they feasted on the best food of the French Riviera, and at night they took pleasure in each other’s arms.
Two days before Jessie was scheduled to leave, she was in the hotel lobby browsing through tourist brochures, trying to decide what they’d do on her last day. She came across one for Rennes-le-Chateau. There was a picture of an old church and on the back of the brochure it said, “Explore the mysteries of Rennes-le-Chateau, Were treasures from the Merovingian dynasty hidden here?”
Around noon the following day, Jessie and Taylor arrived at Rennes-le-Chateau. The church itself was architecturally impressive, and considering its age, it was in surprisingly good condition. A guide greeted them, holding the gate open as they made their way toward the entrance.
“Bonjour,” he said.
“Bonjour,” the women echoed.
Above the entrance was a statue of a woman. Jessie slowed to read the inscription. It was a statue of Mary Magdalene, to whom the church was dedicated. Beneath it was another message. Jessie stopped and in poor French, she attempted to verbalize it, “Terribilis est?”
