The Frenchman's Bride

by Imani King

  “Don’t you dare – dare – touch me ever again.”

  And with that, she snatched up her sandals and stomped off towards the upper docks, leaving me in a set of soggy, ruined clothing with only my hangover – and the rapidly descending dark – to keep me company.

  24

  Sierra

  * * *

  Since Blaine apparently thought that I couldn’t take care of myself and needed his help for every single little thing…I decided to show him how little he really knew about me.

  Packing was an exorbitant nightmare – particularly since I had originally envisioned never needing to actually handle my luggage myself. Eventually, I settled on abandoning the majority of my clothes – as painful as it was to part with them – with the explicit decision to buy myself a new wardrobe with the money in my account.

  The crew seemed to be aware that something was wrong, and I passed by a number of concerned faces as I toted my smaller suitcase out. It seemed the vast majority of them figured that we were fighting, and I was just making a scene; a few stopped to offer me a hand or ask if they could help.

  But I was unwilling to accept any of this, and I pushed forward, until the exit was in sight and I was strolling down the walkway and off the ship. A short while later, I was hailing a taxi, and away I went.

  The language barrier was a hurdle, but it still didn’t take me long to figure out how to access my bank account back in the United States from Cannes. After paying a small amount in taxes, I was able to withdraw enough to purchase a ticket straight back home, plus cover any unexpected surprises along the way.

  Well, not exactly straight back.

  I needed to get to Paris to make the international connection. This necessitated me leaving from the Mandelieu Airport in Cannes. Luckily, I was able to book one of the last seats on a departing flight. After a tiring race across the terminals, my suitcase heavily and furiously banging around against my thigh, I was able to just barely catch the flight – and even managed to get a spot by a window.

  While I flew across the country, I glanced down over the land while we ascended northward. I was surprised that I hadn’t seen Blaine arrive, desperately trying to flag me down and stop me from leaving. But by now, it was too late – there were a couple of airports I could have taken to cross the ocean again, and unless he somehow had access to a rocket, he’d never reach me in time before I left the country.

  I spent less than two hours in the air, thinking about my decision to leave his side. I wondered if he had even figured it out yet. Maybe he was just giving me some space, and he’d knock on my door, realizing with rising horror that I’d left.

  Perhaps some of the crew had even told him, immediately upon me trying to leave the ship. He might have been asleep. He could also have been expecting me to return, thinking me incapable of leaving.

  After all, he apparently thought I couldn’t handle myself.

  Upon arrival at the international Charles de Gaulle Airport, I came to quickly learn that it was the second largest in the country. This place was so different from any airport I’d ever seen. Pink and white neon lights traced the hallways as I strolled along motorized walkways, peaking briefly into small shops and eateries. Red carpets stretched across the floor, as if welcoming me as a member of aristocracy.

  It occurred to me that I had an hour before my flight back across the ocean departed, and that I’d be in the air for most of the day – with that in mind, I popped into a small restaurant. Luckily, the attendant spoke decent English, being used to the influx of international travelers – and she patiently helped me order an exorbitantly expensive (but reasonably delicious) croque monsieur.

  I sat down with the boiled ham and cheese sandwich, fried on both sides with an unhealthy stack of shredded cheese melted again on top. While it was the sandwich equivalent of cardiac arrest, it was quite possibly one of the most soulfully delicious treats I’ve ever had.

  Stopping briefly during my meal, I fired off a text to Kenneth Van Camp:

  > Things have changed. Is the offer still available?

  After wiping a light layer of grease from my lips for the millionth time, I tossed my trash into the bin and set the tray down on top. Dragging my suitcase along, I sat patiently in the waiting area as I waited for my flight to be called, first in French and then in English.

  Suddenly, it dawned on me – I had no idea of how I was going to get back home. The Philadelphia International Airport was easily forty-five minutes from home, and I wasn’t exactly keen on taking a train with my suitcase…

  It took a moment of Googling to remember how to call abroad, and I dialed in the number of one of my girlfriends…and I knew which one to call.

  “He-hello?”

  “Keesha! Girl, can you pick me up from the airport in, like, nine hours?”

  “Whoa! You’re coming back? Aren’t you, like, taking a yacht back or somethin’?”

  “Yeah, change of plans with that,” I told her, hiding the firmness in my voice. “Unsurprisingly, Blaine Winguard is a bit of a jackass. Listen, I’m in an airport in Paris – I should be there close to half past nine tonight. Can you get me?”

  “Girl, I got you!” Keesha told me. “I’ll see if I can get off work early – I’m not closing, so I should be able to pick you up in time. You hold tight!”

  “I really appreciate that,” I told her, feeling the phone buzz against my ear. “Hold on, I might need to check something…”

  Pulling the phone away, I kept her on the call but backtracked to my messages. Sure enough, there was a new text.

  > If you’re willing to work, yes. – KVC

  Good, I thought to myself. At least I can get some semblance back in my life that this entire journey wasn’t all a complete waste.

  I returned to the call with my best friend, but I quickly heard something incoherent over the local speakers. It sounded fairly authoritative. “Back now, Keesh…but listen, I think they’re calling my flight – I’ll see you tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, sounds good! See you then!”

  With that, I disconnected the line, grabbed the handle of my luggage, and rose up from my seat. Glancing down at my ticket, I waited for them to call my zone – and fifteen minutes, I was sitting on the plane, ready for my international flight back home.

  And across the world from the last man I wanted to ever see again.

  After a long, exhausting, eight-and-a-half hour flight, Keesha wound up being late after all.

  “I’m sorry, girl!” She told me when I climbed into the passenger seat. “My boss wouldn’t let me go! We got a big dinner rush at the restaurant, and he stopped me from getting cut and put me back on the floor…”

  “It’s okay,” I smiled patiently. “I understand, and I just appreciate you picking me up on short notice anyway.”

  Keesha kicked the car into gear, and we jerked forward briefly. I steadied myself against the dashboard and threw a dirty look her way.

  “Keesh! You still haven’t figured out how to drive stick?”

  “Girl, you wanna try this shit? Why I even bought this car, I don’t know…I’ll never be able to keep this piece of junk going at this rate…”

  “You bought it because you ran the last one into a tree and you just had to have another Camaro,” I reminded her. “Your Daddy wasn’t gonna spot you the entire cost of one, and you got desperate to be back on the road…”

  “Yeah, well…shut up!”

  We shared a laugh as she stuttered the car towards the departure booth. I handed over my card to pay the toll, and we were hitting Interstate 95 and cruising through the city in no time.

  The entire drive back, she was begging to hear about the festival, about Blaine, and about the trip across the ocean. Unfortunately, it appeared that my face was plastered all over the tabloids – touted as some “mystery companion” to the notorious Blaine Winguard.

  I hadn’t considered how long that was probably going to follow me, and I didn’t want to stop and thi
nk about it now.

  At her pressuring, I updated Keesha on the details, telling her all about the Trans-Atlantic journey, about spending time in Greece, and about how much I enjoyed Cannes. I even told her some about Blaine, although I left out the parts where I fucked him.

  Or I tried to.

  “Girl, I know you’re not telling me the whole story,” Keesha side-eyed me as we took the proper interstate exit. “I’m not saying you’re a hooker or anything, but locked up in a floating metal can with the sexiest, wealthiest bachelor around? I know you broke off a piece of that for yourself.”

  “Keesha…”

  “I am amazing at keeping secrets, remember that!”

  “Well, that’s true…all right,” I conceded. “We slept together.”

  “Oh my god…ohmygod I knew it,” she practically squealed. “How many times? I know it wasn’t just the once. How good is he, really? Is he awesome? I bet he’s awesome.”

  “He’s…pretty awesome, that’s for sure,” I answered. “We slept together a lot. I have to say, I found it hard to keep my eyes off of him…and he couldn’t keep his mouth off of me. I might have stuck around for more if he wasn’t such an unbearable asshole…”

  I reveled in the acknowledgement as Keesha descended into a flattering amount of giggles. While she struggled to process this, I thought back to all the awesome sex he and I had – and I knew, by now, that he had to be aware I’d left.

  Absentmindedly, I checked my phone.

  My breath caught in my throat when I saw the text.

  > You…left?

  Two words. Two simple words, but the confusion and the pain were unmistakable. How long ago did this text come in?

  The time coincided with my arrival, which meant that it was locked in the air until I was back on American soil with a proper cell signal again. It didn’t come through when I was waiting on Keesha, so it must have just fallen through the cracks until finally sending properly…

  So, he found out at some point after I flew out of the country. And that was a long gap…

  I continued to chat with Keesha during the drive, but my mind was preoccupied now. Before I knew it, I was sitting in front of Mama’s house, my suitcase in the backseat, and ready to hop out and ready to say goodbye to my friend again.

  “Thanks for the drive, Keesh,” I hugged her.

  “Hey, anytime! Whatcha gonna tell your mama?”

  “I think I’ll play it cool. And remember,” I sternly told her, “nothing leaves this car, okay? The last thing I need is for any more mess to come out of this whole thing.”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing,” she confided. “But I’m telling you, the newsstand papers have gone crazy about him and you. You’re not gonna be able to hide for long…”

  “You’re right,” I thought to myself as I pulled away, pulling my suitcase out of her open door. I had been dreading that the entire drive back, but now that I was thinking clearly, I saw that therein laid the perfect opportunity. “I’m counting on it.”

  With a smirk on my face as I turned towards Mama’s porch, I had a plan in my head. Maybe I could use this sudden press exposure to my advantage after all…

  25

  Blaine

  * * *

  I could have stopped her if I’d only known.

  Sierra was still on my ship when I left that morning. I’d barely slept a wink all night, and after staring at my ceiling for an hour as the sun rose, I climbed out of bed and did what came naturally to me: I went to Cannes, and I drank.

  I didn’t even bother calling my driver. I simply walked from the docks towards the venue, checking myself into a hotel just in case. From there, I wandered the streets as I waited for the shops to open and the city people to fill the streets. Across the world from home with a face none of these people would recognize, I easily blended in.

  The hours drifted past as I contemplated things. Sierra had every right to be furious with me – and I realized that I had perhaps taken things too far. I mean, sending a private investigator after her? Maybe I’d been too controlling – just maybe, I’d worked too hard to secure what I thought was right, instead of what she really needed.

  But the more I thought about it, the more I grew justified in my reasoning. No, the stern voice in my head told me, she needs you. You know what happens when you let her stray. If Sierra never met you, then she would be broken and shamed…

  I shook my head clear. I didn’t need to think about that night, so long ago. But I allowed myself to temporarily think back on the most important promise that I ever made…the promise to Sierra that she never, ever heard.

  To always look out for her, and never harm her.

  To protect and guide her.

  And to never, ever think back on that night.

  For a brief flicker, the images were back in my head, haunting me. I clutched my skull and leaned sideways against the wall of a store, trying to push it all back out.

  People stared as they walked, but I ignored them. None of them knew who I was, and what I’d seen. They didn’t understand, and I didn’t expect them to.

  That was all fine with me.

  It was early that afternoon before I boarded my yacht again, ready to make her see reason. I’d chosen another delicious little bistro to take my companion to, hoping to help win her back over with incredible, expensive food and drinks.

  My crew was hard at work, restocking for the voyage back and maintaining the various intricacies of the mega yacht. I didn’t realize that they weren’t looking me in the eye until my footsteps finally took her to her room.

  “She’s not in there,” a passing seaman told me as I stood outside, gradually losing my patience. “She wandered off a little while ago.”

  “Well, where did she go?”

  “Not sure. Probably towards the airport.”

  “Towards the…towards the airport? What on earth makes you think that?”

  “Well, the suitcase,” the lad shrugged.

  “You…saw her leave…with a suitcase…and it didn’t cross your tiny, insignificant mind to notify me that my guest was vacating the ship – and possibly the country?!”

  “I notified the chief mate. I thought you had been told?”

  By now, I was seething with rage. I flung the door open to see the empty. “You had better be pulling a cruel trick, boy,” I scowled at him, indicating the room. “You expect me to believe that she’s left when all her shit is still clearly here?”

  My employee timidly glanced around the doorway into the room. “I don’t get it, I definitely saw her leaving with a suitcase earlier…small, red one. She was having some trouble carrying it, but she wouldn’t let anyone help. Maybe check to see if that’s still gone?”

  I was about to lose my shit on this kid, but I crossed my arms and pinched the bridge of my nose, looking down and away from him.

  “Go…bring me Jensen…now.”

  “Yes sir, right away, sir,” the seaman replied before scampering off down the hall. In the meantime, I stepped into her guest room and pulled open the closet. There, sitting on the ground, were two suitcases – but I realized with increasing disappointment that she had brought three.

  I remembered the red suitcase – or at least seeing it, at any rate. When my driver had been handling the luggage before our yacht, I remembered seeing her collection of suitcases – and knowing her, I realized that she probably packed up what she considered essential and skipped town.

  When Jensen finally arrived, I was sitting in the dark on the edge of her bed, the purple bedding beneath me. I stood up and brushed some of the matching drapery out of my way.

  “You called, sir.”

  “Yes, Jensen, it seems that a member of this ship has taken leave. Do you know anything about this?”

  Jensen looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Yes, I heard…whispers. Apparently, some of the crew spotted your little miss vacating with some of her things.”

  I
stepped closer towards my chief mate, the anger seething deep inside me. “And in your esteemed wisdom, you didn’t think for a single second to perhaps inform me that my guest was departing the country?” By now, the bubbling fury was at the surface, and I could feel myself practically spitting the words.

  “Yeah, I called. Three times. Tried to get ya to pick up the horn. But apparently you’ve got the damned thing on silent, or you left it in your room.”

  I reached for my pocket – no. The phone was missing, which meant that I did, in fact, leave it in my room…fuck.

  But Jensen continued on. “Either way, I’ve got a ship to run, not a girl to babysit…and judging by what my crew have seen in the last few days…you came back drunk. Disorderly. They saw your little fight last night, too. Now, if you can’t keep her on this ship with your charm alone, then I don’t know what to tell you. But I did try to reach you, and I did warn you that something like this was gonna happen, didn’t I?”

  My anger boiled over, and I jabbed a finger into his chest.

  “Jensen, you have failed me. When we return to the States, you are hereby dismissed from duty. You will be paid for this trip, but you will no longer be a part of any crew I take overseas.”

  He blinked a few times, and then his features crunched into otherwise indomitable anger. “You’re firing me over this – your own fucking mess. Do you realize how much bullshit you’re spoutin’, boy?”

  “Turn and leave. If you say another word before you get out of my sight, I will strand you in this goddamn city, and you can find your own fucking way back across the Atlantic.”

  Jensen’s chest bowed up, and his eyes were animalistically livid. But instead of delivering the punch I knew he was ready to throw, he turned and started to storm from the room.

  “Wait…Jensen,” I told him, reaching out after him.

  He paused at the doorway, boiling with the vehemence that only a weather sailor can carry, before finally taking a deep breath and turning around to face me. “What.”