Assault and Beret

by Jenn McKinlay

  “He seems . . . nice.”

  “Nice like porridge?”

  He sounded perplexed and I laughed.

  “No, not like porridge, more like a nice cup of tea,” I said. “He’s very good-looking, very attentive, and very polite.”

  “Huh.” He grunted. “I think I hate him.”

  “Why, I’m shocked,” I teased. “You sound almost jealous. He is married to Viv, remember, or is that why you’re jealous?”

  “Don’t be daft. Of course I’m not jealous about Viv’s husband. I’m jealous because you’re three hundred and fifty kilometers away in the most romantic city in the world, looking at other men, married or not, and I’m here,” he said. “It’s a good thing I know you’ve got a ban on dating or I’d be mental.”

  I laughed. Harry was delightful. Sometimes, I found it very hard to believe that ten-year-old me had been stupid enough to stand up twelve-year-old him on our ice cream date eighteen years ago. Clearly, I had been an idiot.

  Yes, this was our sordid past. We had been childhood friends and then our paths diverged until just last year. It occurred to me that Harrison might be my reward for suffering so many fools before him.

  “Oh, Harry.” I sighed. “I miss you.”

  “Would that be as your business manager or your friend?” he asked.

  “As my lover, actually,” I said.

  There was a loud clattering noise on the other end of the line and I held the phone away from my ear as it was spectacularly loud. Did he drop the phone? The thought made me chuckle.

  “Ginger? Are you there?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m here,” I said. I made my voice smooth as if I didn’t suspect a thing.

  “Sorry, I dropped the phone,” he said. His voice dropped an octave as he growled. “You are killing me, you know that, right?”

  “In a good way?” I asked.

  “It will be,” he promised.

  Suddenly the chilly day seemed overly hot and I almost shed my coat just to cool down a bit.

  “Well,” I said. It came out breathier than I’d intended and I heard Harry chuckle. Turnabout was fair play, I supposed. I cleared my throat. “I have to go give Viv the news that we are dining with her husband tonight, assuming she agrees, so I’ll let you go.”

  “Call me later.” It wasn’t a request.

  “I will.”

  “Bye, Ginger.”

  “Bye, Harry.”

  I walked the rest of the way back to our apartment building with a spring in my step. Only a few more months until my ban on dating was lifted. Poor Harry didn’t know what was going to hit him.

  Viv, Suzette and Lucas Martin were seated in the front parlor when I arrived. I had met Lucas briefly when he picked us up at the airport on the day of our arrival. He was tall and thin with a head of thick silver hair and matching eyebrows. His face was unlined, however, which made me think he had gone gray very young and was not as old as his hair would have me assume. When he smiled, it warmed his brown eyes, which crinkled in the corners, and he stood when I entered the room, always a gentleman.

  “Mademoiselle Scarlett,” he said. “You are looking as lovely as ever with a bloom in your cheeks and a sparkle in your eyes.”

  He took my hand in his and bowed elegantly over it. Lucas had charm by the bucketful.

  “Bienvenue, Scarlett,” Suzette said. “Join us for an aperitif?”

  “Thank you, that would be lovely,” I said. I also hoped it was a strong one since I had to break the news to Viv about our evening plans.

  A tray was set on the table with several glasses, a bucket of ice, a bottle of Lillet, and a small bowl of orange slices and mint leaves. Suzette made my drink while I turned to Viv and smiled. It was not one of my better efforts.

  She took one look at my face and tossed back her drink in one big swallow. She plunked the glass on the tray, looked at Suzette and said, “Hit me.”

  It was an expression she had picked up from me during a few of our girls’ nights out at the pub. I covered her glass with my fingers to keep Suzette from complying. Drunk Viv would not do well with what was coming.

  “I found him, Viv, and we’re having dinner with him tonight,” I said.

  “No,” Viv said. “No dinner. I can’t. He was just supposed to agree to sign some papers. Why do we have to meet?”

  “I told him that you would say no, but he is very insistent,” I said.

  “Perhaps I need to speak with him,” Lucas said. He was scowling and I liked that he was so protective of Viv.

  “That is very kind of you, but I think William needs to see Viv with his own eyes and hear her tell him that she wants an annulment.” I took a long sip of my drink, which helped, and said, “I think he still wants your marriage to work.”

  Viv dropped her head into her hands. “Why do men always make everything so bloody difficult?” She glanced at Lucas. “Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course, chère,” he said and toasted her with his glass.

  “I need to text him your answer,” I said. “You can say no but I don’t think he will be as agreeable about signing the papers. You need to see him, Viv, it’s the right thing to do, plus, I told him I was going with you to chaperone.”

  That actually made Viv laugh. “You? My chaperone?”

  “What? I could be a good chaperone,” I said. “I’ll ask all sorts of horribly personal questions, order the most expensive thing on the menu and belch in public, really loudly. It’ll be great.”

  Viv laughed. Then she reached over and hugged me. “What would I do without you?”

  “Be bored out of your mind,” I said. “Also, you’d have no clients.”

  She nodded. She knew that was my gift and she embraced it, which was why we were such a fabulous team.

  “All right,” she said. “I did prepare for this contingency, so if you’ll excuse me, I am going to dress for dinner.”

  We watched her leave. She strode bravely from the room with her back straight and her head held high. Atta girl!

  * * *

  “Mon Dieu,” Suzette said when Viv reentered the sitting room. “Viv, you cannot go out in public dressed like that. You simply cannot.”

  Lucas managed to keep his face completely still. The only thing that betrayed his dismay was a fit of rapid blinking that he quickly got under control.

  I was speechless. In all of the years I had known Viv, which was my entire life, she had been the epitome of fashion and good taste. Yes, sometimes her hats were on the edge of the spectrum for artistic whimsy, but always she looked like she had just walked off the pages of Vogue or Vanity Fair.

  At the moment, however, she was unrecognizable. In a dress the color of dirty dishwater, which swam around her figure with a sack-like inelegance, she had accessorized it with thick-heeled man boots, wool tights and a stretched-out cardigan in a puke shade of mustard.

  “Where did you get those clothes?” I asked.

  “I bought them,” she said. “They were on sale at a thrift store in London right before we left.”

  “On sale at a thrift store?” I asked. “Did they even cost a pound?”

  “The boots did,” she said. She lifted one leg so I could get a gander of the well-worn brown leather.

  Suzette, in a form-fitting heather blue sweater over black jeans, looked like she was watching a train wreck and had no idea how to stop it. She had one hand at her throat and had pressed her lips together as if to keep from saying anything she shouldn’t.

  “Brilliant, right?”

  Viv twirled around to give us the full effect. She had scraped her hair into a knot at the back of her head and had washed her face, leaving no makeup behind. Her pretty features still shone through, but without cosmetics, they were subdued.

  “I’m not really sure what you’re going for,”
I said.

  “Fashion repellant,” she said. “If I dress too nicely, he’ll think I want to start up again, and I definitely don’t want that. But if I look like a swamp hopper, he’ll wonder what he ever saw in me.”

  I exchanged a look with Suzette. The glance she sent me was pitying, and I knew it was because I was going to have to go out in public and be seen with Viv, like this. Oh, horror.

  “Trust me,” Viv said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “As the only man in the room, I do believe you will achieve your goal,” Lucas said.

  If that wasn’t an understatement, I didn’t know what was. I heaved a deep sigh. This chaperoning gig was not really working out for me.

  William had texted me the name and address of the restaurant. It was far enough away that Lucas offered to give us a lift. It’s always nice to have a friend with a car, isn’t it?

  Unlike Viv, I was not out to repel anyone, so I went upstairs to change into proper dinner attire and freshen up my hair and face. I wondered if it would bother Viv that, for possibly the first time ever, I actually looked better than she did. I needn’t have worried.

  “Brilliant, Scarlett,” Viv said. She clasped her hands together as if she couldn’t contain her excitement. “You look smashing, and in contrast I’ll look even worse. William is going to sign those annulment papers so fast he’ll strain his fingers.”

  I didn’t think he was so dumb as to be bamboozled by her bad outfit, but I wisely said nothing. Instead I followed Lucas out to the car, noting that Suzette looked longingly after him as he went.

  Being terminally nosy, I was curious as to their relationship. See? I know my own flaws. Nosiness is probably in the top five, okay, top two. Either way, I wondered if Suzette was pining for Lucas because he had no idea how she felt about him. Even Frenchmen, who are generally more tuned in to the female’s emotional needs, are not perfect.

  I maneuvered myself into the front seat with Lucas by edging Viv out at the last second. She gave me a look and I shrugged. Lucas, on the other hand, looked a bit relieved.

  As we worked our way through the dark city streets, I began my interrogation.

  “So, Lucas,” I said. “Is there a Mrs. Lucas?”

  I heard Viv gasp from the backseat. Sometimes she thinks I am too forward. She might be right but it was for the greater good.

  He turned to look at me and one of his silver eyebrows lifted. “Are you asking if I am married?”

  “Yes,” I said. “If I’m not being too rude by asking.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I am not married or seeing anyone. Is there a reason why you ask?”

  “No, no reason,” I lied.

  I glanced out the window. In France, like the States, they drive on the right side of the road. Of course, in Paris, it seemed as if they drove wherever the heck they felt like it; still, it was nice to be driving on the side of the road that I was most familiar with and I felt myself relax into the seat.

  As the dark of night enfolded the city in a firm embrace, the city sparked to life all around us. I understood why they called it the City of Light; it positively glowed. It was breathtaking.

  I wondered if enough time had passed for my next question, then I figured, what the heck.

  “So, how long have you known Suzette?” I asked.

  He glanced at me. He smiled. He looked back at the road in front of us and deftly navigated a roundabout with no signage, seriously no signage. It was like the running of the bulls but with stick shifts.

  “A couple of years now,” he said. “She bought that building from my brother when she was looking to start over.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “She is a friend then, yes?”

  His brow furrowed as if he’d never really thought about it before. Honestly, men are thick!

  He nodded. “Yes, I would call her a friend.”

  “She’s lovely, don’t you think?” I asked. “And charming?”

  “Quite,” he said. The look he gave me was curious. “Scarlett, are you acting as a . . . em . . . how do you say . . . marieur?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “What is a marieur?”

  “A person who puts together a man and wife,” he said.

  “A matchmaker?” I asked.

  “Oui, oui,” he said. “Quite right.”

  I noticed the French have a habit of saying things twice. I figured it was their enthusiasm for life and found it very endearing.

  “You have figured me out,” I said. I wagged my finger at him and he grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “I have a friend in London, Nick Carroll, who I think will be mad for Suzette.”

  Lucas stomped on the brakes and snapped his head in my direction. Horns started honking as he had not bothered to pull over.

  “Lucas!” Viv cried from the backseat. “Whatever are you doing? And Scarlett, what rubbish is that? You know Nick is—”

  “Busy at work?” I interrupted her. “I know but he might be able to pop over for a short holiday.”

  “No!” Lucas said. He stomped on the gas and we were thrown back against our seats as he drove even more aggressively to our destination. “I do not like this idea. Not at all.”

  “Why not?” I asked. Of course, the whole conversation was ridiculous because Nick was gay and already shacked up with our friend Andre Eisel, but Lucas didn’t know that.

  “Suzette is very fragile,” Lucas said. “She needs someone who can care for her appropriately.”

  I was silent for a moment. Then I said, “I think she is lonely.”

  Lucas looked stricken. Truly, how had the man not noticed that Suzette was alone in that drawing room every evening getting her companionship from a rotation of renters? I had to look away so I didn’t give him my bug-eyed Really? look, because it’s a doozy.

  “Scarlett, what are you playing—” Viv asked from the backseat but I interrupted her again.

  “Are you ready?” I asked. I checked my phone. I was following our progress on my map app. “We’re almost there.”

  I was a little premature, but I knew that she’d panic and I’d better build in time for her to have a mini meltdown. Who wouldn’t when they’re about to see the husband they ditched over a year and a half ago? Besides that would get her thinking about her situation and not the one I was manipulating up here in the front seat. Good thing I am a fabulous multitasker, no?

  “No, I’m not ready,” Viv said.

  “Get ready,” I said. “Chez Robert is up ahead.”

  “I changed my mind,” Viv said.

  Lucas slowed to merge with traffic coming from the right. I heard the back passenger door open but I didn’t register what was happening until Lucas yelled.

  “Vivian! No! Vous serez tués!” he shouted.

  Chapter 7

  I looked to the back just in time to see Viv’s door slam shut. Damn it! I hadn’t planned on her freaking out so completely!

  “Thanks for the lift,” I said to Lucas and jumped out of the car after her.

  I heard him shout my name as well, but I had to catch Viv before she lost me. We were only a block from the restaurant where we were to meet William in ten minutes.

  I took one step forward and a tiny little car almost made a speed bump out of me. The driver honked and made a rude gesture that I really couldn’t fault him for as I’d have done worse.

  Viv was already on the sidewalk and I hurried after her. I had to catch her before she disappeared into the crowd. Yes, the streets were crowded as we’d crossed over the Seine onto the Right Bank and were near one of the major tourist thoroughfares in Paris, along the Champs-Élysées.

  Why couldn’t William have picked a restaurant in one of the outer arrondissements, where there were less people? As if it mattered. I had a feeling either way I would be running Viv to the ground.

  She w
as bolting down the street, and people jumped to the side to get out of her way. At least she was running toward the restaurant and not away from it, so I had that going for me. Her heavy men’s boots were weighing her down, giving me an edge in the sprint-off. I caught her just before she would have turned a corner into a dark alley.

  I grabbed her arm and dug in my heels. She tried to shake me off, but I was clinging like a clump of mascara on an eyelash. She was going to have to do better than this silly shimmy shake thing she had going if she wanted to be rid of me.

  “Viv, stop!” I cried. “Get yourself together.”

  “I can’t do it, Scarlett,” she cried. “I can’t face him.”

  I grabbed her by the elbows and shook her.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “When I left him—”

  She bit her lip and turned her head away. It was all very B movie dramatic but Viv was an artist and prone to that sort of thing, so I tried to be patient, but it was difficult. I knew the clock was ticking and Will would be waiting for us.

  “What is it, Viv?” I asked. “What did you do? Did you ghost on him and just disappear? Did you break up with him on a Post-it? What?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You. Are. Killing. Me.” I stared at the side of her head so hard I was surprised my gaze didn’t bore holes through her temple.

  “We were having a lovely time on our honeymoon, very romantic, and then one night after we made love like we always did, I panicked and dumped him straight to his face,” she said. “Isn’t that the worst?”

  I let her go and staggered back a step.

  “Are you telling me that in the afterglow of newly wedded bliss, you shotgunned him?” I asked.

  “When you say it like that, it sounds even worse,” she said.

  “That poor bastard,” I said. “No wonder he wants to see you again. He’s a man. If you caught him after sex, his brain probably wasn’t even fully engaged before you were out the door.”

  “Do you see why I can’t do this?” she asked.

  “No,” I cried. “I see why you are going to do this or I am going to kick your behind, really hard.”