by Kimber Chin
"What do you know about class?” Suzanne would have said more if not for the host taking the microphone.
"Enough to know that now is the time for silence,” Anne hushed the woman.
* * * *
Two hours later, Anne and Philippe embraced under the lamps in front of the tiger cage, “I think we've lost the rest of the group.” Anne arched her back, gazing up at Philippe, his arms around her tight.
"Fortunately.” He nuzzled her exposed neck. “Derek and Gregory were getting frustrated with our lack of contribution."
"And I,” she reached down to grab his hard thigh, “was just getting frustrated."
"Suzanne?"
That woman had to be in their group. Anne wasn't proud of her behavior tonight, Suzanne's presence egging her on. “Actually I was thinking about you."
"Were you? Then come, Cherie.” Philippe grabbed her hand, dragging her off the lit path into the shadows. “Show me the big dipper again. In case I lose my way."
"It's cloudy.” They found a square of grass. He rolled her in his arms upon it.
"I have confidence that you can find it.” His hands crept up her dress. “If you look hard enough."
Anne felt him pressing against her. “You look hard enough,” the words slipped out before she could stop them. She got her ear nipped for her sauciness. “Philippe, what if someone sees?” Anne protested as her thong was pulled down.
Though the thought of getting caught added more excitement to the encounter.
"Lucky them,” and his lips covered hers.
* * * *
"And that, M'sieur Lamont, I believe is where the North Star should be,” Anne guessed. She couldn't see the star but that's where it had been a couple days ago. Sated and happy, Anne was half decently covered. Philippe's shirt was off but he had pulled up his pants. They lay there in silence, watching the sky.
"I've a conference call at the office tomorrow.” Philippe hugged her closer. “Will you back me up, Cherie?"
Back him up. Be part of his team again. Tomorrow? That could work.
Ginny was coming over to use her computer, her own in for repair. Anne didn't need to stick around the condo. Her sister would likely appreciate the privacy.
Before Anne could say yes, she heard some rustling in the bushes behind them. “What was that?” She sat up. Isn't this how horror flicks go? A mad man waiting in the dark?
Philippe pulled her back down again. “Could be a wild critter. The zoo is full of them. Crazy concept."
"Don't laugh at me,” and then Anne laughed at herself. Axe murderers and serial killers, products of an overactive imagination. “And we should head back. People will be wondering where we went."
"I doubt they will.” Philippe shamelessly looked up her dress as she stood.
"Stop that.” She batted his shoulders.
"If I have to.” He rose to his feet. “You're hungry, aren't you? That's the rush."
"Nah, my appetites have been satisfied,” Anne purred suggestively, her hand rubbing over his bare chest.
"At least one has been satisfied. I ensured that.” Philippe tugged on his shirt and Anne buttoned it up for him. “But your man needs to eat."
Her man. That sounded nice.
Philippe took both of her hands and swung her around, her legs actually clearing the ground with the momentum. She laughed. He brought her close. They kissed.
Then they started the trek back to the pavilion, Anne pulling twigs from her hair as they walked. “I should stop here.” She tested the rest room door; it was open. “I can't go in like this, full of leaves and grass."
Philippe eyed her and grinned. “It'd leave no doubt as to what we were doing."
"Can't have that. I'd say I tangled with a bush.” It would take a while for her to repair the damage and they were mere steps from the pavilion entrance. “Philippe, go ahead. Eat. I'll meet you inside."
Philippe took a deep breath of the night air. They could smell the food through the open doors. “Are you sure, Cherie?"
"I'm sure.” She gave him a quick kiss and a push in that direction. “I'll be a few minutes. I think I'm in quite the state."
"A state that I plan to get you in again before the night ends,” Philippe warned with a knowing grin as he sauntered off.
What a man, Anne thought as she entered the empty restroom. Already twice today and he was promising more. Anne laughed once more as she looked at her reflection. Thank goodness, she decided to clean up. She looked like a wild woman, her hair gnarled and full of leaves and other debris. The dress, well, it was dreadfully wrinkled. The only solution was to wet it down and try to smooth it out. She had to do that first if she wanted it to dry. Anne ran paper towels under the faucet and passed it over the silk fabric. That would work, she noted with satisfaction.
Anne was bent over trying unsuccessfully to rake a brush through her tangled hair when the door opened. She straightened up, groaning as she saw who it was. Of all the people, it had to be Suzanne. And alone.
"Hello, bitch,” the blonde woman snarled as her conversation starter. “Did you have fun tonight? With my man?"
"He's not...” Anne didn't get to finish.
"Shut up, just shut up. I've heard enough from you tonight. This time, I'll do the talking.” She sounded so irrational, Anne played it prudent and kept quiet. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. This'll be the last time you see Philippe for a long, long time."
"I'm seeing him tomorrow.” Oh, what have I done? Anne cursed her vanity. Suzanne wasn't in a mood to be messed with.
"Do you think that's wise, plain little Anne?” Suzanne walked toward her. Anne backed up until she couldn't back up anymore, blocked by the tiled bathroom wall. “Do you think that's healthy?” Before Anne could react, her arms were in the woman's stronger grasp, painted red fingernails digging into her skin, drawing blood. Anne tried to twist away but there was at least a foot difference in their heights and a corresponding difference in strength. Suzanne's eyes were glazed and glassy.
"Suzanne...” Anne felt the cold fingers of fear creep up her spine.
"Michael's mine.” Anne could smell the liquor on her breath. “I want you to leave him alone."
Michael? Wasn't this about Philippe? Was the woman completely crazy?
"Suzanne—"
But Anne was stopped from continuing. The blonde raised one hand and slapped her solidly across the face. “My name is Suze, get it right for a change, and Philippe's mine. I'm everything he could possibly want. I've guaranteed that, and no one, especially not someone as plain and common as you, is going to take him away from me."
Anne's ears rang from the blow. She had to talk to Suzanne. Calm her down. That was her only shot.
"I—” but again Anne was slapped, this time a full backhand across her other cheek, Suzanne's large diamond ring leaving a stinging trail of scratches.
"No, you listen to me. I want you to stay away.” Anne was shaken forcibly, her teeth clattering together, her head snapping back and forth. One more lip splitting slap and Anne fell into darkness.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Seventeen
"There shouldn't be any line-up in here,” a familiar voice pierced the quiet night air, causing Anne to sit up straight.
Crap, Suze, Suzanne, whatever that crazy calls herself at the moment, is coming back. And with reinforcements this time. Anne looked around in a panic. She wanted desperately to move from her spot, legs sprawled out, basically bare bum sitting on the cold restroom floor, but couldn't. Her head was spinning and her limbs were shaky. If she got up, nine chances out of ten, she'd faint again. Could she crawl out the door in time? Judging by the closeness of the voices, nope. She wouldn't make it. Anne might as well stay put. She was trapped.
Suzanne filled the doorway, appearing even taller than she normally was, from Anne's vantage point on the floor. Lord, she was an amazon, and she had a cool, calm expression on her face like beating people up was a daily occurrence. Probably was. Crazy
woman likely pulled the wings off flies and drowned kittens for kicks.
Anne's fears eased as she realized who was with Suzanne.
"Anne, is that you?” Denise's anxious face puckered around Suzanne's shoulder.
Denise, Denise would help her. Wouldn't she? But then ... what was she doing with Suzanne? Denise and Suzanne? Together? Was charming, kind Denise friends with that psychopath?
"It is you. Your face.” Denise rushed to her side. “My God, Anne. What happened to you?"
Anne peered up at Suzanne's expressionless visage. The unruffled blonde raised a finely plucked eyebrow as if to say, I dare you to tell her.
Tell Denise what? What could Anne tell her? That the haughty, sophisticated Suzanne had beaten the stuffing out of her in between cocktails? Denise wouldn't believe it. Anne could hardly believe it herself.
She batted down her anger and tried to smile, her face feeling swollen and sore, her bottom lip puffy. “It's so embarrassing, Denise. I fell down.” That was true. Of course she fell down after being punched out. But that didn't need to be mentioned, did it?
"No shit, Sherlock. I didn't think you voluntarily sprawled out on a dirty public toilet floor.” Denise crouched down and touched Anne's forehead. Though the cut wasn't that deep, it bled steadily, running in a trickle down her face.
"I must have hit it on the sink as I passed out,” Anne offered as an explanation. Could have happened. She couldn't quite recall. For all Anne knew, Suzanne cracked her on the head while she was out cold.
"You poor thing.” Suzanne wetted a paper towel under the faucet and handed it to Denise, convincingly playing the oh-so-concerned woman. She was a good actress. Either that or she had some sort of split personality. Like a good Suzanne and a bad Suze.
"Ouch. Why'd you pass out, Anne?” Denise pressed the compress against the cut, trying to slow the bleeding. It felt good, cool against her hot skin.
"Yes, Anne, why'd you pass out?” Suzanne echoed, her voice holding a hint of warning. “There must be a rational explanation. People don't faint for no good reason."
Anne's chin tilted. What was Suzanne going to do if she tattled? Beat her again? “You know how it is, Suzanne.” Anne wasn't going to lie. She was done with lying. Let Suzanne come up with the explanation.
"Must have been the heat.” Suzanne smiled, her red lips an angry slash against her tanned face. “I felt a bit light headed myself."
"It is quite warm for fall,” Denise murmured, “and the scavenger hunt required a lot of running around.” Suzanne passed her another wet cloth that Anne used to wipe the grime off her face. It came back bloody. Anne couldn't see herself but she must be a mess. “Better?” Anne asked Denise, ignoring Suzanne.
"Oh, dear Anne, your face ... it looks so awful,” Suzanne volunteered, too blasted gleefully.
And whose fault is that? Huh? Crazy woman.
"But you're looking better,” Denise offered, “Puffy, but not quite as bloody. Next, let's get you up. You can't be comfortable on that dirty floor. Can you stand?"
Anne held out her hands palm down. They trembled. Better not chance another fall. “Nope. Not yet. I think I'll sit here for a bit."
Denise straightened up again and exchanged a look with Suzanne. “We should get Philippe. He'll know what to do. He's good at that type of thing. Suze, could you?"
Anne didn't want to face Philippe. It meant more questions and more lies, but she supposed Denise was right. She couldn't go back into the party. She looked a mess, her dress filthy and torn, her face cut and bruised. Anne checked her forehead with a semi-clean fingertip. No blood. At least her skull stopped bleeding. That was a good thing.
"You go find Philippe. I'll stay with Anne.” Suzanne's smile was pure evil, her eyes hard as shiny marble.
Leave her alone with Suzanne? No freakin’ way. Anne grew alarmed. What was that psycho up to now? Was she going to finish her off? Right here, on the floor of the ladies’ room? Would zoo-visiting moms and toddlers find her dead body in the morning?
Anne couldn't let that happen. It would traumatize the kiddies. “I'd rather Denise stay. I need to talk to her about something."
"Oh, poor Anne, always such a trooper. I don't think you should be talking to anyone about anything right now.” Suzanne wasn't about to let her escape. “Denise, you'd be able to find Philippe faster. Go.” Anne watched helplessly as her only ally was pushed out of the restroom.
Suzanne turned to Anne with a satisfied smirk, her job accomplished. “Yes, poor little Anne, your face does look bad. You weren't beautiful to start with but Philippe isn't going to think you so cute now."
"Still cuter than he'd think you,” Anne snapped, “So now what, Suze or Suzanne, whoever you are, did you come back to admire your handiwork or are you going to finish off the job you started?” If she were destined to die tonight on a bathroom floor, she'd go out fighting. Get a few good insults in before she was smacked down again.
Suzanne didn't look like she was going to smack down anyone. She preened in front of the mirror, powdering down her straight narrow nose.
"Neither, dear hysterical Anne. I came back to ensure you kept your big mouth shut."
"Hmmm ... forgot to do that before knocking me out the first time, did you Suzanne? Not great planning on your part."
"It's Suze, and I excel at planning. Though I didn't plan on you being such a lightweight. Thought a woman Philippe screwed would have more fight in her.” Suzanne reapplied her shocking red lipstick.
"I wasn't prepared for hand-to-hand combat tonight. Philippe is going to have quite the shocker when I tell him what you're capable of, Suzanne."
"You're many things, Anne, most of them less than complimentary. However, I trust you're not stupid too.” Suzanne was unruffled by Anne's threat. “I don't think you'll want to share what happened tonight. Philippe has zero tolerance for weakness; indeed he deplores it in anyone. So even if he believes you, which is unlikely,” she flayed out her long fingers, the perfect blood red nails reflecting the fluorescent lights, “he'll be very unimpressed with your inability to handle the situation. Either way, you'll lose."
The woman may be a few bricks short of a load, but she was right. Philippe needn't be involved. Anne would handle Suzanne herself. Once her head stopped spinning.
"Lose? To whom? This isn't a competition, Suzanne."
"Oh, I disagree.” Suzanne pulled out a hair. Was it a gray one? Anne hoped so. She hoped Suzanne's entire dyed head was full of naturally coarse gray hair. “I think it is a competition, a very key competition, with Philippe as the grand prize. I don't intend to lose, Anne. He's mine."
"You can't have him. He's with me.” Anne had to get that through Suzanne's muddled brain.
"Poor judgment on his part. He'll see the error of his ways and come back to me.” Suzanne sounded confident about that. Anne wondered why. Philippe had been so blatant in rejecting her.
"I wouldn't be too sure. Remember what happened with Michael,” Anne taunted, dragging up a name that drew Suzanne's ire previously. Anne didn't know the story but she did know that it bothered Suzanne. The comment scored a direct hit.
Suzanne spun on her six-inch heels and approached her, her face twisted in anger. Anne struggled to get out of her way, wiggling her butt backwards crab-like until she reached the wall again. When would she learn to back herself out the door?
"Philippe will be no Michael.” Suzanne crouched down. Anne was certain that she was going to be slapped, but for the voices coming from outside and growing louder.
Would Suzanne have enough time to hurt her? She did. She didn't risk raising her hand. Instead Suzanne squeezed Anne's bare shoulder hard. It looked to an outsider like she was being consoled as Suzanne's nails cut into her skin. “Anne, Anne, calm down,” the blonde babbled.
"Anne, are you okay?” Philippe's deep voice filled the small space and Anne almost sobbed with relief. He was here. Finally.
Suzanne threw Anne a warning look before she turned, a smile tran
sforming her face back to beauty. “Philippe, thank goodness, you're here. Anne was acting irrational, crazy like. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."
"Was not,” Anne muttered between gritted teeth. Crazy? Suzanne, that nutcase, dared to call her crazy? She was the only one of the two with any rational thought, and how exactly did Suzanne manage to sound like the victim with Anne sitting on the floor?
Philippe's voice was embarrassingly slow and calm. “Cherie, what happened? How did this...?” He reached out to touch her face, tracing from her cut forehead down to her swollen lips.
"I fell,” Anne offered the lame excuse again. She couldn't tell Philippe the truth but she wouldn't lie to him either.
"She fainted,” Suzanne filled in, “hit her head on the sink, poor little Anne.” Could Suzanne make her sound any more pathetic?
"Fainted.” Philippe's long fingers flitted lightly over her skin again, resting on the scratch on her cheek. Trust his keen eyes to find the one cut on her face not in line with the rest of the story. Was he looking at Suzanne's hands, at the big, sparkling ring on her right hand? Or was that hopeful thinking?
"You look bad, Cherie. How are you feeling?'
"A bit foolish.” Anne struggled gamely to her feet. Her legs wobbled, weak, she had a tough time getting them to do what she wanted, and held onto Philippe's arm for support.
"There's nothing foolish about feeling poorly.” Philippe swung her into his arms. Nestled against his solid, muscled shoulder, Anne breathed in his comforting musky male smell. As Anne let her defenses down, weariness seeped through her body. Philippe was here. No one could harm her now. Not even Suzanne.
"I stayed with her.” Suzanne sounded like a puppy looking for approval. She got it.
"Thank you, Suzanne, that means a lot to me,” Philippe murmured. Is that Suzanne's ploy? To look like the good girl? Anne didn't know. She couldn't think about it right now. She had a pounding headache that was getting worse by the minute. “Anne means a lot to me.” Then to Anne, Cherie, I'm taking you home.” Denise held the door as he turned sideways to exit.
