Faux Pas

by Natasha Madison

  “Watch our bags,” they say to me and walk out of the room. I watch them walk out of the restaurant and start taking selfies with the Eiffel Tower in the background. I watch them with a smile on my face and look back at Alex when his phone beeps again.

  “I have to go.” He pushes away from the table.

  “Oh,” I say, not sure what to say. “Okay,” I say, and he puts his napkin in the middle of his plate.

  “Have a great night, Meghan,” he says, and just like that, I watch him walk out of the restaurant. He stops at Kate and Diana, and he must be telling them he’s leaving. He leans in and kisses them both on the cheek. They wave goodbye at him and then come back inside.

  “Shit, that was intense,” Kate says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You called the man a bear coming out of hibernation.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “What? Was I wrong?”

  “No,” Kate says, “but still.”

  “He’s an ass,” I say, and the other two don’t agree. They don’t get a chance to because our meals come out. Each of us gets a filet steak with four side dishes placed in the middle of the table.

  The rest of the meal is spent with us laughing and drinking more wine. When it comes time for the bill, we are told it was already taken care of. “Wasn’t that nice of him?” Kate says, and I don’t answer her. I just get up, grabbing my purse.

  “Do you guys want to walk around before heading back?” I ask them, and we all agree that’s a good idea. I walk out into the warm night, having an internal fight about thinking about the brown eyes that are still making my heart beat a touch faster.

  Chapter Six

  Alex

  When I walk away from Diana and Kate, my mind is still on Meghan. When she got up to go to the bathroom and I saw what she was wearing, I about jumped out of the chair and covered her with my jacket. I walked in telling myself that she isn’t getting to me, and that I could sit down without wanting to jump up, bury my hands in her long hair, and claim her mouth. I tried to ignore her, tried not to pay attention to her, but my body knew where she was and was on high alert. My finger itched to touch her, even just a graze. Then the troublemaker called me a bear, a fucking bear. Shaking my head, I try to calm down as I scroll through my phone and find the number I was looking for.

  “Guy,” I say when he answers the phone.

  “C’est moi,” It’s me, he says.

  “vous avez une réservation pour demain soir sous au nom de Kate?” You have a reservation for tomorrow night for a Kate? I ask him.

  “Oui. A onze heures,” Yes, he tells me, at eleven.

  “Qui a pris la réservation?” Who took the reservation? I ask him.

  “Aucune idée,” No idea, he tells me.

  “Combien ont-elles payé pour la table?" How much did they pay for the table? I ask him, opening the door to my car and getting in. I start the car and switch it to Bluetooth.

  “C’est deux cent cinquante d’habitude." It’s usually two fifty, he tells me, and I know this because I was the one to cap the price. Under no excuse or circumstances are they to charge more. I don’t give a shit if they are overbooked or you have millions in your bank.

  “Vérifie,” Check, I tell him, taking off down the street to the other restaurant.

  “Merde,” Shit, he says. “sept cent cinque.” Seven hundred and fifty, he says quietly.

  “trouve la personne qui a pris le paiement et vire la.” Find out who took it and fire them, I instruct him.

  “Je pense que c'est Monique.” I think it’s Monique, and I close my eyes; she’s been with us for over two years.

  “Elle connaît les règles et elle les a ignorées.” She knows the rules, and she ignored them, I remind him. “Ce n'est pas la première fois.” It’s not the first time.

  “D’accord,” Okay, he says. “Je vais m'en occuper ce soir.” I’ll take care of it tonight.

  “Bien,” Good, I tell him, finally pulling up to the other five-star restaurant that I have to check out tonight. “Annulé les frais de réservation et tout ce qu’elles veulent sera aux frais de la maison.

  Je serai avec elles demain mais incognito” Cancel the charge and everything that they want is on the house. I’ll be with them tomorrow, but it’s undercover, I tell him, and I’m not even sure that is a good idea.

  “Comment envisages d’être la incognito? vas-tu porter un sac sur la tête?” How do you plan on going undercover? Are you going to wear a bag on your head? He laughs.

  “Parle à Gilles et à l'équipe de sécurité, assurez-vous qu'ils fassent la même chose que lorsqu'un certain prince se pointe.” Speak to Gilles and the security team. Make sure that they do the same thing as when a certain prince showed up, I tell him. “A demain,” See you tomorrow, I say and hang up right before the valet opens my door.

  “Hey,” I say, getting out of my car and handing him the keys. “N'allez pas loin avec la voiture je n’en ai pas pour longtemps.”

  Don’t go far with the car. I won’t be here long.

  “Oui, monsieur,” Yes, sir, he says, and I walk into the restaurant, looking around. I knew when we bought this that it would be a great add to the family restaurants. The inside has stunning high ceilings with crystal chandeliers. White pillars are between the windows’ heavy beige curtains hanging. Tables of two or four only fill the room with white linen tablecloths and small red roses on each table. Each chair is gold; it smells like money. The whole back wall is a wine cellar showcasing all our best vintages.

  “Alex.” Ginette, the blond woman, greets me when I walk in. “Merci de vous joindre à nous.” So nice of you to join us. I nod at her and walk into the restaurant, keeping my head down. Usually, a couple of people who know my family are dining, and I’m in no mood to converse with anyone.

  I walk to the office door, knock once, and then enter, finding David, who takes care of the restaurant. “Oh moi dieu,” Oh my god, he says, smiling and taking off his glasses. “The big one,” he says in English with his heavy accent.

  “You speak English now?” I ask him, closing the door behind him and sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

  “My new woman is English. She only wants me to speak French to her when it’s in the bed,” he says, and I laugh with him.

  “You have to do what you have to do,” I tell him. “So tell me everything I need to know.” I lean back in the chair and listen to him. It’s almost two hours later when we finish running through all my questions and concerns to make sure we have more positives than negatives.

  “Did you have dinner?” he asks me when we get up. “Let’s get you the dish that gave us the three Michelin stars.”

  “I can’t say no to that,” I tell him and follow him to the back of the kitchen. The chef puts the plate on the counter, and I finish it in record time.

  I walk out of the restaurant, and my car is parked right in front. I get in and look at the clock, finding it’s almost midnight. I wonder if they made it home, I think to myself. I wonder if she’s in bed.

  My car makes its way to the apartment, and I don’t even know why. I go down the street, not even sure what to look for, because the street is quiet, and it looks like everyone is sleeping. I’m about to make my way home when my phone rings. “Guy,” I say, pressing the button.

  “Nous avons un problème.” We have a situation, he says in a hushed tone, then goes straight to speaking English. “Giselle just showed up.”

  “Fuck,” I say. “Je suis en route,” I’m on my way, I tell him and stop at a red light. The pounding in my head is slowly throbbing, but I know in about fifteen minutes, it will be so much worse. My little sister really doesn’t know what it means to lay low. I told her this morning to just sit in her room until the latest headlines blew over.

  When I pull up to the club, I go to the back where no one except the workers are. I hear her right away. “Je jure devant dieu que si tu ne bouges pas de mon chemin , je vais t’arracher les couilles” I swear t
o god, Guy, if you don’t get out of my way, I'm going to grab your balls and rip them off.

  He’s standing in front of the door that leads to the club, blocking it. His blue eyes not even fazed by her last threat. He’s wearing black pants and a white shirt with a skinny black tie. My sister, on the other hand, has tight black pants on with a short loose off-the-shoulder bright pink shirt. Her blond hair is tied at the nape of her neck in a loose bun.

  “Giselle, I think that’s enough,” I say from behind her, leaning against the doorway.

  “Traitor,” she says to Guy, who puts his hands on his hips. “I was coming to surprise you, and you called my brother.”

  My eyebrow shoots up at him, and his eyes fly to me. “I can explain.”

  Giselle throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, what can you explain? How we’ve been dating for the past two years, and you still keep me a secret while you flirt with all the women in the club?”

  I roll my eyes at this, knowing it isn’t true. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me. I showed up, and he was almost humping Monique.”

  “I told you it wasn’t what you thought. I just fired her, and she was crying.” He looks down at my sister. “I was making sure she was okay.”

  “So you hug her?” my sister yells. “Let me go cry on Henri’s shoulder.”

  “Can we just stop yelling?” I say. “Giselle, the press has been all over us the past couple of days. Honestly, you know this.”

  “And that is my fault?” she says, pointing at herself. “No, it’s your fault.”

  “I know that, but for the next week until something else comes along, we have to lay low,”

  I tell her, not even thinking about what made this whole thing go nuts.

  “Fine,” she says. “I’ll go back to my apartment and not come out till next week.”

  Then she looks at Guy. “You better not show up.”

  “I live there,” he says, and I open my mouth and then close it, looking over Giselle’s shoulder at him. “We were going to tell you, but…”

  “But?” I say, putting my hands in my pockets. “I get it. Once it’s out, it’s hard to have normal.”

  Giselle turns to me. “Take me home to your house then.”

  “Giselle, je jure devant Dieu , tu as intérêt d’être dans notre lit quand je rentre à la maison ” Giselle, I swear to god you better be in bed when I get home or else, he says. Approaching her, he bends down and kisses her lips. “Vas-y,” Now go, he says.

  “I don’t know how I love you,” she says to him, walking away.

  “Je te le rappellerai ce soir “ I’ll show you tonight why, he says, turning around and walking out the door into the club.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I say to her. “He’s one of my best friends,” I tell her, and she just shrugs.

  “It happened,” she says, turning and walking out the back door. “Now take me out to eat. I’m starving.”

  I take her to one of our best but smallest restaurant, and we eat in the kitchen so no one sees us talking about the hell my life is right now. When we finally settle in, she looks at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I lean back in the chair, looking at her. “I have no idea what you mean?”

  “You look different,” she says, taking a bite of the sandwich that she ordered. “Relaxed a bit but still uptight.”

  I laugh at her, shaking my head. “That contradicts. You know that,” I tell her.

  She swallows her food and then takes a sip of wine. “I thought with the media hounding you that you would be a little bit more uptight and edgy, but you’re not. You just found out I’ve been dating your best friend for the past two years, and you didn’t bat an eye.”

  “I had my suspicions. You know that, right?” I tell her even though I really didn’t. “I mean, it was coming to me.”

  “Why did Guy fire Monique?” she asks me, knowing it will have backlash somewhere because not only has she been with us for the past two years, but she’s also the daughter of my father’s best friend.

  “A couple of friends tried to get a table at Faust, and she charged them seven fifty,” I tell her, and her eyebrows shoot up. “Knowing full well that isn’t right.”

  “But if these were your friends, why didn’t they just call you and ask you to do it?” I sit up, grabbing the glass of water that is on the table as the waiter comes over.

  “We have just closed the kitchen, so let me know if you need anything else,” he says, nodding at us and walking away.

  “I just met these friends,” I tell her, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

  “Women?” She cuts to the point. “All this shit going on and you think it’s a good idea to meet women?”

  “Trust me, it’s nothing. One of them called me a bear tonight,” I tell her, and she slams her hand on the table and starts laughing. The whole time, I’m tempted to tell her that the girl with the fucking red hair, long goddamn legs, and a mouth I want to devour has gotten under my skin.

  Chapter Seven

  Meghan

  “What is that noise?” I mumble with my ass stuck to the cement wall.

  “I think it’s our wake up from nap alarm,” Kate mumbles. “Shut it off.”

  “This time change and the jet lag are killing me,” I say, not even attempting to open my eyes, and I’m not lying. It’s the worst. To get out of bed, I literally have to give myself a pep talk.

  “My body is not cooperating with my brain telling me to get up,” Diana says. “I’m saying get up, but my legs feel like they weigh a million pounds each.”

  “What time is it?” I ask, opening my eyes now and seeing a bit of light coming through the window.

  “I set the alarm for nine,” Kate says, sitting up in bed. “I think taking a three-hour nap was not the smartest thing for us to do.” She shimmies off the bed, leaving the middle open.

  “Getting up at nine a.m. this morning to have the best crepes in Paris was a good idea,” I say, sitting up now with my back to the wall, crossing my legs and leaning my head back.

  “Those were some good fucking crepes,” Kate says from the bathroom as she turns on the shower.

  “You know what wasn’t a good idea? Standing in the fucking sun to get to the Eiffel Tower and then deciding to give up halfway up,” Diana says, turning toward me still under the covers.

  “You know what wasn’t a good idea? Paying four hundred euro for a dress I can’t wear ever again,” I say, throwing the covers off me.

  “Why can’t you wear that dress again?” Diana asks, trying not to laugh. “It’s full on sequins.”

  I glare at her. “In all fairness, Paris has styles that we get two years later.”

  “Great,” I say. “In two years, I can wear it again.”

  “You looked amazing in that dress, and it’ll pay off,” Diana says. “Plus, we’re already seven hundred in.” She raises her eyebrows.

  “Don’t remind me,” I say, and Kate comes back into the room, her body and hair both wrapped in white towels.

  “At least the water pressure is good,” she says, sitting on the metal couch. “I don’t know why they call this a couch when it’s metal. What they should have said was a metal chair.”

  “I’m going to shower,” Diana says, getting off the bed. “You have the best hair, and you barely wear makeup,” she tells me, and I smile. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be friends with you.”

  “You lie,” I say when Kate laughs. “Who else is going to tell you when you do something stupid?”

  “She has you there,” Kate says. “No one will ever tell another friend to take off those shorts because it looks like your ass has its own heartbeat.”

  I whip my head to her. “Those shorts looked ridiculous on her.”

  “Oh, trust me,” Kate says. “I know.”

  I throw my hands up in the air, listening to Kate laugh. “She was trying to be diplomatic,” she says, and now Diana laughs.

  “You guys are ass
holes,” I say to them. Grabbing my phone, I check my emails and my social media.

  “How are you going to do your hair?” Kate asks when she starts combing out her own.

  “Down,” I say. “I might curl it a bit, but by the time I get there, it’ll be straight. You?”

  “I want to do a messy bun,” she says.

  “Well, the back is all open, so it would suit it,” I tell her, getting up when I hear the water in the bathroom shut off.

  Ninety minutes later, I sit down on the bed to put on my new rose gold shoes. I cross the straps over my feet and tie them around my ankles.

  When Kate comes out of the bathroom, my mouth drops open; her blond hair is loose in the front but tied in a bun in the back. Her makeup is neutral, making her blue eyes pop out against the gold sequined halter top mini dress. Her lips are painted a perfect dark pink. She turns around, showing her bare back, and she paired it with her nude sandals. A gold bracelet is pulled up between her elbow and wrist. “Jesus,” I say, and she laughs.

  “Look who’s talking,” she says, and I stand, showing her my outfit. Out of the three of us, mine is the most conservative. The mid-sleeve mini dress is rose gold with sequined horizontal little lines around my neck, my stomach, and my hips. The other part is little vertical patterns all rose gold silk to help separate between the sequined lines. It hugs all my curves and hits me mid-thigh. My hair is down to my waist, and I just curled the ends, but it’s a loss since it’s now straight. My makeup is just mascara and liner, my green eyes bright.

  “Okay, I think I got everything tucked in,” Diana says, coming out. Her dress is also a halter but not bare back. It ties around her neck and ends a little bit after her ass. Her strappy heels are closed toe but go all the way past her ankles, looking like boots.

  “Your tits look fantastic,” Kate says. “The Uber will be here in two minutes,” she says, so we make our way outside.

  I walk out, and the temperature has gotten a touch cooler. “I should bring flip-flops,” I say to them.