Paris Noir

by Aurélien Masson

  Around 10 p.m. I hear a car honking. I lean out. Marco is sticking his head out of a dark BMW. He waves to me. I go downstairs. “You make enough to afford this thing?” “No. It’s a loan. Get in!” I get inside the machine. He puts a CD on at top volume and the bass makes everything vibrate. I yell: “Where’re we going?” “You’ll see.”

  We leave the neighborhood, and Paris, for the suburbs. He lowers the sound. We get to Rungis, in the industrial zone. There isn’t much traffic at this time of night. We drive between big sheds, warehouses. Black-and-white, like in old films. We turn. Marco hangs a right. We roll up to an open shed. We enter. Inside, an English truck and two small vans. Guys bustling around. I’m getting worried. “What’s happening?” “Nothing. A business operation.”

  “What the fuck is this?”

  “Come on!” We get out of the car. We walk over to the guys. Marco gives out a few hi’s. There are four guys; they look at me strangely. “No problem, he’s a friend.” The guys are taking big boxes out of the English truck and putting them in the vans. “What’s in them?” “Stuff like cigarettes and hifis.” “You’re bullshitting me. Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want anything to do with crap like this?” “Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” “Are you the manager here?” “No, I’m watching it for a boss.” “Who?” “Remember the Café du Commerce?” “On rue de Wattignies?” “Yes. The boss had a son, Frederic Dumont.” “Could be.” “He’s the one I’m working for. I supply the manpower.” “You’re not sick of this shit?” “What else do you expect me to do? Work on trains like your father, or in a factory like mine, and croak like an asshole just for a pitiful salary?” “You don’t have to do that.” “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

  A cell phone rings. One of the guys answers. All of a sudden he gives an order. Everybody starts moving. Marco grabs me by the arm. “Come on! Gotta leave.” We run back to the BMW. “You want to drive?” “Why?” “Because you’re the best.” He flips me the keys. I start the car. “Got to get outta here. There’s a Customs patrol going around.” I accelerate. He’s my copilot. “Right. Left. Now hit it!” I keep the lights off. We can make out something in the distance. “Park in the shadows.” I turn off the engine. Silence. A halo of light slowly approaches. A car goes by. Customs. I watch it in the rearview mirror. As soon as it turns I start up again and I speed toward the exit. Marco keeps looking back. “You worried?” “Not about us. About the merchandise. My cut.” “You never should’ve dragged me into this job.” “Sorry. I thought you’d enjoy it. How was I supposed to know?” “Stop breaking my balls.”

  7.

  A strange sun over the city. Something warm and restful. I walk for a long time before I get to Lycée Paul-Valéry. That’s where I told Marco to meet me. The high school we went to. Especially me, because Marco didn’t go to school very often. But I tried my best. Especially in French and History. So how did I end up a mechanic?

  Marco’s already there. Sitting on the hood of his BMW. We look for a nearby café. We sit outside. We order, then exchange banalities.

  That’s when she appears. For the second time. Valerie is striding ahead, as if she’s late. I call her. I get up. I run after her. She finally turns around.

  [She walks rapidly across the stage. He calls her. She turns around.

  ]HER: What are you doing here?

  HIM: Nothing. I'm having a cup of coffee. You have a little time?

  HER: No, sorry. Someone's expecting me.

  HIM: You never called me.

  HER: I know, I was really busy.

  HIM: I waited. I didn't know how to reach you.

  HER: Forgive me.

  HIM: I have nothing to forgive you for. I'm only passing through.

  HER: I promise you. As soon as I can …

  Then I hear a voice. “Mommy!”

  [A voice calling offstage.]

  Valerie turns around. A little girl is running toward her. Maybe eight years old. Valerie glances at me. I see a painful form of despair in her face. Behind the little girl, a guy, a tall guy. He looks familiar.

  HER: I've got to go.

  HIM: I understand.

  HER: I'll call you.

  HIM: Don't bother. I understand completely.

  HER: I don't think so.

  [She turns around and exits.]

  She leaves. Wobbly legs, exploding heart, I think I’m going to collapse on the ground. Two breaths. I go back to the bar. Marco questions me. “You know Valerie Dumont?” “What?” “The girl you followed.” “She’s a friend of my sister’s. We saw each other at the wedding. I didn’t know her name was Dumont.” “That’s her husband’s name. I told you about him already, at the warehouse. I do some jobs for him. If you want, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Don’t bother. Really, don’t bother.”

  8.

  Flattened, hurt, smashed. Aching belly. Back from the station. My train ticket. Tomorrow I’m going back to Toulon. The phone rings. A few words of conversation. Steps. Mom through the door. “Phone for you.” “Marco?” “No, it’s a woman.”

  I rush over to the phone. It’s her.

  [Each at opposite sides of the stage. They talk to each other on the phone.]

  HER: Antoine?

  HIM: Yes!

  HER: I'm sorry.

  HIM: You didn't tell me you were married.

  HER: I know.

  HIM: Or that you had a daughter.

  HER: I know. Forgive me. When we met … it was so sudden … I didn't know what to do.

  HIM: And now?

  HER: I still don't know. But we can see each other, if you want to.

  HIM: That's not a good idea.

  HER: What are you talking about?

  HIM: You're married, you're a mother, all that.

  HER: That's not a problem.

  HIM: I'm going to go away.

  HER: It's your decision.

  HIM: Right. When?

  HER: Now.

  HIM: It's nighttime.

  HER: I'll wait for you at my place. Nobody's home.

  [They hang up and exit from different sides of the stage.]

  I call out to Mom. “I’m going out for a little while to see a friend.” “So late?” “It’s the only way she can do it.” “Okay, son.” “I’m taking Sophie’s car.”

  9.

  Through the darkened city. Just one thought leads me on. Her. Speed to her. Speed. A nice apartment on boulevard Diderot. I ring. She opens the door.

  [Doorbell. She hesitates, walks forward, straightens her hair with one hand, and opens the door.]

  HER: Come in.

  HIM: Thanks … Nice place … Money's no problem, is it?

  HER: It's not me.

  HIM: It's your husband.

  HER: Yes. Do you want something to drink?

  HIM: Something strong.

  HER: Cognac?

  HIM: Perfect.

  [She fixes him a glass.]

  I close my eyes. What am I doing here? I should have left today. Shouldn’t have come. She’s pouring me a drink.

  [She brings him a glass.]

  HER: Here you are.

  [He swallows.]

  [Silence.]

  I drink almost the whole glass. Then silence. Like two strangers in an elevator.

  [She takes him by the hand and they exit.]

  So she’s taking me by the hand. She leads me slowly upstairs, into a bedroom. Not the master bedroom. A guest room. She only leaves a little lamp on. She strokes my face. Her hand is trembling. And we make love. Entwined in each other, breathless, exhausted, neither of them dare to say anything yet.

  [In a big bed, they are lying pressed up against each other, out of breath. We can guess they’re naked under the sheets. Silence.]

  HER: Why did you leave?

  HIM: Why? Because I couldn't stand this city anymore.

  HER: You don't like Paris? The neighborhood?

  HIM: It's complicated. I love this city and I hate it at the same time. It's t
he city of my childhood. That's a terrible thing! Years … painful years …

  Silence.

  She puts her hand on my cheek.

  HER: You know, I was in love with you.

  HIM: I was in love with you too.

  HER: We've missed each other.

  HIM: You said it!

  HER: And you left.

  HIM: Yes … And now what?

  HER: Stop it.

  HIM: Stop what?

  HER: For a long time, I dreamed of your body.

  HIM: You're not answering me. Now what?

  HER: I can't answer. You wouldn't like the only possible answer. I wouldn't like it either.

  HIM: I know that answer.

  HER: I'm not so sure.

  HIM: How about your family?

  HER: What about my family?

  HIM: I don't know.

  [She puts her hand over his mouth.]

  HER: Shhh! Don't talk about the future. It doesn't exist.

  [They embrace.]

  10.

  I decide to stay in Paris longer. My mother is delighted. I meet Valerie the next day. We go for a walk. Moments wrenched away from the rest of the world. Moments for just the two of us, with that permanent threat, that ending getting nearer.

  [They cross the stage holding hands.

  HER: I can't come tomorrow. But later …

  HIM: Later?

  HER: In one or two days. I don't know yet. It's complicated.

  HIM: I'm not asking you for anything.

  HER: I know. It's not easy for me.

  HIM: Not for me, either.

  [They exit.]

  Evening. Marco comes by to pick me up. “Where’re we going?” “A nightclub near Bastille.” “I really don’t like all that.” “I gotta tell you something.” “What?” “You’ll see.”

  It’s not really a nightclub. Just a big bar with music playing in the back room. We order cocktails. “What did you want to tell me?” “Just wait a little. Actually, I want to introduce you to someone.” “I don’t like your mysteries. Last time, I was really mad at you.” “Last time, everything went okay.” We drink and we order again. Then a group comes in. Three of them. Marco waves and they walk toward our table. I recognize one of the guys from the warehouse and I recognize Dumont. What the hell is he doing here? The three guys stop. Marco introduces everybody. Dumont stares at me. “Haven’t we met somewhere?” “Could be. I’m from the neighborhood but I’ve been away for a while.”

  Marco praises my skill as a driver. Dumont becomes interested in me. “And what are you doing now, my man?” I don’t like it when somebody calls me “my man” just like that. “I work in a garage.” “I might need you.” “I don’t see how.” “A good driver.” “I don’t do that anymore.” “Marco, you should persuade him.” “I’ll take care of it.” “No way.” Dumont gives me a piercing glance. He doesn’t like to be contradicted. “I have a feeling we’ll meet again.” “I don’t think so. I’m leaving in a couple of days.” He doesn’t answer. He goes away with his two bodyguards. Marco doesn’t say anything.

  “Why did you bring me over here? Why’d you introduce me to that guy?”

  “So you can stay here. He can find work for you.”

  “I’m not looking for work. You really don’t get it. I don’t want to stay in Paris. I can’t stay here. I’m going to leave as soon as I can.”

  11.

  Eyes diving into the night. Valerie comes over to me. I can feel her breath and then her arms around me.

  [She comes over to him and puts her arms around his shoulders.]

  HER: What are you thinking about?

  HIM: What I missed in life.

  HER: Did you miss me?

  HIM: Maybe. Hard to say. I didn't know if you still existed for me, but when I saw you again at the wedding it all came back to me. You had never really left me. You were hidden some where, ready to spring up again.

  HER: You still haven't told me the real reason you left.

  HIM: I never told anyone because the reason is too ugly.

  HER: Tell me.

  HIM: Truth burns.

  HER: It's as bad as that?

  HIM: I think so … Ten years ago, I used to hang out with Marco a lot.

  HER: I know.

  HIM: We did a lot of shit together. Real hoods, almost. On my end, I was still kind of hanging on to what I thought was a normal life. But him, I felt he was going over the edge. And then there was this problem with a guy. Marco asked me to go to a meeting with him. He had some business to settle. One night, a little after 12. Actually, the guy owed Marco a bunch of money. He was supposed to give some of it back to him. It was near the wine warehouses around Bercy. Before they knocked them down. In a deserted spot … The guy was there, waiting for us, sitting on his moped. We'd come in a car. I was driving, as usual … Marco got out and began talking with the guy. Then they started yelling at each other. The guy shoved Marco to the ground and jumped on his bike and started it … Marco got up. He came back to the car and told me to follow the guy. That's what I did. He had no chance of getting away from us. And suddenly the guy braked, turned around, got off the bike, and pulled a gun out of his jacket. Even in the night, with the moonlight and all, we could see he was aiming at us. We ducked. I hit the gas pedal … He didn't have time to fire and I crashed into him … I felt the shock. We backed up. The guy’s body was lying on the ground. Dead … I decided to get out right then and there. Marco wanted to stay. We promised never to squeal on the other guy if one of us got busted.

  [Silence.

  HER: For a long time I thought I was the one you were running away from.

  HIM: No, I was running away from that business. I had blood on my hands, I didn't want to pay for it. But, in fact, I did pay. Ten years—a kind of exile.

  HER: It was an accident. It wasn't your fault at all.

  HIM: There's no such thing as an accident.

  [Silence.]

  HER: Do you want something to drink?

  HIM: No.

  [Silence.]

  HER: I'm scared.

  HIM: Why?

  HER: You shouldn't have come back. We shouldn't have seen each other again. We're going to make people unhappy.

  HIM: People? Who?

  HER: Us, maybe. And then there are our families …

  HIM: As far as our families go, all we have to do is leave.

  HER: What about us?

  [Silence.]

  HER: I'm cold.

  HIM: Let's go back.

  [They exit.

  ] 12.

  Three in the morning. The phone. I get out of bed. Mom too. She’s worried. I pick up the phone. She must think it’s Sophie. Marco’s voice. I reassure Mom. “That you, Antoine?” “D’you know what time it is?” “You gotta help me.” “Where are you?” “In the country. Seine-et-Marne. A village called Ferrière.” “What’re you doing there?” “I crashed the BMW.” “Anyone hurt?” “No.” “What do you want me to do?” “Come get me.” “Now?” “Yes! I’m at the main square, in front of the church, in the middle of the village. I already walked two miles. I’ve had it.” “I’m on my way.”

  I get dressed fast. I grab the keys and papers for Sophie’s car. Two minutes later I’m heading east on the highway. Moving forward through the night. Marco, what an asshole. I drive for half an hour. Then I get on a road toward Marne-la-Vallée. Little roads and villages go by. Don’t get lost. Never been around here before. Finally, a sign says Ferrière. Turn left. What the hell am I doing here again? Go back to Toulon. As fast as possible. Go back to Toulon. Finally I’m there. The village is asleep. I slow down, drive up to the phone booth. Nobody. Where the hell is he? I turn off the engine. I’m about to get out. Marco gets into the car. “Thanks! I owe you one!” “You don’t owe me a thing.” I start the car again. “What about your car?” “We’ll see about that later.” “Someday something’s gonna happen to you.” “Someday. But not today. You’re here. You saved my skin.”

 
I drop Marco off in front of his house. He left rue de Fé-camp for a more upscale apartment on rue Montgallet. He thanks me again. “That’s your last word, about Dumont? You don’t want to work for him?” “No! Absolutely not.” “Maybe you’re right.” And he adds: “How does it feel, sleeping with his wife?” “What?” “You know what I said.” “What are you talking about? You on the vice squad?” “One day, people are going to find out about it.” “So what?” “Dumont’s not softhearted. He’s going to fuck you up, and his wife too.” “He’ll never know.” “That’s what you think. I know, and I didn’t have to try. G’night!” He slams the door. I really have to leave this city. ASAP. Before things turn nasty.

  13.

  Noon. Valerie’s waiting for me. She wants to talk. Not at her place. In some out-of-the-way café. I take my sister’s car. The fatigue from the night before still weighing on me. I go in. I look around for Valerie.

  [He walks in. She’s sitting at a table. He comes over.]

  HIM: What's up?

  HER: I had to see you. Last night I spoke to my husband.

  HIM: What?

  HER: I told him I was having an affair with someone.

  HIM: You didn't!

  HER: What else could I do? He thought I was acting strange. He would have tried to find out and he would have succeeded. He came back pretty late. I waited until it was 1 in the morning. He looked as if something was bothering him. I drank two glasses of cognac to get up the courage. And I told him everything. I didn't tell him who you were. He insisted, he threatened me, he yelled. Luckily, our little girl woke up. He calmed down.

  HIM: And then?

  HER: I told him I was going away with you.

  HIM: With me?

  HER: Remember when I was telling you about the only possible answer for our future? The answer wasn't what you thought. I'm not staying. I'm leaving. I'm leaving because it's the only thing to do, even though I know it's not something good for me, or for you. I want to spend the next days, the next weeks far away from here, with you.