by Marie Laval
The music stopped at last, and the last customers stumbled out into the dawn. He stacked up the chairs, grabbed a tea towel to mop beer and wine stains off the counter, and helped Simone sweep up the floor.
‘What’s the matter with you tonight?’ she asked. ‘You look preoccupied. You didn’t even play the last number with the band. Carmen wasn’t happy.’
He sighed. ‘I thought she looked a bit upset.’
Simone laughed. She shook her head and her gold earrings in the shape of musical notes swung wildly. ‘A bit upset? Oh, mon chéri! You know how she feels about you, don’t you?’
He shrugged. Of course he knew Carmen had a thing for him. He was neither blind nor stupid. The woman was beautiful, and a great singer, with a warm, smoky voice that blended perfectly with the melodies he played on his sax, but he had steered clear of any personal involvement with her. To tell the truth, her ever more divaesque tantrums were beginning to get on his nerves.
Simone yawned and rubbed her eyes, smudging her mascara. The blonde curls she piled up in an elaborate sixties beehive drooped onto her forehead. Suddenly she looked small, old, and fragile, and Cédric’s heart tightened. The woman worked too hard. Even though she dressed as if she was still in her twenties, she had recently celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday. What was Luigi thinking of, letting her work behind the bar all night, six nights a week? Come to think of it, Luigi wasn’t getting any younger either. He should talk to them about retiring to the little house near Deauville they had bought a few years before, even though the last time he had broached the topic they had both looked at him as if he was crazy.
He glanced at the clock – almost five in the morning.
‘Isn’t it time you went home, son?’ Luigi called as he came out from the back room where he’d put the night’s takings in the safe.
Cédric nodded. ‘And it’s time you two had a rest.’ He bent down to give Simone a hug, promised to pop in the following evening, slipped his leather jacket on and retrieved his motorbike helmet from behind the bar.
‘Night, love. Take care riding that machine of yours.’ Simone blew him a kiss. As usual he made the pretend gesture of catching the kiss and touching it to his heart.
Once outside, he zipped his leather jacket up and walked to the side street where he’d parked his bike. Even at that time the odd taxi sped past, giggling girls tottered on their high heels, and groups of lads came out of bars and clubs. A black, top of the range Audi A5 Coupé parked opposite the club caught his attention. A faint greenish glow, probably from the car’s satnav, outlined two bulky silhouettes inside.
Well, well, that was interesting. Someone was getting nervous, and sending him a not very subtle message.
He slipped his helmet on, climbed on the bike and started the engine. He did a quick check of the brakes and sighed with relief. No one had tampered with them – yet – but it might be a good idea to keep the bike in the garage from now on.
He pulled away, drove past the club and the Audi, and checked in his rear-view mirror before turning into the Boulevard. The headlights shining back at him in the mirror told him he’d been right. The Audi was following him, and the driver wasn’t even trying to be discreet.
It looked like he wasn’t going home after all, but taking Nenachko’s henchmen for a ride to the seaside.
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