by Harper Bliss
“I know you have your doubts and I appreciate this might be very hard for you, but I must urge you to make a decision soon about your future,” Solange said. “This is a leak we can contain. I trust Aurore to not tell anyone and if we ask Stéphanie to talk to Claire and Juliette—”
“I’ll talk to Steph. I’ll take care of this.” A president really isn’t allowed to have any doubts at all, Dominique thought. “It won’t go any further.”
“With all due respect, you can’t know that.”
Dominique heard footsteps in the corridor. “I need some coffee.”
“Of course.” Solange briskly walked to the door and commandeered whoever was out there to bring them coffee pronto. Dominique used the interruption in their conversation to think.
Perhaps she should have put her foot down when she took office and demanded that Steph stop working at Barbier & Cyr. But that wasn’t at the heart of this betrayal. Steph would be furious when she heard about this. She had worked with these women for more than a decade. She expected nothing but loyalty from them—and why wouldn’t she? They were her best friends.
Solange came back with a jug of coffee and poured them both a cup.
Dominique did something she hardly ever did in Solange’s office. She sat down. It was their custom that if they had something to talk about, Solange came to her. But today was not like any other day.
“I know my having doubts is very hard for you. I understand that. We’ve both worked our behinds off for this job, to get where we are. I will make my decision soon. I promise you that. But I won’t be rushed by anyone, nor will I be pestered or emotionally blackmailed into it.”
“Of course not.”
“I need time to think. Twenty-four hours of silence and zero input. Deciding to run for president five years ago was the most important decision of my life so far, but it’s soon to be eclipsed by this one. I can only do it for the right reasons and those reasons should be mine alone. No one else has to turn up every single day the way I have to. No one else has to shoulder the responsibility for what goes on in the country the way I do. You may think it weak of me that I have my doubts, but I don’t think that at all. I think it’s a sign of strength that I’m willing to question my suitability for another term.”
“Please, Dominique. I would never think you weak,” Solange said. “Even the notion.”
Dominique enjoyed it much more when Solange dropped all decorum and talked to her as a friend rather than her chief of staff.
“Good.” Dominique sipped from her coffee. “Cancel all my plans as of Saturday noon until Monday morning. I’m going to Juan-les-Pins. To think.” She got up before Solange had a chance to protest too much. “Now I’m going to wake Stéphanie.”
Steph
A violent shaking motion woke Steph. She pulled her sleep mask from her eyes and pulled out her earplugs.
When she noticed it was Dominique doing the shaking, her lips formed into an instant smile—although the vigour with which Dominique was shaking her was a bit much at this time of the day.
“How lovely,” she said. “A gentle presidential wake-up call. Aren’t I a lucky girl?”
“Best wake up as quickly as you can.” Dominique’s tone sounded rather harsh. “Your friends at Barbier & Cyr have been pitching to the Socialists.”
“What?” Steph sat up.
“Either Claire or Juliette has approached Aurore Seauve about the possibility of Barbier & Cyr taking on Anne Rivière’s campaign in case I don’t run.”
“No way.” Steph shook her head. “They would never do that…” Oh shit, she thought. Claire.
“Well, they have.” Dominique fixed her with an icy glare. “Which means Barbier & Cyr are fired. I’ll never work with them again.”
“Please don’t make any rash decisions. Let me get to the bottom of this.” Steph jumped out of bed and looked around for something to cover her naked body with.
“They went to the Socialists. That’s inexcusable.”
“You’re right. If that is what actually happened, then that is indeed inexcusable. But there must be an explanation.” Steph plucked a robe from the back of the door.
“It had better be a damn good one.” Dominique stood there with her hands on her hips, the very picture of indignation. “If your friends screwed me over, so help me god.”
“Screwed you over?” Steph repeated. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little?”
Dominique narrowed her eyes. “I most certainly do not.”
“How do you know about all this?” Steph was finally awake enough to ask the most pertinent question.
“One of them approached Aurore and Aurore told Solange. At least there’s one decent Socialist out there. Someone with a little bit of integrity.”
Someone trying to get their woman back, Steph thought. Although Aurore was, of course, a decent person. Much more so than one of her oldest friends, it appeared. Why had Claire done this? Why would she take that kind of foolish risk?
“I’ll deal with this,” Steph said. “I’m very sorry this has happened. I know you don’t need this on top of everything else.”
“You might also want to consider resigning,” Dominique said. “Unless you want to work for the Socialists.”
Steph walked over to Dominique and put her hands on her shoulders. “Please, calm down. I said I’d deal with it.”
“Solange wants to sue them. This could be the end of them, you do know that.” Dominique’s anger wasn’t subsiding just yet.
“Them? I am a partner at Barbier & Cyr, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“If only I could forget.” Dominique was close to yelling.
Once again, Steph was caught in the middle. There was no use arguing about this any further. Steph needed more information. She needed to talk to Claire.
“I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Fred, Claire’s assistant, said.
“I need to speak to Claire. Now.”
“She’s on a call with—”
“Get her off the call. This can’t wait,” Steph urged. It made her very uncomfortable to speak to her buddy Fred that way—although her friendship with him had faded somewhat after she had moved into the Elysée.
“Okay.” Fred shot her a look. “Hold your horses.” He knocked gently on Claire’s door, then opened it a fraction, and whispered something.
Steph was paranoid enough to wonder who Claire was talking to. It was probably an existing client, but still. She wasn’t to be trusted any longer.
“You can go in,” Fred said.
“Thanks.” Steph shot him a quick smile. If today hadn’t been such a disaster already, she’d have taken him to lunch. But Steph had a feeling that no leisurely lunches would be enjoyed in her near future.
“Where’s the fire?” Claire asked when Steph entered.
Steph made sure the door was shut behind her and walked close enough to Claire’s desk so nothing they said could be overheard. It wouldn’t be the first time that Fred had accidentally overheard something that was said in his boss’ office.
“For crying out loud, Claire. Do you even have to ask?” Steph forced herself to sit. If she couldn’t keep her voice calm, she could at least try to get her body to quiet down a little.
“What are you talking about?” Claire eyed her quizzically.
“Cut the crap, Claire. You told Aurore that Dominique might not run for re-election.” It was difficult to look her friend in the eye. “And you pitched Barbier & Cyr to run the Socialists’ campaign if she doesn’t.” Steph could hardly believe she had to sit in Claire’s office and accuse her of this. But there she sat.
“Oh, fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Claire took off her glasses and closed her eyes. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
“You don’t deny it?” Steph asked.
Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she shook her head. “I don’t deny talking to Aurore.” She finally looked up. “I don’t deny any of it, but…”
She huffed out some air. “Let me guess? Aurore told Solange?”
Steph nodded.
“Oh, Christ.” Claire buried her face in her hands for a few seconds. When she looked back up her eyes were red-rimmed. “You must be absolutely furious with me right now.”
“I’m just trying to understand.” Steph was livid, but it was hard to be angry with Claire when she looked like that.
“Aurore promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone,” Claire said.
“That doesn’t explain or excuse anything. Why did you even go to Aurore?”
“Because… I didn’t want us to miss out. Where has the ambition gone at this firm? Someone has to look to the future.”
“So you approached the Socialists while I work here. Come on, Claire.”
“You’re the one who told us Dominique might not run again. I take that very seriously. She wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t a distinct possibility.”
“Even so. Even if Dominique doesn’t run, that doesn’t mean Barbier & Cyr can work for Anne Rivière.”
“Really?” Claire asked with a note of indignation in her voice. “I am one of the founders of this firm so I think I can still decide who we work for and who we don’t.”
“What on earth is going on with you? How can you even defend what you did?” Steph’s voice shot up. She’d hoped there would have been another explanation than… whatever this was. Most likely something as banal as Claire’s midlife crisis. It was her version of buying a sports car, perhaps. But endangering lifelong friendships—and their partnership with the Elysée—was far more long-reaching than buying a Porsche.
“I can’t defend it, but I am trying to explain.” Claire regrouped a little. She put her glasses back on, like a tiny piece of armour. “Does Dominique know?”
“Yes. She wants nothing more to do with Barbier & Cyr.”
“But you work here.”
“Fuck yes, I do.” Steph expelled a deep sigh. “And I don’t know how to solve this.”
“I haven’t told anyone else. Apart from Margot, but you know she won’t tell anyone.”
“Did you tell Margot you approached Aurore?” Steph’s eyes grew wide.
“Good heavens, no,” Claire said. “Although I’ll have no choice but to tell her now.”
“You’re not the victim here, Claire. You made a serious error of judgment. One that could very well be the end of this firm. You have to try and solve this somehow.” Steph wanted to get out of Claire’s office. The sting of betrayal coiled into a huge knot inside her stomach. “But first, you’re going to have to tell Juliette.”
“I know.” She bowed her head. “Will you come with me when I do?”
Steph stood up. “Let’s do it right now.”
Claire
A nasty headache beat at the back of Claire’s skull. What had she done? What on earth had she set in motion? She’d need to have a word with Aurore, who’d put her in this mess. Although, if she was honest, there was only one person responsible for this walk of shame to Juliette’s office, and that was Claire herself.
Steph was right. This could be the end of Barbier & Cyr. On Sunday, when she had hatched the plan to contact Aurore, she had been so invigorated by the illicitness of it—she might as well be honest about it now—that she had failed to locate the weakest link: Aurore’s enormous soft spot for Solange.
Steph knocked on Juliette’s door and entered without waiting for a reply. Claire followed sheepishly.
“Goodness.” Juliette looked up from her computer screen. “Is there an emergency partner meeting everyone failed to tell me about?”
Claire shut the door and sat next to Steph, who shrouded herself in silence.
“You’re scaring me now. What’s going on?” Juliette asked.
“I did something… really stupid, Jules,” Claire said.
“What did you do?”
Claire proceeded to tell Juliette how she had screwed up and, as she did, it became harder and harder to keep her gaze fixed on the woman who, since her early twenties, had been her best friend.
Juliette looked away from her, as though Claire was now a piece of garbage that didn’t bear glancing at any longer, and turned to Steph.
“What does this mean for us?” she asked.
“Dominique doesn’t want to work with Barbier & Cyr any longer. And I can’t blame her.”
“What about you?” Juliette asked.
“She wants me to resign.”
“Oh, good grief.” Juliette sounded as though she might burst into tears. “Is that what you want?” Neither one of them even cast a glance in Claire’s direction.
“I only found out about this an hour ago,” Steph said, not answering the question. Probably because the most likely answer was unthinkable. Steph had been at Barbier & Cyr from the beginning. Even when Dominique became president, she had wanted to stay on. Everyone wanted her to stay. She was part of the very fabric of the place. How could Claire have been so stupid as to put her in this position?
“What are we going to do?” Juliette asked.
“I’ll talk to Aurore,” Steph said. “I’ll tell her the pitch has been withdrawn.”
“Has Dominique made up her mind about running yet?” Juliette asked.
Steph shook her head. “She will soon. After the weekend.”
Claire listened to her friends—although they might not be her friends for much longer—and feverishly racked her brain for something she could do about this.
“Steph, please don’t resign,” she said, finally. “I’m the one who should resign.” She cleared her throat. “Both other partners are here so you can consider this my official notice. I’ll put it in writing, of course.”
“For heaven’s sake, Claire. This is no time to play the martyr. What’s done is done. We’ll find a way out,” Juliette said. “You resigning isn’t going to solve anything. You founded this firm. Without Cyr, there is no bloody Barbier & Cyr.”
Claire shook her head. “I have to do this. I made an incorrigible mistake. Someone’s head needs to be on the chopping block. It shouldn’t be Steph’s. She loves this company as much as we do.” She stood. She needed to get out of this room. Out of this building.
“And leave us to deal with the mess you made,” Juliette said, her tone acerbic. Juliette had been the one to plead with Claire for loyalty. Their friendship wouldn’t recover from this any time soon.
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” With that, Claire hurried out of Juliette’s office. She ran to her own office, just two doors down the hall, locked herself in, and burst into tears.
Her life as she had known it for a very long time had just ended.
Claire had only one place she could go. She’d tried calling Margot but her phone had gone straight to voicemail, which meant she was in the middle of surgery. Even though Claire had no idea how long Margot would be in the operating theatre, she made her way to Saint-Vincent. It was either that or a slew of Cosmopolitans at Le Comptoir, and it was too early for that. She hoped the taxi ride to another part of town would offer up some other ideas than resigning from the firm she had founded with her best friend.
One thing was unmistakably true. She had fucked up. She thought she might have learned her lesson after breaking Juliette’s heart a few years ago—when she had fallen into bed with Marie Dievart—but some lessons proved very hard to learn.
She didn’t look forward to sharing this particular screw-up with her wife. At least Margot was her wife already, and she’d vowed to stand by her in good times and bad. But Margot was already going through a bad time, and instead of Claire doing her bit and standing by her wife, she was going to add to Margot’s worries some more.
The morning rush had ended and traffic was quite light. The taxi deposited Claire at the hospital in record time. Margot hadn’t called her back so her best bet was to wait in Margot’s office. Claire could hardly go knocking on Nadia’s door.
What a mess, she thought, as she walked through the
hospital doors. It had been a while since she’d been here. Margot had told her that Marie Dievart had left Saint-Vincent some time ago. She seemed like the kind to do her worst in a place and then just leave. But again, Claire could hardly blame that particular ordeal on Dievart alone. She’d been as much a part of that as the other woman. At least she wouldn’t be running into her anymore at Margot’s place of work—and neither would Margot.
Claire decided to take the stairs. Maybe some vigorous stair climbing would help her think. Even though she feared she might not be able to think herself out of this particular pickle. She should have done more thinking beforehand. She should have guessed that Aurore would go squealing to her ex—probably in another vain attempt to get her back.
Aurore had always seemed like such a woman of her word. Claire had listened to her radio show on and off for a decade. She had learned many a thing from Aurore Seauve and, perhaps, she concluded, she had made the very human—and modern—error of trusting someone famous. Someone who came across as trustworthy in today’s crazy media landscape with all its fake news and click-bait headlines.
But still, trusting Aurore wasn’t her gravest error. Going behind everyone’s back had been. It was easy enough to blame Aurore, but it wasn’t Aurore’s fault. It was nobody’s fault but her own.
She heard voices on the next landing and, to distract herself, tried to discern what the people in the stairwell were talking about.
Was that Margot’s voice? Claire would recognise that voice anywhere. Had she just gotten out of surgery? Claire didn’t recognise the other person’s voice, but she’d soon find out who it was. As soon as she turned the next corner.
She did, but she couldn’t see Margot and her mystery conversation partner yet. Apparently, they weren’t walking up or down the stairs. They were just having a conversation in the stairwell.
Claire climbed up another flight, her breath starting to hitch in her throat with the effort, and spotted Margot. She was leaning with her shoulder against the wall. Who was she talking to? Claire could see a huge mane of curly ginger hair.
