wall, he could hear the girl setting something heavier than a book on the table. Then he heard a familiar electronic whir, followed by a chime. He looked back to see her empty biscuit plate brushed aside and a laptop taking its spot on the table’s surface. She uncapped the duck’s flash drive and inserted it into a port on her computer. A moment later she was reading something on the screen.
As curious as Johnny was to find out what she was doing with a rubber duck, and why she bothered to keep the flash drive attached to a chain around its neck rather than in her bag, he didn’t pry. He just continued to sit there, waiting for the server to approach with an appetizer menu, waiting for Barney to finally show up and celebrate the new Parisian home.
But Barney never made it to the café. He called twenty minutes after seven, telling Johnny he had to cancel. Apparently the new home had an awful leak, and it had been raining in Paris that day. He apologized for the short notice and asked Johnny to reschedule.
After he disconnected with Barney, Johnny returned to the hostess and informed her that he would be eating alone and that the server could take his order any time. That was the moment the hostess presented him with an unusual request.
“Pardon, Monsieur,” she said in her best English, which was well-spoken but came with a thick French accent. “Would you mind a companion tonight?”
Johnny was generally polite, but he didn’t know how to receive this question.
“I’m sorry?” he said.
“We are having a many people come in out o’ ze rain, and we have nowhere for zem to zeet. Ze more we can zeet now, ze better for zem.”
Johnny scanned the café’s waiting area, which was small to begin with. It had definitely filled up since he had passed through the doors twenty minutes earlier, but the people who were stuck outside were trying to crowd it even more. Even though he was annoyed with his friend’s cancellation, he didn’t think it was proper to inconvenience someone else by making them stand in the rain. Likewise, he didn’t think it was fair for the earlier arrivals to have to cram in.
“All right then,” he said.
As he returned to the table, the hostess consulted her list for the next patron in line. To Johnny’s weird luck, the hostess brought to him one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and certainly the most beautiful he had actually met.
The woman’s long dark hair was still damp from the rain, and her pink tank top straps were splotched with drying rain spots. Her mascara encircling her blue eyes was also running slightly. But she was lovely. Lovely and clearly frustrated with her situation.
“I’m not sure I approve of this arrangement,” she said in an English accent similar to his own. “But I guess it’s for the good of humanity.”
While she was figuring out what to do with her handbag, she failed to notice Johnny holding out his hand in greeting. He held his hand in front of her for several seconds, patient as ever. As soon as she straightened her back and looked up at him, she flinched and put her hand to her chest.
“God, please,” she said. “You startled me.”
“Johnny,” he said, hoping to start their conversation off right, assuming she was on board with speaking to him while she ate.
She hesitated to respond. Then she looked down for a split-second. When she looked up, she gave him a piercing gaze.
“Claire. Cheers.”
She took his hand, or more specifically, his fingertips, held them lightly for a second, and released. Then she lifted a plastic bag full of napkins and plasticware off her lap and set it on the table. She had also brought her own straws.
“Care for a nappie?” she asked.
Before Johnny could answer her, she reached back down into her bag and produced from it a handful of wet wipes. She passed one to him.
“Number one cause of disease is shaking germs on an unclean hand,” she said.
“Quite.”
Johnny took a wet wipe out of its packaging and applied the alcoholic solution to his skin. This seemed to please his new companion.
“You haven’t got your food yet?” she asked.
“No, still waiting for my appetiser.”
Claire looked off toward the rest of the dining room, her face tilted downward a little, her mouth slightly crooked. The news seemed to irk her a little, but Johnny didn’t let it get to him. He was glad that he could have dinner with someone lovely, especially after the long trip he had taken to get here.
“You come by yourself?” he asked her.
She looked at him with an expression somewhere between challenge and disbelief.
“I don’t generally sit with strangers when I go places with friends.”
Johnny pat the tabletop in a calming gesture.
“I was supposed to meet a friend tonight. Celebrate a new home here in Paris. Bloke discovered a bad leak in the ceiling, so now I’m alone. Just wondering if you had a similar fate.”
She shook her head.
“I’m passing out of Paris on my way to London tonight. Got hungry. Here we are.”
“You don’t seem happy about it.”
Once again she looked downward, this time to her lap. When she looked up again, her eyes were softer and her lips more evenly spread above her chin. She was beginning to relax.
“Had a bad experience this afternoon,” she said. “Well, for the last week in fact. Don’t want to talk about it. Not your business. But yes, I’m not happy about it. I shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“Well, you’re not alone, actually.”
At this, she smiled slightly. Only slightly. It lasted for about three seconds. She had lovely teeth, perfectly straight, save for one molar that appeared a little off-center.
“Apologies. I’m being rude. Tell me about this friend who stood you up.”
They spent the next twenty minutes getting to know each other, superficially of course, but that’s how the best relationships normally began. Johnny kept this in the back of his mind with every question he asked her, and with every one of her questions he answered. Eventually they got their main dishes. Claire had ordered a biscuit platter topped with various soups. Johnny had panicked at the menu and told the server to bring him whatever she thought was good. The server brought him an untested dish called a “Grape Crepe Su-Steak.” The chef had just acquired the rights to the recipe not even an hour earlier, and Johnny was the first café guest to try it. With the meal came a note wishing him luck.
“Would you like to try my steak?” he asked Claire.
She gave the steak the once-over and shook her head.
“Doesn’t look appetising if I’m honest,” she said.
Johnny agreed with her. It was essentially a cooked T-bone steak covered in grape jelly. He regretted ordering it the moment it had arrived at the table, even though the first bite wasn’t so bad. Each consecutive bite got a little better as his taste buds adjusted to the flavor, but the dish acquired numerous stares from patrons sitting at the tables nearby. One even dared to ask him “What ze hell eez zat?” in a thick French accent.
But in spite of the rocky start and the ugly dinner, Johnny’s impromptu date with Claire gained momentum in charm, and by the time she had ordered a glass of champagne to wash down her biscuits and soup, she had become warm toward him.
“Ah, to ze loverz,” said the bartender, as he popped the cork on the bottle. He had left the bar area to serve them personally. “May your futurez be brilliant and heureux.”
Johnny could feel his cheeks warming up as he watched the bartender set the goblet before Claire, and the heat had spread into his neck as the bartender poured the golden liquid into her glass. When the bartender walked away, Johnny immediately regretted not ordering a glass for himself.
Claire took the goblet by the stem and swirled the champagne around. The liquid reached close to the rim, but she kept tight enough control that it never spilled over. Then she took the first sip. A relaxed smile stole the tension from her luscious lips after she pulled the glass away. A sparkling drop re
mained on her lower lip and Johnny desperately wanted to drink it off of her.
“In all things considered,” she told him, “I’m glad I got seated with you.”
Then she raised her goblet in a toast. He felt a slight pang in his stomach as he reached for his water glass and raised it to hers. She tapped her glass against his.
At that moment, the girl in the violet beret walked by. She was finished with her meal, and now had her bag and everything she was carrying tucked under her arm. Claire watched her until she disappeared into the crowd by the door. She had a puzzled look on her face as she kept her focus on the young woman.
“You see that girl who was just sitting there?” Claire asked, pointing at the empty table adjacent to them with the messy plates covering its top.
Johnny nodded.
“You see her with that rubber duck?”
“Yes.” He had certainly noticed. The sight of that duck had triggered something inside of him, something that awakened an old memory, something he didn’t want to remember. He was better off not thinking about it.
“French girls are so weird, aren’t they?” Claire asked. Johnny noticed her shifting to the side as she asked this, and her voice was slightly off-pitch. Both changes were so minor that he had nearly missed them.
“How so?”
“Who carries around with her a rubber duck? God, imagine the stories that duck must tell.”
Johnny smiled at her. He knew that he should take offense by her comment, but he’d shut that side of his heart down years ago. Instead, he decided that she was the
The Celebration of Johnny's Yellow Rubber Ducky Page 2
