Paris - Chapter Seventeen
Flashback continues
Annie woke around 3 AM, her stomach aching faintly.
‘Guess I’m still not completely over that bad fish
yet,’ she thought sourly, turning on her side. ‘What
a day’.
After tossing around for almost fifteen minutes,
Annie let out an exasperated sigh and flicked on the
light by the bed. ‘No way I’m getting back to sleep
at this rate.’ She flicked the covers off and
wandered over to the coffer maker. After putting
water in it to boil, she fished out a packet of the
tea she’d bought the other day and stuck it in one of
the hotel mugs.
When the tea was ready, Annie made her way back to the
bed, sipping carefully. It helped calm her stomach,
but it would still take a little while until she was
ready to go back to sleep. What to do in the
meantime?
The other envelope! Annie fished around in her purse
until her hand emerged with the second letter that had
been addressed to her alone from Claude. She’d placed
it there after JC had left, just so there would be no
chance of him seeing it till she’d read it. ‘Might as
well read it now,’ she thought, settling back on the
pillows she'd propped up. Claude’s familiar scrawl
graced the front of the envelope, which still smelled
faintly of the older man’s cologne.
Opening it revealed one piece of paper, carefully
folded inside. Annie removed and unfolded it, sipping
her tea as she began to read.
Almost immediately, she stopped drinking. The mug
began to shake violently and Annie had to put it down
on the night stand before she spilled any of the hot
tea on herself or the letter.
Tears began to steam down her face as Claude’s
scrawlings formed a story almost too fantastic to
believe, but one that seemed to draw together the last
few strings.
Flashback - April 1998
Jacques walked slowly down the hallway, glancing back
and forth. He didn’t really like dealing with this
woman, she creeped him out, but things were starting
to move faster than he was comfortable with. Peeking
around the corner, Jacques let out the breath he
didn’t know he’d been holding. The door to Annie’s
flat was shut. Sneaking closer, he put his ear to the
door and listened carefully. He heard music playing,
muffled by the door, but he couldn’t hear any voices.
Nodding to himself, he knocked on the next door over.
After what seemed like an eternity in which Jacques
was certain Annie’s door would open any moment,
Babette poked her head outside. Upon seeing him, she
smiled. ("Well! Been a while since you last came.")
She sneered slightly, tilting her head to the left.
("I suppose you want to come in?")
Jacques pushed past her, kicking the door shut once he
was inside. Taking in her apartment, he grimaced.
("This place still smells like something died in
here.")
("Maybe something has.") Babette pushed past him in a
flurry of frayed skirts and unwashed filth. ("I used
to have a pet rat, you know. His name was.") She
trailed off, staring at the wall without really seeing
it.
He waited for her to finish, but soon realized that
her mind, or rather, what was left of it, had wandered
somewhere it wasn't exactly familiar with and was now
having a hard time finding its way back. Finally,
Jacques cleared his throat in irritation.
Babette jerked, then looked at him and smiled. ("Hi!
When did you get here?")
("Nevermind,") he growled in irritation. ("Look, I
need your help with something.")
("Oooooo,") she breathed, rubbing her grimy hands
together. ("What’re we gonna’ do?")
Jacques considered the best way to approach this next
part, but eventually decided that the simple road was
probably the safest. Looking her in the eye, he
smiled ("We’re going to play a game.")
("A game?") Babette clapped her hands together in
delight. ("I love games! Which one are we playing
today?")
("We’re going to play ‘Model’.")
"’Model’?") She put one finger to the side of her
mouth, tapping it lightly. ("I don’t think I now how
to play that game.") She danced around in a little
circle. ("What are the rules?")
("Just be patience. First, we need the other
player.") He smirked. ("You can’t very well play
this game by yourself, now can you?")
Babette crossed her arms over her chest, sulking. ("I
thought you were going to play.")
("I am, I am. But we need a third player, or else it
won’t be very much fun.")
(So who’s?") Babette was cut off as she heard Annie’s
door open. Rushing to her own door, she pulled it
open a crack and peeked out.
JC was standing in the hallway, outside Annie’s flat,
facing her in the doorway. They kissed softly, then
JC smiled. "I’ll be back next week to say goodbye."
Annie looked slightly pouty. "I know."
JC lifted her chin with his hand. "Not a permanent
goodbye. Just until I can convince the guys that we
need another break in Paris." He then leaned in and
whispered something in Annie’s ear that neither
Babette nor Jacques could hear. Whatever it was, it
made Annie blush slightly and Jacques felt his blood
boiling.
Babette quietly shut the door and turned to face him.
("Can we play with that one?") she begged, jumping up
and down. (Can we, can we? Please?")
He looked at her seriously. ("Do you want to?")
("Yes! Yes!") she was beside herself with delight.
("He’s so pretty. I think he’d have fun playing
‘Model’.")
Jacques smiled softy then, but there no trace of
warmth in it. ("Okay, but first you have to promise
smoothing.")
Babette stamped her foot impatiently. ("Oh, what
now?")
("You have to promise not to tell anyone. If you
do.") He paused for effect, to make sure he had as
much of her full attention as he was likely to get,
before continuing. ("If you tell anyone about this,
I’ll have Jake come and get you.")
All trace of amusement fell from Babette’s face,
replaced with equal swiftness by paralyzing terror.
("You wouldn’t!")
("Wouldn’t I?" You know, he wouldn’t be too happy if
he found out about the games you like to play, the men
you like to play them with.")
She dropped to her knees, tugging at Jacques hands.
("No, no, PLEASE!!! Don’t tell him. I promise to be
a good girl and not tell anyone! I promise! I
promise!") She deteriorated into a heap of sobbing
rags, burying her face in her hands.
Jacques rubbed at his temple. For some reason, dealing
with Babette always gave him a splitting headache, but
they did seem to be getting worse lately. Finally he
nodded. ("Alright, I won’t tell him. Just be ready
next week to play our game. Understand?")
Babette leapt up, seeming completely over the terror
she had felt only seconds before. Only a few unshed
tears shining brightly in her eyes gave any indication
of her earlier fear. ("Okay.") she chirped brightly
opening the door for him. ("I’ll see you then!")
Jacques left quickly down the hall, grateful that
Annie had already gone back into her flat by the time
that Babette had carelessly flung open the door. That
would have spoiled all the fun things he had planned
and that wouldn't do at all. Silently, he ran through
a list of things that needed to be prepared before
next week. Where had he put that camera?
End of flashback
Annie dropped the letter to the floor, her hands
shaking. How could this have happen? Jacques, it had
been Jacques all along. He’d used Babette, lied to
her.
He was the one who had knocked JC unconscious. He was
the one who had taken the pictures. Had he also been
the reason Babette had fallen out of her window? Had
she seen him and thought he was Jake?
Annie took a sip of the now cold tea, trying to calm
her thoughts. It would do no good to call him now,
she still wasn’t completely sure she knew what she’d
say.
Glancing over the letter a second time, she decided to
wait until morning to call. Satisfied with her
decision, Annie poured the cold tea down the drain and
turned off the light. Lying on her side in bed, she
closed her eyes and completely failed to go back to
sleep.
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