Paris - Chapter One
FLASHBACK, Paris 1996
JC was in Europe. He and the guys were starting on their journey to becoming *Nsync. They were working 16-18 hours days and slowly driving themselves into a state of exhaustion. Justin’s mom (Lynn) had a "mom fit" and they began to get one day a week off to rest and relax. They had finished up their work in Stockholm earlier than planned and now found themselves with a little extra time on their hands. Joey, ever the adventurer, suggested that they take a day or two and explore Paris, particularly the Moulin Rouge. After being politely informed that he wasn’t old enough, part of his happy little euphoria seemed to wear off. JC wanted to stay at the hotel and sleep, but the others wouldn’t hear of it and managed to convince him to come. All five guys, Lance and Justin’s mothers and two tour-guides/translators (who had met them at the airport) rolled into Paris. Little did JC know, but destiny was already starting to crack its knuckles in preparation.
After they had checked into their hotel, they split into two groups. JC and Joey along with Lance and his mother (Diane) took one of the tour guides; a pleasant lady named Jeannette, to explore the west part of town. Chris, Justin and Lynn took the other and went east. As they traversed the streets of Paris, Joey noticed a little café. He convinced (JC had particularly liked "before my legs fall off from starvation") the others to stop and get some coffee and croissants. It was a very French thing to do, but it was fun trying to fit into another culture.
They hadn’t been seated very long (Joey was only on his third croissant) when a young woman came walking down the street. She was wearing slim, black jeans with black flats and a white T-shirt. She wore two small silver hoops in her ears and a tiny filigree silver cross could be seen discreetly hanging around her neck. Her auburn hair, which gleamed as the sun danced off it, was held up with two clips. Some tiny pieces of hair had come loose, resting beautifully against her golden skin. Her long legs went well with what they assumed to be her 5’10" height. The young lady wasn’t over-endowed, shall we say but everything was put together very well and fit perfectly. She was a rarity, a truly drop-dead gorgeous creature that doesn’t even realize that she is. The woman swept past them and settled into the table right next to theirs. Her perfume was intoxicating, yet subtle. It had been made especially for her by a dear friend and suited her well. She ordered tea and a croissant. She was not a big fan of coffee and Pierre, the café owner, always made sure he had a supply of her favorite Russian tea on hand. She was slipping her tea and reading the newspaper when she realized that someone was staring at her. Well, make that three someones. Joey, Lance and JC were mesmerized. Finally, Diane tapped them on the shoulder. "You’re being rude, staring at her like that. Stop it." Then, to take a little of the sting out of it, she smiled. "And shut your mouths, you’re attracting flies."
Eventually, Joey got up the courage to walk over to her table. "Hello". She glanced up at him from her paper, her hazel brown eyes looking slightly amused. "Bonjour." Joey realized now that he might have a problem. It hadn’t occurred to him before that a woman he met in Paris might actually speak French instead of English. If he couldn’t speak her language, how was he going to hit on her? He quickly ran back to the table and dragged Jeannette with him, who engaged the young woman in conversation.
Joey immediately began firing off a dozen questions in rapid succession, forgetting that Jeannette had twice as much to do with speaking than he did.
Somehow, the poor woman managed to keep up. She asked the young lady if she would be interested in eating at the young man’s table, possibly joining him and his friends afterwards on their tour of the city. She politely declined, saying that she had an appointment and was busy all day, but thanked them for their kind offer. Dejected, Joey stalked back towards the table.
A few minutes later, the young woman stood. As she was leaving, JC overheard her tell Pierre where she was headed. Once she was out of earshot, JC turned to the others. "Let’s follow her."
"What are we? Stalkers?" Joey grinned at him, showing great interest in the idea despite his words.
"No. I’d just like to talk to her." JC had never been this bold before, especially when it came to women. He was so insistent that they finally relented and followed her to a little art gallery.
(Note: When French is spoken, it will be in parentheses.)
It was a quaint little shop off on a side street with an Old World charm that theme parks try to emulate but can never quite pull off. The building was a small, one-story structure with a smaller second story for use as a storage space. The gray stones on the exterior complimented the windows, which were squarish with rounded tops, nicely. It had been owned by the same family for generations and still bore scars from the war. If you looked closely, you could see the Star of David and "Jude Verboten" in faded yellow paint on the front windows. The proprietor had insisted that it not be removed as a sign of remembrance for those who had died.
The interior of the shop was almost a mirror image of the outside. A hardwood floor worn by years of customers traveling over its surface bore the displays above it with pride. The walls were of a faded white deco, so as not to attract attention away from the art pieces they were meant to showcase. One of the walls was nothing but shelves filled with small, original sculptures. None of the cheap, tourist-specific created ones, like miniatures of the Eiffel Tower. A glass counter at the back held within it several pieces of antique jewelry, restored with special devotion and love. An old-style cash register rested at one end.
The owner himself was a merry little man named Claude, who sat on a stool behind the counter by a curtain that led into the house portion of the building. He had white hair, a scruffy beard and a cheerful disposition and his clothes would remind some people of an Old European Mr. Rogers, complete with shawl-like sweaters, faded yet dignified slacks and comfy loafers. Both hands rested on the handle of his cane; an unremarkable piece of wood designed only to help support his weight. On the ring finger of his left hand, a small gold band could be seen. It was only his faded jade green eyes that revealed a deep level of suffering that he hid away inside, betraying the pain that he had seen over the years. Yet, despite this, he smiled at the young woman as she entered.
("Bonjour, Annie. How are you doing today?")
She smiled and patted his hand as she stepped behind the counter. ("Very well, thank you.") Her expression sobered a little. ("How are you?")
Claude returned her earlier smile. ("Wonderful, now that you’re here.")
He watched as Annie greeted Jacques, his grandson. The boy had dirty blonde hair that sometimes fell in front of his brown eyes, reminding Claude of Marie. His cargo pants and non-descript T-shirt made him look slightly artistic, though not nearly as much as Annie.
Claude had fought in the underground resistance when the Nazis came into Paris. He had lost many of his close friends and family to the slaughter that had followed. Sometimes the agony of the memories was almost unbearable, but small reminders of his present life helped keep it from growing too big. In fact, one of the only times he felt truly happy was when Annie and Jacques would start teasing each other and run to him for back-up. He loved her as if she were his own granddaughter, would have given his life for her without a second thought. When Annie had her first gallery showing, he’d almost burst with pride. It is for these reasons that Claude was instantly on guard when three young men came bursting through the door of his shop. Annie had just gone into the back room to get her portfolio when the guys came stumbling in, looking much like puppies who hadn’t quite grown into their feet yet.
"Bonjour" Jacques greeted them. "May I help you?" He noted that all three of them were taller than himself.
Great, he speaks English; Joey mentally sighed in relief. "Yes, we’re looking for a young woman who just came in here. We saw her earlier at the café down the street, and my friend would like to meet her."
"Why?" Claude asked suspicious. He rose from his chair and approached the boys, using his cane to steady himself. He came towards them with a slow, menacing gait, his cane tapping sharply on the wooden floor. Lance was beginning to feel uneasy. "My grandson and I run this shop. Although we pride ourselves on our customer service – yes, believe it or not, not all Frenchmen are rude – we are not in the habit of introducing total strangers to ladies in our employ."
Just then, Diane and Jeannette entered the shop. Over the tinkling bell, the former was heard to say "What a marvelous place."
This temporarily broke the tension. JC stammered as he tried to explain how he felt to Claude. "I thought…no I was captivated...no, she’s very intriguing and I was hoping to meet her."
The old man met his gaze icily. "So, do you make it a rule to follow young women you don’t know? I don’t know about America, but here in France there are laws governing that type of behavior." He was slowly advancing on JC.
"No sir." JC was visibly shaken.
("Claude? Do you or Jacques need any help? It sounds like you have a lot of customers.") Annie had returned from behind the curtain leading to the back rooms. She had a portfolio under her arm.
("No, we’re fine. We can handle it.") Claude turned to smile at her. ("You run along to your appointment. Mr. Basille doesn’t like to be kept waiting.")
("All right, I should be back in a few hours if all goes well. Wish me luck.")
("You don’t need luck, you have talent. But I shall say a prayer for you.")
("Merci") She kissed him on top of his head and breezed past the boys. Without even so much as a backward glance, she was out the door and in the street.
Lance watched after her, bewildered. "She didn’t even see us."
"Yeah, we’re real smooth." Joey sighed. "Made quite an impression on a beautiful babe."
JC remained silent. He felt too disappointed.
Jacques glanced over JC’s shoulder and saw Annie at the window with a big smile on her face. She knew the effect she’d had on them and was flattered. She motioned for him to slip out the back and meet her in the alley. Jacques excused himself quietly and went out.
When he met her in the alley, Jacques was surprised by how happy she seemed. It appeared that the attention those young men had given her meant a great deal to her.
("Jacques, those are the young men I saw in the café this morning. The dark Italian one tried to pick me up.") She giggled slightly at the memory of it. ("What are they doing here?")
("The Italian one said his friend, the handsome one with the not quite perfect face, wanted to meet you. He said he had never seen such a beautiful woman in all his life.")
Annie laughed and rolled her eyes. ("Sure he did.")
("Seriously, that’s what he said. Grandfather is trying to intimidate him. I think he’s doing a pretty good job of it, though they seem harmless enough.")
("You have to admire them; it’s very sweet. Tell you what, let them know I’ll be back around 5:00 this evening. It they want, they can wait or come back later. Then I’ll meet them.")
Jacques looked at her, a little confused. ("Are you sure?")
("Why not? You and Claude are here to protect me. They seem a little naïve, so we might as well treat them to a memorable French experience.")
("Okay, see you in awhile then.") He hesitated. ("Good luck!")
("I’ll need it. If I land this job, then I can stay here and finish up my Master’s. Everything is riding on this interview.")
("But I thought you wanted to change your focus and concentrate on sculpting.")
("I do, but if I can paint at his studio, I’ll have enough money to buy supplies and sculpt on my own time.") Annie shook her head, focusing back on what she had to do. ("Gotta run. Please add your prayers to Claude’s.") She blew him a kiss and walked down the street.
Jacques watched her leave his feelings in turmoil. ‘Those boys are right,’ he thought. ‘She is the most beautiful woman in the world. Unfortunately, she’ll always just think of me as her "Big Brother"; nothing more, nothing less.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I can settle for that. I can be near her, loving her and hoping that maybe, just maybe she will look at me the way I look at her.’
Jacques sighed, walking back into the front area of the shop. The scene was pretty much as he’d left it. Diane and Jeannette were admiring art pieces with
Lance, who had joined them. In fact, the latter was picking out something to take home to his sister. Joey was standing almost protectively in front of JC, who was trying to look anywhere but into the piercing eyes of Claude.
("Grandpa.") Jacques called out softy to him. ("Please come here for a moment.")
Claude moved towards him, all the while keeping his gaze fixed firmly on JC and Joey. Jacques whispered in his ear what Annie had told him in the alley. By the time, Jacques had finished, Claude was fuming. ("Are you sure?")
("Oui.")
Claude turned to the boys. "If you two wish to meet the young lady in question be back here at 5:00 this evening." He fixed a glare on JC. "You will then be properly introduced. Now unless, you are going to buy something, please leave my shop. Thank you."
Lance and Diane made their purchases and went out into the street, Jeannette with them. Joey and JC soon followed.
Joey smiled and nodded his head towards the door of the shop. "Feisty old guy, isn’t he?"
Lance nodded, conveying his agreement. "I wouldn’t mess with him."
"You are a wise young man." Jeannette noted. "Claude is well known around here as a former resistance fighter during the war. He may seem old and frail but there’s a lot of fight still left in him."
"JC, your call." Diane turned towards him. "What do you want to do?"
JC seemed to consider it for a moment. "I don’t want to waste your time on our only day off, so all you go on and see the sights. I think I’ll stay here and get to know Claude."
Diane’s mothering instinct kicked in. "You sure you’ll be all right?" She was concerned about leaving him alone in a strange place with a somewhat hostile atmosphere.
JC nodded to put her fears down then turned to the translator. "Jeannette, could you introduce me and tell him what I want?"
"I’ll give it a try." The two of them returned to the counter, where Claude had reclaimed his seat.
Jeanette stepped forward. ("Monsieur, my young friend realizes that he has gotten off to a bad start and would like to begin, in a more proper manner.")
Claude appeared to think about it. ("Agreed, I’ll give him a second chance.")
"Monsieur Claude Garçon, I would like to introduce you to Joshua Chasez."
JC extended his hand and shook Claude’s firmly, surprised by the strength he felt there. "Pleased to meet you, sir. My friends are going to do some touring, but I’d be honored if you would allow me to stay and talk to you."
Claude narrowed his eyes at him. "Why is that?"
"Well, Jeannette told me that you were a resistance fighter. I’ve always been a bit of a history buff and I’d love to learn from someone who was actually there what things were like, to hear about your adventures, unless they’re too painful for you." JC paused. "From the little Jeannette told me, I gather things were not like they are portrayed in the movies.
"That is very true." Claude’s expression softened as he heard the sincerity in JC’s voice. "I would also be honored it you would join Jacques and myself for some lunch. I have a little trouble with English sometimes, so Jacques helps. I hope you don’t mind."
"No, not at all."
Seeing that everything would be all right, Jeannette went back outside to join the others. "We’ll see you at 5:00."
Story Tags: Be the first to add a tag to this story
