The Paris Game (25 page)

“It does, but still, it’s so expensive.”

“It isn’t much,” Marc replied. “You’ll begin the internship, finish your thesis; the night is beautiful—what isn’t there to celebrate?” And I’ll win the wager tonight, he added to himself. It would just take more persuading on his part.

“Sometimes I think I’ll never finish my thesis,” Sophie joked.

“How was your talk with your advisor the other day?” he asked as the waiter returned.

Sophie didn’t answer until the waiter had opened the bottle and poured their first glasses. “He thinks I haven’t been spending enough time working on it while I’m here. Tomorrow I’ll have to spend my day writing.”

“Fortunately tonight is not tomorrow.” He lifted his glass. “Santé, ma chérie.”

Sophie took a sip of her champagne. “This feels so decadent, sitting outdoors, drinking champagne, watching all of Paris walk by...” She giggled.

“And the night is young.” He leaned closer. “Wait until later.”

“Where to next, ma chérie?”

“Is Le Chat Rouge open?”

“Nowhere else? All of Paris lies at your feet.” Sera would be at work, and she’d interfere with his seduction. It had been going so well.

“Just for a little while?” she coaxed. “If I have to be an academic shut-in for the next few days, I want to do as much as I can tonight. Just for a couple of songs. Please?”

Two songs. Long enough to give Sophie a bit more champagne, tease her with touches, and show Sera his victory was near. He grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, ma chérie.”

Sophie tugged at his hand. “We can walk from here, can’t we? It’s such a nice night.”

“It isn’t far,” Marc agreed. They walked hand-in-hand for a stretch along the boulevard before turning into a side street, where the bustle of the city was a faint hum. The small quartet of tables that sat on the pavement next to the club’s open windows were empty, but the music drifted out to greet them. Jean was standing in the doorway smoking a cigarette. It was hastily flicked away when he spotted them coming up the street.

“Monsieur, bonsoir.” Jean gave them a warm smile. “And mademoiselle, so nice to see you back again. Entrez, entrez.” He held the door and Marc let Sophie precede him into the club.

It was early yet, but there was a smattering of patrons, none of whom Marc recognized. Benoît was at the piano, and he gave Marc a nod. Serge and Patrice stood by the dressing rooms having a cigarette, but there was no sign of Sera.

“Edouard isn’t here?” he heard Sophie ask.

“It’s his night off, mademoiselle,” Jean replied. “But I’ll tell him you inquired. Now, where would you prefer to sit? I recommend the banquette there, mademoiselle, as it is close to the stage, yet private.”

“Marc? What do you think?”

“It sounds perfect.” The gloom of the club and the coziness of the banquette would aid his cause. Jean led them down the stairs, waiting until they had seated themselves before he asked what he could bring them.

“A bottle of the Veuve Cliquot, Brut,” Marc replied.

“An excellent choice, monsieur.” Marc smiled and the maître’d departed with a quick step.

“More champagne?”

Marc shifted closer to Sophie on the banquette. “Unless you would prefer something else, ma chérie. There’s still time for me to catch Jean.”

“I’m not complaining, but I don’t want you to spend too much. You know I’d be just as happy with a carafe of the house wine.”

“I’d only drink the house wine under duress,” he said in a hushed tone.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Worse,” he said solemnly. Sophie made a face that made them both chuckle. “Don’t worry, ma chérie, I can afford it.”

“Good.” Sophie turned her attention towards the stage. “Oh, there’s Sera! I was wondering where she was.” She waved gaily at Sera, who smiled and waved back as she ascended the stage. Marc blew her a kiss, but that earned him only a raised brow. He observed her as she turned to speak to Benoît, her dark dress fluttering around her ankles. It dipped in the back, showing an expanse of pale skin that glowed in the single spotlight. With a nod of agreement, she stepped gracefully to the microphone.

Sophie rested her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. Her gaze was fixed with rapt attention to the stage. What had Sera done to inspire such devotion? Marc lit a cigarette and sat back to wait.

They hardly spoke during Sera’s first set; Sophie was content to listen, nearly tucked in against him, and he was content in knowing that Sophie would only be a few hours away from lounging naked in his bed, sated after a thorough introduction to lovemaking.

During a break between songs, Sophie rested her head on the back of the banquette, her auburn hair spilling over his jacket. He stroked her arm.

“Ready to go?”

“Not yet. I don’t think I could ever hear enough music.”

“It will end eventually.”

“And then we’ll go.”

The next song started and she didn’t say another word until the band broke for a break between sets. Sera headed straight for their table after getting a glass of water at the bar.

“Bonsoir, Sophie. I hadn’t expected to see anyone tonight. What a lovely surprise!” She sat across from Sophie. “Marc.” She gave him only a slight smile.

“It was tonight or nothing,” Sophie explained. “My advisor thinks I haven’t been working hard enough, so I’ll have to play catch-up tomorrow.”

“It was kind of Marc to bring you.” Sera spared him a glance and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to allude to his upcoming success.

“My firm is hiring an intern shortly, and I have it direct from the boss that she’s the one.” He winked at Sophie and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Tonight is a bit of a celebration.” Sophie very helpfully blushed.

“What unexpected news!” Sera smiled at Sophie, though he could tell from her posture that her enthusiasm was forced. “It would be a shame if you put your schooling on hold though.”

“Oh, Marc and I have addressed that,” Sophie assured her. “I’ll finish my thesis and submit it before I start. I’m hoping I can do the oral examination online instead of having to fly back.”

Sera rose. “That’s quite fortunate.”

“Back to work already?” Marc asked.

“We’re doing a shorter set this time, so the break is shorter also,” she replied.

“Come have a glass of champagne with us afterward,” Sophie invited.

“Thank you, Sophie. I may do just that.”

Marc watched as Sera walked away, taking Benoît’s hand to assist in ascending the stage. Sophie relaxed next to him and he rested his arm over her shoulders without breaking his gaze away from Sera.

“What will she sing?” Sophie asked softly.

“The short sets are usually Piaf,” he replied. He’d seen so many performances the answer came easily. “Popular favourites, unless someone makes a request.”

The opening bars of '
Je ne regrette rien
' echoed in the small club and Sera began to sing, a relaxed and almost blissful expression on her face as she let the music overtake everything. He’d seen it in his mother when she played and known it himself. He frowned. He’d been thinking of his mother far too often today for his liking. It was Sera’s fault, or Colette’s; they’d had the bad taste to tell Sophie of his past. His memories of her were precious, and painful still.

Sera drew out the last phrase of the song and he saw her emerge into full awareness once again as her gaze swept the club, acknowledging the patrons. She was at ease until her gaze skimmed over the bar and her fingers tightened on the microphone. As Benoît began the next song, her smile became strained.

Marc glanced over. Jeremy Gordon stood at the bar, leaning his elbow casually on the wood as he lifted a tumbler of bourbon to his lips. He stared fixedly at Sera. When Marc looked back, Sera had looked away from Jeremy, but her movements were stiff and self-conscious, not at all like her usual self. He shot another glance at Jeremy and found that the man had moved closer, leaning on the rail that separated the two levels, his drink cupped in his hands. He looked like a predatory cat about to pounce on a sparrow perched warily on a branch.

And Sera was wary. Marc knew her poise was a careful act. Had they slept together, as Jeremy had insinuated? Marc hoped Jeremy hadn’t told her anything about his job. There had been no update from him regarding the thieves, and Marc was impatient. He wanted it to be over. The piece had been delivered and now there were only the loose ends to tidy away. But the man was single-minded in his attention; he hadn’t looked away from Sera for a moment, and Marc wondered if she distracted Jeremy from his tasks.

The band finished their set, but Jeremy hadn’t moved. Sera looked relieved to be off the stage and Marc rose from his seat as she approached their table.

“Thank you, Marc, but I need to get some water first.” She smiled, but it was half-hearted. Marc took her hand and drew her to the banquette.

“Just relax. I’ll get it. We need a new bottle of champagne and a glass for you.” Sera sank into the dark velvet seat with a sigh.

Marc gave Jeremy only the barest of nods as he passed the man on his way to the bar, but Jeremy seemed to bristle. On his return with a carafe of water and a pair of glasses, Jeremy stopped him.

“Don’t monopolize her all night,” he remarked.

“Are you waiting for something?”

“She’s expecting me.”

“Is she? It didn’t look like it to me.”

“She is.”

“I’ll mention your interest, for all the good it’ll do you. Don’t you have other things to be doing?” Marc descended the steps, not bothering to wait for a reply. He deposited the carafe and glasses on the table.

“What did you say to him?” Sera asked in a low voice as he took a seat. Marc glanced back at Jeremy, who glared darkly at them before moving abruptly to the bar for another drink.

“I told him you were busy.”

Sera relaxed. “Thank you.” She poured herself a glass of water. Jean brought over the new bottle of champagne and a glass for Sera. With an unctuous manner, he showed Marc the label.

“Is this suitable, monsieur?”

“Yes, fine.”

Jean popped the cork with a flourish.

“I don’t know how much more champagne I can manage,” Sophie told Marc. Her cheeks were flushed.

“How much have you had?” Sera asked.

“We had a bottle at the Flore with dinner, and the bottle here,” Sophie replied. “I don’t think I’ll be very productive tomorrow.”

Marc grinned. “Worry about that tomorrow.” He filled their glasses with champagne. Sera’s glass bubbled over and she snagged it, drinking up the excess as it dribbled over the side. She set the glass down on a dry spot. “Je suis désolé, ma chère. I won’t waste champagne like that again.”

“I should hope not, but then, it’s your money.” Sera gave him a smile for the first time that night.

“Could you walk me to the taxi stand?” Sera asked some time later, long after they’d finished the champagne.

“Of course. We should be leaving also.” Marc glanced at Sophie, who nodded sleepily. They had stayed later than he planned, but he knew that it would be easier to convince Sophie to stay over. He rose, offering his hand to Sera and then to Sophie.

“Just let me get my things.” Sera disappeared towards the dressing room. He scanned the club idly when Sera didn’t immediately reappear.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Sophie before he strode over to the dressing room. The door was open, but the light from within was blocked by a large form. As he reached the dressing room he slowed to a casual pace, a hand in one pocket. “Are you ready, Sera?” he called.

Jeremy Gordon turned to face him. “She’s busy.”

“She didn’t say anything to me about it,” Marc replied. He shouldered Jeremy aside and found Sera in the dressing room, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She gave him a relieved look.

“It doesn’t matter; we have plans.”

“No, we don’t,” Sera said. Marc took her hand and then pushed by Jeremy. “Let’s go, Marc.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jeremy said. Sera didn’t look back, but Marc felt her shiver. He put his arm around her as he led her back to where Sophie stood waiting. Jean had come down to say good night and collect the tab Marc had left on the table, tucked under a water glass.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur.” Jean pocketed the money with a smile. “Bonne nuit, mademoiselles.”

“Good night, Jean,” Sophie replied.

“I hope we’ll see you again, mademoiselle.”

“When I can.”

“Goodnight, Jean.” Marc led Sophie and Sera to the door, glancing into the shadowy street. Jeremy was nowhere to be seen. The night air was crisp and Marc drew in a deep breath. Next to him, Sophie shivered and pulled her coat tightly around her. Even Sera adjusted her shawl to cover her exposed neck. He’d expected Jeremy to be waiting for them. Protectively, Marc laid an arm over Sophie’s shoulders and she tucked herself in close.

“It won’t take long to get a cab, will it?” Sophie asked.

“Hopefully not,” Sera replied. The streets were quiet at this late hour and Marc knew that a cab might be harder to come by, but once they reached the boulevard it shouldn’t be very long at all. They turned a corner and Sera nearly stumbled into a tall figure reclining against the wall.