Faux Pas Page 3

  He makes his way through the tables, straight to ours. “quel est le problème?” What is the problem, his voice comes out gruff, the smell of his musk hitting my nose.

  “Le vin n’est pas bon,” The wine isn’t good, I start saying, and I look at his eyes that look almost black. I’m not sure if it’s his natural color, or if the restaurant is dimmer now than before, or maybe it’s just his form blocking the lights. “il a un goût de vinaigre.” It tastes like vinegar, and I’m not sure it was the right thing to say or not. He stares at me, not saying a word. “Taste it.” I give up on my French and switch to English. “You’ll see.”

  I’m waiting for him to say something back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and walks away from the table, going into the back. “What the fuck just happened?” Diana says in a whisper. We all turn to see where he went, checking to see if he is going to storm back in.

  “She insulted his wine,” Kate says, leaning in and speaking softly.

  I throw my hands in the air. “It was shit,” I say louder than I wanted to. “You guys said it yourself.” Looking around, I see that a couple of the tables are looking at us, but the majority of the tables are deep in their own conversations and not paying attention.

  We don’t say anything else when we see the waiter come back with a new bottle in one hand and a new wine glass in the other. He uncorks the wine, then pours a touch in and waits for me to taste it. I don’t say anything to him; I just nod my head, and he puts the bottle in the middle of the table. “I guess I will pour the wine,” Kate says, picking up the bottle and pouring it in everyone’s glass. I pick up the glass of wine and bring it to my lips. The cold glass is resting on my lips when I feel someone staring at me. I look down and take a sip, then look around, and I guess it’s just me because no one is looking in my direction.

  By the time we finish dinner, we’ve drunk two more bottles. and everyone is laughing and having a great time. The food was amazing. “We need a taxi,” I say. Getting up, I grab my jacket, shrugging it on.

  “I think we can walk to the corner that way,” Diana says, pointing at the sky, “and flag one down.”

  “If we go that way,” Kate says, pointing at the sky, “we need to call NASA.” We all laugh out loud while the waiter comes to take the bill from us.

  “Merci.” We smile at him as he walks away, still not saying a word.

  “Yes, thank you for my glass of ice cubes that you only brought me one of even though I asked for seven,” Kate says, laughing while trying to whisper. “And thank you for pouring our wine.”

  “Okay, let’s go,” I say, walking to the front door.

  “I’m going to ask him for a taxi,” Kate says, going to the waiter who stands at the hostess counter and asking him for a cab.

  I watch from the front door as Diana stands behind her while I look in my bag and pull out my lip gloss.

  “Pardon.” I hear Kate say loudly, and I look up.

  “Vous pensez qu’après tout ce que vous avez fait ce soir vous méritez que je vous appelle un taxi ?” I stand here with my mouth open in shock when he answered her. Do you think after everything you did to me tonight that you deserve that I call you a taxi?

  Kate starts. “What did I do? Expect you to do your job?” she says, and Diana grabs her arm, pulling her to the front door.

  “Did he just say …?” I ask her when we are standing outside in front of the restaurant, the wind blowing my hair in front of my face. I turn my head, making it fly back the other way.

  “So it’s safe to say,” Diana starts with a laugh, “we aren’t coming back to this restaurant.”

  “Take a picture of it, and tomorrow we can go on Yelp and leave a bad review,” Kate says, grabbing her phone from her pocket.

  “Let’s just go,” I say, and the three of us look around at the desolate street.

  “What time is it?” I ask and take out my phone. “Shit, it’s one a.m.”

  “Yeah,” Diana says. We look right down the dark street and see some traffic coming from up ahead. “We should walk to that street and flag down a taxi.”

  We all nod and start walking with Kate in the middle. “He was such an ass,” Kate says, “and the boss or manager was an even bigger ass.”

  “Seriously,” I say, turning to them. “It’s like it was my fault his wine was shit,” I say, and then we all stop when a white four-door Audi stops next to us, surprising us.

  “Get in.” The voice sounds familiar, but the street is so dark it doesn’t help. I lean in a bit to see his face, and I’m shocked when I see it’s the manager from the restaurant.

  Chapter Three

  Alex

  My pounding headache has now come full-blown, so when the plane touched down in Paris, it was almost like a sigh of relief. That slowly came crashing down when I got the phone call from my mother, followed by the second phone call from my father.

  I was just hanging up with him when the redhead stepped inside the door, looking around, and smiled at me, making me groan. For once, I wish people didn’t know who I was. I put the phone on the table and checked my schedule for the next week. We have seventy-five restaurants in Paris, and I have to visit fifty of them.

  I’m making my notes when I get up and go to the kitchen to see how things are going when Frederic comes to see me. “les quatres femmes canadiennes ont dit que cette bouteille de vin était ‘imbuvable’.” The four Canadian women said that this bottle isn’t drinkable, he says, air quoting drinkable. I grab the wine from him and smell it, noticing it smells a bit stronger than it should. Looking at the table, I spot the redhead watching me, so I grab the bottle and go to the table.

  “Quel est le problème?” What is the problem I ask, not even trying to be nice about it.

  “Le vin n’est pas bon,” The wine isn’t good, she says. “Il a un goût de vinaigre.” It tastes like vinegar. I stare at her, not saying a word. “Taste it,” she finally says in English. “You’ll see.”

  I don’t say anything to her, trying not to draw any attention to myself, so I turn around and walk into the back. Grabbing her glass, I taste it. “Elle a raison.” She is right. I look at Frederic. “Ça un goût de merde,” It tastes like shit, I tell him and grab my phone, taking a picture of the label. I send an email to the house, telling them of the problem while Frederic takes them another bottle. I watch her as she brings it to her lips. The wine causing her cheeks to pink. I walk into the wine cellar, making sure that the rotation of the wine has been done.

  The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. I’m in the back going through the orders and checks when I hear Frederic laugh. “Bande de connes.” Bunch of bitches, he says, laughing.

  “Que se passe-t-il?” What’s going on? I ask him.

  “Elles m'ont demandé de leur appeler un taxi, je leur ai dit d’aller se faire voir.” They asked me to call them a taxi, and I told them to fuck off, he says, thinking he is the smartest idiot in the room.

  I look out and see them standing in front of the restaurant, trying to decide what to do. The blonde laughs while the one with the white backpack points to the end of the street.

  “Imbécile.” Idiot I shake my head, grabbing my stuff and going to the front. “J’appellerai George demain,” I’ll call George tomorrow, I say, going out the back, the heavy door shutting with a bang. I grab the keys out of my pocket, pressing the button to open the door. I get in, then pull out of the parking spot, and see them walking arm in arm down the pitch fucking black street. I pull in next to them, scaring the shit out of them, no doubt. I roll down the window. “Get in,” I say in English. The three of them just look at me, not sure who it is.

  “Oh, fuck,” I hear the blonde say.

  “No way,” the redhead says, “not a chance in hell.” She turns to walk away. I put the car in park, opening the door, and they stand together. It’s almost comical.

  “Get in the car,” I tell them. “It’s not safe for you guys to be wandering around a strange city in the m
iddle of the night.”

  “Damn straight, it’s not,” the backpack girl says as they huddle together.

  The redhead laughs. “This is funny since your asshole waiter just told us to fuck off.”

  I put my hands in my pockets. “Let me take you to wherever you’re going to.”

  “Is he crazy?” the blonde asks. “Can they sue him if we end up dead?” she asks and laughs. “We’ve seen Taken,” she says. “We know how this works. You drive up to our place and then bam, you ransack the apartment, and then we are taken and sold.”

  “Nom de dieu,” Fucking hell, I say, looking up at the sky.

  “He looks like he’s from Albania,” the backpack lady says, trying to whisper. “Doesn’t he look Albanian?”

  “My name is Alexandre, and I’m French,” I tell them. “My whole family is from France.”

  “Don’t believe him, Meghan,” the blonde says to the redhead.

  “He knows my name now, Kate,” she says, looking at the blonde who puts her hand in front of her mouth.

  I take my hands out of my pockets and hold them up. “I swear I only want to give you a ride.”

  “Yeah, right,” Kate says, rolling her eyes. “Then you will call your friends, and they will come and take us.”

  “Shut up,” Meghan says while the other one laughs. “Okay, fine,” Meghan says. “But before that …” she says, walking to the back of the car and then to the front, taking a picture of the license plate. She does something on her phone. “I sent an email to myself with the license plate, so if anything happens to us, they know who you are.”

  “High-five, Diana,” Kate says to the other one.

  “Also, we aren’t giving you our address,” Meghan says, going on her phone. “I’ll give you an address close to where we are staying.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Can we just get going?”

  The three of them walk to the back of the car. “We are still giving you a bad review on Yelp tomorrow,” Diana says, and Kate just nods her head.

  “I swear to god, you two,” Meghan says, getting in the car with the other two following her. I get in the front and turn around.

  “Where to?” I ask them, and she gives me an address that I have to plug in.

  “What if he has a gun?” One of them tries to whisper in the back, but it’s not a whisper. “What if he rapes us?”

  “He’s not going to rape us,” Diana says. “If he does, we aren’t going to be worth selling.”

  Meghan lets out the biggest laugh. “Do you think any of us are going to be sold to the highest bidder for our virginity?”

  “You never know. How do they know?” Kate asks. “He doesn’t know. Maybe I’m saving myself for marriage.”

  “Okay, there,” Meghan says, looking out of the window, and I watch her in my rearview mirror.

  “Does any of this look familiar?” Diana asks.

  “How the hell should I know?” Kate says. “We’ve been here since this morning.”

  “Why don’t we just give him our social insurance numbers while you two are at it?”

  Meghan says, and I come to a stop at a corner.

  “This is it,” I tell them, and they look out.

  “Oh, is this the place around the corner from the apartment?” Diana asks, and Meghan throws her hands up.

  “We might as well have given you the address,” she says, getting out of the car, the two friends following her out, and I get out also. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome,” I tell her, and she smiles shyly.

  “I’m sorry about the wine,” she says, turning to walk away from me in the middle of her friends, and then turning to walk backward. “It did taste like shit.”

  I shake my head, putting my hands in my pockets, trying not to smile, but it slowly fills my face. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Are you flirting with the Albanian?” Kate asks, pulling her arm, and she turns around to walk with them away from me. “We should go to La Durée tomorrow for breakfast,” she says, and her voice carries in the empty street.

  I watch them walk around the corner, then count to ten and get back in the car to follow them. When I get to the corner, I see they aren’t on the street, so I look at the tall buildings and figure they must be staying in one of these. I make my way to my own apartment, finding the street empty with just a couple of cars on the road.

  I park in the underground parking, then make my way to the elevator. Taking out my key, I put it in so they know which apartment I’m at. There are ten apartments in the whole building, and each apartment takes up the whole floor. The elevator doors open and then close as soon as I get in, taking me all the way to the tenth floor. The doors open, and I step into my foyer. The staff knew I was coming in today for the week, so there are a couple of lights on throughout the apartment as I make my way to the bedroom.

  My robe is placed on the bed, and I see that my luggage has been taken care of. Sliding the jacket off my shoulders, I toss it on the chair in the corner of the room. I grab my phone to look at the time and see it’s almost two a.m.

  I send him a text.

  J’ai besoin que vous me rendiez un service. Il y aura un groupe de trois canadiennes, Kate, Diana et Meghan. Je ne sais pas à quelle heure elles vont venir, mais réservez-leur une table et l’addition est pour moi.

  I need a favor. There will be a group of three Canadians coming in, Kate, Diana, and Meghan. I don't know what time they will be coming but save them a table and put it on my tab.

  I don’t have to wait long for him to answer.

  Envoie-moi une caisse du vin spécial.

  Send me a case of the special wine, he tells me, and I reply with an okay.

  I walk back to the kitchen to grab a water bottle and take my phone out again.

  Envoie-moi un SMS quand elles arrivent.

  Text me when they get there.

  D’accord.

  Okay, he says, and I put my phone away. I don’t know why I asked him to text me. Maybe I just need to know that they made it home okay. Maybe it’s just to put my mind at ease. I don’t have the time for this internal debate. I grab a shower and slide into my sheets naked. I set the alarm for nine, and by the time my head hits the pillow, I’m fast asleep.

  The alarm goes off at nine, and I roll out of bed, grabbing my robe and making my way over to the coffee machine. Grabbing the newspaper that is on the dining room table, I walk to the living room and sit on the couch as I read through the paper, skipping over certain parts.

  My phone dings again, notifying me of an incoming email. I grab my computer and open it up to see it’s from the plant manager. He says there hasn’t been any feedback other than the bottle I sent them a picture of. The bottle came from a batch that was sent out to over one hundred restaurants and so far, only this one complaint.

  I’m emailing him back when the phone rings. “Allo,” Hello, I say.

  “Alex,” a woman says, “c’est Maude de La Durée.” I’m Maude from La Durée.

  “Oui,” Yes, I answer her.

  ““c'est pour confirmer que vos invités sont arrivés.” It's to confirm that your guests have arrived, she says, and I look at the time on the computer. It’s just after ten.

  “D’accord merci, je serai là dans trente minutes.” Good, I say, I’ll be there in thirty.

  I hang up the phone, then walk into the bedroom and grab a pair of blue slacks and a black polo shirt, tucking in the front. I grab my blue Adidas runners, my keys, my phone, and my sunglasses as I make my way to the elevator.

  I find parking right in the back, and I walk in the front door, keeping my glasses on. I smile at the girl at the hostess stand while I look past the two draped curtains. I don’t have to look long when the sound of Meghan’s laughter fills the room. I look over and see that her head is thrown back, and she’s laughing at something either Diana or Kate said.

  They are sitting at the table right in the middle of the room but closer to the window. It’s what we call
prime seating, so I point at the table and walk toward it. Meghan doesn’t notice me until I’m almost standing in front of her.

  Her mouth opens, making the other two turn and see what she’s staring at. “Holy shit,” Kate says. “It’s the Albanian.”

  I shake my head when I get to the table. “Nope, just Alexandre,” I say.

  “How?” Diana asks, and I walk around Meghan to sit in the only empty seat facing the door.

  “He put a tracker on us,” Kate says, looking at Meghan who still hasn’t said a word.

  The waiter comes to the table. “Bonjour Monsieur,” He stands there smiling.

  “Did you guys order?” I ask the table while I look at them, and they just nod.

  “Un Café svp, et ce sera tout pour le moment.” Coffee please, for the moment.

  He nods at me and walks away. “So isn’t this a surprise?” I say, grabbing the white linen napkin and placing it on one leg.

  “What are you doing here?” Meghan finally asks, her eyes blinking.

  I take in her outfit today, and she isn’t wearing anything that I haven’t seen before. A white shirt with a flowered scarf around her neck. Her hair is hanging long.

  I was wrong yesterday; she isn’t just breathtaking. She’s so much more than that. There are no words that I can say to make you see her beauty. Her eyes that were a smoky gray last night are now green with a touch of blue. She looks like an angel.

  “I heard you three talking last night about having breakfast here,” I tell her, and Diana slaps the table.

  “I knew it. He’s going to kidnap us,” she says, taking the bottle of champagne that they ordered and pouring some in her glass, then adding a splash of orange juice.