Die for Me

“I’ll take a taxi.”

 

 

Georgia gave me a hug and then said something to the guy she was dancing with. Smiling, he took my hand and led me across the floor to the entrance. While I got my coat, he pulled out a cell phone and ordered a taxi for me, walking me out to the street and waiting with me until it pulled up to the curb. “Thanks,” I called after him. He waved, already walking back toward the club.

 

As I opened the cab door, I glanced back down the alley and saw Lucien standing outside, talking on his cell phone. As he looked up he caught my gaze, and I raised my hand to wave good-bye. He shot me a confident smile and saluted.

 

A slender redheaded boy standing with him turned his head to see who Lucien was waving to but quickly looked away.

 

I breathed in sharply and continued to stare as the car drove away. One second had been enough for me to recognize the boy with the bitter look on his face. It was Charles.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

 

 

I DIDN’T HEAR GEORGIA GET HOME THAT NIGHT, and slept late into the morning. When I awoke, it was to a feeling of expectation.

 

Half dreaming, Vincent’s face from the day before floated through my mind. As he scanned the café with a brooding expression, I was overwhelmed with a mix of longing and pride. The dark, handsome boy was mine. At this thought a delicious feeling enveloped me, and I slowly opened my eyes.

 

And then my conscious mind kicked in and my heart plunged. Vincent wasn’t mine. He was someone else’s. And I was right back into the black hole of sadness and regret that had been my prison for the past three weeks.

 

Resolving to get out of the house, I decided to have my breakfast at the Café Sainte-Lucie, which I noticed had reopened the previous day.

 

On my way past the living room, I spotted Papy in his armchair, reading a newspaper and looking every bit like an older version of my father. He still sported a full head of hair at seventy-one. His noble looks, which had been inherited by Georgia, had unfortunately skipped right over me.

 

He peered over his paper. “How’s my princess?” he asked, pushing his reading glasses up to his forehead.

 

“Fine, Papy. I’m just going out to have breakfast with J.D.” I held up my copy of The Catcher in the Rye before stuffing it into my bag. He caught my hand in his and placed it on the chair arm next to him, using grandpa sign language for, Stay for a minute.

 

Papy spoke softly. “Mamie says she’s worried about you. Do you want to talk?”

 

I shook my head and gave him a grateful smile.

 

“You know I’m here whenever you need me,” he said, pulling his glasses back down to his nose.

 

“Thanks, Papy,” I whispered, squeezing his hand before turning to leave.

 

I could never tell him about my problems. Even if I had just broken up with a regular human boyfriend, Papy couldn’t really understand. He and Mamie lived in a perfectly functioning dreamworld. They were still madly in love and spent their time doing things they both enjoyed. They had a normal life. A stable life. They had everything I wanted.

 

The café owner welcomed me back personally, seating me in the front corner of the room, where I would have some privacy. I sipped my café crème and ate a croissant as I lost myself in my book. It must have been a half hour later when I realized that the chair across from me was occupied. Jules sat in front of me with a wicked grin on his face, his chestnut eyes sparkling with humor.

 

“So, Miss America, you thought you could pull a disappearing act and just abandon all of us. No such luck.”

 

I almost laughed with happiness at seeing him again, but played it cool, asking, “What’s the deal with you dead guys? Are you following me, or what? Last night Charles, and now you!”

 

“You saw Charles?”

 

“Yeah, he was at this club I went to over near Oberkampf.” My voice slowed as I saw Jules’s amazement.

 

“Which club?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t even know what it was called. There wasn’t a sign or anything.”

 

“Did he say anything to you?”

 

“No, I was just leaving when I saw him standing outside. Why?”

 

Jules considered what I had told him, then shifted the conversation in a different direction. “So . . . when’re you coming back?”

 

My smile faded. “I can’t, Jules.”

 

“You can’t what?”

 

“I can’t come back. I can’t let myself be with Vincent.”

 

“How about being with me, then?” Seeing him wink flirtatiously, I laughed. “Can’t blame me for trying,” he said, grabbing my hand across the table and lacing his fingers through mine.

 

I shot him an embarrassed smile and said, “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“And you’re blushing.”