Read Amanda's Guide to Love Online
Authors: Alix Nichols
Amanda's Guide to Love (16 page)
He hadn’t allowed such a thing to
happen in the last three years.
That was, until his current stint
at Casino Enghien-les-Bains, where he’d showed a cavalier disregard for one
gentle message after another, refusing to “back off.”
And tonight, the inevitable
happened.
Just as he was pocketing the two
grand he’d won over the course of the evening, two massive individuals asked
him to join their boss for a quick, private chat.
The next couple of hours were
unpleasant, to say the least. A burly, mustached man—no doubt the head of
security—and his two sidekicks took turns repeating the same questions, each
round more aggressive than the previous one. Mustache would go first, then the
bouncers, and then Mustache again.
On some level, Kes admired their work.
The trio had a well-practiced teamwork thing going there, designed to
intimidate geeky card counters into confessing their sins and begging for
mercy. But Kes knew Mustache and his acolytes were questioning him just for the
pleasure of watching a man break down. Confession or not, the verdict had
already been pronounced, signed, and sealed: a permanent banishment from the
casino.
Which meant his best option was to
keep calm and recite Gypsy rhymes in his head.
“You see this telephone?” Mustache
asked. “One call and the police will be here to arrest you.”
“Please.” Kes rolled his eyes. “We
both know card counting is a perfectly legal activity.”
“So you did count?”
“Me? Never. We Gypsies suck at
math.”
The man’s face grew flaming red,
and various muscles on it began to twitch with suppressed rage. Kes imagined
him in a Nazi uniform, yelling with a ridiculous German accent from bad war
movies,
Vee hef veys to make you tawk!
The image transformed his smirk
into a grin, which sent Mustache over the tipping point.
He screamed at the top of his
voice, “You son of a bitch! I’m gonna share your mug shot with every casino in
the country! They’ll be able to spot you the moment you step in!”
Kes shrugged,
unimpressed. He doubted the man would go to such lengths, and he doubted even
more that a casino would want to spare its competitors the same loss it had
suffered.
When they finally gave up and let
him go, he hailed a cab and sank into the back seat, completely spent. The
grueling questioning had exhausted him, but it wasn’t just that. He knew the
casino would have outed him sooner or later, but he had hoped it would be later
rather than sooner. Had he been more careful, he could’ve played in
Enghien-les-Bains for at least two more weeks.
What was he supposed to do now?
Pack up and leave? Or stay and lie to Amanda and his family?
Kes rubbed his temples. He had no
more business in Paris. If he stayed on, he’d be spending money without a
chance to make any. He’d be hanging out with Amanda, falling a little more for
her with every passing day—and getting no closer to having her than he’d been
on day one of their pastime companions deal.
Outside the cab window, the ugly
northern suburbs began to give way to the majestic vistas of central Paris.
Tastefully lit, the city shimmered and beckoned, looking every bit like its
poster image and charming the brains out of anyone who dared glance at it.
It was truly a thing of beauty.
Just like Amanda . . .
Maybe he should simply tell her the
truth—that he could no longer play at the local casino and he had to move on to
pastures nouveaux
. Would she be sorry to hear the news? Would she change
her mind about him or at least grant him a good-bye night?
He smirked. Knowing Amanda, she’d
just shrug and say, “Godspeed. Send me a postcard.”
The cab slowed down and stopped a
few meters from the Gypsy jazz club in the Latin Quarter where Marco was
waiting for him. Kes paid the driver and stepped into the bar, immediately
enveloped by a familiar sound.
Ah, so tonight was Reinhardt Night.
Perfect.
Nothing could match the Manouche
master’s virtuoso guitar when Kes needed cheering up. It never failed to lift
him from the cage of his misery into a higher, airier place, where he lingered
even after the music stopped. Cyril’s songs the other day had done the same
thing.
Except that piece about a runaway
curtain. That “experimental” little song had hit him with a sucker punch,
stirring something repressed and painful in Kes’s soul. Something he preferred
not to dwell on.
“Hey,
pral
, finally!” Marco
greeted him with a hug. “I didn’t understand your confused texts about what
held you at the casino.”
“I was questioned by the security
team.”
“Shit. Did they kick you out?”
“Yep.”
“You’ll be leaving Paris, then?”
Kes delayed his reply to order a
glass of wine and consider what to say.
“So?” Marco prompted.
“Soon.”
“The baptism is next week. It would
make sense to stay with the clan until you go off to the States.” Marco gave
him a soft look.
“Speaking of the baptism,” Kes
said, eyes trained on his glass. “I’ll be bringing a friend along.”
“A friend?” Marco echoed, his voice
tinged with irony.
“Yes, pral, a friend.” Kes looked
up from his glass. “A female friend.”
“A gadji?”
Kes nodded.
“I have no problem with that, man,
but your folks might.”
Kes shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll be
civil. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“Are you dating her?” Marco’s voice
had a weird edge to it.
Kes shook his head. “She’s just a
friend. As I said.”
“So your plan to go to Las Vegas in
a few weeks is still on, right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Kes stared at
his glass and then emptied it in one gulp. “I’ll leave Paris at the end of the
month, spend a couple of weeks with the clan, and then off to Vegas.”
Marco nodded.
Was it relief Kes glimpsed in his
eyes? No, it couldn’t be. Why would Marco feel relieved to be shipping off his
best friend?
It didn’t make any
sense.
* * *
The New Pact
~ ~ ~
A Woman’s Guide to Perfection
Guideline # 8
The Perfect Woman has at least two
male friends.
Rationale
: Having guy friends is beneficial on
many levels, including but not limited to: confidence building, gaining easy
access to a male perspective, gaining easy access to eligible men (your
friend’s friends), philosophizing, and watching action movies.
A
word of caution
:
Having a gay male friend is a must these days, and the authors of this Guide
definitely recommend it. But if all your guy friends are gay, do try to
befriend at least one straight man so you can get some of the benefits
described above.
Permissible
exception
: If you
fancy your male friend, you may want to defriend him for a short while (i.e.,
stop playing video games with him and his chums and keep some distance). When
you reenter his life, he may be able to see you as a woman rather than a buddy
who occasionally wears a skirt.
Damage
control
: If one of
your male friends fancies you, there are three possible scenarios:
(a)
You are interested, too. In this case, propose a weekend trip to Dunkerque,
Roubaix, or some other ugly northern town with nothing to explore. There’s a
good chance you’ll spend most of the weekend at the hotel, exploring each
other’s bodies.
(b)
You are not interested. Act preemptively and discourage him from declaring his
feelings by waxing lyrical about your amazing colleague who’d be a perfect
match for him.
(c)
You suspect he fancies you but aren’t sure. This may lead to a number of
unpleasant and embarrassing situations, so test the waters before diving in.
Take him to Dunkerque or Roubaix for a weekend. If on Saturday afternoon, he
drags you to the natural history museum and then to the local pub, after which
both of you spend the night puking, you’ll know he just likes you as a person.
~ ~ ~
You couldn’t very well go to
The
Rocky Horror Picture Show
alone. With a like-minded buddy, the night was
likely to be a lot of fun. By yourself it was bound to be pathetic.
With Kes, the experience had been a
riot.
He’d transformed the event into an
unrestrained, uninhibited fiesta that made her feel like she didn’t have a
worry in the world. He wore a blond wig and shouted hilarious comments about
the on-screen action. She swooned whenever Susan Sarandon did landing in Kes’s
strong arms and giggling so much her cheeks began to hurt halfway through the
movie.
It ended after midnight, and Kes
insisted on walking her home. They spent over an hour in the foyer of her
building, reenacting the movie’s craziest moments and imagining alternative
plotlines. She didn’t want to say good night, didn’t want him to leave. He was
so close and desirable that she had to summon all her willpower to recall why
inviting him upstairs was such a bad idea.
But she managed.
And he left.
It took Amanda hours to fall
asleep.
She sighed, turned on the water,
and closed her eyes.
Three cheers for the inventor of
the shower.
Coffee was an excellent tonic, but
it could never help you shake off the night and feel ready to face the day in
the same way a shower did.
She opened her eyes to grab the
shampoo—and froze.
The trespasser was there.
Perched outside the overflow hole,
the little monster watched her with an air of serenity and a total disregard
for the danger he was in.
Merde!
“I thought we had a deal, you and
me,” Amanda said.
She could swear she saw the critter
twitch his head as if to say,
What deal? I don’t recall a deal.
“I spared your life, and you were
supposed to haul your sorry ass out of my bathroom. Remember?” She rolled her
eyes.
Jesus. I talk to spiders now.
But how else could she impress upon
him the seriousness of his situation? She doubted telepathy would work.
“I want you gone, understand?” She
glared. “If you stay, you’re toast. I’ll have to dispose of you. And I will.”
She finished her
shower quickly and slammed the bathroom door behind her. Before she left for
work, she went back to the bathroom door and yelled, “Get out of my apartment,
or you’re dead!”
At the bistro, Manon greeted her
with a small list of things to do before the lunch service. They were
shorthanded today—Jeanne had taken a day off to prepare for her wedding
tomorrow. The bistro would be closed for the occasion.
Amanda had her bridesmaid’s dress
packed, her hairdresser booked, her speech written, and her plus one secured.
There was no reason to stress.
Rob and Lena could bask in their
marital bliss all they wanted. She wasn’t going to let their happiness ruin her
day. She’d be beautiful, confident, and escorted by a gorgeous man. Whom her
dear friend Jeanne had booked into Amanda’s room. Admittedly, she’d ended up
inviting more people than planned, and Mat’s little town didn’t have enough
available accommodations.
Oh dear.
Better not think about it now.
Everything was going to be all right in the best of all possible worlds . . .
provided Kes didn’t tell her friends who he really was and what he did for a
living.
By eleven, the bistro slowed down
as it usually did, and Amanda joined Manon and Amar, who were reading the same
newspaper at the bar.
“You’re so cute,” Amanda said
before biting into her croissant. “Sharing a paper like that.”
Amar blushed and Manon scrambled
behind the bar to rinse her cup.
It was great fun to tease those
two.
Amanda turned to Amar. “I’ve been
meaning to ask you something.”
He gave her an uncertain look.
She wiped her hands and mouth with
a napkin. “Do you wear a white robe at home?”