Gastien Pt 1 (32 page)

Maurice nodded. “I never questioned that, Gastien. I am sorry you are having a hard time. I could loan you some money if you wish.”

Gastien shook his head. “
Non
,
merci
. I would just get behind. I don’t want to get behind with anyone, much less my boss. That is a quick way to end a relationship. I will make do.”

Maurice understood. “I want to help, though. For now, let’s say for the next year anyway, I will let you eat one meal a day here on me. Not just soup, but a full meal. I don’t expect you to pick the most expensive items, but I would like you to have variety and a full stomach at least daily.”

“Oh,
Monsieur
,
non
, you don’t have to do that. That is too much,” Gastien said firmly.

“I insist. I am your boss, and that is an order!” Gastien looked uncomfortable. “Son, you are valuable to me. You bring in a lot of business with those big eyes. It is the least I can do. No argument!”

“
Merci beaucoup
.”

“Now, go grab a uniform and have a bath. You don’t want to be late for work on a Saturday night!”

During the next two days, which were normal days off, Gastien cleaned his new room. He also bought clothes, and art supplies. By the time he got finished, he had nothing left in the bank or in his pocket. The room still looked poor and deteriorating. It would be very cold without heat next winter. The bright spot was that at least it did not stink anymore. He bought rat traps, which he loaded, just in case. The roaches he had to live with. Since he would not have food in the room, perhaps they would move to another area.

As the weeks went by, Gastien found that he could not save any money at all. The cost of rent each month, along with incidentals, took everything he had. He seldom went out with friends. To get by, he only ate the one meal a day Maurice provided at the restaurant, except for coffee. He got thinner than he wanted again, and his cheekbones stood out, but he was not nearly as thin as a year ago.

It was a major hurdle every day, bringing water he had pumped up several flights of steps, just to clean up. There was no way to heat the icy water. Washing his whole body in cold water was pure misery. He had to spit in a cup and later rinse that at the pump, every time he brushed his teeth. Gastien was living dirt poor again, just steps away from the level of a street person.

Although he worked, the landlords of Paris saw to it that renters had very little left after paying for the “privilege” to live among roaches and rats. He also knew that without saving, should he ever lose his job, he would be back in the alleys digging through garbage. What little money he had he used to keep himself up. It was mandatory that he was clean and neat at work. He needed customers to like him in order to make a living. They had no idea that most times he was hungry, and that all of the time he was struggling to even find a way to use a privy without sitting in piss or standing in it.

It was obvious to Gastien now that he would never find a way to have his own studio. Some of his paintings did sell, but what he made from that a real estate agent could wipe his ass on. The prices were so high that only the very wealthy could buy property in Paris now. Hope to even lease a decent studio was starting to dim.

Gastien started getting a few contracts painting at people’s homes. The money from that he put into his bank box, along with the money from paintings sold. That gave him money for clothes, a rare night of fun, but would never amount to enough to change his lifestyle. He would have been a little better off if he gave up painting, for supplies were expensive. But then he would be a career waiter. That was not who he was. The only answer was to continue to paint, living from day to day.

The nightmares started shortly after moving into this new room. At first, they were only slightly disturbing. He was always fine once he woke up, usually being able to go back to sleep. As the months passed, though, they would increase in frequency and intensity. They were nightmares about living on the streets, because that was his greatest fear. Since he was now only a heartbeat away from that life again, his subconscious mind brought that fear to the forefront when he entered the dream state.

One thing that had not changed was the fact that women were attracted to him. He still found that the wives and daughters of the wealthy patrons of
Le Procope
were pursuing him. They continued to be very creative at finding ways to be with him for a rendezvous. Gastien was always happy to oblige, because it often meant some time at a home where things were clean. He usually found a way to work a bath into the tryst, because that meant that he could get cleaned up in warm water.

Never did he take anyone home to his room. He was too ashamed of it. When women asked to come home with him they were turned down flat.

What did frustrate and irritate him about the sexual situations was that many times the women wanted to give him gifts, thinking that they could buy his time or loyalty. He was not a gigolo! Gastien always refused any offers of gifts or money. He made it very clear that he was not “owned” or “property” in any way. Either they wanted sex with him or they didn’t. If he wanted more than a onetime experience, he would say so when they asked again. Seldom would he go to bed with someone more than two or three times. He did not want their emotions getting involved. As for his, he doubted he would ever care again. It just felt good to have the release of sex.

During these months, most of his off time was spent painting, since at last he had space in his room to do it. It was warm enough to have a window open in order to keep the smell from becoming overpowering. The fumes did not reach the other renters. Even if they had, most of them were drunk or passed out anyway.

Oh,
what paintings he did! Gastien was becoming a better and better painter. He started experimenting with shape, color and texture. These things he only worked on some of the time, because they would not sell and he needed to make money. But shape, color, and texture were where his heart was. He could do things with paints that people had not seen yet. The paintings were crying to get out of his head and onto the canvas. He needed his own studio, his own hours!

Gastien and Mic had written back and forth a few times. Mic was aware of what happened. He missed Mic terribly. He missed Nath, and Emma, too. He now realized how very lucky he really had been to have the room at Emma’s.

It was a sad period for Gastien. Then, in July, he got a notice that rent was doubling in September. He was at a loss as to what he was going to do. Stunned, Gastien wondered, how in the world does that man think this hellhole is worth twice what he is already gouging me for? Unfortunately, he heard through the grapevine at work that the same thing was happening all over. As all of Paris got “restructured” and old buildings demolished, landlords were out to get as much as they could before the buildings came down. Now, not only did he have to worry about the rent increase, he also wondered where he would live when the building came down! One thing that would be guaranteed was that the new buildings would not rent cheap. The
bourgeois
and the gentry were pushing out the poor, making sure they could not come back.

Gastien went to work that night feeling like there was no way out. He was very quickly running out of options. The nightmare had been so intense this morning that he had gotten little sleep. Exhaustion ate at him. As he worked, he noticed that a couple had come in asking for his section again. They were coming in frequently lately. The man reminded Gastien of a bird of prey. He had a hawk like nose, and penetrating eyes. The man definitely exuded power. There was no doubt he was in charge of any situation he found himself in.

And his wife!
Mon Dieu
, what a woman! Gastien always had to concentrate very hard so as not to get an erection while waiting on them. She was breathtaking. The woman was blonde, which one did not see often, with the most vivid blue eyes Gastien had ever seen. Those eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes that gave Gastien’s lashes some heavy competition. She had never indicated she was interested in an interlude with him, though. That was rare. He wondered if for some reason she did not find him attractive. He had plenty of others to choose from, but, still…it irked him.

Other waiters told him the man was incredibly wealthy with large dealings in both banking and real estate. They said he lived on a huge estate that was so grand that it even had peacocks roaming the gardens! What some people waste their money on, he thought. Here in the streets are people not eating and this man has peacocks walking around. Just let one of the homeless people have ten minutes on that property, he thought cynically, good use would be made of those peacocks then! However, the couple was actually very nice to him. He guessed they must really appreciate the service he gave them.

Gastien approached the table. “Good evening,
Monsieur
and
Madame
. What a pleasure it is to see you again! Do you want the usual before dinner wine?”

“
Oui
, please, but allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jean Luc. Turning to his wife, Jean Luc continued, “This is my beautiful wife, Annah. You are Gastien, I believe?”

Gastien was taken aback. No one asked a waiter’s name. “
Oui
. The pleasure is mine. You don’t have to remember my name. I am here to serve you, not take up your time. Please allow me to get your wine, Jean Luc.”

“Quite the contrary. Both of us are very interested in you. We have been coming back for the last several weeks to admire your paintings. You are quite skilled!” the man said kindly.

Gastien was pleased. “
Merci beaucoup
. I live to paint, Jean Luc.”

“So I have heard from the other waiters. They say you spend most of your free time painting. They also say that you have done work for others at their homes during days off.”

Gastien was suddenly hopeful. Perhaps this man would hire him for a couple of days! “
Oui.
I come to their homes to paint portraits.”

“How grand! I have a proposition for you, Gastien. I want to hire an artist to paint several portraits. I want one of my wife, one of each of my two daughters, one of me and then a family portrait. I want them quite large. I would like that artist to be you.”

“
Monsieur
that is wonderful!” Gastien cried. Then he sobered. “That will take forever, because I only have Sundays and Mondays off!”

Jean Luc laughed softly. “I don’t want you for just a couple days at a time, Gastien. I want you to live on my estate for as long as it takes. I would think that we could use your services for at least a year.”

Gastien was dumbfounded. Could he possibly be this lucky? He just stood there staring at the man. Finally Jean Luc spoke. “I understand your hesitation. You probably have a home. Rest assured, we have a nice cottage for you to stay in, meals will be provided – which you will find ample and delicious – and we will pay you, of course. You can still have two days off a week. You will also have the use of my carriage driver to take you anywhere in Paris that you need to go during those days. If you want to go out at night, you will need to hire a
cabriolet.
Simply submit a bill for reimbursement.“ He stopped, looking concerned. “Unless, of course, you are committed to some others already.”

“
Non
, I am not. As you are probably aware, portrait painting can sometimes be slow. I am very interested in your offer. In fact, I am very pleased. I do have to say, however, that I would need to give my boss ample notice that I am leaving. He values me very much. I would want to help train someone in.” Gastien tried to act calm like this happened to him all the time. But inside he wanted to do a tango across the dining room floor!

“Oh, understandably. I appreciate a man with honor. That is good.” Jean Luc took out an appointment book. “How about the first of September for a start date? That will give my wife and daughters a full month to shop for fineries. Like typical women, no matter how many dresses they have to wear, they are always in need when an occasion arises. I imagine their clothes for these portraits will set me back worse than your pay and board!” All of them laughed.

“September 1
st
would be perfect, Jean Luc,” beamed Gastien. “Do you want to bring a contract by?”

Jean Luc’s eyes widened. “This man is sharp! A contract, he says! Certainly, young Gastien, we will put it in writing, calming your fears. You are a man after my heart. Perhaps I should hire you for one of my banks instead of as a painter!”

“I just want to protect myself,
Monsieur
. I hope I did not offend you,” said Gastien candidly.

“No offense taken. Now, what days do you have off currently? Or are there others you would like off?”

“Sunday and Monday, currently. I would appreciate keeping those. Many of my artist friends are servers in the area and have those days off, too.”

They agreed upon a monthly amount for one year. Gastien was thrilled. It would not get him a studio by any means and would be gone quickly once he had to pay rent again, but for the next year at least, he was safe. Then Jean Luc asked him about supplies, telling Gastien to make a list of everything he would need. “I want you to give me a thorough list, down to the brands you prefer. I will have someone purchase everything and bring it to the cottage. Everything you need should be there when you arrive.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Jean Luc.
Merci.
I will make out the list tonight.”

“And, Gastien, if you don’t like the cottage, or somehow feel I have misrepresented the agreement, we will tear up the contract. My wife and I want you to be happy while you are with us. You should feel like the cottage can be your home the minute you walk in.”

Gastien laughed. “I am sure it won’t be a problem. As long as there is good light, an artist is happy!”
Mon Dieu
! If you could see the hellhole I live in now, he thought.