Chapter Seventeen
Flashback continues
Annie woke around 3 AM, her stomach aching faintly. ‘Guess I’m still not completely over that bad fish yet,’ she thought sourly, turning on her side. ‘What a day’.
After tossing around for almost fifteen minutes, Annie let out an exasperated sigh and flicked on the light by the bed. ‘No way I’m getting back to sleep at this rate.’ She flicked the covers off and wandered over to the coffer maker. After putting water in it to boil, she fished out a packet of the tea she’d bought the other day and stuck it in one of the hotel mugs.
When the tea was ready, Annie made her way back to the bed, sipping carefully. It helped calm her stomach, but it would still take a little while until she was ready to go back to sleep. What to do in the meantime?
The other envelope! Annie fished around in her purse until her hand emerged with the second letter that had been addressed to her alone from Claude. She’d placed it there after JC had left, just so there would be no chance of him seeing it till she’d read it. ‘Might as well read it now,’ she thought, settling back on the pillows she'd propped up. Claude’s familiar scrawl graced the front of the envelope, which still smelled faintly of the older man’s cologne.
Opening it revealed one piece of paper, carefully folded inside. Annie removed and unfolded it, sipping her tea as she began to read.
Almost immediately, she stopped drinking. The mug began to shake violently and Annie had to put it down on the night stand before she spilled any of the hot tea on herself or the letter.
Tears began to steam down her face as Claude’s scrawling formed a story almost too fantastic to believe, but one that seemed to draw together the last few strings.
Flashback - April 1998
Jacques walked slowly down the hallway, glancing back and forth. He didn’t really like dealing with this woman, she creeped him out, but things were starting to move faster than he was comfortable with. Peeking around the corner, Jacques let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The door to Annie’s flat was shut. Sneaking closer, he put his ear to the door and listened carefully. He heard music playing, muffled by the door, but he couldn’t hear any voices.
Nodding to himself, he knocked on the next door over. After what seemed like an eternity in which Jacques was certain Annie’s door would open any moment, Babette poked her head outside. Upon seeing him, she smiled. (“Well! Been a while since you last came.”) She sneered slightly, tilting her head to the left. (“I suppose you want to come in?”)
Jacques pushed past her, kicking the door shut once he was inside. Taking in her apartment, he grimaced. (“This place still smells like something died in here.”)
(“Maybe something has.”) Babette pushed past him in a flurry of frayed skirts and unwashed filth. (“I used to have a pet rat, you know. His name was.”) She trailed off, staring at the wall without really seeing it.
He waited for her to finish, but soon realized that her mind, or rather, what was left of it, had wandered somewhere it wasn't exactly familiar with and was now having a hard time finding its way back. Finally, Jacques cleared his throat in irritation.
Babette jerked, then looked at him and smiled. (“Hi! when did you get here?”)
(“Nevermind,”) he growled in irritation. (“Look, I need your help with something.”)
(“Oooooo,”) she breathed, rubbing her grimy hands together. (“What’re we gonna’ do?”)
Jacques considered the best way to approach this next part, but eventually decided that the simple road was probably the safest. Looking her in the eye, he smiled (“We’re going to play a game.”)
(“A game?”) Babette clapped her hands together in delight. (“I love games! Which one are we playing today?”)
(“We’re going to play ‘Model’.”)
“’Model’?”) She put one finger to the side of her mouth, tapping it lightly. (“I don’t think I now how to play that game.”) She danced around in a little circle. (“What are the rules?”)
(“Just be patience. First, we need the other player.”) He smirked. (“You can’t very well play this game by yourself, now can you?”)
Babette crossed her arms over her chest, sulking. (“I thought you were going to play.”)
(“I am, I am. But we need a third player, or else it won’t be very much fun.”)
(So who’s?”) Babette was cut off as she heard Annie’s door open. Rushing to her own door, she pulled it open a crack and peeked out.
JC was standing in the hallway, outside Annie’s flat, facing her in the doorway. They kissed softly, then JC smiled. “I’ll be back next week to say goodbye.”
Annie looked slightly pouty. “I know.”
JC lifted her chin with his hand. “Not a permanent goodbye. Just until I can convince the guys that we need another break in Paris.” He then leaned in and whispered something in Annie’s ear that neither Babette nor Jacques could hear. Whatever it was, it made Annie blush slightly and Jacques felt his blood boiling.
Babette quietly shut the door and turned to face him. (“Can we play with that one?”) she begged, jumping up and down. (Can we, can we? Please?”)
He looked at her seriously. (“Do you want to?”)
(“Yes! Yes!”) she was beside herself with delight. (“He’s so pretty. I think he’d have fun playing ‘Model’.”)
Jacques smiled softy then, but there no trace of warmth in it. (“Okay, but first you have to promise smoothing.”)
Babette stamped her foot impatiently. (“Oh, what now?”)
(“You have to promise not to tell anyone. If you do.”) He paused
for
effect, to make sure he had as much of her full attention as he was
likely
to get, before continuing. (“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have
Jake
come and get you.”)
All trace of amusement fell from Babette’s face, replaced with equal
swiftness by paralyzing terror. (“You wouldn’t!”)
(“Wouldn’t I?” You know, he wouldn’t be too happy if he found out about the games you like to play, the men you like to play them with.”)
She dropped to her knees, tugging at Jacques hands. (“No, no, PLEASE!!! Don’t tell him. I promise to be a good girl and not tell anyone! I promise! I promise!”) She deteriorated into a heap of sobbing rags, burying her face in her hands.
Jacques rubbed at his temple. For some reason, dealing with Babette always gave him a splitting headache, but they did seem to be getting worse lately. Finally he nodded. (“Alright, I won’t tell him. Just be ready next week to play out game. Understand?”)
Babette leapt up, seeming completely over the terror she had felt only seconds before. Only a few unshed tears shining brightly in her eyes gave any indication of her earlier fear. (“Okay.”) she chirped brightly opening the door for him. (“I’ll see you then!”)
Jacques left quickly down the hall, grateful that Annie had already gone back into her flat by the time that Babette had carelessly flung open the door. That would have spoiled all the fun things he had planned and that wouldn't do at all. Silently, he ran through a list of things that needed to be prepared before next week. Where had he put that camera?
End of flashback
Annie dropped the letter to the floor, her hands shaking. How could this have happen? Jacques, it had been Jacques all along. He’d used Babette, lied to her.
He was the one who had knocked JC unconscious. He was the one who had taken the pictures. Had he also been the reason Babette had fallen out of her window? Had she seen him and thought he was Jake?
Annie took a sip of the now cold tea, trying to calm her thoughts. It would do no good to call him now, she still wasn’t completely sure she knew what she’d say.
Glancing over the letter a second time, she decided to wait until morning to call. Satisfied with her decision, Annie poured the cold tea down the drain and turned off the light. Lying on her side in bed, she closed her eyes and completely failed to go back to sleep.
