Page 67 of One Week in Paris
His name is Fabien. He’s married. He has three beautiful girls, all in high school.
For a second, I think he knows this guy, but then I quickly realize this is just another one of his silly stories. I smile up at him.
He’s happily married but he has a secret.
I smile.Yeah, what is that?
When he’s not bartending, he likes to dress up in his wife’s lingerie and high heels. She favors fishnet stockings, really slutty get-ups, and black stiletto pumps.
I laugh out loud.My sister and her friend stop mid-conversation and turn to me.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Funny meme,” I explain.
He likes to take mirror selfies. He prints them on his printer. They’re costing him a small fortune in ink cartridges but they’re worth it. He keeps an album in a locked case under their bed. When no one is around, he flips through it, and jacks off.
I laugh.You are sick. You know that? Now I won’t be able to go to the bar without imagining him in a silly black teddy and garter and stockings. You’ve ruined the bartender for me!
Oscar looks prettyhappy with himself. Seriously, if his smile were any bigger, his face would split in two. I wonder if Sophie would find this as funny as I do. Or maybe it’s just me — I’m easily amused.
Last week, his youngest daughter, Anette, found the album. She was looking for hidden birthday presents, and she became very intrigued by this locked case. She pried it open with the help of her boyfriend when her parents were out to dinner. She still hasn’t confronted him… she can barely look at him now. He has no clue she knows, which is why he’s all happy and carefree now. As you can imagine, Anette was traumatized and will need serious therapy.
“Sorry, I got caught up in a chat with Gordon,” Matt says as he sits next to me. He glances at my empty glass. “Can I get you anything from the bar?”
I smile. “Sure, I’ll have a glass of red. Shiraz, if they have it.”
Oscar puts his phone away and turns to Sophie. She smiles up at him. God, they do make a lovely couple. I would even dare say, a sexy couple. I could imagine them in a classy porno. Is there such a thing as classy porn?
I watch Matt at the bar, speaking to ‘Fabien’. I can’t help but smile. Matt towers over the short man and is being his usual very charming self.
Mom’s friend, Natalie, takes a seat next to us. “Hello, girls. How have you been?”
Sarah and I both smile. “Great,” Sarah says. “How about you, Natalie?”
“Great,” she says as her gaze skims over the both of us. “Wow. You two girls have both turned into such beautiful women,” she tells us, in awe. “The transformation in the both of you is astonishing, especially…” Her words trail off as she pulls her gaze from me. She doesn’t need to finish that sentence. I know she meant me.
“Uh… what a lovely waiter, at the bar,” she goes on, in an obvious attempt to quickly change the subject. “His name is Fabien, and he has three daughters.”
My jaw drops. “That’s nice,” I say, stifling a grin.
“He speaks lovely English,” she adds, “And is quite charming,” she adds with a wink.
“So how is your job going?” she asks Sarah. I take the opportunity to quickly text Oscar.
Guess what?! The barkeep’s name is Fabien, and he has three daughters!
I watch him as he digs his phone out of his pocket, Sophie’s arm awkwardly wrapped around his waist.
He smiles and taps away. I’m shocked by how excited I am about this. I’m like a kid at a scavenger hunt.
What can I say? I have a gift,he replies.
I look over at the barkeep.Well, the guy ISwearing a name tag.
Oh no, you’re on to me. But I swear, I didn’t speak to him. The rest is all my amazing psychic abilities.
Yes, you are amazing,I write.That is sarcasm, btw.
—
Quickie in the washroom again?
—
I laugh.Noooooooo!
—
Okay, that’s a no. Fair enough.
