Nights In Black Lace (19 page)

Yeah. He was still under consideration. Hurry up and wait some more, dude, was what they were basically saying.

He signed out, stuffing the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and brushing the crumbs off his hands. A tall, brawny man walked by the window and glanced at him, then stopped in his tracks. Bryan smiled and got up to go, slam-dunking the crumpled paper from the sandwich on the way.

“Achille! What are you doing here?” He looked down and saw the Chihuahua pull on his thin leash, then sit down.

“Shopping. He won't walk more than a few steps and I cannot carry him,” Achille said. He lifted his hands, which held bags bulging with his purchases, and lifted the little dog along with them. Jimmy gave an exasperated yap. “I should have left him at home.”

Bryan reached for the leash. “I don't really have anything else to do. Leave him with me.”

“Are you sure? Do you not have a headache after last night?”

“Gone.”

Achille sighed as he looked at the dog. “He may give you another one. Sometimes I think we should send him to obedience training.”

“This little guy? What's the point?”

Jimmy blinked his eyes, as if he was glad
someone
understood.

“All right then,” Achille said. “Jimmy, be good. See you later, Bryan.”

“Glad to help.”

He looked at the dog, happy to have companionship on a day that had started off lousy, but was slowly improving. Then he realized that he couldn't sightsee with Jimmy on a leash.

Not a problem. Just walking around was fun, and Paris was full of parks. He would let Jimmy run free when they got to one where that was okay.

He gave a tug on the leash. Jimmy kept his skinny butt firmly planted on the pavement.

Bryan didn't feel like arguing. He scooped the dog up and tucked him in his jacket, his big-for-a-little-dog head hanging out. “How's that?”

Jimmy blinked blissfully.

Bryan walked on, heading back toward the first café he'd passed, using it as a landmark. He wanted to buy a map at a kiosk and figure out which way to go next.

The wrought iron chairs were filled now, and the mix was a little different. More laptops, less lingering. A woman sitting at one looked at him over the screen, like a beauty of yesterday looking over a fan.

Nice eyes.

He realized that he'd seen them before. “Marie?”

“I thought it was you.” Marie Arelquin stood up, laughing, and shook hands. “How have you been, Bryan?”

“Fine. I've been having a great time.”

“Who is this?” She patted the Chihuahua's bony head.

“His name is Jimmy. He belongs to a friend.”

She pulled up a chair for him. “Please, sit down.”

“Aren't you working?”

Marie smiled. “Pretending to work, like half of Paris.” She tapped a couple of keys and shut down the laptop, slipping it into its padded case.

“Okay then.” He looked down. “Jimmy, lay low.”

“It is all right to have a dog in a café. Sometimes even in a restaurant.”

“Did you hear that?” he said to his jacket. The dog had curled up and was closing his eyes. “Aww. He's asleep.”

“Good girl bait, a dog like that,” Marie said mischievously.

Bryan shook his head. “I'm not looking for trouble.”

“You mean Odette Gaillard isn't?”

He blushed a little. “You know about that?”

“Only that you two left the show together and she didn't take a bow. You must be having a very good time.”

Bryan hemmed and hawed, and decided to act like he was famous and not confirm or deny anything. “She's really interesting. I didn't know you knew her—outside of professionally, I mean.”

“We went to school together.”

“Really.” He found that reassuring. Marie Arelquin seemed totally normal. Even conservative. Her chic suit and the scarf neatly tied at the neck made her look older than Odette, though.

“She was not a very good student, but very bright, of course. She liked to have fun. Always in the director's office for one infraction or another, usually of the dress code. She made her own clothes, you know.”

“I can imagine.”

“She has always had a style that is all her own,” Marie said warmly.

“I like it. The show was great. Never saw anything like it.”

Marie folded her arms on the marble table and leaned forward a little. “So how much longer are you staying? And where are you staying?”

“Oh, a few weeks maybe. I'm crashing on a friend's couch.”

“Is that the friend who Jimmy belongs to?”

“Yeah.” He looked down into his jacket. “Still asleep.”

He chatted with Marie for a while longer, enjoying the easygoing mood of a morning in Paris. The tense, sometimes frenzied vibe of Odette's business seemed far away. The city had a laid-back aspect. You just had to find it.

 

Odette was nowhere to be found when Bryan got back to the atelier. Marc caught up with him while he was walking around looking for her.

“There you are,” Marc said. “Delphine said you'd come back. You've been gone for hours.”

“Yeah, I went for a walk, got to talking, wandered around. Where's Odette?”

“In a fitting. Strict security. After what happened—”

“No need to explain,” Bryan said.

Marc looked him over, noticing the bulge in his zipped jacket. “You look pregnant. Really, Bryan. Your clothes—”

“That would be your dog,” Bryan interrupted him. He lowered the zipper carefully and pulled on the jacket so Marc could look in.

“
Zut!
Look how happy he is!” Marc gave Bryan a slap on the back. “You are so nurturing, you make me nauseous.”

“Tough.”

The dog gave Marc a bleary look and settled back down.

“Do you want to attend the fitting?” the assistant asked.

“Am I allowed?”

“Odette specifically said to ask you to come in.”

Bryan shot him a doubtful glance. “Don't her clients mind having men in the room?”

“They assume we are all homosexual.”

“Uh, well, I mind. Even Grischenka got me hot. For a little while. It just doesn't seem right. No, I'll wait.”

Marc shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He steered Bryan to an empty office not too far from the several rooms where fittings were done. “See you later. Don't let Jimmy pee on the carpet when he wakes up.”

“Hell, no. I'm in charge, not him.”

“Hah. Just you wait.”

Bryan settled back in the swivel chair. It felt pretty good to sit down after a long walk on old streets. He'd covered some distance after leaving Marie Arelquin at the café.

Jimmy poked out his head to be petted and Bryan obliged him.

It wasn't long before something disturbed their peace. He could hear female voices that he figured were coming from the fitting rooms. Odette's was one. Soothing. And there were a couple of others. Fluttery.

And another one that rose over all the rest. Strident. Pissedoff. And weirdly familiar.

Bryan heard a door get yanked open and then bang shut behind someone angry. The sound of high heels, muted by the thick carpet they stabbed, was next.

“I look fat!” a woman shrieked. A blonde bombshell who'd been strapped and pinned into a barely-there bondage dress stalked past his door. “Really fat!”

Odette and several assistants came after her.

“Madame Krissie, please,” said an anxious girl.

“Let her howl,” Odette said. “She needs to.”

Krissie? Even from the back, Bryan thought Odette's client looked familiar. No wonder he'd recognized the voice. Krissie Howard was the lead singer for Chaos. And she sure as hell didn't look fat.

This was a fitting he wanted to see. It was amazing how quickly certain scruples could be set aside.

He got up and looked down the hall. Krissie had gotten as far as she could without actually blasting through a wall cartoon-style. She was pounding on it instead, throwing a spectacular tantrum.

Odette stood to one side, her arms folded over her chest, her assistants standing behind her. They clutched scraps of black material and scissors.

“You have to fix this,” Krissie snarled. “Now.”

“Of course,” Odette said patiently. “If you will please come with me.” She extended a hand as if she hadn't heard one word of Krissie's ranting and raving.

Krissie tugged the dress down over her thighs. “I'm supposed to look wicked. Not pudgy.”

“We can do wicked,” Odette said soothingly.

The rock star tossed her bleached, crimped locks and condescended to be led back. Bryan stepped inside the door frame, hoping she wouldn't take a random swing at him.

But she made Odette stop.

“Oh my gawwwwd, look at the dog,” she said. “I love dogs! Is he yours? Can I pet him?”

To his credit, Jimmy didn't shrink away. He was turning out to be tougher than Bryan expected.

Bryan felt a little tingle in his cock when Krissie bent over and cooed at the Chihuahua. A hot, sweaty smell emanated from her that was almost rank. Jimmy sniffed at her cleavage with interest.

Wrong species, little guy, Bryan thought with amusement. Even if she is a bitch. “Sure. Go ahead,” was what he said.

He glanced at Odette, whose lips were pressed together. Her assistants were looking curiously at the dog.

Marie had been right. Jimmy was great girl bait. He got a hand around the dog's warm body and lifted him out of his jacket. “Say hi to everybody, Jimmy.”

The dog's little legs danced in midair as he gave random licks to whoever touched him first.

“Can I hold him?” Krissie asked.

“Ah—okay.” Despite his diminutive size, he was a man's dog. Bryan wasn't sure if Jimmy would take to someone as screechy as Krissie.

She let him curl up on her nearly bare bosom and the dog shot Bryan a
fooled-ya
look.

“You can come with us,” the rock star said to Bryan. “I don't want him to miss his daddy.”

Marc came around a corner, probably because he'd heard the commotion, and made a gagging face for Bryan and Odette's benefit without the star or the assistants seeing him. “
Oui
, Krissie,” he said when he got closer. “Whatever you like. Bryan, come along.”

He tagged after the group, ignoring a glare from Odette.

So she could be jealous. She wasn't so totally sophisticated that nothing really mattered to her. He was fine with that.

With the dog riding on her bosom, Krissie walked more gently. She cooed to Jimmy as Odette dropped behind to talk to Bryan, drawing to one side and letting her assistants return with Marc and the rock star to the fitting rooms.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Nothing,” he said blandly. “I was just standing there with Marc's dog. Now she's happy.”

“I am not.”

Bryan touched a hand to her lower back, as if he was guiding her down the hallway. What he was really doing was assessing her. In his experience, women often said one thing and felt another. He was getting a melty vibe from her, like she wasn't really mad.

“Leave early. We can both be happy,” he said.

“What's got into you?”

Bryan shrugged. He was actually glad to be relieved of the dog, although he'd enjoyed the attention he got with him. “I had a great walk. Mellowed me out.”

“You weren't so very mellow when you left this morning.”

“No, I wasn't. I had a hangover and—”

“You said things were happening too fast for you.
Tant pis.
”

He knew what that meant. Tough luck. But her bravado didn't match the look he'd seen in her eyes this morning. “Hey, settle down.” He ran a hand down her spine and got that melty vibe again. “I got some fresh air, played in the park. I'm an outdoors guy, remember?”

She nodded.

“A hothouse like this”—he gestured at the striking photos of ultra-glam models and stars as they passed them on the walls—“is not my natural environment. But here I am.”

“
Bien.
You are a good sport. Will you come in for Krissie's fitting? She is a world-class bitch but I believe she likes you.”

“Anything for fashion.” He dropped a kiss on Odette's hair, feeling a little guilty about the way he was playing her.

The star was in the middle of the fitting room as they entered, her arms above her head, standing on a low box. Marc had his little dog back, and Jimmy's pop-eyes were taking in the scene.