I definitely don't love you...

Chapter 2: What about Ninon?

     Ninon walked along the Seine, she always listened to the same music on her way home from the comedy club, Solitude, Felsmann + Tiley reinterpretation. She knew it wasn't the best idea to listen to this song alone in the evening after going on stage. She still felt upset and it strangely calmed her. All this brought up too many buried emotions. But she told herself that it was her therapy. 

     She stopped and glanced towards the docks. There were still people along the quays and at this time, and the atmosphere was still pleasant. She saw people dancing, she saw groups of friends laughing, drinking wine, play cards. She remembered being like that years ago too. But she had isolated herself to write and since then she had not managed to reconnect with her friends. They had gone to live elsewhere, some came back from time to time and when they invited her she always found excuses not to come, too much work, deadlines to meet, the flu... She would have liked to but couldn't do it anymore. She didn't want to think about it.

     She had walked another fifteen minutes and arrived at the bottom of the Pantheon. She entered her building, on the square, one of the most beautiful place in Paris, at the foot of the Luxembourg Gardens. She slipped into the ridiculously small wrought iron elevator. She slid the gate, pressed on the top floor. She watched the floors go by, the magnificent doors, the red carpet on the staircase. Finally, she arrived. She extricated herself and went back down the stairs a few steps, standing in front of a superb transparent hand-painted window, which replaced a section of wall. She took out a set of keys, stuck the smallest of her keys into a small, almost invisible black lock along the window, opened the hidden door and slipped in.

     She slipped into the back staircase and closed it behind her. Even though she had lived here for several years, she still loved going through this hidden passage. She climbed the back stairs that led to the maids' rooms and stopped on the first level. She slipped down the narrow stairs. There were dozens of rooms hidden above many Parisian buildings. 

     She stopped in front of her door, turned the key, took a breath and opened the door. It did to her every time. The view took her breath away. She closed the door and opened the windows of her little maid's room which overlooked the roof of the Pantheon and the most beautiful buildings in Paris. She slipped through the window and sat on the edge of the building which served as her balcony as the width of the building protected her from the edge. The night was magnificent. She could see as far as the Vincennes zoo.

     She felt soothed. She even felt in a more relaxed mood. She wanted to call Neo. Her neighbour. He was a bartender and a tattoo artist. They had crossed paths a few times on the landing, he had slipped his number under her bedroom door. They had become sex friends. It was a relationship that suited them well. She looked at the time, maybe he was home. She texted him. A few seconds later he knocked on the door. They didn't need to talk. She threw herself on him, kissed him passionately, put her hand down his pants and he held on to her buttocks, sliding his hands up to her sex. They knew what each other liked. They saved time and give a lot of fun. This evening, she wanted to take her time, she asked him if he agreed. He was. She wanted him for a long time. He leaves after an hour. She let him use the shower. She was one of the few to have a shower and toilet in her room, the others had to use the amenities in the corridor. It was a good deal for both. She had started working on her computer, headphones on, when Neo waved at her to leave.

Ninon= Good night and thank you...!

Neo= You too, see you!

      She put her headphones back on and dove into writing a series she was working on. It was a daily television series. She earned a fairly good living, depending on the number of texts she managed to place. The plot took place in a hotel, she had to work quickly, the dialogue was sometimes a little banal, but she preferred that to all the food jobs she had done before.

       When she looked at her phone it was 4am. Her back and eyes hurt. She decided to cut it short for tonight. She went to shower and jumped into bed. She turned around in, trying not to reach for her phone but couldn't. She browsed Instagram, nothing interesting. She hesitated, but couldn't resist going to Ben's page. He had put a story of him on stage. The room was standing. She didn't really know what to think about it. She cut everything off and fell asleep.

     When she woke up, the sun was shining on Paris. She felt good. She stretched, and left her arms in the air. She remembered dreaming about Ben. What? She had never wondered about him before meeting him. She knew he was an actor, a presenter, having seen him on television or perhaps in a few films but nothing more. She did not know his world and did not particularly feel the desire to know more. But now he had succeeded in making her curious. She wondered if by any chance there were a few seats left for her show, she didn't want to die silly. Might as well know what made him so successful after all.

       Ninon stood facing the luminous front of the performance hall, which adorned the middle of an illustrious Parisian's boulevard. She was doubtful. The crowd was rushing to enter. People seemed in a hurry, she was probably the calmest of them all. She passed through the entrance, she had never had the opportunity to enter this legendary room. She, who sometimes went on stage, felt impressed by the immensity of the room. 

    She could never have played in such a huge room, she was incapable of doing so. She only played to hear her words bounce off the crowd, to scare herself too, and she knew that the audience was not a very demanding one. These were people who wanted above all to relax, have a drink, without spending too much money. The audience knew that most artists were just starting out and no one was too demanding. She had requested the slot as late as possible, figuring that the drunker the room was, the less judged she would feel. The room was close to her house, it was a change from her routine. All this suited Ninon.

     She slipped through the aisles, the room would be almost full. All generations were mixed together. She sat on the mezzanine, somewhat off-center facing the stage, which suited her very well. Sometimes there remained this kind of isolated place. She watched the crowd wiggle, get impatient, laugh in advance, repeat the actor's cult lines. Ninon struggled with the fanatical side of popularity. She liked to live hidden. She didn't like being asked, although she understood that others might like it. It was a good balance, she didn't have any problems with it, she just knew that she wouldn't be able to handle it. 

      Calm fell when darkness imposed itself on the room. And the show began. Ninon found herself smiling as she remembered meeting them, and how she had rebuffed him. She told herself that it would be better if no one here knew what she had done... Many would give dearly to meet him and have his attention for a few seconds, then to receive a compliment... Although wobbly, she recognized him for the effort in trying to congratulate her. She found herself smiling, even laughing, more often than she expected. 

    She admitted that she had misjudged him. She was waiting to know him better to have a clearer opinion on his personality but from a professional point of view, he was amazing.

    She sat on the railing and completely immersed herself in his performance. The show lasted one hour and ten minutes. A real, carefully timed show. And a standing ovation from the entire room. Ninon looked at the room standing around her, impressed her. She felt embarrassed not to be standing, but she couldn't do it. She stared at the actor. She couldn't get away from him. She realized she wasn't even clapping. She felt bad. She stood up and backed away as best she could, as the crowd was rushing to get as close as possible to the railing. She felt her heart beating until it hurt. She managed to get out of the crowd and stormed out of the theater. 

Ben was still clapping and thanking his happy audience in his place, far from suspecting that Ninon had come to see him.