A French Girl in New York-OLD VERSION

Chapter 37

Know that you will always be

The two-faced liar who never cared for me.

 

Maude, facing her mirror, readjusted her big Afro wig as the last notes of her song died out. She had been in the process of preparing for the 1970s- themed Summer Dance when her song started playing.

 It was probably the tenth time she heard it on the radio since her single had been released, but she never got tired of that warm feeling she felt whenever her voice streamed out of the radio.

The first time she had heard it, she had been sipping a tall hot chocolate at a Starbucks in Soho with Cynthia and Jazmine. She was seated in a comfortable sofa in the café talking animatedly about the movie they'd just seen.

And that's when she heard it.  She'd always thought she'd be calm when she heard it for the first time, having promised herself not to act too crazy. She forgot all her good resolutions at that very instant.

 Jumping up like she'd been stung by a bee, she spilled her hot chocolate all over her raspberry muffin and her jeans. Everything was fine, nothing mattered because Cynthia and Jazmine had jumped up in perfect unison as well. Right there, in front of at least thirty people, the three girls started squealing like frantic seagulls and jumping up and down, not minding in the least that their table was a mess.

The waiter behind the counter looked at them as if they were stark mad and shook his head when he looked at the mess he would have to clean up after. Clients. They never thought about anyone but themselves.

"That's my song!" Maude yelled almost wildly.

Jazmine and Cynthia yelled back "That's her song! She's Maude Laurent! Her voice is all over New York!"

Then they all started a crazy little dance that made the clients laugh. The waiter softened a little and walked towards his messy clients.

"If you're famous, I want an autograph," he said, handing Maude his napkin.

"Keep that napkin preciously. Your five-cent napkin just became an important relic," Cynthia remarked, breathless from all the dancing.

Maude took the napkin. She would really have to work on getting her autograph right. It had to be something really original.  At the moment, all she could come up with was a completely stale "Maude Laurent."

The critics had been overwhelmingly positive, and as she sat in front of her dresser getting ready for the Summer Dance that evening, she couldn't help but want to squeal at the thought of it all, which was quite contrary to her usual disposition.

Since that first day, she had signed a number of autographs and had been photographed several times in the streets of New York. Those weren't the most important aspects of this newfound fame.

She was proud to see that her hard work had amounted to something huge and above all, appreciated. She hadn't disappointed Mr. Baldwin or Matt or herself. And that was what she loved about it. She was proud of what she had accomplished and could return to Carvin with her head held high no matter how painfully the thought of leaving wrenched her heart.

Maude's thoughts were interrupted by a light knock at the door.

"Come in!"

"Are you ready? Jazmine will be ready any minute now. First, I'd like to talk to you," James began as he took a seat on the corner of her bed.

"I'm done. What's wrong? You look very serious," Maude pointed out wondering how anyone could feel concerned when she felt so utterly, blissfully happy.

"Nothing's wrong. In fact, I think you can confirm that everything has been going great for you these last couple of days."

Maude nodded, her eyes sparkling.

"Victoria and I are concerned however about your going back to Carvin. We think you should stay in New York with us. We thought that the best way to manage that was by convincing Alan that you were invaluable. We wanted to convince him to sign you for a U.S. tour and a second album. The success of your first single has made Alan more than happy as you can imagine," James grinned.

Maude almost rolled her eyes, but simply said, "I can imagine."

"He is willing to organize a U.S. tour but wants proof that you will be able to perform."

"He's still stuck on my Cenerentola fiasco," Maude mumbled, embarrassed.

"That's why I've organized a televised performance. It's a strenuous enough situation but it won't be in front of an American audience."

"Where will I perform?" Maude asked curiously.

"It will be on a French program called Taratata."

 What James didn't mention was that Alan had agreed to this idea because he thought that if Maude failed, at least it wouldn't be in front of an American public.

"We will be going to Paris," Maude realized, her voice almost sounding like a distant echo.

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest at the thought that suddenly dawned upon her.

She would be able to retrieve her mother's box.

"Yes," James confirmed. "We're going to Paris. The entire Baldwin family will be there to support you. And then we will be going to Carvin to try to convince your foster family to let you stay with us, if you like. Indefinitely. As one of our own," James added.

Maude looked up at James, tears welling up in her big brown eyes.

"James, I would like nothing more in the world, but they will refuse to­­—"

James held up his hand and silenced Maude, shaking his head calmly.

"Don't worry about a thing. For now, just concentrate on this upcoming event, okay? We're leaving in four days so enjoy yourself tonight."

He kissed her gently on the forehead and walked quietly out of the room.