Never or Forever (from 3rd book in the Year of the Chick series)

Chapter Four

The fierce-looking woman continued to stare at me, and then smiled in a way that was anything but friendly.

“Bon soir,” she said. Her voice had that low sensuous tone that was one-hundred-percent French.

“Bon soir,” I said, without even a hint of sensuous essence in my voice. Stupid Canadian accent.

“Trust me when I say, you do not want to be around that one.”

I looked around at any of the ones who were surrounding me. There wasn’t a single one.

“Have we met before?” I knew we hadn’t, but I needed some explanation as to why this woman was not only pretending she knew me, but also telling me what to do.

“Mais non, je m’appelle Claire. And you?”

“I’m Romi.” My alcoholic buzz was taking hold, so I couldn’t even wait for an explanation. “Tell me again who you’re warning me about? And why?”

“I was referring to Felix, your own personal ‘tour guide’ for a trip around the regions of wine.” She smirked.

Who was this French bitch? And was she actually jealous? Did French women even get jealous? From what I’d read they always acted aloof and pretended they didn’t care about anything. But now I was here, facing some potential bitchery.

“He’s just a friend I made; you can date him all you want.”

“Ha! You insult me now!” Even when she seemed offended, her voice still sounded like a seductive quasi-whisper. I crossed my fingers that a year in Paris would help me learn to talk like that.

“Why would you be insulted? He seems really nice; and he’s a policeman!”

“Did he say local police force or the gendarmerie?”

My eyes widened. “The genda-what?”

“Darling it makes a big difference.”

So now I was the French bitch’s darling?

“It’s okay,” I said. “We’re only friends.”

“You’re a pretty girl but also naïve; this is dangerous in Paris.”

“And you’re here to save me?” I rolled my eyes as I handed my glass to one of the waiters.

She folded her arms and raised her nose in the air, as if that would make her taller. “I am simply telling you that I see Felix at many of these meet-ups. He is always looking for North American girls to prey on.” Now I knew she was lying. Felix had told me he was a shy little squirrel who hated Paris, only now venturing out at the encouragement of friends.

“Are you sure you don’t have him confused with someone else?”

“It seems you require an example.” I nodded. “Well, two weeks ago at a cocktail night, he was kissing a girl from ‘California.’” She said the word California like it was a toxin. “Then, only two nights later at a champagne party, he was getting the phone number of some woman from Florida!” She scoffed. “He might be French, but he always attends these international meet-ups to take advantage.”

Just then Felix bounded up the stairs, heading straight towards me with a smile. Claire scowled at him openly, but he ignored her and took me by the arm, leading me away to a deserted corner.

“Where would you like to go after this?” he said.

I must’ve had a bottle’s worth of wine in the last two hours; how could there be an after-party?