Army of Sin - Season 2 - The Gathering

Episode VIII - Their Stares

Location: The Caribbean – Antigua…

Her stomach cramped as her body rebelled again and again. All over her own toes the barely digested food landed, reeking of the fruit punch she had also drunk. God, I wish I were normal, she cried silently; the taste of her swallow making her double over once more. It had been within the first five retches that she had already cleared what lay in her fifteen year old stomach. Now as she looked at her toes for the thirteenth time, her head spun.

She could still feel the weight of their stares, still hear her father telling her that her looks were generational and she would be the envy of many. That knowledge did nothing to ease her discomfort. Teachers - both male and female - would stare at her for stretches at a time, calling her to the board every chance they got. Why couldn't I just be a normal child, she asked herself before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"God, I could use a glass of water!" she said aloud.

"And ah washcloth no doubt!" came a deep voice that had her jumping out of her skin.

Turning slowly, she locked eyes with the one and only Bryson Gervais.

His stare this time was unlike the others that made her uncomfortable. His was filled with a quiet acceptance and just a hint of sadness as he held out a damp washcloth."Fuh sure yuh worth more than this."

She accepted the warm cloth, looking away from him as the guilt began to gnaw at her, "They all stare at me Papa," she choked out.

"Why yuh think dat is, Angel? Yuh really think all dis setta vomit go make them stop watch? Waiz de hope? To eventually disappear?"

"To be ugly!" She hissed out fiercely, using the wash cloth to dab at the fresh spring of tears near the corner of her eyes.

"Ah my child, at fifteen, lemme tell yuh something, yuh only going and get prettier."

"Well then-"

"Do you know how my Pa died?" Her father asked, deep voice rendering hers mute, "He kill himself."

"You all said he was sick."

"He was. He was sick of life. So meen wanna hear nun bout my daughter wanting to leave this Earth," he added with a shrug of his shoulders. "Now wipe your face and throw way that rag, I will clean up here."

"Yes sir."

"And Evangeline…?"

"Yes Pa?" She asked, foot on the bottom of the stairs that led up and into the house.

"I love you."

"Love you too, Pa."

                             ➖➖➖

Later that evening, a young Evangeline sat at the table with her mother and father, quietly eating while adult conversation floated above her head. She loved them both to bits, wanted to do everything in her power to keep her promise to her father, yet the food within her stomach had other plans. Shoving the last morsel in her mouth, the metal of the spoon clanging against a tooth, she excused herself from the table.

She chose a different spot at the back of the house this time; convinced her mother would be able to keep her father occupied for now. It took only one push of her finger to the back of her throat.

She retched, the black beans and the last piece of macaroni pie the first to make an appearance - she was out of the proverbial stalls.

"Surely you are worth more than this?" A masculine voice asked from around the side of the house.

She did not recognize the voice but from beneath the raised foundation of the house she could make out a pair of black, tailored dress pants. "Who dere?" She asked, her subconscious still not giving her the signal to flee.

"Nothing more than a concerned citizen," the man offered, finally stepping into view.   

 He was dressed sharply; a navy blue waistcoat above a plain black dress shirt while over his arm hung a black blazer. His head was bare, curls stopping halfway down his forehead while on his feet, the field light that hung at the back of their house reflected off of the shiny pair of chocolate dress shoes. Whoever he was, she wanted his confidence.

"Let us talk," he said softly, hand suddenly resting against a wooden chair that appeared out of thin air.

She sat numbly as the gentleman hung his blazer over the back of a chair of his own, crossing his legs to stare at her with his brown eyes and loose curls.

"Let us begin, Evangeline!"

                             ➖➖➖

 "Evangeline!" Mona said, shaking her from her daydream, "C’mon bud, grab your bags, you have me using your full name in public."

Pulling her hat down lower, Evangeline pulled her shades over her eyes before getting out of her seat and joining the line of passengers exiting the plane.

They always flew like this; below the radar - the appearance of two unassuming tourists coming for a European tour, when in reality they were one of the most sought after pairs of model and manager. Evangeline changed her walk - she was already taller than most women at five feet eleven and walking like the diva her career required would have her sticking out among this throng of people in a fashion she was not the least bit interested in.

 The clearance of immigration passed quickly enough, answering the questions as quickly as possible before officers behind the glass recognized the name on her passport.

"Can't wait to get up to my room," she muttered beneath her breath.

"Almost there. You can lose the shades once Phil picks us," ever positive Mona responded.

Evangeline smiled as they walked through the sliding doors and into the summer air; their chauffeur, Philippe was just the cutest thing ever.

He stood at a slim five feet, four inches; grey at the temple with a broad, welcoming smile. For a man his age, the girls were always vocal of their appreciation in how he always kept himself in shape. His tailored uniform bore no room around the waist, often chiding the women whenever they offered to pack their own bags into the trunk of the sedan. Now his smile grew even wider as his eyes fell upon the pair coming out of the airport doors. He stood there patiently, hands wrapped in worn, black leather gloves clasped loosely in front of him.

 "Mes filles!", he exclaimed with pleasure as the two women drew closer.

"Philippe, you handsome man you!" Mona replied, kissing his slightly wrinkled cheeks on either side.

"Philippe!" Evangeline greeted, mirroring Mona's kisses, using her free hand to pat his back.

"Come, come," he ushered them over to the car, before pulling open the door to expose the modified familiarity of the plush interior. Philippe understood the need for a low profile, yet he did not allow that to stop the women from travelling in comfort. The outside was the appearance of any other corporate shuttle while inside was decked more like a limo- white leather seats, a bottle of champagne and a tray of hor d’oeuvres.

As Philippe busied himself with their bags towards the rear of the vehicle, Evangeline removed both the large pair of sunglasses as well as the hat that held her thick hair prisoner.

"Feels good doesn't it?" Mona asked cheerfully.

"Amen to that, Girlfriend!"

"Ready to earn that big paycheck?"

"Lights, camera…" Evangeline replied, closed fist held outward.

"Action!" Mona completed, bumping fists with her best friend.

France was special this time of year...

 

                    END OF EPISODE