Richard Fitzwilliam had come, as usual, to pick up his girlfriend at the end of her day. The fact that she was one of the Crazy Horse dancers made that the ‘end of her day’ was in the middle of the night; but that didn’t bother him much as he worked for a the French branch of a Californian company and, working until late in the night in Paris improved his communication with the American headquarters. As the November night was quite chilly, and even though the rain had stopped, he chose to enter the cabaret and wait for the end of the show conversing with Gaby, the old dame du vestiaire. She liked this golden God who had managed to catch the heart of the most Frenchy dancer of the cast. Of course, the fact that, while chit-chatting with her in his heavy English accent, the gentleman also helped her and made her task easier without claiming his share of the tips, only reinforced her fondness for him.
The spectators had almost all left when Richard heard a voice saying:
“Twenty three, please.”
Intrigued, he got out of the closet to check if he hadn’t been subject of a hallucination.
“Billy boy!”
Will started. The only person in the world vaguely authorised to call him that name was his cousin. And the said cousin was standing in the Crazy Horse cloakroom with a lady as old as the Eiffel Tower itself.
“Ricky?”
Richard had jumped over the desk and enfolded his relative in a powerful hug.
“Will, what are you doing here? And Bing? Having fun during a business trip?”
“Yes, but what are you doing here? I didn’t even know you were in Paris. And playing the cloakroom attendant in the Crazy Horse? Don’t tell me Aunt Kathleen agrees with that job!”
Richard laughed at the thought. His very proper mother would certainly not approve of such an employment.
“Well, she knows I’m in Paris. I live here in fact. Have been for almost three months now. I wonder how she could forget to tell you that.”
“Actually, I kind of avoid her on the phone. Last time I talked to her, I was in for a forty-five minute lecture on the necessity of finding myself a sweet wife. I try not to repeat that too often!”
“That’s my mother!” Richard and Charles were chuckling at William’s mockingly contrite face.
“So you live in Paris, but why are you here? The rents are so high that you had to find a night job?”
He replied on the same tone. “No, they’re much lower than in London and I don’t even have one to pay!” Seeing their surprise, he went on. “I’m here helping Beautiful Gaby,“ he said, winking at the lady who had missed as little of the conversation between the three handsome Englishmen as she could, considering her English, “because I most happily happen to be the boyfriend of one of the dancers.”
“You are?” William’s and Charles’ tone were both unbelieving and envious.
“Oh, oui, il a capturé le coeur de Lottie!”
“Sorry?”
“I won famous Lottie Boum’s heart and she won mine!” His face expressed a delightful uncertainty at having done such an accomplishment. “I live with her. She has a small one-bedroom flat in the seventeenth*, not far away. I work late at the office, so I come and take her back home every night.”
His cousin’s face showed his shock. William didn’t want to offend one of his closest relatives but he couldn’t but be appalled by his choice. “And your mother knows about this?”
“Well, truthfully, she knows I have a very serious girlfriend who’s the eldest daughter of a French solicitor from the French Alps. I only told her that she works in something close to show-business. I’ll wait until they have met to reveal her real employment. You can’t help the prejudice. If I tell Mother she’s a cabaret dancer, she will immediately think she’s a whore and that she’s entrapped me to take advantage of me, my money and my family. If she knew I live in Charlotte’s flat, the one her father bought her when she first came to Paris, she wouldn’t believe it.”
Charles carefully watched Richard’s explanations being taken in by his friend. He knew William’s opinion was in fact strictly identical to Mrs. Fitzwilliam’s supposed ones. He was not disappointed as he saw him forcefully struggle to swallow and not have his jaw fall.
“Charlotte?” he asked.
“Yes, Charlotte Lucas. You didn’t think that Lottie Boum was a real name, did you?”
Charles smiled. “No, not really. And I saw her in her solo, her name suits her!”
“Oh, that it does!”
Richard knew his cousin and suspected that he may have touched a nerve with his explanation. He also loved him almost as a brother and was ready to forgive him. William was proud and sometimes disdainful, but he was also fair in his judgement and able to acknowledge his mistakes and act on them.
“Come with me, I’ll introduce you! We could have a drink if you want. I should like that.”
Charles was delighted with the idea. To have had a drink with a Crazy Horse dancer, even if she was one of his friends’ girlfriend, was a good story for his acquaintances. His heart told him that, with luck, he might even be able to have one last glimpse at his Angel. His head reminded him that it had been a nice fantasy but nothing more, and buried the thought.
“Oh, yeah, Darce! Let’s do that!”
Darcy was curious. He had got over his shock and was really curious to see if Rich’s point of view was due to his infatuation or if one dancer could really be honest and… well… normal! His will didn’t even let his heart – or was it his dick? – whisper the question Charles’ had.
“I’d be very happy to meet someone who means so much to you, Rich!”
All the spectators had left the pavement in front of the main door of the cabaret. The ushers in their Canadian police officer style suits were gathering the fences and rolling up the red carpet. Everyone bade good-bye to the three gentlemen. Richard took them to a classical XIXth century building nearby. Soon the heavy oak door opened and, in groups of one, two or three, some tall, slim and casually dressed ladies exited. Some of them waved a hello to Richard. Some were greeted by other gentlemen, who, like Richard, had come to take their girls back home; some left alone; some climbed in cars waiting for them, suspiciously observed by William.
“She shouldn’t be long…”
Charles also studied the women exiting the building, openly looking to see if he could recognise his Angel. None of them looked like any he had seen on the stage, as their make-up and wig completely changed their appearance. For all he knew, his Angel’s hair could be as dark as ebony… He wasn’t really hopeful but he had to be sure he wasn’t missing his destiny. He wondered if Richard’s story had been similar to his.
“Did you first see her in the show and fell under her spell?”
“Oh no! This kind of thing never happens – or so Charlotte tells me. Actually, the first time I saw her on stage, I had already seen her naked!” The three friends laughed at this teenage joke.
“No, our story is better than that. It started with my falling in love with Paris. About six months ago, I came for a weekend with a friend in Paris and I was very frustrated when I had to take the Eurostar back home on the Sunday night. I had barely started to discover a very tiny part of Paris and I was hungry for more. So I started to come every other Friday and then every Friday once I had met Charlotte. The hotel in which we had stayed that first weekend was very nice and not too expensive, so I made an agreement with the landlord for a regular room. This hotel is opposite of Charlotte’s flat across the Avenue de la Grande Armée. I took the habit of having my café-croissant at the café which is on the ground floor of her building. My discovering Paris of course included discovering its nightlife, so my breakfasts were never very early. I noticed that a pretty, tall, chestnut-haired girl was often having her café-tartines at roughly the same hour. I smiled at her for two weekends and then resolved to take a more decisive course of action. So the following Saturday, I arrived before her usual hour, and asked the waiter to prepare her usual order and mine. When she entered, I gestured to the waiter and, while he brought our meals, I went to her and asked her to have breakfast with me. I don’t know what made her say yes, the carefully prepared scheme, my smiles, or her boredom, but anyway she did.
”We started by having some afternoon outings together, then some afternoons inside too but she would always disappear at night. I confess it made me suspicious but I went on having fun without her. Strangely enough, though, no young Parisian-girl managed to tempt me after that breakfast. One night I was walking on this pavement and I saw her, exiting this door. Seeing her with so many similar women next to the Crazy Horse made me understand why my Princess Fiona disappeared every night. I called her. At first she blushed but she introduced me to her best friends anyway. Then she explained her reasons to me. That’s basically the speech I gave you earlier." He grinned at the memory, "after that night I stopped my agreement with the hotel landlord.
“As soon as I was offered this position in Paris, I told her about it. I had grown very serious about her and living in Paris without her seemed impossible. She proposed to free one drawer or two and that was it!”
His whole countenance proved his love for his chestnut-haired dancer and the awareness of the luck he had enjoyed. Charles and Will had listened religiously, wondering why such a thing couldn’t happen to them.
“Ah, here she is!”
*Author’s note: the seventeenth is the 17th ‘arrondissement’ of Paris. Paris is split in 20 ‘arrondissements’, the 1st is around the City Hall, the ‘arrondissements’ then get their number in a snail-shell drawing. The 17th ‘arrondissement’ is on the West side of the city. The East side of the 17th includes the Arc de Triomphe (so a part of the seventeenth is very close to the Champs Elysées and the George V avenue). For more information, in French: Le 17ème arrondissement