Prologue: 25 years ago...

Marseille, the French port city, certainly does not sound attractive to someone who wants to live there and raise a family. Well-known for its high crime rate, primarily drug trafficking, and its large community of immigrants from Arab countries, it gained a bad reputation by the end of the last century.

Janette Mollard and Monique Al Said were schoolgirls at the time. They were similar only in appearance. They both had long black hair and a similar build. Even though they were in the same class at school, they hadn’t socialized much. They had little in common because they belonged to completely different worlds. Although they both lived in an elite neighborhood and attended school there, far from the dark side of the Mediterranean city. Mostly well-to-do rich French people lived there, and very few immigrants--only some businessmen or sportsmen. Neither of the girls had friends, so their differences attracted each other when they entered puberty.

Janette’s parents were bohemians and artists. Her father was a painter. In fact, he made several paintings in his youth and gained a reputation as a gifted painter, but his ultimate goal was to be employed as a gallery manager. Meanwhile, her mother--a former stripper and singer--turned her work into an artistic profession and earned her living by leading a dance school. Both were free-spirited bohemians, and that was present in the upbringing of their only child, Janette. Nudity, smoking hashish, and getting drunk in their house were not taboo. Even before she grew up, Janette knew everything about sex and vices. She could light a cigarette and wear short, tight skirts, talk foul-mouthed, and do everything other children couldn’t. As such, the other children in her class seemed stupid and boring to her. She considered herself more advanced than them and looked down on them. No wonder she didn’t have any friends.

It was completely different in Monique’s case. Her father, originally from Algeria, like many residents of Marseilles, was an intellectual and fully integrated into French society, leading to a much stricter upbringing. Her father was strict, but not on a religious basis; he wasn’t even a believer. He never flaunted his Arab origin. He behaved like a Frenchman through and through. So apart from his name and the color of his skin, there was not even the slightest hint that he was a native Arab. He also wrote two books and worked for a state institution that helps immigrants integrate into society. It was difficult for him because he was an Arab in the eyes of the French, while for the Arabs, he was a traitor and an infidel. Knowing full well what this city is plagued with, he raised his children strictly, especially his eldest, Monique.

At a younger age, Monique had been exposed to the mockery of other children regarding her origin, and as she grew up, she wanted to be free, like Janette. She blamed her father’s origin for her strict upbringing. She wasn’t allowed to stay out late, dress attractively, and she wasn’t even allowed to think about cigarettes. Monique wanted to be like Janette. That’s how they became friends.

In school, they were constantly hanging out with each other. Monique would leave the house in one outfit and then take out another one from her bag and change. She sneaked out the window several times while her parents thought she was sleeping. They were both mischievous and curious girls, and with Janette, Monique finally became what she wanted to be: free of constraints and constant rules. Finally, both of them had a friend.

One day, while they were returning from the nearby forest where they were hiding and smoking hashish, something flashed in a puddle of water. They thought it was a coin, but then they realized they had found some kind of strange-looking gold pendant. It was the sun whose 5 rays from the upper hemisphere shone only in one direction--as if carried by the wind.

They went down to the city and went to a goldsmith. When they put the pendant on the counter, the jeweler put a magnifying glass to his eye and looked at it from both sides.

“Where did you find it? Who did you steal it from?” he asked them.

“We found it in the forest,” Janette replied.

The goldsmith looked at them and placed a wad of bills on the table.

“Okay, I don’t care where it’s from. Take the money and go. I won’t tell anyone that you were here,” commented the jeweler, and Janette extended her hand to take the money.

But then Monique’s Arab blood started working. She slapped Janette on the hand, took the pendant with the other hand, and said, “Let’s go.”

As they were leaving, the goldsmith shouted, “Stop! I’ll give you much more.” But the girls continued walking.

Then he ran after them and started shouting, “Stop, we will make an agreement; wait...”

The girls turned but continued walking. He then shouted something in Arabic, so two more men appeared and started running after them. The girls started running as fast as they could through the narrow streets to find salvation on the bus they jumped onto at the last moment.

While they sat panting on the bus, Janette inquired, “So why didn’t you want to take the money? He would have given more.”

“Don’t be stupid! It’s extremely valuable. When he said he will give us much more, it means it’s worth at least 10 times more than what he offered originally,” Monique reasoned.

They decided they would not sell it as long as their friendship lasted. They kept it as an amulet that would protect them. They kept the pendant and necklace safe alternately. It would be with one of them for a little time and then a little with the other. A few days later, they got a tattoo of that symbol high on their neck at the back so that it was only visible when they put their hair up.

The next year brought great changes. They cared less and less about school and started hanging out with older guys. School was an afterthought, and they didn’t even pay attention to their peers from school. Unfortunately, besides smoking hashish and marijuana, these older boys sometimes also consumed somewhat stronger speed, ecstasy, and other synthetic drugs and got the girls hooked on them. As the girls got drawn into the world of sex and drugs, they changed--which did not go unnoticed.

Monique’s father knew that something was going on and told her to come to his study. When Monique entered with an air of nonchalance, he ordered her to stop in the middle of the room without offering her a seat.

“Where have you been last night?” he asked in a commanding tone. When no reply came, he added, “And the night before? Not to mention Friday and Saturday last week!” he bellowed.

“I was at home, papa,” Monique answered in the meekest voice possible.

“Don’t lie to me! I went to your room, and no one was there. I checked more than once each night! I saw the window open. Have you been using your window to come and go at night?” the father sternly demanded.

Monique just stood there expressionless with her lips set in a straight line.

“So I have had the windows nailed shut,” declared the father. “You may go now.”

Fuming to herself, “I’ll show you,” Monique thought. And she decided to have an extra set of house keys made--just in case.

Monique’s father despaired; no prohibitions helped, and he unsuccessfully tried to alert the school and the police.

One weekend, the guys didn’t have enough money to buy even one joint. Knowing the price of asking the dealer for a loan, they goaded the girls, “You wouldn’t dare ask the dealer for drugs without paying first.”

The two girls retorted, “We may be girls, but we’re not afraid; we aren’t no sissies like you!!!”.

The foolishly brave girls rang the doorbell of one of the biggest houses in the neighborhood. A man in his thirties answered the door, dressed as if he were in a movie.

First, he looked left and right, and when he saw that there was no one in the street, he asked them, “Who are you, who sent you?”

The confused girls tried to compose themselves, and Monique replied with a question, “Are you Salten Victor?”

The dealer looked at them, raised his eyebrows questioningly, and then Janette continued, “We are friends of Jean and the guys; you know he usually comes to buy ... at your place.”

“And why didn’t Jean come today? Why did he send you girls?”

“Well, you know we didn’t collect any money today, and Jean is afraid to ask you...” Monique started her speech demurely.

Salten Victor interrupted her and made the story easier for them: “ ... to ask me to give you a loan, and you will pay me when you get the money.”

“Yes, exactly,” both girls answered at the same time.

“Come in,” he said, looking around and beckoning them to come in and closing the door.

As they walked down the hall, they heard the sound of billiard balls clanking and men talking. They came to a large room with a huge television and a bar, a large glass table, and comfortable armchairs. Salten Victor pulled out a small bag from the drawer and gave it to them.

“Thank you very much. You are a great guy. As soon as we get the money, I promise we’ll pay you,” Monique replied.

Victor stretched out in his armchair, steepled his hands, and said, “We’ll do it this way. Since it’s your first time at my place, it’s my turn to treat you. You don’t have to pay me for this, but tell your guys they have to give you the money by Saturday. When they give you the money, keep it. They are older guys; don’t let them take advantage of you. You use them. Don’t be stupid.”

“Oh great, thank you very much,” Janette replied.

Monique joined in, “You are cool, thank you.”

As they walked down the hall towards the door, Victor shouted, “Wait!”

The girls stopped and turned around, scared, and Salten Victor continued, “I’m having a party here on Saturday. All the celebrities from the city will attend, so if you want to come...”

He didn’t even finish the sentence and both girls enthusiastically said, “Yes!”

“Okay, but you can’t come dressed like this.” Victor took out a few bills from his pocket and continued, “Here, buy yourself something nice and wear it. It’s not a party for ordinary peasants, only for real faces.”