Chapter 14

They arrived at the chateau, late and tired. Only servants were there. Even the resident family that were Eddie fans had vacated, insisting Eddie use their room, which he did with Rachel and Jacques. Joe again had the largest bed, though he only shared it with Ginny. And Celia.

There hadn’t been any problems when they arrived at Orly. There were a couple goons there, making Celia nervous, but they just nodded and let her pass. “Normally they would take my passport right away,” she sighed with relief.

“It’s all yours now,” Joe smiled and kissed her.

She had a well stuffed day bag. And no luggage to get from the carousel. “Tomorrow we shop,” said Ginny. Celia grinned and hugged her.

Once snuggled into the large bed, everyone naked but too tired to make love, Joe said to Celia, “You know you’re free to go wherever you want.”

“But there’s nowhere I can go really. You’re my only friends now. The only people I trust.”

“What about your mom?” Ginny asked.

“I can try to call her. I don’t know if she’s still at the same place.”

“Joe can have her tracked down if you want. Right Joe?”

“I have private investigators,” Joe agreed. “It won’t be a problem.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow. I don’t suppose you have a stop in Singapore.”

“No,” said Joe. “Although we’ll probably fly over it when we head to Australia. But you’re free to visit her. I’ll foot the bill. It won’t be a problem. If you want to stay...”

“I’d love to visit. But I won’t stay. Unless you don’t want me to...”

“I want you to know you have options, Celia. If you decide to be with me ... with us, I’d really like that.”

“Good to know,” she smiled and kissed him.

“I’d like it too,” said Ginny and also got a kiss. Both ladies snuggled against Joe before everyone slept.

Eddie, the boss of the tour as far as rehearsal, gave everyone a day off to recover from the lag. Ginny, Celia and Joe went shopping. Not exactly a recovering activity, but even Joe enjoyed it. Watching sexy women try on sexy clothes. Though accessorizing and buying make-up wasn’t his forté.

“Go,” said Ginny.

He had them meet him at an old bookshop. A throwback to expatriate days, with quite a lot of books in English. A lot of interesting small press books. Used books upstairs. Some very expensive first editions. Including several of his plays and poetry done by his lesbian friends in Milwaukee. A café attached.

The present owner of the shop, third generation, a lovely brunette about his age, joined him upstairs. Her grandfather, who started the shop, had been an expatriate from New York. The son, her father had married a New Yorker as well. But she was pure Parisian. Though, of course, her English was impeccable.

“Did you marry a New Yorker, too?” Joe asked her after exchanging hellos.

“Nope. You asking?” she quipped back.

“Already taken, I’m afraid.”

“Too bad. Mind signing those books?” she asked. Joe had pulled out his first publication. The trip poem. The most expensive as it turned out.

“You recognized me.”

“Of course. You read and signed here.”

“I did. Years ago.”

“I had a bit of a crush.”

“Thanks. Sure. I might buy one. You have my novels?”

“Most. We’ve long sold out of the signed ones.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Joe chuckled. “You have moms?”

“I think so.”

She had a compact body. Busty. He admired her full ass briefly before returning to the poem. He hadn’t looked at it in years. He admired its beauty. And the poem wasn’t bad either.

She brought back a stack of hardbound books and set them on the floor. moms on top. “I’ll get the plays,” she said and went away. He set moms aside. Pulling a sharpy from his ever-present shoulder bag, he signed the acid poem, slid it back into the shelf and pulled out one of his collections. Reread some of them. Better than he remembered.

She placed the larger format plays atop the stack of novels. “So what are you doing in Paris?” she asked.

“I’m playing bass for my old friend.”

“Eddie Frank?” she asked, excited.

He chuckled and pulled out a CD and signed it for her. “To the world’s loveliest bookseller,” he wrote.

“Thanks,” she grinned, looking at it. “I thought you said you were taken.”

“Besides being the truth,” he said, “there’s no harm in flirting is there?”

“Not in the least,” she giggled. Her grin and giggle made her look years younger. Like a youthful fan. “What is it?”

“A best of from the past decade. The MIRE years. With a couple amazing new songs. We should have distribution in Europe in the next few weeks.”

“The later stuff I could only get as imports.”

“The MIRE sales became a lot more modest,” Joe explained. “The Monsters did well in Europe. Especially in France and Scandinavia.”

“There’s still fans, Joseph.”

“I know. We did a couple shows here.”

“I know. He was amazing. You were...”

“Playing bass.”

“I should have recognized you.”

“Eddie has a way of taking focus.”

“He does at that,” she blushed. “That young woman...”

“My daughter actually. Rhonda Solomon.”

“Of course. She was good enough that I didn’t mind she wasn’t Eddie.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” Joe chuckled.

“She here?”

“Same show basically. You need passes?”

“I ... I already have tickets.”

“Backstage?”

“Please?”

He found them in his bag. “How many?”

“Two? My daughter’s a fan too.”

“What about your husband?”

“Joe,” she pouted cutely. “You shouldn’t tease. I told you I was available. I kicked that cunt out years ago.”

“It’s none of my business. And I certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know you. But it’s really just curiosity. But are all the men in Paris that foolish?”

“Like you, the best ones are taken. The ones who can’t handle the baggage of a single mother, of a remarkable daughter, I’m certainly not interested. And then there’s the ones too interested in my daughter. She’s a beautiful girl. And I’m not biased.”

“I’m not surprised. With such beautiful genes.”

“Stop it,” she giggled. “But to tell you the truth I haven’t gone without. As long as I’ve still got it, I still get it. I happen to like them young. It’s not about anything lasting. At least outside the bed.”

“Too much difference in cultures.”

She nodded. “Conversations can be difficult between generations.”

“Unless you talk about universal things. Not the latest trends, or trends long gone.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

“I do.”

“How old’s your wife.”

“Twenty-five. She’s a genius. Certified. And brilliant at conversation, especially arguments,” he chuckled.

“It’s not their mind I’m interested in.”

“I understand.” They shared a laugh. “What about your daughter? Competition?”

“Her interests and mine diverge.”

“A good thing. One of you stealing from the other probably wouldn’t make either of you happy.”

“I wouldn’t care. But she wouldn’t be interested. She prefers the ladies.”

“Ah. Are you okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I wouldn’t. Rhonda’s gay.”

“Really? Theresa thinks she’s hot!”

“Theresa’s your daughter?”

“She prefers Terry.”

“I guess she’ll get to meet her.”

“I guess so.”

“Maybe meeting you means a match. Just not us.”

“You sure about that? Your wife here?”

“No,” Joe chuckled. “And she’d actually be okay with it.”

“Would she? Or is that just an excuse?”

“Your husband was a cad.”

“He was.”

“Let me show you my wife.” Joe took out his wallet and turned to Essie’s picture.

“Mon dieux. Why even try?”

“Look at the other pictures around her.”

“Okay?”

“Those are my wives too.”

She looked and handed it back. “Joseph.”

“I don’t know if you believe me, but they’re all okay with it. They actually love each other as much as they love me. I guess it doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. Except I like you. But how often am I in Paris? I have a couple friends coming by. Just talk to them.”

“Friends.”

“They’re lovers too.”

“Are they in those pictures?”

“No. Unfortunately my wives had to stay at home. Work, you know.”

“But they know about this? These ... friends?”

“They do. They have to. They have to know what they’re getting into being with me.”

“Why?”

“I’m ... good with women.”

“You know how to pleasure them.”

“That too.”

“What else?”

“We ... love each other. And that’s never about just sex.”

“Something we grown-ups have to figure out.”

“True. I guess I figured that out earlier than most.”

“By having lots of sex.”

“By cherishing them.” He showed her the pictures of Cheryl.

“She’s adorable.”

“I married her when I was eighteen. I was seeing her at the time,” he showed her Moe. “Cheryl, my official wife, was also sleeping around, but much more casually.”

“But you said you’re married to the beauty.”

“Yes. Cheryl and I had a falling out. She thought it was about her sharing me. This was twenty years after we married, or thereabouts. So she was fine with it for a long time. And she figured out she’s still fine with it. It was the sleeping around that bothered her. Meaningless sex. She’s still not quite comfortable with a bed full of fellow wives. But she’s getting there.”

“Is that what it takes for her to come back?”

“No. It’s always her choice. Their choice.” He showed her Joanne. “I’ve been with her the longest of any of my wives. It’s rare for her to join us. Partly because Esther, my current wife, is her daughter.”

“Merde.”

“Yeah. She struggled with it. I did too.”

“You struggled being the wife of that beauty?”

“Joanne, the older woman, is extremely important to me. And to Esther of course. If Joanne had said no, Esther would never had been my wife. Which would not have pleased Esther.”

“Or you.”

“It wouldn’t have been pleasant.”

“Pleasant,” the woman snorted.

“I know Esther’s an amazingly beautiful woman. But you might have noticed every woman in that wallet is beautiful. At least I think they are.”

“They are.”

Joe nodded. “But it’s the heart that matters. And the friendships. That’s what I would have missed with Esther. Because ... I don’t think she would have been able to be around if her mother refused our relationship. I mean, I lusted after her. Who wouldn’t? But she’s the one who would have been tempted. Frustrated.”

“You could have jettisoned the mother.”

“Never!”

She laughed. “I apologize. But such passion. I think I understand. My name is Marguerite by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Marguerite.”

“I wish,” she smirked, refusing to shake his hand. Kissing his cheeks instead.

“I know you’re teasing...”

“Am I?”

He chuckled. “Despite appearances, I actually don’t sleep around.”

“Explain.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand. Because I do find you attractive. Sexy. Quite wonderful actually. But ... and this might sound weird...”

“What isn’t with you?”

“True. You’re just not needy enough. Specifically you don’t need me in your life. It would be just a fun fling. I don’t do those, or haven’t for a while. The women I’m with need me in their life. Those that remain for the long haul I need.”

“Not an excuse?” she studied him.

“No. I promise.”

She nodded and stole a quick kiss on his lips. And giggled.

He had signed all the books. “I’m going to reprice them and feature them,” she told him, walking away with a few books. He followed her downstairs with the rest. Finally shopping the fine bookstore after.

He found a couple books to buy. And a couple magazines. He was perusing another journal when the ladies arrived. Ginny looking like Ginger. Celia looked stunning as well in a form fitting, slinky black dress. Hair and make-up impeccable. He kissed them carefully so as not to muss their lipstick. After introducing them to an amused Marguerite and making his purchase, discounted, they moved to the adjacent café. A cute, petite beauty served them. Her eyes tended to survey the two women.