She leaned over to pour him another drink and he picked up the glass, then put it back down and reached for the bottle she was holding instead. Yes, he would like to keep it with him. Yes, that would be fine.
CHAPTER THREE
Shannon’s excitement bubbled up inside of her as she walked down the Champs-Elysees in the bright afternoon, the busy street crowded with tourists and shoppers. Paris. She was finally here.
The department chair had been thrilled for her when she told him about her idea for her senior thesis, and they had quickly arranged for a semester abroad. An entire semester in Europe, taking band pictures and finishing her photography assignments remotely—it was a dream come true for Shannon. The sun shone down on her face as she walked down the sidewalk under the wrought iron lamps, and all around her the casual chattering of French natives immersed her. She tried to understand some of it, but the French-English dictionary she picked up had been all but useless. As soon as she spoke one word in French, the person she was talking to would switch to English, knowing immediately that she was American.
She stopped in boutique after boutique, but while American stores were geared towards skinny girls, French stores pretended that curvy women didn’t even exist. She had all but given up on the idea of finding a dress above a size six after two hours of browsing, but then she came to a small chic dress shop at the end of the street. The sign said “Taille +” in frilly cursive font, and the mannequins’ h*ps stretched underneath the tight dresses in the show windows. Perfect.
Shannon had heard that French employees were rude, but the shopgirls in this store fawned over her, picking out dress after dress for her to try on. As soon as she looked at the price tag, Shannon knew why—the prices were outrageous, and they must have been working on commission. But Julian had left her some money for the plane ticket, and she had foregone first class in favor of keeping the extra. You never know when you’ll need a few extra hundred dollars, and now Shannon was glad she had put up with the screaming children in the coach section of the airplane.
One of the dresses the ladies chose for her fit perfectly—the fabric was a green and gold print, setting off her red hair beautifully. The h*ps hugged her tight but the hem flared out, and the ruching of the fabric in the front hid all of the bumps that would otherwise have been unseemly. She nearly fainted at the price when she glanced at the tag—over four hundred euros. She did the math in her head. That was over five hundred dollars. It wasn’t nearly as much as some of the other dresses in the shops she had visited, but most of her dresses came from the clearance rack at Sears. For four hundred euros, she could buy the whole damn rack!
Feeling pleased with her purchase, and a few bills lighter in her wallet, she stepped back out into the Paris sunshine. The day was perfect. Nothing could ruin her good mood.
Wilder Side had already played three of their gigs on the tour. She had been following along, emailing and texting Julian, and everything seemed to be going well, although he told her that he missed her more than anything. He would be so excited to see her there in Paris, weeks earlier than they had planned. She had emailed him this morning, complaining about her classes. He wouldn't find out until this evening.
She hurried back to her hotel room so that she would have enough time. She took a shower, change in her new dress, and spent ten minutes adjusting her accessories in the mirror. She put on her favorite mascara, the one that matched her dark red eyelashes, and lipstick to match.
"You are stunning," she said to herself in the mirror, and smiled. Her mirror image smiled back, echoing her confidence. She checked her watch. If she left now, she should be there in plenty of time for the show. Maybe she would even be able to catch up with Julian before the concert started. She squealed and shook her red hair out.
"Allons-y!" She said. "Let's go rock the f**k out."
But if she thought she was going to be able to see Julian before the show, she was sadly mistaken. The crowd leading up to the area where they were playing was packed tight, and when she insisted to the guards near the tunnel that she knew the lead guitarist for Wilder Side, they shook their heads and pretended not to know any English, pointing out to the general audience instead.
"Great," Shannon said. "This is what I get for trying to surprise my boyfriend."
She tried to make conversation, but all of the other girls in the audience ignored her efforts to chat in French, looking her up and down as though she was the dumbest, fattest tourist they had ever seen. By the time the show started, her nerves were frazzled and she had resorted to staring at her cell phone for company. Julian normally texted her right before a show, but there were no messages on her phone.
"It's okay, Shannon," she said. "You're not gonna let anything bust up your good mood." As the lights went up on the Arc de Triomphe, the people around her began to scream for the band, and her energy shot back up.
The show was definitely not the best they’d ever played, and Shannon could see that she would never get Julian’s attention from way back where she was standing. He looked irritated, and the technical screwups seemed to make the band play worse as the set went on. The crowd still loved it, though, and Shannon was thrilled to see how successful Wilder Side had become. It was so exciting to see them playing on tour in Europe!
After the show, it took Shannon a half hour to push her way past and get to the tunnel that led backstage. Once there, she managed to flag down a crew member to escort her in.
“Hey Asher,” she said, going over to where the drummer was packing up his microphones. He was the only one she had told about her early arrival. “Where’s Julian?”
Asher’s face dropped.
“Shannon, hey, what a surprise!” he said. “Julian left just after the show.”
“What’s wrong?” She could see that he had a weird expression on his face.
“Nothing, just he wasn’t in a good mood. I’m sorry, Shannon.”
“It’s okay.” But Shannon was worried. No text from him before or after the show, and now he had run off to god knows where. She tugged at her dress. “You know where he went?”
“I saw him heading down the street, going, uh, south? Towards the river. Not sure where he was planning on going, though. You know where our hotel is, right? Maybe he’s there.”
“Okay,” Shannon said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “I’ll try that.”
While the rest of the band packed up, Shannon called the hotel. The receptionist there told her that nobody had come back from the band, so she left her number just in case.
She walked down the street toward the river, her eyes scanning the groups of people on the sidewalk. How many millions of people were there in Paris? There was no way she would find Julian just by looking. She sighed. All this effort into surprising him, and now this.
Oh well. She would have fun walking along the Seine anyway, and he was bound to show up back at his hotel. She knew he needed to cool off sometimes and just go walk around alone, so maybe he was doing that. She sent him a brief text—how was the show?—and put her phone back in her purse.
She walked for an hour by the river, stopping on a bridge to watch the water pass underneath. The dark river flowed slowly, the currents underneath invisible except for the fluttering ripples of light on the surface of the water. It gave her the chills, although the night air was humid, almost warm. She circled back towards the Arc de Triomphe. Maybe she could meet up with the band and wait for Julian with them. She pulled out her phone. Still nothing from him.
Crossing the street, she heard a commotion on the sidewalk outside of a bar. She was about to walk away—she didn’t want to get involved in a bar fight or whatever it was—but then she heard the words Wilder Side and stopped, turning back. As she got closer, the door opened and she saw Julian come out of the bar. He held a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other, and two slim, beautiful women were on either arm, swooning over him. He nearly fell down the steps and the crowd cheered, excited to see the American celebrity. Julian held up his glass in a mock toast and yelled something in French. Shannon couldn’t make out his slurred words but everyone around her laughed and yelled. One of the women leaned over and kissed his cheek, and Shannon felt a burning pain rise up in her as he smiled and tilted his head back for another drink.
Julian turned to walk down the sidewalk, and the crowd parted before him, giving her a good look at him. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red and he only took two steps before tripping and stumbling forward, catching himself before he could fall but dropping his glass. His glass shattered on the sidewalk and someone yelled something in French. Retching, he leaned over to the gutter, leaving the two beautiful women behind, and emptied his stomach into the street.
Camera lights went off, and Julian halfheartedly waved away the young man recording the scene on his phone. The crowd surged back as he took another swig from the bottle, rinsing his mouth with alcohol, and spit. Shannon watched as he leaned forward, one hand bracing himself on his knee, and heaved again, then coughed and pounded his chest. His head came up, and he saw her.
They stood ten feet apart, staring at each other. Shannon’s lips trembled and Julian blinked hard, as though he couldn’t believe it was her. The woman on his left leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, and he shook her off roughly.
“Shannon?” he said. He swayed on his feet, his eyes focused roughly in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
Shannon felt tears rolling down her cheeks. She turned and ran.
The roar in her ears could not block out his yelling, and she knew that in heels she wouldn’t be able to get away unless he was too drunk to run. Still, she tried, unable to stop the sobs rising in her throat as she fled down the sidewalk, pushing people aside. It was only a block before she reached the river and he caught up to her.
“Shannon, please.” Julian caught her by the arm and spun her around. They stood partway across a huge stone bridge, and passing tourists eyed them warily as they crossed the river. Shannon reeled back as the scent of his breath hit her—the overwhelming smell of alcohol masking the bitter tang of bile underneath.
She couldn’t stop crying. Everything she had looked forward to, her dreams of reuniting with him, evaporated into the cold night air.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Julian tried to hug her but she pushed him away. He caught her wrists, wringing them in his. “I’m sorry Shannon. I’m so sorry.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Why? Why, Julian?”
Shannon looked at Julian, but he just shook his head shallowly. The guilt in his eyes threatened to brim over into tears. She didn’t care. He had only been gone for a little over a week, and he had already gone and gotten drunk. And two girls on his arm! Who knows how many groupies he had f**ked? Shannon caught a sob in her throat as she thought about the beautiful women bending over him, kissing him…
“I don’t know,” he said. He looked miserable, but any sympathy she had for him was currently buried in the rage and sorrow boiling inside of her.