Thirty-Four

“LIKE LOVERS, Tahiti and her islands in French Polynesia are meant to be embraced….”

Sitting before her iPad, Gennifer Moran scrolled through the article from a high-end travel magazine. It was full of island paradise clichés, but when a place really was an island paradise cliché what else was there to say? She had considered going to Panama, or Vietnam, or Australia, or Hawaii, but Tahiti sounded like the place for her. Jean Luc had promised her anywhere in the world, and she was going to take him up on the offer before things got too busy again and she couldn’t get away. It looked like the island of Tahiti itself was a place to avoid, but Bora Bora and Moorea seemed gorgeous. She thought of those exquisite paintings Paul Gaugin painted of Tahitian women. How shocked the art world in Paris was of his embracing of this culture and especially its beautiful young women. She looked out the window at a very different scene from a South Pacific Eden. It was a bitter, nasty day, and people were rushing by just trying to get to their destination, leaning into the wind, their coats clutched at their necks. The door to the café blew open a with a blast of cold air, and a young woman stood there tentatively for a few moments before she began to unravel the over-long scarf around her neck and remove her mittens. That must be her, Gennifer thought. She let the young woman scan the room for at least a minute before she raised her hand to call her over. The girl lifted her head in recognition and headed to the small, round table for two.

After a bizarrely polite exchange about the bad weather and how cool this café was, Gennifer decided to get down to business. She made sure to discreetly push the record button on her iPad.

“So. What is it you want?”

Brittany returned the stare with the same dispassionate gaze. She had eyelash extensions that were so long she looked like a cartoon cat. Her nose was too big for her small face, and her parents should’ve seen to those teeth.

“I want justice for my friend.”

Gennifer stirred the foamy milk in her second cappuccino, and let it drop slowly from her spoon. “Justice! Justice for what, exactly?”

Brittany glanced around the café for a moment, and leaned closer. “For the sexual assault on my friend.”

“Your friend is mistaken. Nothing happened to her.”

Brittany pushed her coffee aside. “I want you to draw up a contract for her. The one you promised her? Remember? On Nasty Women. Now I see who it’s named after.”

Gennifer smiled. “Ooh, ouch. That hurt. And what’s in this for you?”

Brittany closed those long, silly eyelashes and opened them again. “I would like fifteen thousand dollars.”

Gennifer tried very hard not to laugh out loud. Was this a shakedown? This idiot had watched one too many lousy movies. She put her hand on Brittany’s for a moment, then withdrew it. “Do you know how many little slut girls we see like you in just one week?”

“We’ll go to the police.”

“We understand that…you all want to make it. It’s not easy here in Montreal—especially in the English market. You are all fighting for little crumbs from a little pie that we get to share as we see fit. I understand your…frustration. I understand the attraction of going after a man like Jean Luc. He has an extraordinary charm, and power can be intoxicating—”

“He’s a disgusting, pathetic old man who likes to rape girls. I know my friend wasn’t his first. Maybe she’ll be his last, though.”

Gennifer started looking through her bag for her wallet.

“Listen. I was in the room with the two of them the entire time. We interviewed her for a few minutes and realized that she just was not the right person for the role. She stormed out of the room, and that is the last we saw of her. That’s it, that’s all.”

“That is NOT what happened!”

Gennifer summoned the waiter. “Why isn’t your friend here now with you?”

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t want to see you. She’ll wait to see you in court if she has to. She asked me to come and…represent her.”

Gennifer leaned her elbows on the little table and laced her fingers together like she was about to pray. She smiled at Brittany. “She doesn’t even know you’re here, does she?”

Brittany puffed herself up as large as she could. She straightened her back and looked evenly at Gennifer, but before she could respond Gennifer stood up from the table, closed her iPad, tucked it in her bag, and shrugged her coat onto her shoulders. “It’s girls like you—who make false accusations—who give all of us a bad name. Do you understand? Contact me again, and we will have your ass in court so fast your friend will really feel like she’s been assaulted.”

Gennifer tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table and walked out. She waited until she had turned onto Ste. Catherine street and stepped into the entrance to Forever 21 before she made the call. “Hi. Yes. I just had the meeting. There should be no more trouble.” She waited for him to respond. “Yup. We’re all good….” She hesitated. “Wait—Jean Luc? I wanted to tell you—”

But the voice at the other end had already left the conversation.